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Plutarch
Lives of the Noble Grecians and Romans
Translated by John Dryden
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Agesilaus
Pompey
Alexander
Caesar
Phocion
Cato the Younger
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Agesilaus
Archidamus, the son of Zeuxidamus, having reigned gloriously over
the Lacedaemonians, left behind him two sons, Agis the elder, begotten
of Lampido, a noble lady, Agesilaus, much the younger, born of Eupolia,
the daughter of Melesippidas. Now the succession belonging to Agis by
law, Agesilaus, who in all probability was to be but a private man, was
educated according to the usual discipline of the country, hard and
severe, and meant to teach young men to obey their superiors. Whence it
was that, men say, Simonides called Sparta “the tamer of men,” because
by early strictness of education, they, more than any nation, trained
the citizens to obedience to the laws, and made them tractable and
patient of subjection, as horses that are broken in while colts. The law
did not impose this harsh rule on the heirs apparent of the kingdom. But
Agesilaus, whose good fortune it was to be born a younger brother, was
consequently bred to all the arts of obedience, and so the better fitted
for the government, when it fell to his share; hence it was that he
proved the most popular-tempered of the Spartan kings, his early life
having added to his natural kingly and commanding qualities the gentle
and humane feelings of a citizen.
While he was yet a boy, bred up in one of what are called the flocks,
or classes, he attracted the attachment of Lysander, who was
particularly struck with the orderly temper that he manifested. For
though he was one of the highest spirits, emulous above any of his
companions, ambitious of preeminence in everything, and showed an
impetuosity and fervor of mind which irresistibly carried him through
all opposition or difficulty he could meet with; yet, on the other side,
he was so easy and gentle in his nature, and so apt to yield to
authority, that though he would do nothing on compulsion, upon ingenuous
motives he would obey any commands, and was more hurt by the least
rebuke or disgrace, than he was distressed by any toil or hardship.
He had one leg shorter than the other, but this deformity was little
observed in the general beauty of his person in youth. And the easy way
in which he bore it, (he being the first always to pass a jest upon
himself,) went far to make it disregarded. And indeed his high spirit
and eagerness to distinguish himself were all the more conspicuous by
it, since he never let his lameness withhold him from any toil or any
brave action. Neither his statue nor picture are extant, he never
allowing them in his life, and utterly forbidding them to be made after
his death. He is said to have been a little man, of a contemptible
presence; but the goodness of his humor, and his constant cheerfulness
and playfulness of temper, always free from anything of moroseness or
haughtiness, made him more attractive, even to his old age, than the
most beautiful and youthful men of the nation. Theophrastus writes, that
the Ephors laid a fine upon Archidamus for marrying a little wife, “For”
said they, “she will bring us a race of kinglets, instead of kings.”
Whilst Agis, the elder brother, reigned, Alcibiades, being then an
exile from Athens, came from Sicily to Sparta; nor had he stayed long
there, before his familiarity with Timaea, the king’s wife, grew
suspected, insomuch that Agis refused to own a child of hers, which, he
said, was Alcibiades’s, not his. Nor, if we may believe Duris, the
historian, was Timaea much concerned at it, being herself forward enough
to whisper among her helot maid-servants, that the infant’s true name
was Alcibiades, not Leotychides. Meanwhile it was believed, that the
amour he had with her was not the effect of his love but of his
ambition, that he might have Spartan kings of his posterity. This affair
being grown public, it became needful for Alcibiades to withdraw from
Sparta. But the child Leotychides had not the honors due to a legitimate
son paid him, nor was he ever owned by Agis, till by his prayers and
tears he prevailed with him to declare him his son before several
witnesses upon his death-bed. But this did not avail to fix him in the
throne of Agis, after whose death Lysander, who had lately achieved his
conquest of Athens by sea, and was of the greatest power in Sparta,
promoted Agesilaus, urging Leotychides’s bastardy as a bar to his
pretensions. Many of the other citizens, also, were favorable to
Agesilaus and zealously joined his party, induced by the opinion they
had of his merits, of which they themselves had been spectators, in the
time that he had been bred up among them. But there was a man, named
Diopithes, at Sparta, who had a great knowledge of ancient oracles, and
was thought particularly skillful and clever in all points of religion
and divination. He alleged, that it was unlawful to make a lame man king
of Lacedaemon, citing in the debate the following oracle: —
Beware, great Sparta, lest there come of thee
Though sound thyself; an halting sovereignty;
Troubles, both long and unexpected too,
And storms of deadly warfare shall ensue.
But Lysander was not wanting with an evasion, alleging that if the
Spartans were really apprehensive of the oracle, they must have a care
of Leotychides; for it was not the limping foot of a king that the gods
cared about, but the purity of the Herculean family, into whose sights
if a spurious issue were admitted, it would make the kingdom to halt
indeed. Agesilaus likewise alleged, that the bastardy of Leotychides was
witnessed to by Neptune, who threw Agis out of bed by a violent
earthquake, after which time he ceased to visit his wife, yet
Leotychides was born above ten months after this.
Agesilaus was upon these allegations declared king, and soon
possessed himself of the private estate of Agis, as well as his throne,
Leotychides being wholly rejected as a bastard. He now turned his
attention to his kindred by the mother’s side, persons of worth and
virtue, but miserably poor. To them he gave half his brother’s estate,
and by this popular act gained general good-will and reputation, in the
place of the envy and ill-feeling which the inheritance might otherwise
have procured him. What Xenophon tells us of him, that by complying
with, and, as it were, being ruled by his country, he grew into such
great power with them, that he could do what he pleased, is meant to
apply to the power he gained in the following manner with the Ephors and
Elders. These were at that time of the greatest authority in the State;
the former, officers annually chosen; the Elders, holding their places
during life; both instituted, as already told in the life of Lycurgus,
to restrain the power of the kings. Hence it was that there was always
from generation to generation, a feud and contention between them and
the kings. But Agesilaus took another course. Instead of contending with
them, he courted them; in all proceedings he commenced by taking their
advice, was always ready to go, nay almost run, when they called him; if
he were upon his royal seat hearing causes and the Ephors came in, he
rose to them; whenever any man was elected into the Council of Elders,
he presented him with a gown and an ox. Thus, whilst he made show of
deference to them, and of a desire to extend their authority, he
secretly advanced his own, and enlarged the prerogatives of the kings by
several liberties which their friendship to his person conceded.
To other citizens he so behaved himself, as to be less blamable in
his enmities than in his friendships; for against his enemy he forbore
to take any unjust advantage, but his friends he would assist, even in
what was unjust. If an enemy had done anything praiseworthy, he felt it
shameful to detract from his due, but his friends he knew not how to
reprove when they did ill, nay, he would eagerly join with them, and
assist them in their misdeed, and thought all offices of friendship
commendable, let the matter in which they were employed be what it
would. Again, when any of his adversaries was overtaken in a fault, he
would be the first to pity him, and be soon entreated to procure his
pardon, by which he won the hearts of all men. Insomuch that his
popularity grew at last suspected by the Ephors, who laid a fine on him,
professing that he was appropriating the citizens to himself, who ought
to be the common property of the State. For as it is the opinion of
philosophers, that could you take away strife and opposition out of the
universe, all the heavenly bodies would stand still, generation and
motion would cease in the mutual concord and agreement of all things, so
the Spartan legislator seems to have admitted ambition and emulation,
among the ingredients of his Commonwealth as the incentives of virtue,
distinctly wishing that there should be some dispute and competition
among his men of worth, and pronouncing the mere idle, uncontested,
mutual compliance to unproved deserts to be but a false sort of concord.
And some think Homer had an eye to this, when he introduces Agamemnon
well pleased with the quarrel arising between Ulysses and Achilles, and
with the “terrible words” that passed between them, which he would never
have done, unless he had thought emulations and dissensions between the
noblest men to be of great public benefit. Yet this maxim is not simply
to be granted, without restriction, for if animosities go too far, they
are very dangerous to cities, and of most pernicious consequence.
When Agesilaus was newly entered upon the government, there came news
from Asia, that the Persian king was making great naval preparations,
resolving with a high hand to dispossess the Spartans of their maritime
supremacy. Lysander was eager for the opportunity of going over and
succoring his friends in Asia, whom he had there left governors and
masters of the cities, whose mal-administration and tyrannical behavior
was causing them to be driven out, and in some cases put to death. He
therefore persuaded Agesilaus to claim the command of the expedition,
and by carrying the war far from Greece into Persia, to anticipate the
designs of the barbarian. He also wrote to his friends in Asia, that by
embassy they should demand Agesilaus for their captain. Agesilaus,
therefore, coming into the public assembly, offered his service, upon
condition that he might have thirty Spartans for captains and
counselors, two thousand chosen men of the newly enfranchised helots,
and allies to the number of six thousand. Lysander’s authority and
assistance soon obtained his request, so that he was sent away with the
thirty Spartans, of whom Lysander was at once the chief, not only
because of his power and reputation, but also on account of his
friendship with Agesilaus, who esteemed his procuring him this charge a
greater obligation, than that of preferring him to the kingdom.
Whilst the army was collecting to the rendezvous at Geraestus,
Agesilaus went with some of his friends to Aulis, where in a dream he
saw a man approach him, and speak to him after this manner: “O king of
the Lacedaemonians, you cannot but know that, before yourself, there
hath been but one general captain of the whole of the Greeks, namely,
Agamemnon; now, since you succeed him in the same office and command of
the same men, since you war against the same enemies, and begin your
expedition from the same place, you ought also to offer such a
sacrifice, as he offered before he weighed anchor.” Agesilaus at the
same moment remembered that the sacrifice which Agamemnon offered was
his own daughter, he being so directed by the oracle. Yet was he not at
all disturbed at it, but as soon as he arose, he told his dream to his
friends, adding, that he would propitiate the goddess with the
sacrifices a goddess must delight in, and would not follow the ignorant
example of his predecessor. He therefore ordered a hind to be crowned
with chaplets, and bade his own soothsayer perform the rite, not the
usual person whom the Boeotians, in ordinary course, appointed to that
office. When the Boeotian magistrates understood it, they were much
offended, and sent officers to Agesilaus, to forbid his sacrificing
contrary to the laws of the country. These having delivered their
message to him, immediately went to the altar, and threw down the
quarters of the hind that lay upon it. Agesilaus took this very ill, and
without further sacrifice immediately sailed away, highly displeased
with the Boeotians, and much discouraged in his mind at the omen, boding
to himself an unsuccessful voyage, and an imperfect issue of the whole
expedition.
When he came to Ephesus, he found the power and interest of Lysander,
and the honors paid to him, insufferably great; all applications were
made to him, crowds of suitors attended at his door, and followed upon
his steps, as if nothing but the mere name of commander belonged, to
satisfy the usage, to Agesilaus, the whole power of it being devolved
upon Lysander. None of all the commanders that had been sent into Asia
was either so powerful or so formidable as he; no one had rewarded his
friends better, or had been more severe against his enemies; which
things having been lately done, made the greater impression on men’s
minds, especially when they compared the simple and popular behavior of
Agesilaus, with the harsh and violent and brief-spoken demeanor which
Lysander still retained. Universal deference was yielded to this, and
little regard shown to Agesilaus. This first occasioned offense to the
other Spartan captains, who resented that they should rather seem the
attendants of Lysander, than the councilors of Agesilaus. And at length
Agesilaus himself, though not perhaps all envious man in his nature, nor
apt to be troubled at the honors redounding upon other men, yet eager
for honor and jealous of his glory, began to apprehend that Lysander’s
greatness would carry away from him the reputation of whatever great
action should happen. He therefore went this way to work. He first
opposed him in all his counsels; whatever Lysander specially advised was
rejected, and other proposals followed. Then whoever made any address to
him, if he found him attached to Lysander, certainly lost his suit. So
also in judicial cases, anyone whom he spoke strongly against was sure
to come off with success, and any man whom he was particularly
solicitous to procure some benefit for, might think it well if he got
away without an actual loss. These things being clearly not done by
chance, but constantly and of a set purpose, Lysander was soon sensible
of them, and hesitated not to tell his friends, that they suffered for
his sake, bidding them apply themselves to the king, and such as were
more powerful with him than he was. Such sayings of his seeming to be
designed purposely to excite ill feeling, Agesilaus went on to offer him
a yet more open affront, appointing him his meat-carver; and would in
public companies scornfully say, “Let them go now and pay their court to
my carver.” Lysander, no longer able to brook these indignities,
complained at last to Agesilaus himself, telling him, that he knew very
well how to humble his friends. Agesilaus answered, “I know certainly
how to humble those who pretend to more power than myself.” “That,”
replied Lysander, “is perhaps rather said by you, than done by me; I
desire only, that you will assign me some office and place, in which I
may serve you without incurring your displeasure.”
Upon this Agesilaus sent him to the Hellespont, whence he procured
Spithridates, a Persian of the province of Pharnabazus, to come to the
assistance of the Greeks with two hundred horse, and a great supply of
money. Yet his anger did not so come down, but he thenceforward pursued
the design of wresting the kingdom out of the hands of the two families
which then enjoyed it, and making it wholly elective; and it is thought
that he would on account of this quarrel have excited a great commotion
in Sparta, if he had not died in the Boeotian war. Thus ambitious
spirits in a commonwealth, when they transgress their bounds, are apt to
do more harm than good. For though Lysander’s pride and assumption was
most ill-timed and insufferable in its display, yet Agesilaus surely
could have found some other way of setting him right, less offensive to
a man of his reputation and ambitious temper. Indeed they were both
blinded with the same passion, so as one not to recognize the authority
of his superior, the other not to bear with the imperfections of his
friend.
Tisaphernes being at first afraid of Agesilaus, treated with him
about setting the Grecian cities at liberty, which was agreed on. But
soon after finding a sufficient force drawn together, he resolved upon
war, for which Agesilaus was not sorry. For the expectation of this
expedition was great, and he did not think it for his honor, that
Xenophon with ten thousand men should march through the heart of Asia to
the sea, beating the Persian forces when and how he pleased, and that he
at the head of the Spartans, then sovereigns both at sea and land,
should not achieve some memorable action for Greece. And so to be even
with Tisaphernes, he requites his perjury by a fair stratagem. He
pretends to march into Caria, whither when he had drawn Tisaphernes and
his army, he suddenly turns back, and falls upon Phrygia, takes many of
their cities, and carries away great booty, showing his allies, that to
break a solemn league was a downright contempt of the gods, but the
circumvention of an enemy in war was not only just but glorious, a
gratification at once and an advantage.
Being weak in horse, and discouraged by ill omens in the sacrifices,
he retired to Ephesus, and there raised cavalry. He obliged the rich
men, that were not inclined to serve in person, to find each of them a
horseman armed and mounted; and there being many who preferred doing
this, the army was quickly reinforced by a body, not of unwilling
recruits for the infantry, but of brave and numerous horsemen. For those
that were not good at fighting themselves, hired such as were more
military in their inclinations, and such as loved not horse-service
substituted in their places such as did. Agamemnon’s example had been a
good one, when he took the present of an excellent mare, to dismiss a
rich coward from the army.
When by Agesilaus’s order the prisoners he had taken in Phrygia were
exposed to sale, they were first stripped of their garments, and then
sold naked. The clothes found many customers to buy them, but the bodies
being, from the want of all exposure and exercise, white and
tender-skinned, were derided and scorned as unserviceable. Agesilaus,
who stood by at the auction, told his Greeks, “These are the men against
whom ye fight, and these the things you will gain by it.”
The season of the year being come, he boldly gave out that he would
invade Lydia; and this plaindealing of his was now mistaken for a
stratagem by Tisaphernes, who, by not believing Agesilaus, having been
already deceived by him, overreached himself. He expected that he should
have made choice of Caria, as a rough country, not fit for horse, in
which he deemed Agesilaus to be weak, and directed his own marches
accordingly. But when he found him to be as good as his word, and to
have entered into the country of Sardis, he made great haste after him,
and by great marches of his horse, overtaking the loose stragglers who
were pillaging the country, he cut them off. Agesilaus meanwhile,
considering that the horse had outridden the foot, but that he himself
had the whole body of his own army entire, made haste to engage them. He
mingled his light-armed foot, carrying targets, with the horse,
commanding them to advance at full speed and begin the battle, whilst he
brought up the heavier-armed men in the rear. The success was answerable
to the design; the barbarians were put to the rout, the Grecians pursued
hard, took their camp, and put many of them to the sword. The
consequence of this victory was very great; for they had not only the
liberty of foraging the Persian country, and plundering at pleasure, but
also saw Tisaphernes pay dearly for all the cruelty he had showed the
Greeks, to whom he was a professed enemy. For the king of Persia sent
Tithraustes, who took off his head, and presently dealt with Agesilaus
about his return into Greece, sending to him ambassadors to that
purpose, with commission to offer him great sums of money. Agesilaus’s
answer was, that the making of peace belonged to the Lacedaemonians, not
to him; as for wealth, he had rather see it in his soldiers’ hands than
his own; that the Grecians thought it not honorable to enrich themselves
with the bribes of their enemies, but with their spoils only. Yet, that
he might gratify Tithraustes for the justice he had done upon
Tisaphernes, the common enemy of the Greeks, he removed his quarters
into Phrygia, accepting thirty talents for his expenses. Whilst he was
upon his march, he received a staff from the government at Sparta,
appointing him admiral as well as general. This was an honor which was
never done to any but Agesilaus, who being now undoubtedly the greatest
and most illustrious man of his time, still, as Theopompus has said,
gave himself more occasion of glory in his own virtue and merit than was
given him in this authority and power. Yet he committed a fault in
preferring Pisander to the command of the navy, when there were others
at hand both older and more experienced; in this not so much consulting
the public good, as the gratification of his kindred, and especially his
wife, whose brother Pisander was.
Having removed his camp into Pharnabazus’s province, he not only met
with great plenty of provisions, but also raised great sums of money,
and marching on to the bounds of Paphlagonia, he soon drew Cotys, the
king of it, into a league, to which he of his own accord inclined, out
of the opinion he had of Agesilaus’s honor and virtue. Spithridates,
from the time of his abandoning Pharnabazus, constantly attended
Agesilaus in the camp whithersoever he went. This Spithridates had a
son, a very handsome boy, called Megabates, of whom Agesilaus was
extremely fond, and also a very beautiful daughter, that was
marriageable. Her Agesilaus matched to Cotys, and taking of him a
thousand horse, with two thousand light-armed foot, he returned into
Phrygia, and there pillaged the country of Pharnabazus, who durst not
meet him in the field, nor yet trust to his garrisons, but getting his
valuables together, got out of the way and moved about up and down with
a flying army, till Spithridates joining with Herippidas the Spartan,
took his camp, and all his property. Herippidas being too severe an
inquirer into the plunder with which the barbarian soldiers had enriched
themselves, and forcing them to deliver it up with too much strictness,
so disobliged Spithridates with his questioning and examining, that he
changed sides again, and went off with the Paphlagonians to Sardis. This
was a very great vexation to Agesilaus, not only that he had lost the
friendship of a valiant commander, and with him a considerable part of
his army, but still more that it had been done with the disrepute of a
sordid and petty covetousness, of which he always had made it a point of
honor to keep both himself and his country clear. Besides these public
causes, he had a private one, his excessive fondness for the son, which
touched him to the quick, though he endeavored to master it, and,
especially in presence of the boy, to suppress all appearance of it; so
much so that when Megabates, for that was his name, came once to receive
a kiss from him, he declined it. At which when the young boy blushed and
drew back, and afterward saluted him at a more reserved distance,
Agesilaus soon repenting his coldness, and changing his mind, pretended
to wonder why he did not salute him with the same familiarity as
formerly. His friends about him answered, “You are in the fault, who
would not accept the kiss of the boy, but turned away in alarm; he would
come to you again, if you would have the courage to let him do so.” Upon
this Agesilaus paused a while, and at length answered, “You need not
encourage him to it; I think I had rather be master of myself in that
refusal, than see all things that are now before my eyes turned into
gold.” Thus he demeaned himself to Megabates when present, but he had so
great a passion for him in his absence, that it may be questioned
whether if the boy had returned again, all the courage he had would have
sustained him in such another refusal.
After this, Pharnabazus sought an opportunity of conferring with
Agesilaus, which Apollophanes of Cyzicus, the common host of them both,
procured for him. Agesilaus coming first to the appointed place, threw
himself down upon the grass under a tree, lying there in expectation of
Pharnabazus, who, bringing with him soft skins and wrought carpets to
lie down upon, when he saw Agesilaus’s posture, grew ashamed of his
luxuries and made no use of them, but laid himself down upon the grass
also, without regard for his delicate and richly dyed clothing.
Pharnabazus had matter enough of complaint against Agesilaus, and
therefore, after the mutual civilities were over, he put him in mind of
the great services he had done the Lacedaemonians in the Attic war, of
which he thought it an ill recompense to have his country thus harassed
and spoiled, by those men who owed so much to him. The Spartans that
were present hung down their heads, as conscious of the wrong they had
done to their ally. But Agesilaus said, “We, O Pharnabazus, when we were
in amity with your master the king, behaved ourselves like friends, and
now that we are at war with him, we behave ourselves as enemies. As for
you, we must look upon you as a part of his property, and must do these
outrages upon you, not intending the harm to you, but to him whom we
wound through you. But whenever you will choose rather to be a friend to
the Grecians, than a slave of the king of Persia, you may then reckon
this army and navy to be all at your command, to defend both you, your
country, and your liberties, without which there is nothing honorable,
or indeed desirable among men.” Upon this Pharnabazus discovered his
mind, and answered, “If the king sends another governor in my room, I
will certainly come over to you, but as long as he trusts me with the
government, I shall be just to him, and not fail to do my utmost
endeavors in opposing you.” Agesilaus was taken with the answer, and
shook hands with him; and rising, said, “How much rather had I have so
brave a man my friend than mine enemy.”
Pharnabazus being gone off, his son, staying behind, ran up to
Agesilaus, and smilingly said, “Agesilaus, I make you my guest;” and
thereupon presented him with a javelin which he had in his hand.
Agesilaus received it, and being much taken with the good mien and the
courtesy of the youth, looked about to see if there were anything in his
train fit to offer him in return; and observing the horse of Idaeus, the
secretary, to have very fine trappings on, he took them off, and
bestowed them upon the young gentleman. Nor did his kindness rest there,
but he continued ever after to be mindful of him, so that when he was
driven out of his country by his brothers, and lived an exile in
Peloponnesus, he took great care of him, and condescended even to assist
him in some love-matters. He had an attachment for a youth of Athenian
birth, who was bred up as an athlete; and when at the Olympic games this
boy, on account of his great size and general strong and full-grown
appearance, was in some danger of not being admitted into the list, the
Persian betook himself to Agesilaus, and made use of his friendship.
Agesilaus readily assisted him, and not without a great deal of
difficulty effected his desires. He was in all other things a man of
great and exact justice, but when the case concerned a friend, to be
straitlaced in point of justice, he said, was only a colorable presence
of denying him. There is an epistle written to Idrieus, prince of Caria,
that is ascribed to Agesilaus; it is this: “If Nicias be innocent,
absolve him; if he be guilty, absolve him upon my account; however be
sure to absolve him.” This was his usual character in his deportment
towards his friends. Yet his rule was not without exception; for
sometimes he considered the necessity of his affairs more than his
friend, of which he once gave an example, when upon a sudden and
disorderly removal of his camp, he left a sick friend behind him, and
when he called loudly after him, and implored his help, turned his back,
and said it was hard to be compassionate and wise too. This story is
related by Hieronymus, the philosopher.
Another year of the war being spent, Agesilaus’s fame still
increased, insomuch that the Persian king received daily information
concerning his many virtues, and the great esteem the world had of his
temperance, his plain living, and his moderation. When he made any
journey, he would usually take up his lodging in a temple, and there
make the gods witnesses of his most private actions, which others would
scarce permit men to be acquainted with. In so great an army, you should
scarce find common soldier lie on a coarser mattress, than Agesilaus; he
was so indifferent to the varieties of heat and cold, that all the
seasons, as the gods sent them, seemed natural to him. The Greeks that
inhabited Asia were much pleased to see the great lords and governors of
Persia, with all the pride, cruelty, and luxury in which they lived,
trembling and bowing before a man in a poor threadbare cloak, and at one
laconic word out of his mouth, obsequiously deferring and changing their
wishes and purposes. So that it brought to the minds of many the verses
of Timotheus,
Mars is the tyrant, gold Greece does not fear.
Many parts of Asia now revolting from the Persians, Agesilaus
restored order in the cities, and without bloodshed or banishment of any
of their members, reestablished the proper constitution in the
governments, and now resolved to carry away the war from the seaside,
and to march further up into the country, and to attack the king of
Persia himself in his own home in Susa and Ecbatana; not willing to let
the monarch sit idle in his chair, playing umpire in the conflicts of
the Greeks, and bribing their popular leaders. But these great thoughts
were interrupted by unhappy news from Sparta; Epicydidas is from thence
sent to remand him home, to assist his own country, which was then
involved in a great war;
Greece to herself doth a barbarian grow,
Others could not, she doth herself o’erthrow.
What better can we say of those jealousies, and that league and
conspiracy of the Greeks for their own mischief, which arrested fortune
in full career, and turned back arms that were already uplifted against
the barbarians, to be used upon themselves, and recalled into Greece the
war which had been banished out of her? I by no means assent to
Demaratus of Corinth, who said, that those Greeks lost a great
satisfaction, that did not live to see Alexander sit in the throne of
Darius. That sight should rather have drawn tears from them, when they
considered, that they had left that glory to Alexander and the
Macedonians, whilst they spent all their own great commanders in playing
them against each other in the fields of Leuctra, Coronea, Corinth, and
Arcadia.
Nothing was greater or nobler than the behavior of Agesilaus on this
occasion, nor can a nobler instance be found in story, of a ready
obedience and just deference to orders. Hannibal, though in a bad
condition himself, and almost driven out of Italy, could scarcely be
induced to obey, when he was called home to serve his country. Alexander
made a jest of the battle between Agis and Antipater, laughing and
saying, “So, whilst we were conquering Darius in Asia, it seems there
was a battle of mice in Arcadia.” Happy Sparta, meanwhile, in the
justice and modesty of Agesilaus, and in the deference he paid to the
laws of his country; who, immediately upon receipt of his orders, though
in the midst of his high fortune and power, and in full hope of great
and glorious success, gave all up and instantly departed, “his object
unachieved,” leaving many regrets behind him among his allies in Asia,
and proving by his example the falseness of that saying of Demostratus,
the son of Phaeax, “That the Lacedaemonians were better in public, but
the Athenians in private.” For while approving himself an excellent king
and general, he likewise showed himself in private an excellent friend,
and a most agreeable companion.
The coin of Persia was stamped with the figure of an archer;
Agesilaus said, That a thousand Persian archers had driven him out of
Asia; meaning the money that had been laid out in bribing the demagogues
and the orators in Thebes and Athens, and thus inciting those two States
to hostility against Sparta.
Having passed the Hellespont, he marched by land through Thrace, not
begging or entreating a passage anywhere, only he sent his messengers to
them, to demand whether they would have him pass as a friend or as an
enemy. All the rest received him as a friend, and assisted him on his
journey. But the Trallians, to whom Xerxes also is said to have given
money, demanded a price of him, namely, one hundred talents of silver,
and one hundred women. Agesilaus in scorn asked, Why they were not ready
to receive them? He marched on, and finding the Trallians in arms to
oppose him, fought them, and slew great numbers of them. He sent the
like embassy to the king of Macedonia, who replied, He would take time
to deliberate: “Let him deliberate,” said Agesilaus, “we will go forward
in the meantime.” The Macedonian, being surprised and daunted at the
resolution of the Spartan, gave orders to let him pass as friend. When
he came into Thessaly, he wasted the country, because they were in
league with the enemy. To Larissa, the chief city of Thessaly, he sent
Xenocles and Scythes to treat of a peace, whom when the Larissaeans had
laid hold of, and put into custody, others were enraged, and advised the
siege of the town; but he answered, That he valued either of those men
at more than the whole country of Thessaly. He therefore made terms with
them, and received his men again upon composition. Nor need we wonder at
this saying of Agesilaus, since when he had news brought him from
Sparta, of several great captains slain in a battle near Corinth, in
which the slaughter fell upon other Greeks, and the Lacedaemonians
obtained a great victory with small loss, he did not appear at all
satisfied; but with a great sigh cried out, “O Greece, how many brave
men hast thou destroyed; who, if they had been preserved to so good an
use, had sufficed to have conquered all Persia!” Yet when the
Pharsalians grew troublesome to him, by pressing upon his army, and
incommoding his passage, he led out five hundred horse, and in person
fought and routed them, setting up a trophy under the mount Narthacius.
He valued himself very much upon that victory, that with so small a
number of his own training, he had vanquished a body of men that thought
themselves the best horsemen of Greece.
Here Diphridas, the Ephor, met him, and delivered his message from
Sparta, which ordered him immediately to make an inroad into Boeotia;
and though he thought this fitter to have been done at another time, and
with greater force, he yet obeyed the magistrates. He thereupon told his
soldiers that the day was come, on which they were to enter upon that
employment, for the performance of which they were brought out of Asia.
He sent for two divisions of the army near Corinth to his assistance.
The Lacedaemonians at home, in honor to him, made proclamation for
volunteers that would serve under the king, to come in and be enlisted.
Finding all the young men in the city ready to offer themselves, they
chose fifty of the strongest, and sent them.
Agesilaus having gained Thermopylae, and passed quietly through
Phocis, as soon as he had entered Boeotia, and pitched his camp near
Chaeronea, at once met with an eclipse of the sun, and with ill news
from the navy, Pisander, the Spartan admiral, being beaten and slain at
Cnidos, by Pharnabazus and Conon. He was much moved at it, both upon his
own and the public account. Yet lest his army, being now near engaging,
should meet with any discouragement, he ordered the messengers to give
out, that the Spartans were the conquerors, and he himself putting on a
garland, solemnly sacrificed for the good news, and sent portions of the
sacrifices to his friends.
When he came near to Coronea, and was within view of the enemy, he
drew up his army, and giving the left wing to the Orchomenians, he
himself led the right. The Thebans took the right wing of their army,
leaving the left to the Argives. Xenophon, who was present, and fought
on Agesilaus’s side, reports it to be the hardest fought battle that he
had seen. The beginning of it was not so, for the Thebans soon put the
Orchomenians to rout, as also did Agesilaus the Argives. But both
parties having news of the misfortune of their left wings, they betook
themselves to their relief. Here Agesilaus might have been sure of his
victory, had he contented himself not to charge them in the front, but
in the flank or rear; but being angry and heated in the fight, he would
not wait the opportunity, but fell on at once, thinking to bear them
down before him. The Thebans were not behind him in courage, so that the
battle was fiercely carried on on both sides, especially near
Agesilaus’s person, whose new guard of fifty volunteers stood him in
great stead that day, and saved his life. They fought with great valor,
and interposed their bodies frequently between him and danger, yet could
they not so preserve him, but that he received many wounds through his
armor with lances and swords, and was with much difficulty gotten off
alive by their making a ring about him, and so guarding him, with the
slaughter of many of the enemy and the loss of many of their own number.
At length finding it too hard a task to break the front of the Theban
troops, they opened their own files, and let the enemy march through
them, (an artifice which in the beginning they scorned,) watching in the
meantime the posture of the enemy, who having passed through, grew
careless, as esteeming themselves past danger; in which position they
were immediately set upon by the Spartans. Yet were they not then put to
rout, but marched on to Helicon, proud of what they had done, being able
to say, that they themselves, as to their part of the army, were not
worsted.
Agesilaus, sore wounded as he was, would not be borne to his tent,
till he had been first carried about the field, and had seen the dead
conveyed within his encampment. As many of his enemies as had taken
sanctuary in the temple, he dismissed. For there stood near the
battlefield, the temple of Minerva the Itonian, and before it a trophy
erected by the Boeotians, for the victory which under the conduct of
Sparton, their general, they obtained over the Athenians under Tolmides,
who himself fell in the battle. And next morning early, to make trial of
the Theban courage, whether they had any mind to a second encounter, he
commanded his soldiers to put on garlands on their heads, and play with
their flutes, and raise a trophy before their faces; but when they,
instead of fighting, sent for leave to bury their dead, he gave it them;
and having so assured himself of the victory, after this he went to
Delphi, to the Pythian games, which were then celebrating, at which
feast he assisted, and there solemnly offered the tenth part of the
spoils he had brought from Asia, which amounted to a hundred talents.
Thence he returned to his own country, where his way and habits of
life quickly excited the affection and admiration of the Spartans; for,
unlike other generals, he came home from foreign lands the same man that
he went out, having not so learned the fashions of other countries, as
to forget his own, much less to dislike or despise them. He followed and
respected all the Spartan customs, without any change either in the
manner of his supping, or bathing, or his wife’s apparel, as if he had
never traveled over the river Eurotas. So also with his household
furniture and his own armor; nay, the very gates of his house were so
old, that they might well be thought of Aristodemus’s setting up. His
daughter’s Canathrum, says Xenophon, was no richer than that of any one
else. The Canathrum, as they call it, is a chair or chariot made of
wood, in the shape of a griffin, or tragelaphus, on which the children
and young virgins are carried in processions. Xenophon has not left us
the name of this daughter of Agesilaus; and Dicaearchus expresses some
indignation, because we do not know, he says, the name of Agesilaus’s
daughter, nor of Epaminondas’s mother. But in the records of Laconia, we
ourselves found his wife’s name to have been Cleora, and his two
daughters to have been called Eupolia and Prolyta. And you may also to
this day see Agesilaus’s spear kept in Sparta, nothing differing from
that of other men.
There was a vanity he observed among the Spartans, about keeping
running horses for the Olympic games, upon which he found they much
valued themselves. Agesilaus regarded it as a display not of any real
virtue, but of wealth and expense; and to make this evident to the
Greeks, induced his sister, Cynisca, to send a chariot into the course.
He kept with him Xenophon, the philosopher, and made much of him, and
proposed to him to send for his children, and educate them at Sparta,
where they would be taught the best of all learning; how to obey, and
how to command. Finding on Lysander’s death a large faction formed,
which he on his return from Asia had established against Agesilaus, he
thought it advisable to expose both him and it, by showing what manner
of a citizen he had been whilst he lived. To that end, finding among his
writings all oration, composed by Cleon the Halicarnassean, but to have
been spoken by Lysander in a public assembly, to excite the people to
innovations and changes in the government, he resolved to publish it, as
an evidence of Lysander’s practices. But one of the Elders having the
perusal of it, and finding it powerfully written, advised him to have a
care of digging up Lysander again, and rather bury that oration in the
grave with him; and this advice he wisely hearkened to, and hushed the
whole thing up; and ever after forbore publicly to affront any of his
adversaries, but took occasions of picking out the ringleaders, and
sending them away upon foreign services. He thus had means for exposing
the avarice and the injustice of many of them in their employments; and
again when they were by others brought into question, he made it his
business to bring them off, obliging them, by that means, of enemies to
become his friends, and so by degrees left none remaining.
Agesipolis, his fellow king, was under the disadvantage of being born
of an exiled father, and himself young, modest, and inactive, meddled
not much in affairs. Agesilaus took a course of gaining him over, and
making him entirely tractable. According to the custom of Sparta, the
kings, if they were in town, always dined together. This was Agesilaus’s
opportunity of dealing with Agesipolis, whom he found quick, as he
himself was, in forming attachments for young men, and accordingly
talked with him always on such subjects, joining and aiding him, and
acting as his confidant, such attachments in Sparta being entirely
honorable, and attended always with lively feeling of modesty, love of
virtue, and a noble emulation; of which more is said in Lycurgus’s life.
Having thus established his power in the city, he easily obtained
that his half-brother Teleutias might be chosen admiral, and thereupon
making all expedition against the Corinthians, he made himself master of
the long walls by land, through the assistance of his brother at sea.
Coming thus upon the Argives, who then held Corinth, in the midst of
their Isthmian festival, he made them fly from the sacrifice they had
just commenced, and leave all their festive provision behind them. The
exiled Corinthians that were in the Spartan army, desired him to keep
the feast, and to preside in the celebration of it. This he refused, but
gave them leave to carry on the solemnity if they pleased, and he in the
meantime stayed and guarded them. When Agesilaus marched off, the
Argives returned and celebrated the games over again, when some who were
victors before, became victors a second time, others lost the prizes
which before they had gained. Agesilaus thus made it clear to everybody,
that the Argives must in their own eyes have been guilty of great
cowardice, since they set such a value on presiding at the games, and
yet had not dared to fight for it. He himself was of opinion, that to
keep a mean in such things was best; he assisted at the sports and
dances usual in his own country, and was always ready and eager to be
present at the exercises either of the young men, or of the girls, but
things that many men used to be highly taken with, he seemed not at all
concerned about. Callippides, the tragic actor, who had a great name in
all Greece and was made much of, once met and saluted him; of which when
he found no notice taken, he confidently thrust himself into his train,
expecting that Agesilaus would pay him some attention. When all that
failed, he boldly accosted him, and asked him, whether he did not
remember him? Agesilaus turned, and looking him in the face, “Are you
not,” said he, “Callippides the showman?” Being invited once to hear a
man who admirably imitated the nightingale, he declined, saying, he had
heard the nightingale itself. Menecrates, the physician, having had
great success in some desperate diseases, was by way of flattery called
Jupiter; he was so vain as to take the name, and having occasion to
write a letter to Agesilaus, thus addressed it: “Jupiter Menecrates to
King Agesilaus, greeting.” The king returned answer: “Agesilaus to
Menecrates, health and a sound mind.”
Whilst Agesilaus was in the Corinthian territories, having just taken
the Heraeum, he was looking on while his soldiers were carrying away the
prisoners and the plunder, when ambassadors from Thebes came to him to
treat of peace. Having a great aversion for that city, and thinking it
then advantageous to his affairs publicly to slight them, he took the
opportunity, and would not seem either to see them, or hear them speak.
But as if on purpose to punish him in his pride, before they parted from
him, messengers came with news of the complete slaughter of one of the
Spartan divisions by Iphicrates, a greater disaster than had befallen
them for many years; and that the more grievous, because it was a choice
regiment of full-armed Lacedaemonians overthrown by a parcel of mere
mercenary targeteers. Agesilaus leapt from his seat, to go at once to
their rescue, but found it too late, the business being over. He
therefore returned to the Heraeum, and sent for the Theban ambassadors
to give them audience. They now resolved to be even with him for the
affront he gave them, and without speaking one word of the peace, only
desired leave to go into Corinth. Agesilaus, irritated with this
proposal, told them in scorn, that if they were anxious to go and see
how proud their friends were of their success, they should do it
tomorrow with safety. Next morning, taking the ambassadors with him, he
ravaged the Corinthian territories, up to the very gates of the city,
where having made a stand, and let the ambassadors see that the
Corinthians durst not come out to defend themselves, he dismissed them.
Then gathering up the small remainders of the shattered regiment, he
marched homewards, always removing his camp before day, and always
pitching his tents after night, that he might prevent their enemies
among the Arcadians from taking any opportunity of insulting over their
loss.
After this, at the request of the Achaeans, he marched with them into
Acarnania, and there collected great spoils, and defeated the
Acarnanians in battle. The Achaeans would have persuaded him to keep his
winter quarters there, to hinder the Acarnanians from sowing their corn;
but he was of the contrary opinion, alleging, that they would be more
afraid of a war next summer, when their fields were sown, than they
would be if they lay fallow. The event justified his opinion; for next
summer, when the Achaeans began their expedition again, the Acarnanians
immediately made peace with them.
When Conon and Pharnabazus with the Persian navy were grown masters
of the sea, and had not only infested the coast of Laconia, but also
rebuilt the walls of Athens at the cost of Pharnabazus, the
Lacedaemonians thought fit to treat of peace with the king of Persia. To
that end, they sent Antalcidas to Tiribazus, basely and wickedly
betraying the Asiatic Greeks, on whose behalf Agesilaus had made the
war. But no part of this dishonor fell upon Agesilaus, the whole being
transacted by Antalcidas, who was his bitter enemy, and was urgent for
peace upon any terms, because war was sure to increase his power and
reputation. Nevertheless once being told by way of reproach, that the
Lacedaemonians had gone over to the Medes, he replied, “No, the Medes
have come over to the Lacedaemonians.” And when the Greeks were backward
to submit to the agreement, he threatened them with war, unless they
fulfilled the king of Persia’s conditions, his particular end in this
being to weaken the Thebans; for it was made one of the articles of
peace, that the country of Boeotia should be left independent. This
feeling of his to Thebes appeared further afterwards, when Phoebidas, in
full peace, most unjustifiably seized upon the Cadmea. The thing was
much resented by all Greece, and not well liked by the Lacedaemonians
themselves; those especially who were enemies to Agesilaus, required an
account of the action, and by whose authority it was done, laying the
suspicion of it at his door. Agesilaus resolutely answered, on the
behalf of Phoebidas, that the profitableness of the act was chiefly to
be considered; if it were for the advantage of the commonwealth, it was
no matter whether it were done with or without authority. This was the
more remarkable in him, because in his ordinary language, he was always
observed to be a great maintainer of justice, and would commend it as
the chief of virtues, saying, that valor without justice was useless,
and if all the world were just, there would be no need of valor. When
any would say to him, the Great King will have it so; he would reply,
“How is he greater than I, unless he be juster?” nobly and rightly
taking, as a sort of royal measure of greatness, justice, and not force.
And thus when, on the conclusion of the peace, the king of Persia wrote
to Agesilaus, desiring a private friendship and relations of
hospitality, he refused it, saying, that the public friendship was
enough; whilst that lasted there was no need of private. Yet in his acts
he was not constant to his doctrine, but sometimes out of ambition, and
sometimes out of private pique, he let himself be carried away; and
particularly in this case of the Thebans, he not only saved Phoebidas,
but persuaded the Lacedaemonians to take the fault upon themselves, and
to retain the Cadmea, putting a garrison into it, and to put the
government of Thebes into the hands of Archias and Leontidas, who had
been betrayers of the castle to them.
This excited strong suspicion that what Phoebidas did was by
Agesilaus’s order, which was corroborated by after occurrences. For when
the Thebans had expelled the garrison, and asserted their liberty, he,
accusing them of the murder of Archias and Leontidas, who indeed were
tyrants, though in name holding the office of Polemarchs, made war upon
them. He sent Cleombrotus on that errand, who was now his fellow king,
in the place of Agesipolis, who was dead, excusing himself by reason of
his age; for it was forty years since he had first borne arms, and he
was consequently exempt by the law; meanwhile the true reason was, that
he was ashamed, having so lately fought against tyranny in behalf of the
Phliasians, to fight now in defense of a tyranny against the Thebans.
One Sphodrias, of Lacedaemon, of the contrary faction to Agesilaus,
was governor in Thespiae, a bold and enterprising man, though he had
perhaps more of confidence than wisdom. This action of Phoebidas fired
him, and incited his ambition to attempt some great enterprise, which
might render him as famous as he perceived the taking of the Cadmea had
made Phoebidas. He thought the sudden capture of the Piraeus, and the
cutting off thereby the Athenians from the sea, would be a matter of far
more glory. It is said, too, that Pelopidas and Melon, the chief
captains of Boeotia, put him upon it; that they privily sent men to him,
pretending to be of the Spartan faction, who, highly commending
Sphodrias, filled him with a great opinion of himself, protesting him to
be the only man in the world that was fit for so great an enterprise.
Being thus stimulated, he could hold no longer, but hurried into an
attempt as dishonorable and treacherous as that of the Cadmea, but
executed with less valor and less success; for the day broke whilst he
was yet in the Thriasian plain, whereas he designed the whole exploit to
have been done in the night. As soon as the soldiers perceived the rays
of light reflecting from the temples of Eleusis, upon the first rising
of the sun, it is said that their hearts failed them; nay, he himself,
when he saw that he could not have the benefit of the night, had not
courage enough to go on with his enterprise; but, having pillaged the
country, he returned with shame to Thespiae. An embassy was upon this
sent from Athens to Sparta, to complain of the breach of peace; but the
ambassadors found their journey needless, Sphodrias being then under
process by the magistrates of Sparta. Sphodrias durst not stay to expect
judgment, which he found would be capital, the city being highly
incensed against him, out of the shame they felt at the business, and
their desire to appear in the eyes of the Athenians as fellow-sufferers;
in the wrong, rather than accomplices in its being done.
This Sphodrias had a son of great beauty named Cleonymus, to whom
Archidamus, the son of Agesilaus, was extremely attached. Archidamus, as
became him, was concerned for the danger of his friend’s father, but yet
he durst not do anything openly for his assistance, he being one of the
professed enemies of Agesilaus. But Cleonymus having solicited him with
tears about it, as knowing Agesilaus to be of all his father’s enemies
the most formidable, the young man for two or three days followed after
his father with such fear and confusion, that he durst not speak to him.
At last, the day of sentence being at hand, he ventured to tell him,
that Cleonymus had entreated him to intercede for his father Agesilaus,
though well aware of the love between the two young men, yet did not
prohibit it, because Cleonymus from his earliest years had been looked
upon as a youth of very great promise; yet he gave not his son any kind
or hopeful answer in the case, but coldly told him, that he would
consider what he could honestly and honorably do in it, and so dismissed
him. Archidamus, being ashamed of his want of success, forbore the
company of Cleonymus, whom he usually saw several times every day. This
made the friends of Sphodrias to think his case desperate, till
Etymocles, one of Agesilaus’s friends, discovered to them the king’s
mind, namely, that he abhorred the fact, but yet he thought Sphodrias a
gallant man, such as the commonwealth much wanted at that time. For
Agesilaus used to talk thus concerning the cause, out of a desire to
gratify his son. And now Cleonymus quickly understood, that Archidamus
had been true to him, in using all his interest with his father; and
Sphodrias’s friends ventured to be forward in his defense. The truth is,
that Agesilaus was excessively fond of his children; and it is to him
the story belongs, that when they were little ones, he used to make a
horse of a stick, and ride with them; and being caught at this sport by
a friend, he desired him not to mention it, till he himself were the
father of children.
Meanwhile, Sphodrias being acquitted, the Athenians betook themselves
to arms, and Agesilaus fell into disgrace with the people; since to
gratify the whims of a boy, he had been willing to pervert justice, and
make the city accessory to the crimes of private men, whose most
unjustifiable actions had broken the peace of Greece. He also found his
colleague, Cleombrotus, little inclined to the Theban war; so that it
became necessary for him to waive the privilege of his age, which he
before had claimed, and to lead the army himself into Boeotia; which he
did with variety of success, sometimes conquering, and sometimes
conquered; insomuch that receiving a wound in a battle, he was
reproached by Antalcidas, that the Thebans had paid him well for the
lessons he had given them in fighting. And, indeed, they were now grown
far better soldiers than ever they had been, being so continually kept
in training, by the frequency of the Lacedaemonian expeditions against
them. Out of the foresight of which it was, that anciently Lycurgus, in
three several laws, forbade them to make many wars with the same nation,
as this would be to instruct their enemies in the art of it. Meanwhile,
the allies of Sparta were not a little discontented at Agesilaus,
because this war was commenced not upon any fair public ground of
quarrel, but merely out of his private hatred to the Thebans; and they
complained with indignation, that they, being the majority of the army,
should from year to year be thus exposed to danger and hardship here and
there, at the will of a few persons. It was at this time, we are told,
that Agesilaus, to obviate the objection, devised this expedient, to
show the allies were not the greater number. He gave orders that all the
allies, of whatever country, should sit down promiscuously on one side,
and all the Lacedaemonians on the other: which being done, he commanded
a herald to proclaim, that all the potters of both divisions should
stand out; then all the blacksmiths; then all the masons; next the
carpenters; and so he went through all the handicrafts. By this time
almost all the allies were risen, but of the Lacedaemonians not a man,
they being by law forbidden to learn any mechanical business; and now
Agesilaus laughed and said, “You see, my friends, how many more soldiers
we send out than you do.”
When he brought back his army from Boeotia through Megara, as he was
going up to the magistrate’s office in the Acropolis, he was suddenly
seized with pain and cramp in his sound leg, and great swelling and
inflammation ensued. He was treated by a Syracusan physician, who let
him blood below the ankle; this soon eased his pain, but then the blood
could not be stopped, till the loss of it brought on fainting and
swooning; at length, with much trouble, he stopped it. Agesilaus was
carried home to Sparta in a very weak condition, and did not recover
strength enough to appear in the field for a long time after.
Meanwhile, the Spartan fortune was but ill; they received many losses
both by sea and land; but the greatest was that at Tegyrae, when for the
first time they were beaten by the Thebans in a set battle.
All the Greeks were, accordingly, disposed to a general peace, and to
that end ambassadors came to Sparta. Among these was Epaminondas, the
Theban, famous at that time for his philosophy and learning, but he had
not yet given proof of his capacity as a general. He, seeing all the
others crouch to Agesilaus, and court favor with him, alone maintained
the dignity of an ambassador, and with that freedom that became his
character, made a speech in behalf not of Thebes only, from whence he
came, but of all Greece, remonstrating, that Sparta alone grew great by
war, to the distress and suffering of all her neighbors. He urged, that
a peace should be made upon just and equal terms, such as alone would be
a lasting one, which could not otherwise be done, than by reducing all
to equality. Agesilaus, perceiving all the other Greeks to give much
attention to this discourse, and to be pleased with it, presently asked
him, whether he thought it a part of this justice and equality that the
Boeotian towns should enjoy their independence. Epaminondas instantly
and without wavering asked him in return, whether he thought it just and
equal that the Laconian towns should enjoy theirs. Agesilaus started
from his seat and bade him once for all speak out and say whether or not
Boeotia should be independent. And when Epaminondas replied once again
with the same inquiry, whether Laconia should be so, Agesilaus was so
enraged that, availing himself of the pretext he immediately struck the
name of the Thebans out of the league, and declared war against them.
With the rest of the Greeks he made a peace, and dismissed them with
this saying, that what could be peaceably adjusted, should; what was
otherwise incurable, must be committed to the success of war, it being a
thing of too great difficulty to provide for all things by treaty. The
Ephors upon this dispatched their orders to Cleombrotus, who was at that
time in Phocis, to march directly into Boeotia, and at the same time
sent to their allies for aid. The confederates were very tardy in the
business, and unwilling to engage, but as yet they feared the Spartans
too much to dare to refuse. And although many portents, and prodigies of
ill presage, which I have mentioned in the life of Epaminondas, had
appeared; and though Prothous, the Laconian, did all he could to hinder
it, yet Agesilaus would needs go forward, and prevailed so, that the war
was decreed. He thought the present juncture of affairs very
advantageous for their revenge, the rest of Greece being wholly free,
and the Thebans excluded from the peace. But that this war was
undertaken more upon passion than judgment, the event may prove; for the
treaty was finished but the fourteenth of Scirophorion, and the
Lacedaemonians received their great overthrow at Leuctra, on the fifth
of Hecatombaeon, within twenty days. There fell at that time a thousand,
Spartans, and Cleombrotus their king, and around him the bravest men of
the nation; particularly, the beautiful youth, Cleonymus the son of
Sphodrias, who was thrice struck down at the feet of the king, and as
often rose, but was slain at the last.
This unexpected blow, which fell so heavy upon the Lacedaemonians,
brought greater glory to Thebes than ever was acquired by any other of
the Grecian republics, in their civil wars against each other. The
behavior, notwithstanding, of the Spartans, though beaten, was as great,
and as highly to be admired, as that of the Thebans. And indeed, if, as
Xenophon says, in conversation good men even in their sports and at
their wine let fall many sayings that are worth the preserving; how much
more worthy to be recorded, is an exemplary constancy of mind, as shown
both in the words and in the acts of brave men, when they are pressed by
adverse fortune! It happened that the Spartans were celebrating a solemn
feast, at which many strangers were present from other countries, and
the town full of them, when this news of the overthrow came. It was the
gymnopaediae, and the boys were dancing in the theater, when the
messengers arrived from Leuctra. The Ephors, though they were
sufficiently aware that this blow had ruined the Spartan power, and that
their primacy over the rest of Greece was gone for ever, yet gave orders
that the dances should not break off, nor any of the celebration of the
festival abate; but privately sending the names of the slain to each
family, out of which they were lost, they continued the public
spectacles. The next morning, when they had full intelligence concerning
it, and everybody knew who were slain, and who survived, the fathers,
relatives, and friends of the slain came out rejoicing in the
market-place, saluting each other with a kind of exultation; on the
contrary, the fathers of the survivors hid themselves at home among the
women. If necessity drove any of them abroad, they went very dejectedly,
with downcast looks, and sorrowful countenances. The women outdid the
men in it; those whose sons were slain, openly rejoicing, cheerfully
making visits to one another, and meeting triumphantly in the temples;
they who expected their children home, being very silent, and much
troubled.
But the people in general, when their allies now began to desert
them, and Epaminondas, in all the confidence of victory, was expected
with an invading army in Peloponnesus, began to think again of
Agesilaus’s lameness, and to entertain feelings of religious fear and
despondency, as if their having rejected the sound-footed, and having
chosen the halting king, which the oracle had specially warned them
against, was the occasion of all their distresses. Yet the regard they
had to the merit and reputation of Agesilaus, so far stilled this
murmuring of the people, that notwithstanding it, they entrusted
themselves to him in this distress, as the only man that was fit to heal
the public malady, the arbiter of all their difficulties, whether
relating to the affairs of war or peace. One great one was then before
them, concerning the runaways (as their name is for them) that had fled
out of the battle, who being many and powerful, it was feared that they
might make some commotion in the republic, to prevent the execution of
the law upon them for their cowardice. The law in that case was very
severe; for they were not only to be debarred from all honors, but also
it was a disgrace to intermarry with them; whoever met any of them in
the streets, might beat him if he chose, nor was it lawful for him to
resist; they in the meanwhile were obliged to go about unwashed and
meanly dressed, with their clothes patched with divers colors, and to
wear their beards half shaved half unshaven. To execute so rigid a law
as this, in a case where the offenders were so many, and many of them of
such distinction, and that in a time when the commonwealth wanted
soldiers so much as then it did, was of dangerous consequence. Therefore
they chose Agesilaus as a sort of new lawgiver for the occasion. But he,
without adding to or diminishing from or any way changing the law, came
out into the public assembly, and said, that the law should sleep for
today, but from this day forth be vigorously executed. By this means he
at once preserved the law from abrogation, and the citizens from infamy;
and that he might alleviate the despondency and self-distrust of the
young men, he made an inroad into Arcadia, where carefully avoiding all
fighting, he contented himself with spoiling the territory, and taking a
small town belonging to the Mantineans, thus reviving the hearts of the
people, letting them see that they were not everywhere unsuccessful.
Epaminondas now invaded Laconia, with an army of forty thousand,
besides light-armed men and others that followed the camp only for
plunder, so that in all they were at least seventy thousand. It was now
six hundred years since the Dorians had possessed Laconia, and in all
that time the face of an enemy had not been seen within their
territories, no man daring to invade them; but now they made their
entrance, and burnt and plundered without resistance the hitherto
untouched and sacred territory, up to Eurotas, and the very suburbs of
Sparta; for Agesilaus would not permit them to encounter so impetuous a
torrent, as Theopompus calls it, of war. He contented himself with
fortifying the chief parts of the city, and with placing guards in
convenient places, enduring meanwhile the taunts of the Thebans, who
reproached him by name as the kindler of the war, and the author of all
that mischief to his country, bidding him defend himself if he could.
But this was not all; he was equally disturbed at home with the tumults
of the city, the outcries and running about of the old men, who were
enraged at their present condition, and the women, yet worse, out of
their senses with the clamors, and the fires of the enemy in the field.
He was also himself afflicted by the sense of his lost glory; who having
come to the throne of Sparta when it was in its most flourishing and
powerful condition, now lived to see it laid low in esteem, and all its
great vaunts cut down, even that which he himself had been accustomed to
use, that the women of Sparta had never seen the smoke of the enemy’s
fire. As it is said, also, that when Antalcidas once being in dispute
with an Athenian about the valor of the two nations, the Athenian
boasted, that they had often driven the Spartans from the river
Cephisus, “Yes,” said Antalcidas, “but we never had occasion to drive
you from Eurotas.” And a common Spartan of less note, being in company
with an Argive, who was bragging how many Spartans lay buried in the
fields of Argos, replied, “None of you are buried in the country of
Laconia.” Yet now the case was so altered, that Antalcidas, being one of
the Ephors, out of fear sent away his children privately to the island
of Cythera.
When the enemy essayed to get over the river, and thence to attack
the town, Agesilaus, abandoning the rest, betook himself to the high
places and strong-holds of it. But it happened, that Eurotas at that
time was swollen to a great height with the snow that had fallen, and
made the passage very difficult to the Thebans, not only by its depth,
but much more by its extreme coldness. Whilst this was doing,
Epaminondas was seen in the front of the phalanx, and was pointed out to
Agesilaus, who looked long at him, and said but these words, “O, bold
man!” But when he came to the city, and would have fain attempted
something within the limits of it that might raise him a trophy there,
he could not tempt Agesilaus out of his hold, but was forced to march
off again, wasting the country as he went.
Meanwhile, a body of long discontented and bad citizens, about two
hundred in number, having got into a strong part of the town called the
Issorion, where the temple of Diana stands, seized and garrisoned it.
The Spartans would have fallen upon them instantly; but Agesilaus, not
knowing how far the sedition might reach, bade them forbear, and going
himself in his ordinary dress, with but one servant, when he came near
the rebels, called out, and told them, that they mistook their orders;
this was not the right place; they were to go, one part of them thither,
showing them another place in the city, and part to another, which he
also showed. The conspirators gladly heard this, thinking themselves
unsuspected of treason, and readily went off to the places which he
showed them. Whereupon Agesilaus placed in their room a guard of his
own; and of the conspirators he apprehended fifteen, and put them to
death in the night. But after this, a much more dangerous conspiracy was
discovered of Spartan citizens, who had privately met in each other’s
houses, plotting a revolution. These were men whom it was equally
dangerous to prosecute publicly according to law, and to connive at.
Agesilaus took counsel with the Ephors, and put these also to death
privately without process; a thing never before known in the case of any
born Spartan.
At this time, also, many of the Helots and country people, who were
in the army, ran away to the enemy, which was matter of great
consternation to the city. He therefore caused some officers of his,
every morning before day, to search the quarters of the soldiers, and
where any man was gone, to hide his arms, that so the greatness of the
number might not appear.
Historians differ about the cause of the Thebans’ departure from
Sparta. Some say, the winter forced them; as also that the Arcadian
soldiers disbanding, made it necessary for the rest to retire. Others
say, that they stayed there three months, till they had laid the whole
country waste. Theopompus is the only author who says that when the
Boeotian generals had already resolved upon the retreat, Phrixus, the
Spartan, came to them, and offered them from Agesilaus ten talents to be
gone, so hiring them to do what they were already doing of their own
accord. How he alone should come to be aware of this, I know not; only
in this all authors agree, that the saving of Sparta from ruin was
wholly due to the wisdom of Agesilaus, who in this extremity of affairs
quitted all his ambition and his haughtiness, and resolved to play a
saving game. But all his wisdom and courage was not sufficient to
recover the glory of it, and to raise it to its ancient greatness. For
as we see in human bodies, long used to a very strict and too
exquisitely regular diet, any single great disorder is usually fatal; so
here one stroke overthrew the whole State’s long prosperity. Nor can we
be surprised at this. Lycurgus had formed a polity admirably designed
for the peace, harmony, and virtuous life of the citizens; and their
fall came from their assuming foreign dominion and arbitrary sway,
things wholly undesirable, in the judgment of Lycurgus, for a
well-conducted and happy State.
Agesilaus being now in years, gave over all military employments; but
his son Archidamus, having received help from Dionysius of Sicily, gave
a great defeat to the Arcadians, in the fight known by the name of the
Tearless Battle, in which there was a great slaughter of the enemy,
without the loss of one Spartan. Yet this victory, more than anything
else, discovered the present weakness of Sparta; for heretofore victory
was esteemed so usual a thing with them, that for their greatest
successes, they merely sacrificed a cock to the gods. The soldiers never
vaunted, nor did the citizens display any great joy at the news; even
when the great victory, described by Thucydides, was obtained at
Mantinea, the messenger that brought the news had no other reward than a
piece of meat, sent by the magistrates from the common table. But at the
news of this Arcadian victory, they were not able to contain themselves;
Agesilaus went out in procession with tears of joy in his eyes, to meet
and embrace his son, and all the magistrates and public officers
attended him. The old men and the women marched out as far as the river
Eurotas, lifting up their hands, and thanking the gods, that Sparta was
now cleared again of the disgrace and indignity that had befallen her,
and once more saw the light of day. Since before, they tell us, the
Spartan men, out of shame at their disasters, did not dare so much as to
look their wives in the face.
When Epaminondas restored Messene, and recalled from all quarters the
ancient citizens to inhabit it, they were not able to obstruct the
design, being not in condition of appearing in the field against them.
But it went greatly against Agesilaus in the minds of his countrymen,
when they found so large a territory, equal to their own in compass, and
for fertility the richest of all Greece, which they had enjoyed so long,
taken from them in his reign. Therefore it was that the king broke off
treaty with the Thebans, when they offered him peace, rather than set
his hand to the passing away of that country, though it was already
taken from him. Which point of honor had like to have cost him dear; for
not long after he was overreached by a stratagem, which had almost
amounted to the loss of Sparta. For when the Mantineans again revolted
from Thebes to Sparta, and Epaminondas understood that Agesilaus was
come to their assistance with a powerful army, he privately in the night
quitted his quarters at Tegea, and unknown to the Mantineans, passing by
Agesilaus, marched towards Sparta, insomuch that he failed very little
of taking it empty and unarmed. Agesilaus had intelligence sent him by
Euthynus, the Thespian, as Callisthenes says, but Xenophon says by a
Cretan; and immediately dispatched a horseman to Lacedaemon, to apprise
them of it, and to let them know that he was hastening to them. Shortly
after his arrival the Thebans crossed the Eurotas. They made an assault
upon the town, and were received by Agesilaus with great courage, and
with exertions beyond what was to be expected at his years. For he did
not now fight with that caution and cunning which he formerly made use
of, but put all upon a desperate push; which, though not his usual
method, succeeded so well, that he rescued the city out of the very
hands of Epaminondas, and forced him to retire, and, at the erection of
a trophy, was able, in the presence of their wives and children, to
declare that the Lacedaemonians had nobly paid their debt to their
country, and particularly his son Archidamus, who had that day made
himself illustrious, both by his courage and agility of body, rapidly
passing about by the short lanes to every endangered point, and
everywhere maintaining the town against the enemy with but few to help
him. Isadas, however, the son of Phoebidas, must have been, I think, the
admiration of the enemy as well as of his friends. He was a youth of
remarkable beauty and stature, in the very flower of the most attractive
time of life, when the boy is just rising into the man. He had no arms
upon him, and scarcely clothes; he had just anointed himself at home,
when upon the alarm, without further waiting, in that undress, he
snatched a spear in one hand, and a sword in the other, and broke his
way through the combatants to the enemies, striking at all he met. He
received no wound, whether it were that a special divine care rewarded
his valor with an extraordinary protection, or whether his shape being
so large and beautiful, and his dress so unusual, they thought him more
than a man. The Ephors gave him a garland; but as soon as they had done
so, they fined him a thousand drachmas, for going out to battle unarmed.
A few days after this there was another battle fought near Mantinea,
in which Epaminondas, having routed the van of the Lacedaemonians, was
eager in the pursuit of them, when Anticrates, the Laconian, wounded him
with a spear, says Dioscorides; but the Spartans to this day call the
posterity of this Anticrates, swordsmen, because he wounded Epaminondas
with a sword. They so dreaded Epaminondas when living, that the slayer
of him was embraced and admired by all; they decreed honors and gifts to
him, and an exemption from taxes to his posterity, a privilege enjoyed
at this day by Callicrates, one of his descendants.
Epaminondas being slain, there was a general peace again concluded,
from which Agesilaus’s party excluded the Messenians, as men that had no
city, and therefore would not let them swear to the league; to which
when the rest of the Greeks admitted them, the Lacedaemonians broke off,
and continued the war alone, in hopes of subduing the Messenians. In
this Agesilaus was esteemed a stubborn and headstrong man, and
insatiable of war, who took such pains to undermine the general peace,
and to protract the war at a time when he had not money to carry it on
with, but was forced to borrow of his friends and raise subscriptions,
with much difficulty, while the city, above all things, needed repose.
And all this to recover the one poor town of Messene, after he had lost
so great an empire both by sea and land, as the Spartans were possessed
of, when he began to reign.
But it added still more to his ill-repute when he put himself into
the service of Tachos, the Egyptian. They thought it too unworthy of a
man of his high station, who was then looked upon as the first commander
in all Greece, who had filled all countries with his renown, to let
himself out to hire to a barbarian, an Egyptian rebel, (for Tachos was
no better) and to fight for pay, as captain only of a band of
mercenaries. If, they said, at those years of eighty and odd, after his
body had been worn out with age, and enfeebled with wounds, he had
resumed that noble undertaking, the liberation of the Greeks from
Persia, it had been worthy of some reproof. To make an action honorable,
it ought to be agreeable to the age, and other circumstances of the
person; since it is circumstance and proper measure that give an action
its character, and make it either good or bad. But Agesilaus valued not
other men’s discourses; he thought no public employment dishonorable;
the ignoblest thing in his esteem, was for a man to sit idle and useless
at home, waiting for his death to come and take him. The money,
therefore, that he received from Tachos, he laid out in raising men,
with whom having filled his ships, he took also thirty Spartan
counselors with him, as formerly he had done in his Asiatic expedition,
and set sail for Egypt.
As soon as he arrived in Egypt, all the great officers of the kingdom
came to pay their compliments to him at his landing. His reputation
being so great had raised the expectation of the whole country, and
crowds flocked in to see him; but when they found, instead of the
splendid prince whom they looked for, a little old man of contemptible
appearance, without all ceremony lying down upon the grass, in coarse
and threadbare clothes, they fell into laughter and scorn of him, crying
out, that the old proverb was; now made good, “The mountain had brought
forth a mouse.” They were yet more astonished at his stupidity, as they
thought it, who, when presents were made him of all sorts of provisions,
took only the meal, the calves, and the geese, but rejected the
sweetmeats, the confections and perfumes; and when they urged him to the
acceptance of them, took them and gave them to the helots in his army.
Yet he was taken, Theophrastus tells us, with the garlands they made of
the papyrus, because of their simplicity, and when he returned home, he
demanded one of the king, which he carried with him.
When he joined with Tachos, he found his expectation of being
general-in-chief disappointed. Tachos reserved that place for himself,
making Agesilaus only captain of the mercenaries, and Chabrias, the
Athenian, commander of the fleet. This was the first occasion of his
discontent, but there followed others; he was compelled daily to submit
to the insolence and vanity of this Egyptian, and was at length forced
to attend him into Phoenicia, in a condition much below his character
and dignity, which he bore and put up with for a time, till he had
opportunity of showing his feelings. It was afforded him by Nectanabis,
the cousin of Tachos, who commanded a large force under him, and shortly
after deserted him, and was proclaimed king by the Egyptians. This man
invited Agesilaus to join his party, and the like he did to Chabrias,
offering great rewards to both. Tachos, suspecting it, immediately
applied himself both to Agesilaus and Chabrias, with great humility
beseeching their continuance in his friendship. Chabrias consented to
it, and did what he could by persuasion and good words to keep Agesilaus
with them. But he gave this short reply, “You, O Chabrias, came hither a
volunteer, and may go and stay as you see cause; but I am the servant of
Sparta, appointed to head the Egyptians, and therefore I cannot fight
against those to whom I was sent as a friend, unless I am commanded to
do so by my country.” This being said, he dispatched messengers to
Sparta, who were sufficiently supplied with matter both for dispraise of
Tachos, and commendation of Nectanabis. The two Egyptians also sent
their ambassadors to Lacedaemon, the one to claim continuance of the
league already made, the other to make great offers for the breaking of
it, and making a new one. The Spartans having heard both sides, gave in
their public answer, that they referred the whole matter to Agesilaus;
but privately wrote to him, to act as he should find it best for the
profit of the commonwealth. Upon receipt of his orders, he at once
changed sides, carrying all the mercenaries with him to Nectanabis,
covering with the plausible presence of acting for the benefit of his
country, a most questionable piece of conduct, which, stripped of that
disguise, in real truth was no better than downright treachery. But the
Lacedaemonians, who make it their first principle of action to serve
their country’s interest, know not anything to be just or unjust by any
measure but that.
Tachos, being thus deserted by the mercenaries, fled for it; upon
which a new king of the Mendesian province was proclaimed his successor,
and came against Nectanabis with an army of one hundred thousand men.
Nectanabis, in his talk with Agesilaus, professed to despise them as
newly raised men, who, though many in number, were of no skill in war,
being most of them mechanics and tradesmen, never bred to war. To whom
Agesilaus answered, that he did not fear their numbers, but did fear
their ignorance, which gave no room for employing stratagem against
them. Stratagem only avails with men who are alive to suspicion, and
expecting to be assailed, expose themselves by their attempts at
defense; but one who has no thought or expectation of anything, gives as
little opportunity to the enemy, as he who stands stock-still does to a
wrestler. The Mendesian was not wanting in solicitations of Agesilaus,
insomuch that Nectanabis grew jealous. But when Agesilaus advised to
fight the enemy at once, saying, it was folly to protract the war and
rely on time, in a contest with men who had no experience in fighting
battles, but with their great numbers might be able to surround them,
and cut off their communications by entrenchments, and anticipate them
in many matters of advantage, this altogether confirmed him in his fears
and suspicions. He took quite the contrary course, and retreated into a
large and strongly fortified town. Agesilaus, finding himself
mistrusted, took it very ill, and was full of indignation, yet was
ashamed to change sides back again, or to go away without effecting
anything, so that he was forced to follow Nectanabis into the town.
When the enemy came up, and began to draw lines about the town, and
to entrench, the Egyptian now resolved upon a battle, out of fear of a
siege. And the Greeks were eager for it, provisions growing already
scarce in the town. When Agesilaus opposed it, the Egyptians then
suspected him much more, publicly calling him the betrayer of the king.
But Agesilaus, being now satisfied within himself, bore these reproaches
patiently, and followed the design which he had laid, of overreaching
the enemy, which was this.
The enemy were forming a deep ditch and high wall, resolving to shut
up the garrison and starve it. When the ditch was brought almost quite
round, and the two ends had all but met, he took the advantage of the
night, and armed all his Greeks. Then going to the Egyptian, “This,
young man, is your opportunity,” said he, “of saving yourself, which I
all this while durst not announce, lest discovery should prevent it; but
now the enemy has, at his own cost, and the pains and labor of his own
men, provided for our security. As much of this wall as is built will
prevent them from surrounding us with their multitude, the gap yet left
will be sufficient for us to sally out by; now play the man, and follow
the example the Greeks will give you, and by fighting valiantly, save
yourself and your army; their front will not be able to stand against
us, and their rear we are sufficiently secured from, by a wall of their
own making.” Nectanabis, admiring the sagacity of Agesilaus, immediately
placed himself in the middle of the Greek troops, and fought with them;
and upon the first charge soon routed the enemy. Agesilaus having now
gained credit with the king, proceeded to use, like a trick in
wrestling, the same stratagem over again. He sometimes pretended a
retreat, at other times advanced to attack their flanks, and by this
means at last drew them into a place enclosed between two ditches that
were very deep, and full of water. When he had them at this advantage,
he soon charged them, drawing up the front of his battle equal to the
space between the two ditches, so that they had no way of surrounding
him, being enclosed themselves on both sides. They made but little
resistance; many fell, others fled and were dispersed.
Nectanabis, being thus settled and fixed in his kingdom, with much
kindness and affection invited Agesilaus to spend his winter in Egypt,
but he made haste home to assist in the wars of his own country, which
was he knew in want of money, and forced to hire mercenaries, whilst
their own men were fighting abroad. The king, therefore, dismissed him
very honorably, and among other gifts presented him with two hundred and
thirty talents of silver toward the charge of the war. But the weather
being tempestuous, his ships kept in shore, and passing along the coast
of Africa he reached an uninhabited spot called the Port of Menelaus,
and here, when his ships were just upon landing, he expired, being
eighty-four years old, and having reigned in Lacedaemon forty-one.
Thirty of which years he passed with the reputation of being the
greatest and most powerful man of all Greece, and was looked upon as, in
a manner, general and king of it, until the battle of Leuctra. It was
the custom of the Spartans to bury their common dead in the place where
they died, whatsoever country it was, but their kings they carried home.
The followers of Agesilaus, for want of honey, enclosed his body in wax,
and so conveyed him to Lacedaemon.
His son Archidamus succeeded him on his throne; so did his posterity
successively to Agis, the fifth from Agesilaus; who was slain by
Leonidas, while attempting to restore the ancient discipline of Sparta.
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Pompey
The people of Rome seem to have entertained for Pompey from his
childhood, the same affection that Prometheus in the tragedy of
Aeschylus expresses for Hercules, speaking of him as the author of his
deliverance, in these words,
Ah cruel Sire! how dear thy son to me!
The generous offspring of my enemy!
For on the one hand, never did the Romans give such demonstrations of
a vehement and fierce hatred against any of their generals, as they did
against Strabo, the father of Pompey; during whose lifetime, it is true,
they stood in awe of his military power, as indeed he was a formidable
warrior, but immediately upon his death, which happened by a stroke of
thunder, they treated him with the utmost contumely, dragging his corpse
from the bier, as it was carried to his funeral. On the other side,
never had any Roman the people’s good-will and devotion more zealous
throughout all the changes of fortune, more early in its first springing
up, or more steadily rising with his prosperity, or more constant in his
adversity, than Pompey had. In Strabo, there was one great cause of
their hatred, his insatiable covetousness; in Pompey, there were many
that helped to make him the object of their love; his temperance, his
skill, and exercise in war, his eloquence of speech, integrity of mind
and affability in conversation and address; insomuch that no man ever
asked a favor with less offense, or conferred one with a better grace.
When he gave, it was without assumption, when he received, it was with
dignity and honor.
In his youth, his countenance pleaded for him, seeming to anticipate
his eloquence, and win upon the affections of the people before he
spoke. His beauty even in his bloom of youth had something in it at once
of gentleness and dignity; and when his prime of manhood came, the
majesty kingliness of his character at once became visible in it. His
hair sat somewhat hollow or rising a little; and this, with the
languishing motion of his eyes, seemed to form a resemblance in his
face, though perhaps more talked of than really apparent, to the statues
of king Alexander. And because many applied that name to him in his
youth, Pompey himself did not decline it, insomuch that some called him
so in derision. And Lucius Philippus, a man of consular dignity, when he
was pleading in favor of him, thought it not unfit to say, that people
could not be surprised if Philip was a lover of Alexander.
It is related of Flora, the courtesan, that when she was now pretty
old; she took great delight in speaking of her early familiarity with
Pompey, and was wont to say, that she could never part after being with
him without a bite. She would further tell, that Geminius, a companion
of Pompey’s, fell in love with her, and made his court with great
importunity; and on her refusing, and telling him, however her
inclinations were, yet she could not gratify his desires for Pompey’s
sake, he therefore made his request to Pompey, and Pompey frankly gave
his consent, but never afterwards would have any converse with her,
notwithstanding, that he seemed to have a great passion for her; and
Flora, on this occasion, showed none of the levity that might have been
expected of her, but languished for some time after under a sickness
brought on by grief and desire. This Flora, we are told, was such a
celebrated beauty, that Caecilius Metellus, when he adorned the temple
of Castor and Pollux with paintings and statues, among the rest
dedicated hers for her singular beauty. In his conduct also to the wife
of Demetrius, his freed servant, (who had great influence with him in
his lifetime, and left an estate of four thousand talents,) Pompey acted
contrary to his usual habits, not quite fairly or generously, fearing
lest he should fall under the common censure of being enamored and
charmed with her beauty, which was irresistible, and became famous
everywhere. Nevertheless, though he seemed to be so extremely
circumspect and cautious, yet even in matters of this nature, he could
not avoid the calumnies of his enemies, but upon the score of married
women, they accused him, as if he had connived at many things, and
embezzled the public revenue to gratify their luxury.
Of his easiness of temper and plainness, in what related to eating
and drinking, the story is told, that once in a sickness, when his
stomach nauseated common meats, his physician prescribed him a thrush to
eat; but upon search, there was none to be bought, for they were not
then in season, and one telling him they were to be had at Lucullus’s,
who kept them all the year round, “So then,” said he, “if it were not
for Lucullus’s luxury, Pompey should not live;” and thereupon not
minding the prescription of the physician, he contented himself with
such meat as could easily be procured. But this was at a later time.
Being as yet a very young man, and upon an expedition in which his
father was commanding against Cinna, he had in his tent with him one
Lucius Terentius, as his companion and comrade, who, being corrupted by
Cinna, entered into an engagement to kill Pompey, as others had done, to
set the general’s tent on fire. This conspiracy being discovered to
Pompey at supper, he showed no discomposure at it, but on the contrary
drank more liberally than usual, and expressed great kindness to
Terentius; but about bedtime, pretending to go to his repose, he stole
away secretly out of the tent, and setting a guard about his father,
quietly expected the event. Terentius, when he thought the proper time
come, rose with his naked sword, and coming to Pompey’s bedside, stabbed
several strokes through the bedclothes, as if he were lying there.
Immediately after this there was a great uproar throughout all the camp,
arising from the hatred they bore to the general, and a universal
movement of the soldiers to revolt, all tearing down their tents, and
betaking themselves to their arms. The general himself all this while
durst not venture out because of the tumult; but Pompey, going about in
the midst of them, besought them with tears; and at last threw himself
prostrate upon his face before the gate of the camp, and lay there in
the passage at their feet, shedding tears, and bidding those that were
marching off, if they would go, trample upon him. Upon which, none could
help going back again, and all, except eight hundred, either through
shame or compassion, repented, and were reconciled to the general.
Immediately upon the death of Strabo, there was an action commenced
against Pompey, as his heir, for that his father had embezzled the
public treasure. But Pompey, having traced the principal thefts, charged
them upon one Alexander, a freed slave of his father’s, and proved
before the judges that he had been the appropriator. But he himself was
accused of having in his possession some hunting tackle, and books, that
were taken at Asculum. To this he confessed thus far, that he received
them from his father when he took Asculum, but pleaded further, that he
had lost them since, upon Cinna’s return to Rome when his home was
broken open and plundered by Cinna’s guards. In this cause he had a
great many preparatory pleadings against his accuser, in which he showed
an activity and steadfastness beyond his years, and gained great
reputation and favor; insomuch that Antistius, the praetor and judge of
the cause, took a great liking to him, and offered him his daughter in
marriage, having had some communications with his friends about it.
Pompey accepted the proposal, and they were privately contracted;
however, the secret was not so closely kept as to escape the multitude,
but it was discernible enough from the favor shown him by Antistius in
his cause. And at last, when Antistius pronounced the absolutory
sentence of the judges, the people, as if it had been upon a signal
given, made the acclamation used according to ancient custom, at
marriages, Talasio. The origin of which custom is related to be this. At
the time when the daughters of the Sabines came to Rome, to see the
shows and sports there, and were violently seized upon by the most
distinguished and bravest of the Romans for wives, it happened that some
goatswains and herdsmen of the meaner rank were carrying off a beautiful
and tall maiden; and lest any of their betters should meet them, and
take her away, as they ran, they cried out with one voice, Talasio,
Talasius being a well-known and popular person among them, insomuch that
all that heard the name, clapped their hands for joy, and joined with
them in the shout, as applauding and congratulating the chance. Now, say
they, because this proved a fortunate match to Talasius, hence it is
that this acclamation is sportively used as a nuptial cry at all
weddings. This is the most credible of the accounts that are given of
the Talasio. And some few days after this judgment, Pompey married
Antistia.
After this he went to Cinna’s camp, where finding some false
suggestions and calumnies prevailing against him, he began to be afraid
and presently withdrew himself secretly; which sudden disappearance
occasioned great suspicion. And there went a rumor and speech through
all the camp, that Cinna had murdered the young man; upon which all that
had been anyways disobliged, and bore any malice to him, resolved to
make an assault upon him. He, endeavoring to make his escape, was seized
by a centurion, who pursued him with his naked sword. Cinna, in this
distress, fell upon his knees, and offered him his seal-ring, of great
value, for his ransom; but the centurion repulsed him insolently,
saying, “I did not come to seal a covenant, but to be revenged upon a
lawless and wicked tyrant;” and so dispatched him immediately.
Thus Cinna being slain, Carbo, a tyrant yet more senseless than he,
took the command and exercised it, while Sylla meantime was approaching,
much to the joy and satisfaction of most people, who in their present
evils were ready to find some comfort if it were but in the exchange of
a master. For the city was brought to that pass by oppression and
calamities, that being utterly in despair of liberty, men were only
anxious for the mildest and most tolerable bondage. At that time Pompey
was in Picenum in Italy, where he spent some time amusing himself, as he
had estates in the country there, though the chief motive of his stay
was the liking he felt for the towns of that district, which all
regarded him with hereditary feelings of kindness and attachment. But
when he now saw that the noblest and best of the city began to forsake
their homes and property, and fly from all quarters to Sylla’s camp, as
to their haven, he likewise was desirous to go; not, however, as a
fugitive, alone and with nothing to offer, but as a friend rather than a
suppliant, in a way that would gain him honor, bringing help along with
him, and at the head of a body of troops. Accordingly he solicited the
Picentines for their assistance, who as cordially embraced his motion,
and rejected the messengers sent from Carbo; insomuch that a certain
Vindius taking upon him to say, that Pompey was come from the
school-room to put himself at the head of the people, they were so
incensed that they fell forthwith upon this Vindius and killed him. From
henceforward Pompey, finding a spirit of government upon him, though not
above twenty-three years of age, nor deriving, an authority by
commission from any man, took the privilege to grant himself full power,
and causing a tribunal to be erected in the market-place of Auximum, a
populous city, expelled two of their principal men, brothers, of the
name of Ventidius, who were acting against him in Carbo’s interest,
commanding them by a public edict to depart the city; and then proceeded
to levy soldiers, issuing out commissions to centurions, and other
officers, according to the form of military discipline. And in this
manner he went round all the rest of the cities in the district. So that
those of Carbo’s faction flying, and all others cheerfully submitting to
his command, in a little time he mustered three entire legions, having
supplied himself beside with all manner of provisions, beasts of burden,
carriages, and other necessaries of war. And with this equipage he set
forward on his march towards Sylla, not as if he were in haste, or
desirous of escaping observation, but by small journeys, making several
halts upon the road, to distress and annoy the enemy, and exerting
himself to detach from Carbo’s interest every part of Italy that he
passed through.
Three commanders of the enemy encountered him at once, Carinna,
Cloelius, and Brutus, and drew up their forces, not all in the front,
nor yet together on any one part, but encamping three several armies in
a circle about him, they resolved to encompass and overpower him. Pompey
was no way alarmed at this, but collecting all his troops into one body,
and placing his horse in the front of the battle, where he himself was
in person, he singled out and bent all his forces against Brutus, and
when the Celtic horsemen from the enemy’s side rode out to meet him,
Pompey himself encountering hand to hand with the foremost and stoutest
among them, killed him with his spear. The rest seeing this turned their
backs, and fled, and breaking the ranks of their own foot, presently
caused a general rout; whereupon the commanders fell out among
themselves, and marched off, some one way, some another, as their
fortunes led them, and the towns round about came in and surrendered
themselves to Pompey, concluding that the enemy was dispersed for fear.
Next after these, Scipio, the consul, came to attack him, and with as
little success; for before the armies could join, or be within the throw
of their javelins, Scipio’s soldiers saluted Pompey’s, and came over to
them, while Scipio made his escape by flight. Last of all, Carbo himself
sent down several troops of horse against him by the river Arsis, which
Pompey assailed with the same courage and success as before; and having
routed and put them to flight, he forced them in the pursuit into
difficult ground, unpassable for horse, where seeing no hopes of escape,
they yielded themselves with their horses and armor, all to his mercy.
Sylla was hitherto unacquainted with all these actions; and on the
first intelligence he received of his movements was in great anxiety
about him, fearing lest he should be cut off among so many and such
experienced commanders of the enemy, and marched therefore with all
speed to his aid. Now Pompey, having advice of his approach, sent out
orders to his officers, to marshal and draw up all his forces in full
array, that they might make the finest and noblest appearance before the
commander-in-chief; for he expected indeed great honors from him, but
met with even greater. For as soon as Sylla saw him thus advancing, his
army so well appointed, his men so young and strong, and their spirits
so high and hopeful with their successes, he alighted from his horse,
and being first, as was his due, saluted by them with the title of
Imperator, he returned the salutation upon Pompey, in the same term and
style of Imperator, which might well cause surprise, as none could have
ever anticipated that he would have imparted, to one so young in years
and not yet a senator, a title which was the object of contention
between him and the Scipios and Marii. And indeed all the rest of his
deportment was agreeable to this first compliment; whenever Pompey came
into his presence, he paid some sort of respect to him, either in rising
and being uncovered, or the like, which he was rarely seen to do to
anyone else, notwithstanding that there were many about him of great
rank and honor. Yet Pompey was not puffed up at all, or exalted with
these favors. And when Sylla would have sent him with all expedition
into Gaul, a province in which it was thought Metellus who commanded in
it had done nothing worthy of the large forces at his disposal, Pompey
urged, that it could not be fair or honorable for him, to take a
province out of the hands of his senior in command and superior in
reputation; however, if Metellus were willing, and should request his
service, he should be very ready to accompany and assist him in the war.
Which when Metellus came to understand, he approved of the proposal, and
invited him over by letter. And on this Pompey fell immediately into
Gaul, where he not only achieved wonderful exploits of himself, but also
fired up and kindled again that bold and warlike spirit, which old age
had in a manner extinguished in Metellus, into a new heat; just as
molten copper, they say, when poured upon that which is cold and solid,
will dissolve and melt it faster than fire itself. But as when a famous
wrestler has gained the first place among men, and borne away the prizes
at all the games, it is not usual to take account of his victories as a
boy, or to enter them upon record among the rest; so with the exploits
of Pompey in his youth, though they were extraordinary in themselves,
yet because they were obscured and buried in the multitude and greatness
of his later wars and conquests, I dare not be particular in them, lest,
by trifling away time in the lesser moments of his youth, we should be
driven to omit those greater actions and fortunes which best illustrate
his character.
Now, when Sylla had brought all Italy under his dominion, and was
proclaimed dictator, he began to reward the rest of his followers, by
giving them wealth, appointing them to offices in the State, and
granting them freely and without restriction any favors they asked for.
But as for Pompey, admiring his valor and conduct, and thinking that he
might prove a great stay and support to him hereafter in his affairs, he
sought means to attach him to himself by some personal alliance, and his
wife Metella joining in his wishes, they two persuaded Pompey to put
away Antistia, and marry Aemilia, the step-daughter of Sylla, borne by
Metella to Scaurus her former husband, she being at that very time the
wife of another man, living with him, and with child by him. These were
the very tyrannies of marriage, and much more agreeable to the times
under Sylla, than to the nature and habits of Pompey; that Aemilia great
with child should be, as it were, ravished from the embraces of another
for him, and that Antistia should be divorced with dishonor and misery
by him, for whose sake she had been but just before bereft of her
father. For Antistius was murdered in the senate, because he was
suspected to be a favorer of Sylla for Pompey’s sake; and her mother,
likewise, after she had seen all these indignities, made away with
herself; a new calamity to be added to the tragic accompaniments of this
marriage, and that there might be nothing wanting to complete them,
Aemilia herself died, almost immediately after entering Pompey’s house,
in childbed.
About this time news came to Sylla, that Perpenna was fortifying
himself in Sicily, that the island was now become a refuge and
receptacle for the relics of the adverse party; that Carbo was hovering
about those seas with a navy, that Domitius had fallen in upon Africa
and that many of the exiled men of note who had escaped from the
proscriptions were daily flocking into those parts. Against these,
therefore, Pompey was sent with a large force; and no sooner was he
arrived in Sicily but Perpenna immediately departed, leaving the whole
island to him. Pompey received the distressed cities into favor, and
treated all with great humanity, except the Mamertines in Messena; for
when they protested against his court and jurisdiction, alleging their
privilege and exemption founded upon an ancient charter or grant of the
Romans, he replied sharply, “What! will you never cease prating of laws
to us that have swords by our sides?” It was thought, likewise, that he
showed some inhumanity to Carbo, seeming rather to insult over his
misfortunes, than to chastise his crimes. For if there had been a
necessity, as perhaps there was, that he should be taken off, that might
have been done at first, as soon as he was taken prisoner, for then it
would have been the act of him that commanded it. But here Pompey
commended a man that had been thrice consul of Rome, to be brought in
fetters to stand at the bar, he himself sitting upon the bench in
judgment, examining the cause with the formalities of law, to the
offense and indignation of all that were present, and afterwards ordered
him to be taken away and put to death. It is related, by the way, of
Carbo, that as soon as he was brought to the place, and saw the sword
drawn for execution, he was suddenly seized with a looseness or pain in
his bowels, and desired a little respite of the executioner, and a
convenient place to relieve himself. And yet further, Caius Oppius, the
friend of Caesar, tells us, that Pompey dealt cruelly with Quintus
Valerius, a man of singular learning and science. For when he was
brought to him, he walked aside, and drew him into conversation, and
after putting a variety of questions to him, and receiving answers from
him, he ordered his officers to take him away, and put him to death. But
we must not be too credulous in the case of narratives told by Oppius,
especially when he undertakes to relate anything touching the friends or
foes of Caesar. This is certain, that there lay a necessity upon Pompey
to be severe upon many of Sylla’s enemies, those at least that were
eminent persons in themselves, and notoriously known to be taken; but
for the rest, he acted with all the clemency possible for him, conniving
at the concealment of some, and himself being the instrument in the
escape of others. So in the case of the Himeraeans; for when Pompey had
determined on severely punishing their city, as they had been abettors
of the enemy, Sthenis, the leader of the people there, craving liberty
of speech, told him, that what he was about to do was not at all
consistent with justice, for that he would pass by the guilty, and
destroy the innocent; and on Pompey demanding, who that guilty person
was that would assume the offenses of them all, Sthenis replied, it was
himself, who had engaged his friends by persuasion to what they had
done, and his enemies by force; whereupon Pompey being much taken with
the frank speech and noble spirit of the man, first forgave his crime,
and then pardoned all the rest of the Himeraeans. Hearing, likewise,
that his soldiers were very disorderly their march, doing violence upon
the roads, he ordered their swords to be sealed up in their scabbards,
and whosoever kept them not so, were severely punished.
Whilst Pompey was thus busy in the affairs and government of Sicily,
he received a decree of the senate, and a commission from Sylla,
commanding him forthwith to sail into Africa, and make war upon Domitius
with all his forces: for Domitius had rallied up a far greater army than
Marius had had not long since, when he sailed out of Africa into Italy,
and caused a revolution in Rome, and himself, of a fugitive outlaw,
became a tyrant. Pompey, therefore, having prepared everything with the
utmost speed, left Memmius, his sister’s husband, governor of Sicily,
and set sail with one hundred and twenty galleys, and eight hundred
other vessels laden with provisions, money, ammunition, and engines of
battery. He arrived with his fleet, part at the port of Utica, part at
Carthage; and no sooner was he landed, but seven thousand of the enemy
revolted and came over to him, while his own forces that he brought with
him consisted of six entire legions. Here they tell us of a pleasant
incident that happened to him at his first arrival. For some of his
soldiers having by accident stumbled upon a treasure, by which they got
a good sum of money, the rest of the army hearing this, began to fancy
that the field was full of gold and silver, which had been hid there of
old by the Carthaginians in the time of their calamities, and thereupon
fell to work, so that the army was useless to Pompey for many days,
being totally engaged in digging for the fancied treasure, he himself
all the while walking up and down only, and laughing to see so many
thousands together, digging and turning up the earth. Until at last,
growing weary and hopeless, they came to themselves, and returned to
their general, begging him to lead them where he pleased, for that they
had already received the punishment of their folly. By this time
Domitius had prepared himself; and drawn out his army in array against
Pompey; but there was a watercourse betwixt them, craggy, and difficult
to pass over; and this, together with a great storm of wind and rain
pouring down even from break of day, seemed to leave but little
possibility of their coming together, so that Domitius, not expecting
any engagement that day, commanded his forces to draw off and retire to
the camp. Now Pompey, who was watchful upon every occasion, making use
of the opportunity, ordered a march forthwith, and having passed over
the torrent, fell in immediately upon their quarters. The enemy was in a
great disorder and tumult, and in that confusion attempted a resistance;
but they neither were all there, nor supported one another; besides, the
wind having veered about, beat the rain full in their faces. Neither
indeed was the storm less troublesome to the Romans, for that they could
not clearly discern one another, insomuch that even Pompey himself,
being unknown, escaped narrowly; for when one of his soldiers demanded
of him the word of battle, it happened that he was somewhat slow in his
answer, which might have cost him his life.
The enemy being routed with a great slaughter, (for it is said, that
of twenty thousand there escaped but three thousand,) the army saluted
Pompey by the name of Imperator; but he declined it, telling them, that
he could not by any means accept of that title, as long as he saw the
camp of the enemy standing; but if they designed to make him worthy of
the honor, they must first demolish that. The soldiers on hearing this,
went at once and made an assault upon the works and trenches, and there
Pompey fought without his helmet, in memory of his former danger, and to
avoid the like. The camp was thus taken by storm, and among the rest,
Domitius was slain. After that overthrow, the cities of the country
thereabouts were all either secured by surrender, or taken by storm.
King Iarbas, likewise, a confederate and auxiliary of Domitius, was
taken prisoner, and his kingdom was given to Hiempsal.
Pompey could not rest here, but being ambitious to follow the good
fortune and use the valor of his army, entered Numidia; and marching
forward many days’ journey up into the country, he conquered all
wherever he came. And having revived the terror of the Roman power,
which was now almost obliterated among the barbarous nations, he said
likewise, that the wild beasts of Africa ought not to be left without
some experience of the courage and success of the Romans; and therefore
he bestowed some few days in hunting lions and elephants. And it is
said, that it was not above the space of forty days at the utmost, in
which he gave a total overthrow to the enemy, reduced Africa, and
established the affairs of the kings and kingdoms of all that country,
being then in the twenty-fourth year of his age.
When Pompey returned back to the city of Utica, there were presented
to him letters and orders from Sylla, commanding him to disband the rest
of his army, and himself with one legion only to wait there the coming
of another general, to succeed him in the government. This, inwardly,
was extremely grievous to Pompey, though he made no show of it. But the
army resented it openly, and when Pompey besought them to depart and go
home before him, they began to revile Sylla, and declared broadly, that
they were resolved not to forsake him, neither did they think it safe
for him to trust the tyrant. Pompey at first endeavored to appease and
pacify them by fair speeches; but when he saw that his persuasions were
vain, he left the bench, and retired to his tent with tears in his eyes.
But the soldiers followed him, and seizing upon him, by force brought
him again, and placed him in his tribunal; where great part of that day
was spent in dispute, they on their part persuading him to stay and
command them, he, on the other side, pressing upon them obedience, and
the danger of mutiny. At last, when they grew yet more importunate and
clamorous, he swore that he would kill himself if they attempted to
force him; and scarcely even thus appeased them. Nevertheless, the first
tidings brought to Sylla were, that Pompey was up in rebellion; on which
he remarked to some of his friends, “I see, then, it is my destiny to
contend with children in my old age;” alluding at the same time to
Marius, who, being but a mere youth, had given him great trouble, and
brought him into extreme danger. But being undeceived afterwards by
better intelligence, and finding the whole city prepared to meet Pompey,
and receive him with every display of kindness and honor, he resolved to
exceed them all. And, therefore, going out foremost to meet him, and
embracing him with great cordiality, he gave him his welcome aloud in
the title of Magnus, or the Great, and bade all that were present call
him by that name. Others say that he had this title first given him by a
general acclamation of all the army in Africa, but that it was fixed
upon him by this ratification of Sylla. It is certain that he himself
was the last that owned the title; for it was a long time after, when he
was sent proconsul into Spain against Sertorius, that he began to write
himself in his letters and commissions by the name of Pompeius Magnus;
common and familiar use having then worn off the invidiousness of the
title. And one cannot but accord respect and admiration to the ancient
Romans, who did not reward the successes of action and conduct in war
alone with such honorable titles, but adorned likewise the virtues and
services of eminent men in civil government with the same distinctions
and marks of honor. Two persons received from the people the name of
Maximus, or the Greatest, Valerius, for reconciling the senate and
people, and Fabius Rullus, because he put out of the senate certain sons
of freed slaves who had been admitted into it because of their wealth.
Pompey now desired the honor of a triumph, which Sylla opposed,
alleging that the law allowed that honor to none but consuls and
praetors, and therefore Scipio the elder, who subdued the Carthaginians
in Spain in far greater and nobler conflicts, never petitioned for a
triumph, because he had never been consul or praetor; and if Pompey, who
had scarcely yet fully grown a beard, and was not of age to be a
senator, should enter the city in triumph, what a weight of envy would
it bring, he said, at once upon his government and Pompey’s honor. This
was his language to Pompey, intimating that he could not by any means
yield to his request, but if he would persist in his ambition, that he
was resolved to interpose his power to humble him. Pompey, however, was
not daunted; but bade Sylla recollect, that more worshiped the rising
than the setting sun; as if to tell him that his power was increasing,
and Sylla’s in the wane. Sylla did not perfectly hear the words, but
observing a sort of amazement and wonder in the looks and gestures of
those that did hear them, he asked what it was that he said. When it was
told him, he seemed astounded at Pompey’s boldness, and cried out twice
together, “Let him triumph,” and when others began to show their
disapprobation and offense at it, Pompey, it is said, to gall and vex
them the more, designed to have his triumphant chariot drawn with four
elephants, (having brought over several which belonged to the African
kings,) but the gates of the city being too narrow, he was forced to
desist from that project, and be content with horses. And when his
soldiers, who had not received as large rewards as they had expected,
began to clamor, and interrupt the triumph, Pompey regarded these as
little as the rest, and plainly told them that he had rather lose the
honor of his triumph, than flatter them. Upon which Servilius, a man of
great distinction, and at first one of the chief opposers of Pompey’s
triumph, said, he now perceived that Pompey was truly great and worthy
of a triumph. It is clear that he might easily have been a senator,
also, if he had wished, but he did not sue for that, being ambitious, it
seems, only of unusual honors. For what wonder had it been for Pompey,
to sit in the senate before his time? But to triumph before he was in
the senate, was really an excess of glory.
And moreover, it did not a little ingratiate him with the people; who
were much pleased to see him after his triumph take his place again
among the Roman knights. On the other side, it was no less distasteful
to Sylla to see how fast he came on, and to what a height of glory and
power he was advancing; yet being ashamed to hinder him, he kept quiet.
But when, against his direct wishes, Pompey got Lepidus made consul,
having openly joined in the canvass and, by the good-will the people
felt for himself, conciliated their favor for Lepidus, Sylla could
forbear no longer; but when he saw him coming away from the election
through the forum with a great train after him, cried out to him, “Well,
young man, I see you rejoice in your victory. And, indeed, is it not a
most generous and worthy act, that the consulship should be given to
Lepidus, the vilest of men, in preference to Catulus, the best and most
deserving in the city, and all by your influence with the people? It
will be well, however, for you to be wakeful and look to your interests;
as you have been making your enemy stronger than yourself.” But that
which gave the clearest demonstration of Sylla’s ill-will to Pompey, was
his last will and testament; for whereas he had bequeathed several
legacies to all the rest of his friends, and appointed some of them
guardians to his eon, he passed by Pompey without the least remembrance.
However, Pompey bore this with great moderation and temper; and when
Lepidus and others were disposed to obstruct his interment in the Campus
Martius, and to prevent any public funeral taking place, came forward in
support of it, and saw his obsequies performed with all honor and
security.
Shortly after the death of Sylla, his prophetic words were fulfilled;
and Lepidus proposing to be the successor to all his power and
authority, without any ambiguities or pretences, immediately appeared in
arms, rousing once more and gathering about him all the long dangerous
remains of the old factions, which had escaped the hand of Sylla.
Catulus, his colleague, who was followed by the sounder part of the
senate and people, was a man of the greatest esteem among the Romans for
wisdom and justice; but his talent lay in the government of the city
rather than the camp, whereas the exigency required the skill of Pompey.
Pompey, therefore, was not long in suspense which way to dispose of
himself, but joining with the nobility, was presently appointed general
of the army against Lepidus, who had already raised up war in great part
of Italy, and held Cisalpine Gaul in subjection with an army under
Brutus. As for the rest of his garrisons, Pompey subdued them with ease
in his march, but Mutina in Gaul resisted in a formal siege, and he lay
here a long time encamped against Brutus. In the meantime Lepidus
marched in all haste against Rome, and sitting down before it with a
crowd of followers, to the terror of those within, demanded a second
consulship. But that fear quickly vanished upon letters sent from
Pompey, announcing that he had ended the war without a battle; for
Brutus, either betraying his army, or being betrayed by their revolt,
surrendered himself to Pompey, and receiving a guard of horse, was
conducted to a little town upon the river Po; where he was slain the
next day by Geminius, in execution of Pompey’s commands. And for this
Pompey was much censured; for, having at the beginning of the revolt
written to the senate that Brutus had voluntarily surrendered himself,
immediately afterward he sent other letters, with matter of accusation
against the man, after he was taken off. Brutus, who with Cassius slew
Caesar, was son to this Brutus; neither in war nor in his death like his
father, as appears at large in his life. Lepidus upon this being driven
out of Italy, fled to Sardinia, where he fell sick and died of sorrow,
not for his public misfortunes, as they say, but, upon the discovery of
a letter, proving his wife to have been unfaithful to him.
There yet remained Sertorius, a very different general from Lepidus,
in possession of Spain, and making himself formidable to Rome; the final
disease, as it were, in which the scattered evils of the civil wars had
now collected. He had already cut off various inferior commanders, and
was at this time coping with Metellus Pius, a man of repute and a good
soldier, though perhaps he might now seem too slow, by reason of his
age, to second and improve the happier moments of war, and might be
sometimes wanting to those advantages which Sertorius by his quickness
and dexterity would wrest out of his hands. For Sertorius was always
hovering about, and coming upon him unawares, like a captain of thieves
rather than soldiers, disturbing him perpetually with ambuscades and
light skirmishes; whereas Metellus was accustomed to regular conduct,
and fighting in battle array with full-armed soldiers. Pompey,
therefore, keeping his army in readiness, made it his object to be sent
in aid to Metellus; neither would he be induced to disband his forces,
notwithstanding that Catulus called upon him to do so, but by some
colorable device or other he still kept them in arms about the city,
until the senate at last thought fit, upon the report of Lucius
Philippus, to decree him that government. At that time, they say, one of
the senators there expressing his wonder and demanding of Philippus
whether his meaning was that Pompey should be sent into Spain as
proconsul, “No,” replied Philippus, “but as proconsuls,” as if both
consuls for that year were in his opinion wholly useless.
When Pompey was arrived in Spain, as is usual upon the fame of a new
leader, men began to be inspired with new hopes, and those nations that
had not entered into a very strict alliance with Sertorius, began to
waver and revolt; whereupon Sertorius uttered various arrogant and
scornful speeches against Pompey, saying in derision, that he should
want no other weapon but a ferula and rod to chastise this boy with, if
he were not afraid of that old woman, meaning Metellus. Yet in deed and
reality he stood in awe of Pompey, and kept on his guard against him, as
appeared by his whole management of the war, which he was observed to
conduct much more warily than before; for Metellus, which one would not
have imagined, was grown excessively luxurious in his habits having
given himself over to self-indulgence and pleasure, and from a moderate
and temperate, became suddenly a sumptuous and ostentatious liver, so
that this very thing gained Pompey great reputation and goodwill, as he
made himself somewhat specially an example of frugality, although that
virtue was habitual in him, and required no great industry to exercise
it, as he was naturally inclined to temperance, and no ways inordinate
in his desires. The fortune of the war was very various; nothing however
annoyed Pompey so much as the taking of the town of Lauron by Sertorius.
For when Pompey thought he had him safe inclosed, and had boasted
somewhat largely of raising the siege, he found himself all of a sudden
encompassed; insomuch that he durst not move out of his camp, but was
forced to sit still whilst the city was taken and burnt before his face.
However, afterwards in a battle near Valentia, he gave great defeat to
Herennius and Perpenna, two commanders among the refugees who had fled
to Sertorius, and now lieutenants under him, in which he slew above ten
thousand men.
Pompey, being elated and filled with confidence by this victory, made
all haste to engage Sertorius himself, and the rather lest Metellus
should come in for a share in the honor of the victory. Late in the day,
towards sunset, they joined battle near the river Sucro, both being in
fear lest Metellus should come; Pompey, that he might engage alone,
Sertorius, that he might have one alone to engage with. The issue of the
battle proved doubtful, for a wing of each side had the better; but of
the generals, Sertorius had the greater honor, for that he maintained
his post, having put to flight the entire division that was opposed to
him, whereas Pompey was himself almost made a prisoner; for being set
upon by a strong man at arms that fought on foot, (he being on
horseback,) as they were closely engaged hand to hand, the strokes of
their swords chanced to light upon their hands, but with a different
success; for Pompey’s was a slight wound only, whereas he cut off the
other’s hand. However, it happened so, that many now falling upon Pompey
together, and his own forces there being put to the rout, he made his
escape beyond expectation, by quitting his horse, and turning him out
among the enemy. For the horse being richly adorned with golden
trappings, and having a caparison of great value, the soldiers quarreled
among themselves for the booty, so that while they were fighting with
one another, and dividing the spoil, Pompey made his escape. By break of
day the next morning, each drew out his forces into the field to claim
the victory; but Metellus coming up, Sertorius vanished, having broken
up and dispersed his army. For this was the way in which he used to
raise and disband his armies, so that sometimes he would be wandering up
and down all alone, and at other times again he would come pouring into
the field at the head of no less than one hundred and fifty thousand
fighting-men, swelling of a sudden like a winter torrent.
When Pompey was going after the battle to meet and welcome Metellus,
and when they were near one another, he commanded his attendants to
lower their rods in honor of Metellus, as his senior and superior. But
Metellus on the other side forbade it, and behaved himself in general
very obligingly to him, not claiming any prerogative either in respect
of his consular rank or seniority; excepting only that when they
encamped together, the watchword was given to the whole camp by
Metellus. But generally they had their camps asunder, being divided and
distracted by the enemy, who took all shapes, and being always in
motion, would by some skillful artifice appear in a variety of places
almost in the same instant, drawing them from one attack to another, and
at last keeping them from foraging, wasting the country, and holding the
dominion of the sea, Sertorius drove them both out of that part of Spain
which was under his control, and forced them for want of necessaries to
retreat into provinces that did not belong to them.
Pompey, having made use of and expended the greatest part of his own
private revenues upon the war, sent and demanded moneys of the senate,
adding, that in case they did not furnish him speedily, he should be
forced to return into Italy with his army. Lucullus being consul at that
time, though at variance with Pompey, yet in consideration that he
himself was a candidate for the command against Mithridates, procured
and hastened these supplies, fearing lest there should be any presence
or occasion given to Pompey of returning home, who of himself was no
less desirous of leaving Sertorius, and of undertaking the war against
Mithridates, as an enterprise which by all appearance would prove much
more honorable and not so dangerous. In the meantime Sertorius died,
being treacherously murdered by some of his own party; and Perpenna, the
chief among them, took the command, and attempted to carry on the same
enterprises with Sertorius, having indeed the same forces and the same
means, only wanting the same skill and conduct in the use of them.
Pompey therefore marched directly against, Perpenna, and finding him
acting merely at random in his affairs, had a decoy ready for him, and
sent out a detachment of ten cohorts into the level country with orders
to range up and down and disperse themselves abroad. The bait took
accordingly, and no sooner had Perpenna turned upon the prey and had
them in chase, but Pompey appeared suddenly with all his army and
joining battle, gave him a total overthrow. Most of his officers were
slain in the field, and he himself being brought prisoner to Pompey, was
by his order put to death. Neither was Pompey guilty in this of
ingratitude or unmindfulness of what had occurred in Sicily, which some
have laid to his charge, but was guided by a high minded policy and a
deliberate counsel for the security of his country. For Perpenna, having
in his custody all Sertorius’s papers, offered to produce several
letters from the greatest men in Rome, who, desirous of a change and
subversion of the government, had invited Sertorius into Italy. And
Pompey, fearing that these might be the occasion of worse wars than
those which were now ended, thought it advisable to put Perpenna to
death, and burnt the letters without reading them.
Pompey continued in Spain after this so long a time as was necessary
for the suppression of all the greatest disorders in the province; and
after moderating and allaying the more violent heats of affairs there,
returned with his army into Italy, where he arrived, as chance would
have it, in the height of the servile war. Accordingly, upon his
arrival, Crassus, the commander in that war, at some hazard precipitated
a battle, in which he had great success, and slew upon the place twelve
thousand three hundred of the insurgents. Nor yet was he so quick, but
that fortune reserved to Pompey some share of honor in the success of
this war, for five thousand of those that had escaped out of the battle
fell into his hands; and when he had totally cut them off, he wrote to
the senate, that Crassus had overthrown the slaves in battle, but that
he had plucked up the whole war by the roots. And it was agreeable to
the people in Rome both thus to say, and thus to hear said, because of
the general favor of Pompey. But of the Spanish war and the conquest of
Sertorius, no one, even in jest, could have ascribed the honor to anyone
else. Nevertheless, all this high respect for him, and this desire to
see him come home, were not unmixed with apprehensions and suspicions
that he might perhaps not disband his army, but take his way by the
force of arms and a supreme command to the seat of Sylla. And so in the
number of all those that ran out to meet him and congratulate his
return, as many went out of fear as affection. But after Pompey had
removed this alarm, by declaring beforehand that he would discharge the
army after his triumph, those that envied him could now only complain
that he affected popularity, courting the common people more than the
nobility, and that whereas Sylla had abolished the tribuneship of the
people, he designed to gratify the people by restoring that office,
which was indeed the fact. For there was not any one thing that the
people of Rome were more wildly eager for, or more passionately desired,
than the restoration of that office, insomuch that Pompey thought
himself extremely fortunate in this opportunity, despairing (if he were
anticipated by someone else in this) of ever meeting with any other
sufficient means of expressing his gratitude for the favors which he had
received from the people.
Though a second triumph was decreed him, and he was declared consul,
yet all these honors did not seem so great an evidence of his power and
glory, as the ascendant which he had over Crassus; for he, the
wealthiest among all the statesmen of his time, and the most eloquent
and greatest too, who had looked down on Pompey himself, and on all
others as beneath him, durst not appear a candidate for the consulship
before he had applied to Pompey. The request was made accordingly, and
was eagerly embraced by Pompey, who had long sought an occasion to
oblige him in some friendly office; so that he solicited for Crassus,
and entreated the people heartily, declaring, that their favor would be
no less to him in choosing Crassus his colleague, than in making himself
consul. Yet for all this, when they were created consuls, they were
always at variance, and opposing one another. Crassus prevailed most in
the senate, and Pompey’s power was no less with the people, he having
restored to them the office of tribune, and having allowed the courts of
judicature to be transferred back to the knights by a new law. He
himself in person, too, afforded them a most grateful spectacle, when he
appeared and craved his discharge from the military service. For it is
an ancient custom among the Romans, that the knights, when they had
served out their legal time in the wars, should lead their horses into
the market-place before the two officers, called censors, and having
given an account of the commanders and generals under whom they served,
as also of the places and actions of their service, should be
discharged, every man with honor or disgrace, according to his deserts.
There were then sitting in state upon the bench two censors, Gellius and
Lentulus, inspecting the knights, who were passing by in muster before
them, when Pompey was seen coming down into the forum, with all the
ensigns of a consul, but leading his horse in his hand. When he came up,
he bade his lictors make way for him, and so he led his horse to the
bench; the people being all this while in a sort of amaze, and all in
silence, and the censors themselves regarding the sight with a mixture
of respect and gratification. Then the senior censor examined him:
“Pompeius Magnus, I demand of you whether you have served the full time
in the wars that is prescribed by the law?” “Yes,” replied Pompey with a
loud voice, “I have served all, and all under myself as general.” The
people hearing this gave a great shout, and made such an outcry for
delight, that there was no appeasing it; and the censors rising from
their judgment-seat, accompanied him home to gratify the multitude, who
followed after, clapping their hands and shouting.
Pompey’s consulship was now expiring, and yet his difference with
Crassus increasing, when one Caius Aurelius, a knight, a man who had
declined public business all his lifetime, mounted the hustings, and
addressed himself in an oration to the assembly, declaring that Jupiter
had appeared to him in a dream, commanding him to tell the consuls, that
they should not give up office until they were friends. After this was
said, Pompey stood silent, but Crassus took him by the hand, and spoke
in this manner: “I do not think, fellow-citizens, that I shall do
anything mean or dishonorable, in yielding first to Pompey, whom you
were pleased to ennoble with the title of Great, when as yet he scarce
had a hair on his face; and granted the honor of two triumphs, before he
had a place in the senate.” Hereupon they were reconciled and laid down
their office. Crassus resumed the manner of life which he had always
pursued before; but Pompey in the great generality of causes for
judgment declined appearing on either side, and by degrees withdrew
himself totally from the forum, showing himself but seldom in public;
and whenever he did, it was with a great train after him. Neither was it
easy to meet or visit him without a crowd of people about him; he was
most pleased to make his appearance before large numbers at once, as
though he wished to maintain in this way his state and majesty, and as
if he held himself bound to preserve his dignity from contact with the
addresses and conversation of common people. And life in the robe of
peace is only too apt to lower the reputation of men that have grown
great by arms, who naturally find difficulty in adapting themselves to
the habits of civil equality. They expect to be treated as the first in
the city, even as they were in the camp; and on the other hand, men who
in war were nobody, think it intolerable if in the city at any rate they
are not to take the lead. And so, when a warrior renowned for victories
and triumphs shall turn advocate and appear among them in the forum,
they endeavor their utmost to obscure and depress him; whereas, if he
gives up any pretensions here and retires, they will maintain his
military honor and authority beyond the reach of envy. Events themselves
not long after showed the truth of this.
The power of the pirates first commenced in Cilicia, having in truth
but a precarious and obscure beginning, but gained life and boldness
afterwards in the wars of Mithridates, where they hired themselves out,
and took employment in the king’s service. Afterwards, whilst the Romans
were embroiled in their civil wars, being engaged against one another
even before the very gates of Rome, the seas lay waste and unguarded,
and by degrees enticed and drew them on not only to seize upon and spoil
the merchants and ships upon the seas, but also to lay waste the islands
and seaport towns. So that now there embarked with these pirates men of
wealth and noble birth and superior abilities, as if it had been a
natural occupation to gain distinction in. They had divers arsenals, or
piratic harbors, as likewise watch towers and beacons, all along the
sea-coast; and fleets were here received that were well manned with the
finest mariners, and well served with the expertest pilots, and composed
of swift sailing and light-built vessels adapted for their special
purpose. Nor was it merely their being thus formidable that excited
indignation; they were even more odious for their ostentation than they
were feared for their force. Their ships had gilded masts at their
stems; the sails woven of purple, and the oars plated with silver, as if
their delight were to glory in their iniquity. There was nothing but
music and dancing, banqueting and revels, all along the shore. Officers
in command were taken prisoners, and cities put under contribution, to
the reproach and dishonor of the Roman supremacy. There were of these
corsairs above one thousand sail, and they had taken no less than four
hundred cities, committing sacrilege upon the temples of the gods, and
enriching themselves with the spoils of many never violated before, such
as were those of Claros, Didyma, and Samothrace; and the temple of the
Earth in Hermione, and that of Aesculapius in Epidaurus, those of
Neptune at the Isthmus, at Taenarus, and at Calauria; those of Apollo at
Actium and Leucas, and those of Juno, in Samos, at Argos, and at
Lacinium. They themselves offered strange sacrifices upon Mount Olympus,
and performed certain secret rites or religious mysteries, among which
those of Mithras have been preserved to our own time, having received
their previous institution from them. But besides these insolencies by
sea, they were also injurious to the Romans by land; for they would
often go inland up the roads, plundering and destroying their villages
and country-houses. And once they seized upon two Roman praetors,
Sextilius and Bellinus, in their purple-edged robes, and carried them
off together with their officers and lictors. The daughter also of
Antonius, a man that had had the honor of a triumph, taking a journey
into the country, was seized, and redeemed upon payment of a large
ransom. But it was most abusive of all, that when any of the captives
declared himself to be a Roman and told his name, they affected to be
surprised, and feigning fear, smote their thighs and fell down at his
feet, humbly beseeching him to be gracious and forgive them. The captive
seeing them so humble and suppliant, believed them to be in earnest; and
some of them now would proceed to put Roman shoes on his feet, and to
dress him in a Roman gown, to prevent, they said, his being mistaken
another time. After all this pageantry, when they had thus deluded and
mocked him long enough, at last putting out a ship’s ladder, when they
were in the midst of the sea, they told him he was free to go, and
wished him a pleasant journey; and if he resisted, they themselves threw
him overboard, and drowned him.
This piratic power having got the dominion and control of all the
Mediterranean, there was left no place for navigation or commerce. And
this it was which most of all made the Romans, finding themselves to be
extremely straitened in their markets, and considering that if it should
continue, there would be a dearth and famine in the land, determine at
last to send out Pompey to recover the seas from the pirates. Gabinius,
one of Pompey’s friends, preferred a law, whereby there was granted to
him, not only the government of the seas as admiral, but in direct
words, sole and irresponsible sovereignty over all men. For the decree
gave him absolute power and authority in all the seas within the pillars
of Hercules, and in the adjacent mainland for the space of four hundred
furlongs from the sea. Now there were but few regions in the Roman
empire out of that compass; and the greatest of the nations and most
powerful of the kings were included in the limit. Moreover by this
decree he had a power of selecting fifteen lieutenants out of the
senate, and of assigning to each his province in charge; then he might
take likewise out of the treasury and out of the hands of the
revenue-farmers what moneys he pleased; as also two hundred sail of
ships, with a power to press and levy what soldiers and seamen he
thought fit. When this law was read, the common people approved of it
exceedingly, but the chief men and most important among the senators
looked upon it as an exorbitant power, even beyond the reach of envy,
but well deserving their fears. Therefore concluding with themselves
that such unlimited authority was dangerous, they agreed unanimously to
oppose the bill, and all went against it, except Caesar, who gave his
vote for the law, not to gratify Pompey, but the people, whose favor he
had courted underhand from the beginning, and hoped to compass for
himself. The rest inveighed bitterly against Pompey, insomuch that one
of the consuls told him, that if he was ambitious of the place of
Romulus, he would scarce avoid his end, but he was in danger of being
torn in pieces by the multitude for his speech. Yet when Catulus stood
up to speak against the law, the people in reverence to him were silent
and attentive. And when, after saying much in the most honorable terms
in favor of Pompey, he proceeded to advise the people in kindness to
spare him, and not to expose a man of his value to such a succession of
dangers and wars, “For,” said he, “where could you find another Pompey,
or whom would you have in case you should chance to lose him?” they all
cried out with one voice, “Yourself.” And so Catulus, finding all his
rhetoric ineffectual, desisted. Then Roscius attempted to speak, but
could obtain no hearing, and made signs with his fingers, intimating,
“Not him alone,” but that there might be a second Pompey or colleague in
authority with him. Upon this, it is said, the multitude being extremely
incensed, made such a loud outcry, that a crow flying over the
market-place at that instant was struck, and drops down among the crowd;
whence it would appear that the cause of birds falling down to the
ground, is not any rupture or division of the air causing a vacuum, but
purely the actual stroke of the voice, which when carried up in a great
mass and with violence, raises a sort of tempest and billow, as it were,
in the air.
The assembly broke up for that day; and when the day was come, on
which the bill was to pass by suffrage into a decree, Pompey went
privately into the country; but hearing that it was passed and
confirmed, he resumed again into the city by night, to avoid the envy
that might be occasioned by the concourse of people that would meet and
congratulate him. The next morning he came abroad and sacrificed to the
gods, and having audience at an open assembly, so handled the matter
that they enlarged his power, giving him many things besides what was
already granted, and almost doubling the preparation appointed in the
former decree. Five hundred ships were manned for him, and an army
raised of one hundred and twenty thousand foot, and five thousand horse.
Twenty-four senators that had been generals of armies were appointed to
serve as lieutenants under him, and to these were added two quaestors.
Now it happened within this time that the prices of provisions were much
reduced, which gave an occasion to the joyful people of saying, that the
very name of Pompey had ended the war. However, Pompey in pursuance of
his charge divided all the seas, and the whole Mediterranean into
thirteen parts, allotting a squadron to each, under the command of his
officers; and having thus dispersed his power into all quarters, and
encompassed the pirates everywhere, they began to fall into his hands by
whole shoals, which he seized and brought into his harbors. As for those
that withdrew themselves betimes, or otherwise escaped his general
chase, they all made to Cilicia, where they hid themselves as in their
hive; against whom Pompey now proceeded in person with sixty of his best
ships, not however until he had first scoured and cleared all the seas
near Rome, the Tyrrhenian, and the African, and all the waters of
Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily; all which he performed in the space of
forty days, by his own indefatigable industry and the zeal of his
lieutenants.
Pompey met with some interruption in Rome, through the malice and
envy of Piso, the consul, who had given some check to his proceedings,
by withholding his stores and discharging his seamen; whereupon he sent
his fleet round to Brundusium, himself going the nearest way by land
through Tuscany to Rome; which was no sooner known by the people, than
they all flocked out to meet him upon the way, as if they had not sent
him out but few days before. What chiefly excited their joy, was the
unexpectedly rapid change in the markets, which abounded now with the
greatest plenty, so that Piso was in great danger to have been deprived
of his consulship, Gabinius having a law ready prepared for that
purpose; but Pompey forbade it, behaving himself as in that, so in all
things else, with great moderation, and when he had made sure of all
that he wanted or desired, he departed for Brundusium, whence he set
sail in pursuit of the pirates. And though he was straitened in time,
and his hasty voyage forced him to sail by several cities without
touching, yet he would not pass by the city of Athens unsaluted; but
landing there, after he had sacrificed to the gods, and made an address
to the people, as he was returning out of the city, he read at the gates
two epigrams, each in a single line, written in his own praise; one
within the gate: —
Thy humbler thoughts make thee a god the more;
the other without: —
Adieu we bid, who welcome bade before.
Now because Pompey had shown himself merciful to some of these
pirates that were yet roving in bodies about the seas, having upon their
supplication ordered a seizure of their ships and persons only, without
any further process or severity, therefore the rest of their comrades in
hopes of mercy too, made their escape from his other commanders, and
surrendered themselves with their wives and children into his
protection. He continued to pardon all that came in, and the rather
because by them he might make discovery of those who fled from his
justice, as conscious that their crimes were beyond an act of indemnity.
The most numerous and important part of these conveyed their families
and treasures, with all their people that were unfit for war, into
castles and strong forts about Mount Taurus; but they themselves having
well manned their galleys, embarked for Coracesium in Cilicia, where
they received Pompey and gave him battle. Here they had a final
overthrow, and retired to the land, where they were besieged. At last,
having dispatched their heralds to him with a submission, they delivered
up to his mercy themselves, their towns, islands, and strong-holds, all
which they had so fortified that they were almost impregnable, and
scarcely even accessible.
Thus was this war ended, and the whole power of the pirates at sea
dissolved everywhere in the space of three months, wherein, besides a
great number of other vessels, he took ninety men-of-war with brazen
beaks; and likewise prisoners of war to the number of no less than
twenty thousand.
As regarded the disposal of these prisoners, he never so much as
entertained the thought of putting them to death; and yet it might be no
less dangerous on the other hand to disperse them, as they might reunite
and make head again, being numerous, poor, and warlike. Therefore wisely
weighing with himself, that man by nature is not a wild or unsocial
creature, neither was he born so, but makes himself what he naturally is
not, by vicious habit; and that again on the other side, he is civilized
and grows gentle by a change of place, occupation, and manner of life,
as beasts themselves that are wild by nature, become tame and tractable
by housing and gentler usage, upon this consideration he determined to
translate these pirates from sea to land, and give them a taste of an
honest and innocent course of life, by living in towns, and tilling the
ground. Some therefore were admitted into the small and half-peopled
towns of the Cilicians, who for an enlargement of their territories,
were willing to receive them. Others he planted in the city of the
Solians, which had been lately laid waste by Tigranes, king of Armenia,
and which he now restored. But the largest number were settled in Dyme,
the town of Achaea, at that time extremely depopulated, and possessing
an abundance of good land.
However, these proceedings could not escape the envy and censure of
his enemies; and the course he took against Metellus in Crete was
disapproved of even by the chiefest of his friends. For Metellus, a
relation of Pompey’s former colleague in Spain, had been sent praetor
into Crete, before this province of the seas was assigned to Pompey. Now
Crete was the second source of pirates next to Cilicia, and Metellus
having shut up a number of them in their strong-holds there, was engaged
in reducing and extirpating them. Those that were yet remaining and
besieged sent their supplications to Pompey, and invited him into the
island as a part of his province, alleging it to fall, every part of it,
within the distance from the sea specified in his commission, and so
within the precincts of his charge. Pompey receiving the submission,
sent letters to Metellus, commanding him to leave off the war; and
others in like manner to the cities, in which he charged them not to
yield any obedience to the commands of Metellus. And after these, he
sent Lucius Octavius, one of his lieutenants, to act as general, who
entering the besieged fortifications, and fighting in defense of the
pirates, rendered Pompey not odious only, but even ridiculous too; that
he should lend his name as a guard to a nest of thieves, that knew
neither god nor law, and make his reputation serve as a sanctuary to
them, only out of pure envy and emulation to Metellus. For neither was
Achilles thought to act the part of a man, but rather of a mere boy, mad
after glory, when by signs he forbade the rest of the Greeks to strike
at Hector: —
“for fear
Some other hand should give the blow, and he
Lose the first honor of the victory.”
Whereas Pompey even sought to preserve the common enemies of the
world, only that he might deprive a Roman praetor, after all his labors,
of the honor of a triumph. Metellus however was not daunted, but
prosecuted the war against the pirates, expelled them from their
strongholds and punished them; and dismissed Octavius with the insults
and reproaches of the whole camp.
When the news came to Rome that the war with the pirates was at an
end, and that Pompey was unoccupied, diverting himself in visits to the
cities for want of employment, one Manlius, a tribune of the people,
preferred a law that Pompey should have all the forces of Lucullus, and
the provinces under his government, together with Bithynia, which was
under the command of Glabrio; and that he should forthwith conduct the
war against the two kings, Mithridates and Tigranes, retaining still the
same naval forces and the sovereignty of the seas as before. But this
was nothing less than to constitute one absolute monarch of all the
Roman empire. For the provinces which seemed to be exempt from his
commission by the former decree, such as were Phrygia, Lycaonia,
Galatia, Cappadocia, Cilicia, the upper Colchis, and Armenia, were all
added in by this latter law, together with all the troops and forces
with which Lucullus had defeated Mithridates and Tigranes. And though
Lucullus was thus simply robbed of the glory of his achievements in
having a successor assigned him, rather to the honor of his triumph,
than the danger of the war; yet this was of less moment in the eyes of
the aristocratical party, though they could not but admit the injustice
and ingratitude to Lucullus. But their great grievance was, that the
power of Pompey should be converted into a manifest tyranny; and they
therefore exhorted and encouraged one another privately to bend all
their forces in opposition to this law, and not tamely to cast away
their liberty; yet when the day came on which it was to pass into a
decree, their hearts failed them for fear of the people, and all were
silent except Catulus, who boldly inveighed against the law and its
proposer, and when he found that he could do nothing with the people,
turned to the senate, crying out and bidding them seek out some mountain
as their forefathers had done, and fly to the rocks where they might
preserve their liberty. The law passed into a decree, as it is said, by
the suffrages of all the tribes. And Pompey in his absence was made lord
of almost all that power, which Sylla only obtained by force of arms,
after a conquest of the very city itself. When Pompey had advice by
letters of the decree, it is said that in the presence of his friends,
who came to give him joy of his honor, he seemed displeased, frowning
and smiting his thigh, and exclaimed as one overburdened, and weary of
government, “Alas, what a series of labors upon labors! If I am never to
end my service as a soldier, nor to escape from this invidious
greatness, and live at home in the country with my wife, I had better
have been an unknown man.” But all this was looked upon as mere
trifling, neither indeed could the best of his friends call it anything
else, well knowing that his enmity with Lucullus, setting a flame just
now to his natural passion for glory and empire, made him feel more than
usually gratified.
As indeed appeared not long afterwards by his actions, which clearly
unmasked him; for in the first place, he sent out his proclamations into
all quarters, commanding the soldiers to join him, and summoned all the
tributary kings and princes within his charge; and in short, as soon as
he had entered upon his province, he left nothing unaltered that had
been done and established by Lucullus. To some he remitted their
penalties, and deprived others of their rewards, and acted in all
respects as if with the express design that the admirers of Lucullus
might know that all his authority was at an end. Lucullus expostulated
by friends, and it was thought fitting that there should be a meeting
betwixt them; and accordingly they met in the country of Galatia. As
they were both great and successful generals, their officers bore their
rods before them all wreathed with branches of laurel; Lucullus came
through a country full of green trees and shady woods, but Pompey’s
march was through a cold and barren district. Therefore the lictors of
Lucullus, perceiving that Pompey’s laurels were withered and dry, helped
him to some of their own, and adorned and crowned his rods with fresh
laurels. This was thought ominous, and looked as if Pompey came to take
away the reward and honor of Lucullus’s victories. Lucullus had the
priority in the order of consulships, and also in age; but Pompey’s two
triumphs made him the greater man. Their first addresses in this
interview were dignified and friendly, each magnifying the other’s
actions, and offering congratulations upon his success. But when they
came to the matter of their conference or treaty, they could agree on no
fair or equitable terms of any kind, but even came to harsh words
against each other, Pompey upbraiding Lucullus with avarice, and
Lucullus retorting ambition upon Pompey, so that their friends could
hardly part them. Lucullus, remaining in Galatia, made a distribution of
the lands within his conquests, and gave presents to whom he pleased;
and Pompey encamping not far distant from him, sent out his
prohibitions, forbidding the execution of any of the orders of Lucullus,
and commanded away all his soldiers, except sixteen hundred, whom he
thought likely to be unserviceable to himself, being disorderly and
mutinous, and whom he knew to be hostile to Lucullus; and to these acts
he added satirical speeches, detracting openly from the glory of his
actions, and giving out, that the battles of Lucullus had been but with
the mere stage-shows and idle pictures of royal pomp, whereas the real
war against a genuine army, disciplined by defeat, was reserved to him,
Mithridates having now begun to be in earnest, and having betaken
himself to his shields, swords, and horses. Lucullus, on the other side,
to be even with him, replied, that Pompey came to fight with the mere
image and shadow of war, it being his usual practice, like a lazy bird
of prey, to come upon the carcass, when others had slain the dead, and
to tear in pieces the relics of a war. Thus he had appropriated to
himself the victories over Sertorius, over Lepidus, and over the
insurgents under Spartacus; whereas this last had been achieved by
Crassus, that obtained by Catulus, and the first won by Metellus. And
therefore it was no great wonder, that the glory of the Pontic and
Armenian war should be usurped by a man who had condescended to any
artifices to work himself into the honor of a triumph over a few runaway
slaves.
After this Lucullus went away, and Pompey having placed his whole
navy in guard upon the seas betwixt Phoenicia and Bosporus, himself
marched against Mithridates, who had a phalanx of thirty thousand foot,
with two thousand horse, yet durst not bid him battle. He had encamped
upon a strong mountain where it would have been hard to attack him, but
abandoned it in no long time, as destitute of water. No sooner was he
gone but Pompey occupied it, and observing the plants that were thriving
there, together with the hollows which he found in several places,
conjectured that such a plot could not be without springs, and therefore
ordered his men to sink wells in every corner. After which there was, in
a little time, great plenty of water throughout all the camp, insomuch
that he wondered how it was possible for Mithridates to be ignorant of
this, during all that time of his encampment there. After this Pompey
followed him to his next camp, and there drawing lines round about him,
shut him in. But he, after having endured a siege of forty-five days,
made his escape secretly, and fled away with all the best part of his
army, having first put to death all the sick and unserviceable. Not long
after Pompey overtook him again near the banks of the river Euphrates,
and encamped close by him; but fearing lest he should pass over the
river and give him the slip there too, he drew up his army to attack him
at midnight. And at that very time Mithridates, it is said, saw a vision
in his dream foreshowing what should come to pass. For he seemed to be
under sail in the Euxine Sea with a prosperous gale, and just in view of
Bosporus, discoursing pleasantly with the ship’s company, as one
overjoyed for his past danger and present security, when on a sudden he
found himself deserted of all, and floating upon a broken plank of the
ship at the mercy of the sea. Whilst he was thus laboring under these
passions and phantasms, his friends came and awaked him with the news of
Pompey’s approach; who was now indeed so near at hand, that the fight
must be for the camp itself, and the commanders accordingly drew up the
forces in battle array. Pompey perceiving how ready they were and well
prepared for defense, began to doubt with himself whether he should put
it to the hazard of a fight in the dark, judging it more prudent to
encompass them only at present, lest they should fly, and to give them
battle with the advantage of numbers the next day. But his oldest
officers were of another opinion, and by entreaties and encouragements
obtained permission that they might charge them immediately. Neither was
the night so very dark, but that, though the moon was going down, it yet
gave light enough to discern a body. And indeed this was one especial
disadvantage to the king’s army. For the Romans coming upon them with
the moon on their backs, the moon, being very low, and just upon
setting, cast the shadows a long way before their bodies, reaching
almost to the enemy, whose eyes were thus so much deceived that not
exactly discerning the distance, but imagining them to be near at hand,
they threw their darts at the shadows, without the least execution. The
Romans therefore perceiving this, ran in upon them with a great shout;
but the barbarians, all in a panic, unable to endure the charge, turned
and fled, and were put to great slaughter, above ten thousand being
slain; the camp also was taken. As for Mithridates himself, he at the
beginning of the onset, with a body of eight hundred horse charged
through the Roman army, and made his escape. But before long all the
rest dispersed, some one way, some another, and he was left only with
three persons, among whom was his concubine, Hypsicratia, a girl always
of a manly and daring spirit, and the king called her on that account
Hypsicrates. She being attired and mounted like a Persian horseman,
accompanied the king in all his flight, never weary even in the longest
journey, nor ever failing to attend the king in person, and look after
his horse too, until they came to Inora, a castle of the king’s, well
stored with gold and treasure. From thence Mithridates took his richest
apparel, and gave it among those that had resorted to him in their
flight; and to every one of his friends he gave a deadly poison, that
they might not fall into the power of the enemy against their wills.
From thence he designed to have gone to Tigranes in Armenia, but being
prohibited by Tigranes, who put out a proclamation with a reward of one
hundred talents to any one that should apprehend him, he passed by the
head-waters of the river Euphrates, and fled through the country of
Colchis.
Pompey in the meantime made an invasion into Armenia, upon the
invitation of young Tigranes, who was now in rebellion against his
father, and gave Pompey a meeting about the river Araxes, which rises
near the head of Euphrates, but turning its course and bending towards
the east, falls into the Caspian Sea. They two, therefore, marched
together through the country, taking in all the cities by the way, and
receiving their submission. But king Tigranes, having lately suffered
much in the war with Lucullus, and understanding that Pompey was of a
kind and gentle disposition, admitted Roman troops into his royal
palaces, and taking along with him his friends and relations, went in
person to surrender himself into the hands of Pompey. He came as far as
the trenches on horseback, but there he was met by two of Pompey’s
lictors, who commanded him to alight and walk on foot, for no man ever
was seen on horseback within a Roman camp. Tigranes submitted to this
immediately, and not only so, but loosing his sword, delivered up that
too; and last of all, as soon as he appeared before Pompey, he pulled
off his royal turban, and attempted to have laid it at his feet. Nay,
worst of all, even he himself had fallen prostrate as an humble
suppliant at his knees, had not Pompey prevented it, taking him by the
hand and placing him near him, Tigranes himself on one side of him and
his son upon the other. Pompey now told him that the rest of his losses
were chargeable upon Lucullus, by whom he had been dispossessed of
Syria, Phoenicia, Cilicia, Galatia, and Sophene; but all that he had
preserved to himself entire till that time he should peaceably enjoy,
paying the sum of six thousand talents as a fine or penalty for injuries
done to the Romans, and that his son should have the kingdom of Sophene.
Tigranes himself was well pleased with these conditions of peace, and
when the Romans saluted him king, seemed to be overjoyed, and promised
to every common soldier half a mina of silver, to every centurion ten
minas, and to every tribune a talent; but the son was displeased,
insomuch that when he was invited to supper, he replied, that he did not
stand in need of Pompey for that sort of honor, for he would find out
some other Roman to sup with. Upon this he was put into close arrest,
and reserved for the triumph.
Not long after this Phraates, king of Parthia, sent to Pompey, and
demanded to have young Tigranes, as his son-in-law, given up to him, and
that the river Euphrates should be the boundary of the empires. Pompey
replied, that for Tigranes, he belonged more to his own natural father
than his father-in-law, and for the boundaries, he would take care that
they should be according to right and justice.
So Pompey, leaving Armenia in the custody of Afranius, went himself
in chase of Mithridates; to do which he was forced of necessity to march
through several nations inhabiting about Mount Caucasus. Of these the
Albanians and Iberians were the two chiefest. The Iberians stretch out
as far as the Moschian mountains and the Pontus; the Albanians lie more
eastwardly, and towards the Caspian Sea. These Albanians at first
permitted Pompey, upon his request, to pass through the country; but
when winter had stolen upon the Romans whilst they were still in the
country, and they were busy celebrating the festival of Saturn, they
mustered a body of no less than forty thousand fighting men, and set
upon them, having passed over the river Cyrnus, which rising from the
mountains of Iberia, and receiving the river Araxes in its course from
Armenia, discharges itself by twelve mouths into the Caspian. Or,
according to others, the Araxes does not fall into it, but they flow
near one another, and so discharge themselves as neighbors into the same
sea. It was in the power of Pompey to have obstructed the enemy’s
passage over the river, but he suffered them to pass over quietly; and
then leading on his forces and giving battle, he routed them, and slew
great numbers of them in the field. The king sent ambassadors with his
submission, and Pompey upon his supplication pardoned the offense, and
making a treaty with him, he marched directly against the Iberians, a
nation no less in number than the other, but much more warlike, and
extremely desirous of gratifying Mithridates, and driving out Pompey.
These Iberians were never subject to the Medes or Persians, and they
happened likewise to escape the dominion of the Macedonians, because
Alexander was so quick in his march through Hyrcania. But these also
Pompey subdued in a great battle, where there were slain nine thousand
upon the spot, and more than ten thousand taken prisoners. From thence
he entered into the country of Colchis, where Servilius met him by the
river Phasis, bringing the fleet with which he was guarding the Pontus.
The pursuit of Mithridates, who had thrown himself among the tribes
inhabiting Bosporus and the shores of the Maeotian Sea, presented great
difficulties. News was also brought to Pompey that the Albanians had
again revolted. This made him turn back, out of anger and determination
not to be beaten by them, and with difficulty and great danger he passed
back over the Cyrnus, which the barbarous people had fortified a great
way down the banks with palisadoes. And after this, having a tedious
march to make through a waterless and difficult country, he ordered ten
thousand skins to be filled with water, and so advanced towards the
enemy; whom he found drawn up in order of battle near the river Abas, to
the number of sixty thousand horse, and twelve thousand foot, ill armed
generally, and most of them covered only with the skins of wild beasts.
Their general was Cosis, the king’s brother, who as soon as the battle
was begun, singled out Pompey, and rushing in upon him, darted his
javelin into the joints of his breastplate; while Pompey, in return,
struck him through the body with his lance, and slew him. It is related
that in this battle there were Amazons fighting as auxiliaries with the
barbarians, and that they came down from the mountains by the river
Thermodon. For that after the battle, when the Romans were taking the
spoil and plunder of the field, they met with several targets and
buskins of the Amazons; but no woman’s body was found among the dead.
They inhabit the parts of Mount Caucasus that reach down to the
Hyrcanian Sea, not immediately bordering upon the Albanians, for the
Gelae and the Leges lie betwixt; and they keep company with these people
yearly, for two months only, near the river Thermodon; after which they
retire to their own habitations, and live alone all the rest of the
year.
After this engagement, Pompey was eager to advance with his forces
upon the Hyrcanian and Caspian Sea, but was forced to retreat at a
distance of three days’ march from it, by the number of venomous
serpents, and so he retreated into Armenia the Less. Whilst he was
there, kings of the Elymaeans and Medes sent ambassadors to him, to whom
he gave friendly answer by letter; and sent against the king of Parthia,
who had made incursions upon Gordyene, and despoiled the subjects of
Tigranes, an army under the command of Afranius, who put him to the
rout, and followed him in chase as far as the district of Arbela.
Of the concubines of king Mithridates that were brought before
Pompey, he took none to himself, but sent them all away to their parents
and relations; most of them being either the daughters or wives of
princes and great commanders. Stratonice, however, who had the greatest
power and influence with him, and to whom he had committed the custody
of his best and richest fortress, had been, it seems, the daughter of a
musician, an old man, and of no great fortune, and happening to sing one
night before Mithridates at a banquet, she struck his fancy so, that
immediately he took her with him, and sent away the old man much
dissatisfied, the king having not so much as said one kind word to
himself. But when he rose in the morning, and saw tables in his house
richly covered with gold and silver plate, a great retinue of servants,
eunuchs, and pages, bringing him rich garments, and a horse standing
before the door richly caparisoned, in all respects as was usual with
the king’s favorites, he looked upon it all as a piece of mockery, and
thinking himself trifled with, attempted to make off and run away. But
the servants laying hold upon him, and informing him really that the
king had bestowed on him the house and furniture of a rich man lately
deceased, and that these were but the first-fruits or earnests of
greater riches and possessions that were to come, he was persuaded at
last with much difficulty to believe them. And so putting on his purple
robes, and mounting his horse, he rode through the city, crying out,
“All this is mine;” and to those that laughed at him, he said, there was
no such wonder in this, but it was a wonder rather that he did not throw
stones at all he met, he was so transported with joy. Such was the
parentage and blood of Stratonice. She now delivered up this castle into
the hands of Pompey, and offered him many presents of great value, of
which he accepted only such as he thought might serve to adorn the
temples of the gods, and add to the splendor of his triumph; the rest he
left to Stratonice’s disposal, bidding her please herself in the
enjoyment of them.
And in the same manner he dealt with the presents offered him by the
king of Iberia, who sent him a bedstead, table, and a chair of state,
all of gold, desiring him to accept of them; but he delivered them all
into the custody of the public treasurers, for the use of the
Commonwealth.
In another castle called Caenum, Pompey found and read with pleasure
several secret writings of Mithridates, containing much that threw light
on his character. For there were memoirs by which it appeared that
besides others, he had made away with his son Ariarathes by poison, as
also with Alcaeus the Sardian, for having robbed him of the first honors
in a horse-race. There were several judgments upon the interpretation of
dreams, which either he himself or some of his mistresses had had; and
besides these, there was a series of wanton letters to and from his
concubine Monime. Theophanes tells us that there was found also an
address by Rutilius, in which he attempted to exasperate him to the
laughter of all the Romans in Asia; though most men justly conjecture
this to be a malicious invention of Theophanes, who probably hated
Rutilius because he was a man in nothing like himself; or perhaps it
might be to gratify Pompey, whose father is described by Rutilius in his
history, as the vilest man alive.
From thence Pompey came to the city of Amisus, where his passion for
glory put him into a position which might be called a punishment on
himself. For whereas he had often sharply reproached Lucullus, in that
while the enemy was still living, he had taken upon him to issue
decrees, and distribute rewards and honors, as conquerors usually do
only when the war is brought to an end, yet now was he himself, while
Mithridates was paramount in the kingdom of Bosporus, and at the head of
a powerful army, as if all were ended, just doing the same thing,
regulating the provinces, and distributing rewards, many great
commanders and princes having flocked to him, together with no less than
twelve barbarian kings; insomuch that to gratify these other kings, when
he wrote to the king of Parthia, he would not condescend, as others used
to do, in the superscription of his letter, to give him his title of
king of kings.
Moreover, he had a great desire and emulation to occupy Syria, and to
march through Arabia to the Red Sea, that he might thus extend his
conquests every way to the great ocean that encompasses the habitable
earth; as in Africa he was the first Roman that advanced his victories
to the ocean; and again in Spain he made the Atlantic Sea the limit of
the empire; and then thirdly, in his late pursuit of the Albanians, he
had wanted but little of reaching the Hyrcanian Sea. Accordingly he
raised his camp, designing to bring the Red Sea within the circuit of
his expedition, especially as he saw how difficult it was to hunt after
Mithridates with an army, and that he would prove a worse enemy flying
than fighting. But yet he declared, that he would leave a sharper enemy
behind him than himself, namely, famine; and therefore he appointed a
guard of ships to lie in wait for the merchants that sailed to Bosporus,
death being the penalty for any who should attempt to carry provisions
thither.
Then he set forward with the greatest part of his army, and in his
march casually fell in with several dead bodies still uninterred, of
those soldiers who were slain with Triarius in his unfortunate
engagement with Mithridates; these he buried splendidly and honorably.
The neglect of whom, it is thought, caused, as much as anything, the
hatred that was felt against Lucullus, and alienated the affections of
the soldiers from him. Pompey having now by his forces under the command
of Afranius, subdued the Arabians about the mountain Amanus, himself
entered Syria, and finding it destitute of any natural and lawful
prince, reduced it into the form of a province, as a possession of the
people of Rome. He conquered also Judaea, and took its king, Aristobulus,
captive. Some cities he built anew, and to others he gave their liberty,
chastising their tyrants. Most part of the time that he spent there was
employed in the administration of justice, In deciding controversies of
kings and States; and where he himself could not be present in person,
he gave commissions to his friends, and sent them. Thus when there arose
a difference betwixt the Armenians and Parthians about some territory,
and the judgment was referred to him, he gave a power by commission to
three judges and arbiters to hear and determine the controversy. For the
reputation of his power was great; nor was the fame of his justice and
clemency inferior to that of his power, and served indeed as a veil for
a multitude of faults committed by his friends and familiars. For
although it was not in his nature to check or chastise wrongdoers, yet
he himself always treated those that had to do with him in such a
manner, that they submitted to endure with patience the acts of
covetousness and oppression done by others.
Among these friends of his, there was one Demetrius who had the
greatest influence with him of all; he was a freed slave, a youth of
good understanding, but somewhat too insolent in his good fortune, of
whom there goes this story. Cato, the philosopher, being as yet a very
young man, but of great repute and a noble mind, took a journey of
pleasure to Antioch, at a time when Pompey was not there, having a great
desire to see the city. He, as his custom was, walked on foot, and his
friends accompanied him on horseback; and seeing before the gates of the
city a multitude dressed in white, the young men on one side of the
road, and the boys on the other, he was somewhat offended at it,
imagining that it was officiously done in honor of him, which was more
than he had any wish for. However, he desired his companions to alight
and walk with him; but when they drew near, the master of the ceremonies
in this procession came out with a garland and a rod in his hand, and
met them, inquiring, where they had left Demetrius, and when he would
come? Upon which Cato’s companions burst out into laughter, but Cato
said only, “Alas, poor city!” and passed by without any other answer.
However, Pompey rendered Demetrius less odious to others by enduring his
presumption and impertinence to himself. For it is reported how that
Pompey, when he had invited his friends to an entertainment, would be
very ceremonious in waiting, till they all came and were placed, while
Demetrius would be already stretched upon the couch as if he cared for
no one, with his dress over his ears, hanging down from his head. Before
his return into Italy, he had purchased the pleasantest country-seat
about Rome, with the finest walks and places for exercise, and there
were sumptuous gardens, called by the name of Demetrius, while Pompey
his master, up to his third triumph, was contented with an ordinary and
simple habitation. Afterwards, it is true, when he had erected his
famous and stately theater for the people of Rome, he built as a sort of
appendix to it, a house for himself, much more splendid than his former,
and yet no object even this to excite men’s envy, since he who came to
be master of it after Pompey could not but express wonder and inquire
where Pompey the Great used to sup. Such is the story told us.
The king of the Arabs near Petra, who had hitherto despised the power
of the Romans, now began to be in great alarm at it, and sent letters to
him promising to be at his commands, and to do whatever he should see
fit to order. However, Pompey having a desire to confirm and keep him in
the same mind, marched forwards for Petra, an expedition not altogether
irreprehensible in the opinion of many; who thought it a mere running
away from their proper duty, the pursuit of Mithridates, Rome’s ancient
and inveterate enemy, who was now rekindling the war once more, and
making preparations, it was reported, to lead his army through Scythia
and Paeonia, into Italy. Pompey, on the other side, judging it easier to
destroy his forces in battle, than to seize his person in flight,
resolved not to tire himself out in a vain pursuit, but rather to spend
his leisure upon another enemy, as a sort of digression in the
meanwhile. But fortune resolved the doubt; for when he was now not far
from Petra, and had pitched his tents and encamped for that day, as he
was talking exercise with his horse outside the camp, couriers came
riding up from Pontus, bringing good news, as was known at once by the
heads of their javelins, which it is the custom to carry crowned with
branches of laurel. The soldiers, as soon as they saw them, flocked
immediately to Pompey, who notwithstanding was minded to finish his
exercise; but when they began to be clamorous and importunate, he
alighted from his horse, and taking the letters went before them into
the camp. Now there being no tribunal erected there, not even that
military substitute for one which they make by cutting up thick turfs of
earth and piling them one upon another, they, through eagerness and
impatience, heaped up a pile of pack-saddles, and Pompey standing upon
that, told them the news of Mithridates’s death, how that he had himself
put an end to his life upon the revolt of his son Pharnaces, and that
Pharnaces had taken all things there into his hands and possession,
which he did, his letters said, in right of himself and the Romans. Upon
this news, the whole army expressing their joy, as was to be expected,
fell to sacrificing to the gods, and feasting, as if in the person of
Mithridates alone there had died many thousands of their enemies.
Pompey by this event having brought this war to its completion, with
much more ease than was expected, departed forthwith out of Arabia, and
passing rapidly through the intermediate provinces, he came at length to
the city Amisus. There he received many presents brought from Pharnaces,
with several dead bodies of the royal blood, and the corpse of
Mithridates himself, which was not easy to be known by the face, for the
physicians that embalmed him had not dried up his brain, but those who
were curious to see him knew him by the scars there. Pompey himself
would not endure to see him, but to deprecate the divine jealousy, sent
it away to the city of Sinope. He admired the richness of his robes, no
less than the size and splendor of his armor. His swordbelt, however,
which had cost four hundred talents, was stolen by Publius, and sold to
Ariarathes; his tiara also, a piece of admirable workmanship, Gaius, the
roster brother of Mithridates, gave secretly to Faustus, the son of
Sylla, at his request. All which Pompey was ignorant of, but afterwards,
when Pharnaces came to understand it, he severely punished those that
embezzled them.
Pompey now having ordered all things, and established that province,
took his journey homewards in greater pomp and with more festivity. For
when he came to Mitylene, he gave the city their freedom upon the
intercession of Theophanes, and was present at the contest, there
periodically held, of the poets, who took at that time no other theme or
subject than the actions of Pompey. He was extremely pleased with the
theater itself, and had a model of it taken, intending to erect one in
Rome on the same design, but larger and more magnificent. When he came
to Rhodes, he attended the lectures of all the philosophers there, and
gave to every one of them a talent. Posidonius has published the
disputation which he held before him against Hermagoras the rhetorician,
upon the subject of Invention in general. At Athens, also, he showed
similar, munificence to the philosophers, and gave fifty talents towards
the repairing and beautifying the city. So that now by all these acts he
well hoped to return into Italy in the greatest splendor and glory
possible to man, and find his family as desirous to see him, as he felt
himself to come home to them. But that supernatural agency, whose
province and charge it is always to mix some ingredient of evil with the
greatest and most glorious goods of fortune, had for some time back been
busy in his household, preparing him a sad welcome. For Mucia during his
absence had dishonored his bed. Whilst he was abroad at a distance, he
had refused all credence to the report; but when he drew nearer to
Italy, where his thoughts were more at leisure to give consideration to
the charge, he sent her a bill of divorce; but neither then in writing,
nor afterwards by word of mouth, did he ever give a reason why he
discharged her; the cause of it is mentioned in Cicero’s epistles.
Rumors of every kind were scattered abroad about Pompey, and were
carried to Rome before him, so that there was a great tumult and stir,
as if he designed forthwith to march with his army into the city, and
establish himself securely as sole ruler. Crassus withdrew himself,
together with his children and property, out of the city, either that he
was really afraid, or that he counterfeited rather, as is most probable,
to give credit to the calumny and exasperate the jealousy of the people.
Pompey, therefore, as soon as he entered Italy, called a general muster
of the army; and having made a suitable address and exchanged a kind
farewell with his soldiers, he commanded them to depart every man to his
country and place of habitation, only taking care that they should not
fail to meet again at his triumph. Thus the army being disbanded, and
the news commonly reported, a wonderful result ensued. For when the
cities saw Pompey the Great passing through the country unarmed, and
with a small train of familiar friends only, as if he was returning from
a journey of pleasure, not from his conquests, they came pouring out to
display their affection for him, attending and conducting him to Rome
with far greater forces than he disbanded; insomuch that if he had
designed any movement or innovation in the State, he might have done it
without his army.
Now, because the law permitted no commander to enter into the city
before his triumph, he sent to the senate, entreating them as a favor to
him to prorogue the election of consuls, that thus he might be able to
attend and give countenance to Piso, one of the candidates. The request
was resisted by Cato, and met with a refusal. However, Pompey could not
but admire the liberty and boldness of speech which Cato alone had dared
to use in the maintenance of law and justice. He therefore had a great
desire to win him over, and purchase his friendship at any rate; and to
that end, Cato having two nieces, Pompey asked for one in marriage for
himself, the other for his son. But Cato looked unfavorably on the
proposal, regarding it as a design for undermining his honesty, and in a
manner bribing him by a family alliance; much to the displeasure of his
wife and sister, who were indignant that he should reject a connection
with Pompey the Great. About that time Pompey having a design of setting
up Afranius for the consulship, gave a sum of money among the tribes for
their votes, and people came and received it in his own gardens a
proceeding which, when it came to be generally known, excited great
disapprobation, that he should thus for the sake of men who could not
obtain the honor by their own merits, make merchandise of an office
which had been given to himself as the highest reward of his services.
“Now,” said Cato to his wife and sister, “had we contracted an alliance
with Pompey, we had been allied to this dishonor too;” and this they
could not but acknowledge, and allow his judgment of what was right and
fitting to have been wiser and better than theirs.
The splendor and magnificence of Pompey’s triumph was such that
though it took up the space of two days, yet they were extremely
straitened in time, so that of what was prepared for that pageantry,
there was as much withdrawn as would have set out and adorned another
triumph. In the first place, there were tables carried, inscribed with
the names and titles of the nations over whom he triumphed, Pontus,
Armenia, Cappadocia, Paphlagonia, Media, Colchis, the Iberians, the
Albanians, Syria, Cilicia, and Mesopotamia, together with Phoenicia and
Palestine, Judaea, Arabia, and all the power of the pirates subdued by
sea and land. And in these different countries there appeared the
capture of no less than one thousand fortified places, nor much less
than nine hundred cities, together with eight hundred ships of the
pirates, and the foundation of thirty-nine towns. Besides, there was set
forth in these tables an account of all the tributes throughout the
empire, and how that before these conquests the revenue amounted but to
fifty millions, whereas from his acquisitions they had a revenue of
eighty-five millions; and that in present payment he was bringing into
the common treasury ready money, and gold and silver plate, and
ornaments, to the value of twenty thousand talents, over and above what
had been distributed among the soldiers, of whom he that had least had
fifteen hundred drachmas for his share. The prisoners of war that were
led in triumph, besides the chief pirates, were the son of Tigranes,
king of Armenia, with his wife and daughter; as also Zosime, wife of
king Tigranes himself, and Aristobulus, king of Judaea, the sister of
king Mithridates and her five sons, and some Scythian women. There were
likewise the hostages of the Albanians and Iberians, and of the king of
Commagene, besides a vast number of trophies, one for every battle in
which he was conqueror, either himself in person, or by his lieutenants.
But that which seemed to be his greatest glory, being one which no other
Roman ever attained to, was this, that he made his third triumph over
the third division of the world. For others among the Romans had the
honor of triumphing thrice, but his first triumph was over Africa, his
second, over Europe, and this last, over Asia; so that he seemed in
these three triumphs to have led the whole world captive.
As for his age, those who affect to make the parallel exact in all
things betwixt him and Alexander the Great, do not allow him to have
been quite thirty-four, whereas in truth at that time he was near forty.
And well had it been for him had he terminated his life at this date,
while he still enjoyed Alexander’s fortune, since all his aftertime
served only either to bring him prosperity that made him odious, or
calamities too great to be retrieved. For that great authority which he
had gained in the city by his merits, he made use of only in patronizing
the iniquities of others, so that by advancing their fortunes, he
detracted from his own glory, till at last he was overthrown even by the
force and greatness of his own power. And as the strongest citadel or
fort in a town, when it is taken by an enemy, does then afford the same
strength to the foe, as it had done to friends before; so Caesar, after
Pompey’s aid had made him strong enough to defy his country, ruined and
overthrew at last the power which had availed him against the rest. The
course of things was as follows. Lucullus, when he returned out of Asia,
where he had been treated with insult by Pompey, was received by the
senate with great honor, which was yet increased when Pompey came home;
to check whose ambition they encouraged him to assume the administration
of the government, whereas he was now grown cold and disinclined to
business, having given himself over to the pleasures of ease and the
enjoyment of a splendid fortune. However, he began for the time to exert
himself against Pompey, attacked him sharply, and succeeded in having
his own acts and decrees, which were repealed by Pompey, reestablished,
and with the assistance of Cato, gained the superiority in the senate.
Pompey having fallen from his hopes in such an unworthy repulse, was
forced to fly to the tribunes of the people for refuge, and to attach
himself to the young men, among whom was Clodius, the vilest and most
impudent wretch alive, who took him about, and exposed him as a tool to
the people, carrying him up and down among the throngs in the
market-place, to countenance those laws and speeches which he made to
cajole the people and ingratiate himself. And at last for his reward, he
demanded of Pompey, as if he had not disgraced, but done him great
kindness, that he should forsake (as in the end he did forsake) Cicero,
his friend, who on many public occasions had done him the greatest
service. And so when Cicero was in danger, and implored his aid, he
would not admit him into his presence, but shutting up his gates against
those that came to mediate for him, slips out at a back door, whereupon
Cicero fearing the result of his trial, departed privately from Rome.
About that time Caesar, returning from military service, started a
course of policy which brought him great present favor, and much
increased his power for the future, and proved extremely destructive
both to Pompey and the commonwealth. For now he stood candidate for his
first consulship, and well observing the enmity betwixt Pompey and
Crassus, and finding that by joining with one he should make the other
his enemy, he endeavored by all means to reconcile them, an object in
itself honorable and tending to the public good, but as he undertook it,
a mischievous and subtle intrigue. For he well knew that opposite
parties or factions in a commonwealth, like passengers in a boat, serve
to trim and balance the unready motions of power there; whereas if they
combine and come all over to one side, they cause a shock which will be
sure to overset the vessel and carry down everything. And therefore Cato
wisely told those who charged all the calamities of Rome upon the
disagreement betwixt Pompey and Caesar, that they were in error in
charging all the crime upon the last cause; for it was not their discord
and enmity, but their unanimity and I friendship, that gave the first
and greatest blow to the commonwealth.
Caesar being thus elected consul, began at once to make an interest
with the poor and meaner sort, by preferring and establishing laws for
planting colonies and dividing lands, lowering the dignity of his
office, and turning his consulship into a sort of tribuneship rather.
And when Bibulus, his colleague, opposed him, and Cato was prepared to
second Bibulus, and assist him vigorously, Caesar brought Pompey upon
the hustings, and addressing him in the sight of the people, demanded
his opinion upon the laws that were proposed. Pompey gave his
approbation. “Then,” said Caesar, “in case any man should offer violence
to these laws, will you be reedy to give assistance to the people?”
“Yes,” replied Pompey, “I shall be ready, and against those that
threaten the sword, I will appear with sword and buckler.” Nothing ever
was said or done by Pompey up to that day, that seemed more insolent or
overbearing; so that his friends endeavored to apologize for it as a
word spoken inadvertently; but by his actions afterwards it appeared
plainly that he was totally devoted to Caesar’s service. For on a
sudden, contrary to all expectation, he married Julia, the daughter of
Caesar, who had been affianced before and was to be married within a few
days to Caepio. And to appease Caepio’s wrath, he gave him his own
daughter in marriage, who had been espoused before to Faustus, the son
of Sylla. Caesar himself married Calpurnia, the daughter of Piso.
Upon this Pompey, filling the city with soldiers, carried all things
by force as he pleased. As Bibulus, the consul, was going to the forum,
accompanied by Lucullus and Cato, they fell upon him on a sudden and
broke his rods; and somebody threw a vessel of ordure upon the head of
Bibulus himself; and two tribunes of the people, who escorted him, were
desperately wounded in the fray. And thus having cleared the forum of
all their adversaries, they got their bill for the division of lands
established and passed into an act; and not only so, but the whole
populace being taken with this bait, became totally at their devotion,
inquiring into nothing and without a word giving their suffrages to
whatever they propounded. Thus they confirmed all those acts and decrees
of Pompey, which were questioned and contested by Lucullus; and to
Caesar they granted the provinces of Gaul, both within and without the
Alps, together with Illyricum, for five years, and likewise an army of
four entire legions; then they created consuls for the year ensuing,
Piso, the father-in-law of Caesar, and Gabinius, the most extravagant of
Pompey’s flatterers.
During all these transactions, Bibulus kept close within doors, nor
did he appear publicly in person for the space of eight months together,
notwithstanding he was consul, but sent out proclamations full of bitter
invectives and accusations against them both. Cato turned prophet, and,
as if he had been possessed with a spirit of divination, did nothing
else in the senate but foretell what evils should befall the
Commonwealth and Pompey. Lucullus pleaded old age, and retired to take
his ease, as superannuated for affairs of State; which gave occasion to
the saying of Pompey, that the fatigues of luxury were not more
seasonable for an old man than those of government. Which in truth
proved a reflection upon himself; for he not long after let his fondness
for his young wife seduce him also into effeminate habits. He gave all
his time to her, and passed his days in her company in country-houses
and gardens, paying no heed to what was going on in the forum. Insomuch
that Clodius, who was then tribune of the people, began to despise him,
and engage in the most audacious attempts. For when he had banished
Cicero, and sent away Cato into Cyprus under pretence of military duty,
and when Caesar was gone upon his expedition to Gaul, finding the
populace now looking to him as the leader who did everything according
to their pleasure, he attempted forthwith to repeal some of Pompey’s
decrees; he took Tigranes, the captive, out of prison, and kept him
about him as his companion; and commenced actions against several of
Pompey’s friends, thus designing to try the extent of his power. At
last, upon a time when Pompey was present at the hearing of a certain
cause, Clodius, accompanied with a crowd of profligate and impudent
ruffians, standing up in a place above the rest, put questions to the
populace as follows: “Who is the dissolute general? who is the man that
seeks another man? who scratches his head with one finger?” and the
rabble, upon the signal of his shaking his gown, with a great shout to
every question, like singers making, responses in a chorus, made answer,
“Pompey.”
This indeed was no small annoyance to Pompey, who was quite
unaccustomed to hear anything ill of himself, and unexperienced
altogether in such encounters; and he was yet more vexed, when he saw
that the senate rejoiced at this foul usage, and regarded it as a just
punishment upon him for his treachery to Cicero. But when it came even
to blows and wounds in the forum, and that one of Clodius’s bondslaves
was apprehended, creeping through the crowd towards Pompey with a sword
in his hand, Pompey laid hold of this pretence, though perhaps otherwise
apprehensive of Clodius’s insolence and bad language, and never appeared
again in the forum during all the time he was tribune, but kept close at
home, and passed his time in consulting with his friends, by what means
he might best allay the displeasure of the senate and nobles against
him. Among other expedients, Culleo advised the divorce of Julia, and to
abandon Caesar’s friendship to gain that of the senate; this he would
not hearken to. Others again advised him to call home Cicero from
banishment, a man who was always the great adversary of Clodius, and as
great a favorite of the senate; to this he was easily persuaded. And
therefore he brought Cicero’s brother into the forum, attended with a
strong party, to petition for his return; where, after a warm dispute,
in which several were wounded and some slain, he got the victory over
Clodius. No sooner was Cicero returned home upon this decree, but
immediately he used his efforts to reconcile the senate to Pompey; and
by speaking in favor of the law upon the importation of corn, did again,
in effect, make Pompey sovereign lord of all the Roman possessions by
sea and land. For by that law, there were placed under his control all
ports, markets, and storehouses, and in short, all the concerns both of
the merchants and the husbandmen; which gave occasion to the charge
brought against it by Clodius, that the law was not made because of the
scarcity of corn, but the scarcity of corn was made, that they might
pass a law, whereby that power of his, which was now grown feeble and
consumptive, might be revived again, and Pompey reinstated in a new
empire. Others look upon it as a politic device of Spinther, the consul,
whose design it was to secure Pompey in a greater authority, that he
himself might be sent in assistance to king Ptolemy. However, it is
certain that Canidius, the tribune, preferred a law to dispatch Pompey
in the character of an ambassador, without an army, attended only with
two lictors, as a mediator betwixt the king and his subjects of
Alexandria. Neither did this proposal seem unacceptable to Pompey,
though the senate cast it out upon the specious pretence, that they were
unwilling to hazard his person. However, there were found several
writings scattered about the forum and near the senate-house, intimating
how grateful it would be to Ptolemy to have Pompey appointed for his
general instead of Spinther. And Timagenes even asserts that Ptolemy
went away and left Egypt, not out of necessity, but purely upon the
persuasion of Theophanes, who was anxious to give Pompey the opportunity
for holding a new command, and gaining further wealth. But Theophanes’s
want of honesty does not go so far to make this story credible as does
Pompey’s own nature, which was averse, with all its ambition, to such
base and disingenuous acts, to render it improbable.
Thus Pompey being appointed chief purveyor, and having within his
administration and management all the corn trade, sent abroad his
factors and agents into all quarters, and he himself sailing into
Sicily, Sardinia, and Africa, collected vast stores of corn. He was just
ready to set sail upon his voyage home, when a great storm arose upon
the sea, and the ships’ commanders doubted whether it were safe. Upon
which Pompey himself went first aboard, and bid the mariners weigh
anchor, declaring with a loud voice, that there was a necessity to sail,
but no necessity to live. So that with this spirit and courage, and
having met with favorable fortune, he made a prosperous return, and
filled the markets with corn, and the sea with ships. So much so that
this great plenty and abundance of provisions yielded a sufficient
supply, not only to the city of Rome, but even to other places too,
dispersing itself; like waters from a spring, into all quarters.
Meantime Caesar grew great and famous with his wars in Gaul, and
while in appearance he seemed far distant from Rome, entangled in the
affairs of the Belgians, Suevians, and Britons, in truth he was working
craftily by secret practices in the midst of the people, and
countermining Pompey in all political matters of most importance. He
himself with his army close about him, as if it had been his own body,
not with mere views of conquest over the barbarians, but as though his
contests with them were but mere sports and exercises of the chase, did
his utmost with this training and discipline to make it invincible and
alarming. And in the meantime his gold and silver and other spoils and
treasure which he took from the enemy in his conquests, he sent to Rome
in presents, tempting people with his gifts, and aiding aediles,
praetors, and consuls, as also their wives, in their expenses, and thus
purchasing himself numerous friends. Insomuch, that when he passed back
again over the Alps, and took up his winter quarters in the city of
Luca, there flocked to him an infinite number of men and women, striving
who should get first to him, two hundred senators included, among whom
were Pompey and Crassus; so that there were to be seen at once before
Caesar’s door no less than six score rods of proconsuls and praetors.
The rest of his addressers he sent all away full fraught with hopes and
money; but with Crassus and Pompey, he entered into special articles of
agreement, that they should stand candidates for the consulship next
year; that Caesar on his part should send a number of his soldiers to
give their votes at the election; that as soon as they were elected,
they should use their interest to have the command of some provinces and
legions assigned to themselves, and that Caesar should have his present
charge confirmed to him for five years more. When these arrangements
came to be generally known, great indignation was excited among the
chief men in Rome; and Marcellinus, in an open assembly of the people,
demanded of them both, whether they designed to sue for the consulship
or no. And being urged by the people for their answer, Pompey spoke
first, and told them, perhaps he would sue for it, perhaps he would not.
Crassus was more temperate, and said, that he would do what should be
judged most agreeable with the interest of the Commonwealth; and when
Marcellinus persisted in his attack on Pompey, and spoke, as it was
thought, with some vehemence, Pompey remarked that Marcellinus was
certainly the unfairest of men, to show him no gratitude for having thus
made him an orator out of a mute, and converted him from a hungry
starveling into a man so full-fed that he could not contain himself.
Most of the candidates nevertheless abandoned their canvass for the
consulship; Cato alone persuaded and encouraged Lucius Domitius not to
desist, “since,” said he, “the contest now is not for office, but for
liberty against tyrants and usurpers.” Therefore those of Pompey’s
party, fearing this inflexible constancy in Cato, by which he kept with
him the whole senate, lest by this he should likewise pervert and draw
after him all the well-affected part of the commonalty, resolved to
withstand Domitius at once, and to prevent his entrance into the forum.
To this end, therefore, they sent in a band of armed men, who slew the
torchbearer of Domitius, as he was leading the way before him, and put
all the rest to flight; last of all, Cato himself retired, having
received a wound in his right arm while defending Domitius. Thus by
these means and practices they obtained the consulship; neither did they
behave themselves with more decency in their further proceedings; but in
the first place, when the people were choosing Cato praetor, and just
ready with their votes for the poll, Pompey broke up the assembly, upon
a pretext of some inauspicious appearance, and having gained the tribes
by money, they publicly proclaimed Vatinius praetor. Then, in pursuance
of their covenants with Caesar, they introduced several laws by
Trebonius, the tribune, continuing Caesar’s commission to another five
years’ charge of his province; to Crassus there were appointed Syria,
and the Parthian war; and to Pompey himself, all Africa, together with
both Spains, and four legions of soldiers, two of which he lent to
Caesar upon his request, for the wars in Gaul.
Crassus, upon the expiration of his consulship, departed forthwith
into his province; but Pompey spent some time in Rome, upon the opening
or dedication of his theater, where he treated the people with all sorts
of games, shows, and exercises, in gymnastics alike and in music. There
was likewise the hunting or baiting of wild beasts, and combats with
them, in which five hundred lions were slain; but above all, the battle
of elephants was a spectacle full of horror and amazement.
These entertainments brought him great honor and popularity; but on
the other side he created no less envy to himself, in that he committed
the government of his provinces and legions into the hands of friends as
his lieutenants, whilst he himself was going about and spending his time
with his wife in all the places of amusement in Italy; whether it were
he was so fond of her himself, or she so fond of him, and he unable to
distress her by going away, for this also is stated. And the love
displayed by this young wife for her elderly husband was a matter of
general note, to be attributed, it would seem, to his constancy in
married life, and to his dignity of manner, which in familiar
intercourse was tempered with grace and gentleness, and was particularly
attractive to women, as even Flora, the courtesan, may be thought good
enough evidence to prove. It once happened in a public assembly, as they
were at an election of the aediles, that the people came to blows, and
several about Pompey were slain, so that he, finding himself all bloody,
ordered a change of apparel; but the servants who brought home his
clothes, making a great bustle and hurry about the house, it chanced
that the young lady, who was then with child, saw his gown all stained
with blood; upon which she dropped immediately into a swoon, and was
hardly brought to life again; however, what with her fright and
suffering, she fell into labor and miscarried; even those who chiefly
censured Pompey for his friendship to Caesar, could not reprove him for
his affection to so attached a wife. Afterwards she was great again, and
brought to bed of a daughter, but died in childbed; neither did the
infant outlive her mother many days. Pompey had prepared all things for
the interment of her corpse at his house near Alba, but the people
seized upon it by force, and performed the solemnities in the field of
Mars, rather in compassion for the young lady, than in favor either for
Pompey or Caesar; and yet of these two, the people seemed at that time
to pay Caesar a greater share of honor in his absence, than to Pompey,
though he was present.
For the city now at once began to roll and swell, so to say, with the
stir of the coming storm. Things everywhere were in a state of
agitation, and everybody’s discourse tended to division, now that death
had put an end to that relation which hitherto had been a disguise
rather than restraint to the ambition of these men. Besides, not long
after came messengers from Parthia with intelligence of the death of
Crassus there, by which another safeguard against civil war was removed,
since both Caesar and Pompey kept their eyes on Crassus, and awe of him
held them together more or less within the bounds of fair-dealing all
his lifetime. But when fortune had taken away this second, whose
province it might have been to revenge the quarrel of the conquered, you
might then say with the comic poet,
The combatants are waiting to begin,
Smearing their hands with dust and oiling each his skin.
So inconsiderable a thing is fortune in respect of human nature, and
so insufficient to give content to a covetous mind, that an empire of
that mighty extent and sway could not satisfy the ambition of two men;
and though they knew and had read, that
The gods, when they divided out ‘twixt three,
This massive universe, heaven, hell, and sea,
Each one sat down contented on his throne,
And undisturbed each god enjoys his own,
yet they thought the whole Roman empire not sufficient to contain
them, though they were but two.
Pompey once in an oration to the people, told them, that he had
always come into office before he expected he should, and that he had
always left it sooner than they expected he would; and, indeed, the
disbanding of all his armies witnessed as much. Yet when he perceived
that Caesar would not so willingly discharge his forces, he endeavored
to strengthen himself against him by offices and commands in the city;
but beyond this he showed no desire for any change, and would not seem
to distrust, but rather to disregard and contemn him. And when he saw
how they bestowed the places of government quite contrary to his wishes,
because the citizens were bribed in their elections, he let things take
their course, and allowed the city to be left without any government at
all. Hereupon there was mention straightaway made of appointing a
dictator. Lucilius, a tribune of the people, was the man who first
adventured to propose it, urging the people to make Pompey dictator. But
the tribune was in danger of being turned out of his office, by the
opposition that Cato made against it. And for Pompey, many of his
friends appeared and excused him, alleging that he never was desirous of
that government, neither would he accept of it. And when Cato therefore
made a speech in commendation of Pompey, and exhorted him to support the
cause of good order in the Commonwealth, he could not for shame but
yield to it, and so for the present Domitius and Messala were elected
consuls. But shortly afterwards, when there was another anarchy, or
vacancy in the government, and the talk of a dictator was much louder
and more general than before, those of Cato’s party, fearing lest they
should be forced to appoint Pompey, thought it policy to keep him from
that arbitrary and tyrannical power, by giving him an office of more
legal authority. Bibulus himself, who was Pompey’s enemy, first gave his
vote in the senate, that Pompey should be created consul alone;
alleging, that by these means either the Commonwealth would be freed
from its present confusion, or that its bondage should be lessened by
serving the worthiest. This was looked upon as a very strange opinion,
considering the man that spoke it; and therefore on Cato’s standing up,
everybody expected that he would have opposed it; but after silence
made, he said that he would never have been the author of that advice
himself, but since it was propounded by another, his advice was to
follow it, adding, that any form of government was better than none at
all; and that in a time so full of distraction, he thought no man fitter
to govern than Pompey. This counsel was unanimously approved of, and a
decree passed that Pompey should be made sole consul, with this clause,
that if he thought it necessary to have a colleague, he might choose
whom he pleased, provided it were not till after two months expired.
Thus was Pompey created and declared sole consul by Sulpicius, regent
in this vacancy; upon which he made very cordial acknowledgments to
Cato, professing himself much his debtor, and requesting his good advice
in conducting the government; to this Cato replied, that Pompey had no
reason to thank him, for all that he had said was for the service of the
commonwealth, not of Pompey; but that he would be always ready to give
his advice privately, if he were asked for it; and if not, he should not
fail to say what he thought in public. Such was Cato’s conduct on all
occasions.
On his return into the city Pompey married Cornelia, the daughter of
Metellus Scipio, not a maiden, but lately left a widow by Publius, the
son of Crassus, her first husband, who had been killed in Parthia. The
young lady had other attractions besides those of youth and beauty; for
she was highly educated, played well upon the lute, understood geometry,
and had been accustomed to listen with profit to lectures on philosophy;
all this, too, without in any degree becoming unamiable or pretentious,
as sometimes young women do when they pursue such studies. Nor could any
fault be found either with her father’s family or reputation. The
disparity of their ages was however not liked by everybody; Cornelia
being in this respect a fitter match for Pompey’s son. And wiser judges
thought it rather a slight upon the commonwealth when he, to whom alone
they had committed their broken fortunes, and from whom alone, as from
their physician, they expected a cure to these distractions, went about
crowned with garlands and celebrating his nuptial feasts; never
considering, that his very consulship was a public calamity, which would
never have been given him, contrary to the rules of law, had his country
been in a flourishing state. Afterwards, however, he took cognizance of
the cases of those that had obtained offices by gifts and bribery, and
enacted laws and ordinances, setting forth the rules of judgment by
which they should be arraigned; and regulating all things with gravity
and justice, he restored security, order, and silence to their courts of
judicature, himself giving his presence there with a band of soldiers.
But when his father-in-law Scipio was accused, he sent for the three
hundred and sixty judges to his house, and entreated them to be
favorable to him; whereupon his accuser, seeing Scipio come into the
court, accompanied by the judges themselves, withdrew the prosecution.
Upon this Pompey was very ill spoken of, and much worse in the case of
Plancus; for whereas he himself had made a law, putting a stop to the
practice of making speeches in praise of persons under trial, yet
notwithstanding this prohibition, he came into court, and spoke openly
in commendation of Plancus, insomuch that Cato, who happened to be one
of the judges at that time, stopping his ears with his hands, told him,
he could not in conscience listen to commendations contrary to law. Cato
upon this was refused, and set aside from being a judge, before sentence
was given, but Plancus was condemned by the rest of the judges, to
Pompey’s dishonor. Shortly after, Hypsaeus, a man of consular dignity,
who was under accusation, waited for Pompey’s return from his bath to
his supper, and falling down at his feet, implored his favor; but he
disdainfully passed him by, saying, that he did nothing else but spoil
his supper. Such partiality was looked upon as a great fault in Pompey,
and highly condemned; however, he managed all things else discreetly,
and having put the government in very good order, he chose his
father-in-law to be his colleague in the consulship for the last five
months. His provinces were continued to him for the term of four years
longer, with a commission to take one thousand talents yearly out of the
treasury for the payment of his army.
This gave occasion to some of Caesar’s friends to think it
reasonable, that some consideration should be had of him too, who had
done such signal services in war, and fought so many battles for the
empire, alleging, that he deserved at least a second consulship, or to
have the government of his province continued, that so he might command
and enjoy in peace what he had obtained in war, and no successor come in
to reap the fruits of his labor, and carry off the glory of his actions.
There arising some debate about this matter, Pompey took upon him, as it
were out of kindness to Caesar, to plead his cause, and allay any
jealousy that was conceived against him, telling them, that he had
letters from Caesar, expressing his desire for a successor, and his own
discharge from the command; but it would be only right that they should
give him leave to stand for the consulship though in his absence. But
those of Cato’s party withstood this, saying, that if he expected any
favor from the citizens, he ought to leave his army, and come in a
private capacity to canvas for it. And Pompey’s making no rejoinder, but
letting it pass as a matter in which he was overruled, increased the
suspicion of his real feelings towards Caesar. Presently, also, under
presence of a war with Parthia, he sent for his two legions which he had
lent him. However, Caesar, though he well knew why they were asked for,
sent them home very liberally rewarded.
About that time Pompey recovered of a dangerous fit of sickness which
seized him at Naples, where the whole city, upon the suggestion of
Praxagoras, made sacrifices of thanksgiving to the gods for his
recovery. The neighboring towns likewise happening to follow their
example, the thing then went its course throughout all Italy, so that
there was not a city either great or small, that did not feast and
rejoice for many days together. And the company of those that came from
all parts to meet him was so numerous, that no place was able to contain
them, but the villages, seaport towns, and the very highways, were all
full of people, feasting and sacrificing to the gods. Nay, many went to
meet him with garlands on their heads, and flambeaux in their hands,
casting flowers and nosegays upon him as he went along; so that this
progress of his, and reception, was one of the noblest and most glorious
sights imaginable. And yet it is thought that this very thing was not
one of the least causes and occasions of the civil war. For Pompey,
yielding to a feeling of exultation, which in the greatness of the
present display of joy lost sight of more solid grounds of
consideration, and abandoning that prudent temper which had guided him
hitherto to a safe use of all his good fortune and his successes, gave
himself up to an extravagant confidence in his own, and contempt of
Caesar’s power; insomuch that he thought neither force of arms nor care
necessary against him, but that he could pull him down much easier than
he had set him up. Besides this, Appius, under whose command those
legions which Pompey lent to Caesar were returned, coming lately out of
Gaul, spoke slightingly of Caesar’s actions there, and spread scandalous
reports about him, at the same time telling Pompey, that he was
unacquainted with his own strength and reputation, if he made use of any
other forces against Caesar than Caesar’s own; for such was the
soldiers’ hatred to Caesar, and their love to Pompey so great, that they
would all come over to him upon his first appearance. By these
flatteries Pompey was so puffed up, and led on into such a careless
security, that he could not choose but laugh at those who seemed to fear
a war; and when some were saying, that if Caesar should march against
the city, they could not see what forces there were to resist him, he
replied with a smile, bidding them be in no concern, “for,” said he,
“whenever I stamp with my foot in any part of Italy, there will rise up
forces enough in an instant, both horse and foot.”
Caesar, on the other side, was more and more vigorous in his
proceedings, himself always at hand about the frontiers of Italy, and
sending his soldiers continually into the city to attend all elections
with their votes. Besides, he corrupted several of the magistrates, and
kept them in his pay; among others, Paulus, the consul, who was brought
over by a bribe of one thousand and five hundred talents; and Curio,
tribune of the people, by a discharge of the debts with which he was
overwhelmed; together with Mark Antony, who, out of friendship to Curio,
had become bound with him in the same obligations for them all. And it
was stated as a fact, that a centurion of Caesar’s waiting at the
senate-house, and hearing that the senate refused to give him a longer
term of his government, clapped his hand upon his sword, and said, “But
this shall give it.” And indeed all his practices and preparations
seemed to bear this appearance. Curio’s demands, however, and requests
in favor of Caesar, were more popular in appearance; for he desired one
of these two things, either that Pompey also should be called upon to
resign his army, or that Caesar’s should not be taken away from him; for
if both of them became private persons, both would be satisfied with
simple justice; or if both retained their present power, each being a
match for the other, they would be contented with what they already had;
but he that weakens one, does at the same time strengthen the other, and
so doubles that very strength and power which he stood in fear of
before. Marcellus, the consul, replied nothing to all this, but that
Caesar was a robber, and should be proclaimed an enemy to the state, if
he did not disband his army. However, Curio, with the assistance of
Antony and Piso, prevailed, that the matter in debate should be put to
the question, and decided by vote in the senate. So that it being
ordered upon the question for those to withdraw, who were of opinion
that Caesar only should lay down his army and Pompey command, the
majority withdrew. But when it was ordered again for those to withdraw,
whose vote was that both should lay down their arms and neither command,
there were but twenty-two for Pompey, all the rest remained on Curio’s
side. Whereupon he, as one proud of his conquest, leaped out in triumph
among the people, who received him with as great tokens of joy, clapping
their hands, and crowning him with garlands and flowers. Pompey was not
then present in the senate, because it is not lawful for generals in
command of an army to come into the city. But Marcellus rising up, said,
that he would not sit there hearing speeches, when he saw ten legions
already passing the Alps on their march toward the city, but on his own
authority would send someone to oppose them in defense of the country.
Upon this the city went into mourning, as in a public calamity, and
Marcellus, accompanied by the senate, went solemnly through the forum to
meet Pompey, and made him this address. “I hereby give you orders, O
Pompey, to defend your country, to employ the troops you now command,
and to levy more.” Lentulus, consul elect for the year following, spoke
to the same purpose. Antony, however, contrary to the will of the
senate, having in a public assembly read a letter of Caesar’s,
containing various plausible overtures such as were likely to gain the
common people, proposing, namely, that both Pompey and he quitting their
governments, and dismissing their armies, should submit to the judgment
of the people, and give an account of their actions before them, the
consequence was that when Pompey began to make his levies, he found
himself disappointed in his expectations. Some few, indeed, came in, but
those very unwillingly; others would not answer to their names, and the
generality cried out for peace. Lentulus, notwithstanding he was now
entered upon his consulship, would not assemble the senate; but Cicero,
who was lately returned from Cilicia, labored for a reconciliation,
proposing that Caesar should leave his province of Gaul and army,
reserving two legions only, together with the government of Illyricum,
and should thus be put in nomination for a second consulship. Pompey
disliking this motion, Caesar’s friends were contented that he should
surrender one of the two; but Lentulus still opposing, and Cato crying
out that Pompey did ill to be deceived again, the reconciliation did not
take effect.
In the meantime, news was brought that Caesar had occupied Ariminum,
a great city in Italy, and was marching directly towards Rome with all
his forces. But this latter was altogether false, for he had no more
with him at that time than three hundred horse and five thousand foot;
and he did not mean to tarry for the body of his army, which lay beyond
the Alps, choosing rather to fall in on a sudden upon his enemies, while
they were in confusion, and did not expect him, than to give them time,
and fight them after they had made preparations. For when he came to the
banks of the Rubicon, a river that made the bounds of his province,
there he made a halt, pausing a little, and considering, we may suppose,
with himself the greatness of the enterprise which he had undertaken;
then, at last, like men that are throwing themselves headlong from some
precipice into a vast abyss, having shut, as it were, his mind’s eyes
and put away from his sight the idea of danger, he merely uttered to
those near him in Greek the words, “Anerriphtho kubos,” (let the die be
cast,) and led his army through it. No sooner was the news arrived, but
there was an uproar throughout all the city, and a consternation in the
people even to astonishment, such as never was known in Rome before; all
the senate ran immediately to Pompey, and the magistrates followed. And
when Tullus made inquiry about his legions and forces, Pompey seemed to
pause a little, and answered with some hesitation, that he had those two
legions ready that Caesar sent back, and that out of the men who had
been previously enrolled he believed he could shortly make up a body of
thirty thousand men. On which Tullus crying out aloud, “O Pompey, you
have deceived us,” gave his advice to send off a deputation to Caesar.
Favonius, a man of fair character, except that he used to suppose his
own petulance and abusive talking a copy of Cato’s straight-forwardness,
bade Pompey stamp upon the ground, and call forth the forces he had
promised. But Pompey bore patiently with this unseasonable raillery; and
on Cato putting him in mind of what he had foretold from the very
beginning about Caesar, made this answer only, that Cato indeed had
spoken more like a prophet, but he had acted more like a friend. Cato
then advised them to choose Pompey general with absolute power and
authority, saying that the same men who do great evils, know best how to
cure them. He himself went his way forthwith into Sicily, the province
that was allotted him, and all the rest of the senators likewise
departed every one to his respective government.
Thus all Italy in a manner being up in arms, no one could say what
was best to be done. For those that were without, came from all parts
flocking into the city; and they who were within, seeing the confusion
and disorder so great there, all good things impotent, and disobedience
and insubordination grown too strong to be controlled by the
magistrates, were quitting it as fast as the others came in. Nay, it was
so far from being possible to allay their fears, that they would not
suffer Pompey to follow out his own judgment, but every man pressed and
urged him according to his particular fancy, whether it proceeded from
doubt, fear, grief, or any meaner passion; so that even in the same day
quite contrary counsels were acted upon. Then, again, it was as
impossible to have any good intelligence of the enemy; for what each man
heard by chance upon a flying rumor, he would report for truth, and
exclaim against Pompey if he did not believe it. Pompey, at length,
seeing such a confusion in Rome, determined with himself to put an end
to their clamors by his departure, and therefore commanding all the
senate to follow him, and declaring, that whosoever tarried behind,
should be judged a confederate of Caesar’s, about the dusk of the
evening he went out and left the city. The consuls also followed after
in a hurry, without offering the sacrifices to the gods, usual before a
war. But in all this, Pompey himself had the glory, that in the midst of
such calamities, he had so much of men’s love and good-will. For though
many found fault with the conduct of the war, yet no man hated the
general; and there were more to be found of those that went out of Rome,
because that they could not forsake Pompey, than of those that fled for
love of liberty.
Some few days after Pompey was gone out, Caesar came into the city,
and made himself master of it, treating everyone with a great deal of
courtesy, and appeasing their fears, except only Metellus, one of the
tribunes; on whose refusing to let him take any money out of the
treasury, Caesar threatened him with death, adding words yet harsher
than the threat, that it was far easier for him to do it than say it. By
this means removing Metellus, and taking what moneys were of use for his
occasions, he set forwards in pursuit of Pompey, endeavoring with all
speed to drive him out of Italy before his army, that was in Spain,
could join him.
But Pompey arriving at Brundusium, and having plenty of ships there,
bade the two consuls embark immediately, and with them shipped thirty
cohorts of foot, bound before him for Dyrrhachium. He sent likewise his
father-in-law Scipio, and Cnaeus his son, into Syria, to provide and fit
out a fleet there; himself in the meantime having blocked up the gates,
placed his lightest soldiers as guards upon the walls; and giving
express orders that the citizens should keep within doors, he dug up all
the ground inside the city, cutting trenches, and fixing stakes and
palisades throughout all the streets of the city, except only two that
led down to the sea-side. Thus in three days space having with ease put
all the rest of his army on shipboard, he suddenly gave the signal to
those that guarded the walls, who nimbly repairing to the ships, were
received on board and carried off. Caesar meantime perceiving their
departure by seeing the walls unguarded, hastened after, and in the heat
of pursuit was all but entangled himself among the stakes and trenches.
But the Brundusians discovering the danger to him, and showing him the
way, he wheeled about, and taking a circuit round the city, made towards
the haven, where he found all the ships on their way, excepting only two
vessels that had but a few soldiers aboard.
Most are of opinion, that this departure of Pompey’s is to be counted
among the best of his military performances, but Caesar himself could
not but wonder that he, who was thus ingarrisoned in a city well
fortified, who was in expectation of his forces from Spain, and was
master of the sea besides, should leave and abandon Italy. Cicero
accuses him of imitating the conduct of Themistocles, rather than of
Pericles, when the circumstances were more like those of Pericles than
they were like those of Themistocles. However, it appeared plainly, and
Caesar showed it by his actions, that he was in great fear of delay, for
when he had taken Numerius, a friend of Pompey’s, prisoner, he sent him
as an ambassador to Brundusium, with offers of peace and reconciliation
upon equal terms; but Numerius sailed away with Pompey. And now Caesar
having become master of all Italy in sixty days, without a drop of blood
shed, had a great desire forthwith to follow Pompey; but being destitute
of shipping, he was forced to divert his course, and march into Spain,
designing to bring over Pompey’s forces there to his own.
In the meantime Pompey raised a mighty army both by sea and land. As
for his navy, it was irresistible. For there were five hundred men of
war, besides an infinite company of light vessels, Liburnians, and
others; and for his land forces, the cavalry made up a body of seven
thousand horse, the very flower of Rome and Italy, men of family,
wealth, and high spirit; but the infantry was a mixture of unexperienced
soldiers drawn from different quarters, and these he exercised and
trained near Beroea, where he quartered his army; himself noways
slothful, but performing all his exercises as if he had been in the
flower of his youth, conduct which raised the spirits of his soldiers
extremely. For it was no small encouragement for them to see Pompey the
Great, sixty years of age wanting two, at one time handling his arms
among the foot, then again mounted among the horse, drawing out his
sword with ease in full career, and sheathing it up as easily; and in
darting the javelin, showing not only skill and dexterity in hitting the
mark, but also strength and activity in throwing it so far that few of
the young men went beyond him.
Several kings and princes of nations came thither to him, and there
was a concourse of Roman citizens who had held the magistracies, so
numerous that they made up a complete senate. Labienus forsook his old
friend Caesar, whom he had served throughout all his wars in Gaul, and
came over to Pompey; and Brutus, son to that Brutus that was put to
death in Gaul, a man of a high spirit, and one that to that day had
never so much as saluted or spoke to Pompey, looking upon him as the
murderer of his father, came then and submitted himself to him as the
defender of their liberty. Cicero likewise, though he had written and
advised otherwise, yet was ashamed not to be accounted in the number of
those that would hazard their lives and fortunes for the safeguard of
their country. There came to him also into Macedonia, Tidius Sextius, a
man extremely old, and lame of one leg; so that others indeed mocked and
laughed at the spectacle, but Pompey, as soon as he saw him, rose and
ran to meet him, esteeming it no small testimony in his favor, when men
of such age and infirmities should rather choose to be with him in
danger, than in safety at home. Afterwards in a meeting of their senate
they passed a decree, on the motion of Cato, that no Roman citizen
should be put to death but in battle, and that they should not sack or
plunder any city that was subject to the Roman empire, a resolution
which gained Pompey’s party still greater reputation, insomuch that
those who were noways at all concerned in the war, either because they
dwelt afar off, or were thought incapable of giving help, were yet, in
their good wishes, upon his side, and in all their words, so far as that
went, supported the good or just cause, as they called it; esteeming
those as enemies to the gods and men, that wished not victory to Pompey.
Neither was Pompey’s clemency such, but that Caesar likewise showed
himself as merciful a conqueror; for when he had taken and overthrown
all Pompey’s forces in Spain, he gave them easy terms, leaving the
commanders at their liberty, and taking the common soldiers into his own
pay. Then repassing the Alps, and making a running march through Italy,
he came to Brundusium about the winter solstice, and crossing the sea
there, landed at the port of Oricum. And having Jubius, an intimate
friend of Pompey’s, with him as his prisoner, he dispatched him to
Pompey with an invitation, that they, meeting together in a conference,
should disband both their armies within three days, and renewing their
former friendship with solemn oaths, should return together into Italy.
Pompey looked upon this again as some new stratagem, and therefore
marching down in all haste to the sea-coast, possessed himself of all
forts and places of strength suitable to encamp in, and to secure his
laud forces, as likewise of all ports and harbors commodious to receive
any that came by sea, so that what wind soever blew, it must needs in
some way or other be favorable to him, bringing in either provision,
men, or money; while Caesar, on the contrary, was so hemmed in both by
sea and land, that he was forced to desire battle, daily provoking the
enemy, and assailing them in their very forts; and in these light
skirmishes for the most part had the better. Once only he was
dangerously overthrown, and was within a little of losing his whole
army, Pompey having fought nobly, routing the whole force, and killing
two thousand on the spot. But either he was not able, or was afraid, to
go on and force his way into their camp with them, so that Caesar made
the remark, that “Today the victory had been the enemy’s, had there been
anyone among them to gain it.” Pompey’s soldiers were so encouraged by
this victory that they were eager now to have all put to the decision of
a battle; but Pompey himself, though he wrote to distant kings,
generals, and states in confederacy with him, as a conqueror, yet was
afraid to hazard the success of a battle, choosing rather by delays, and
distress of provisions, to tire out a body of men, who had never yet
been conquered by force of arms, and had long been used to fight and
conquer together; while their time of life, now an advanced one, which
made them quickly weary of those other hardships of war, such as were
long marches, and frequent decampings, making trenches, and building
fortifications, made them eager to come to close combat and venture a
battle with all speed.
Pompey had all along hitherto by his persuasions pretty well quieted
his soldiers; but after this last engagement, when Caesar for want of
provisions was forced to raise his camp, and passed through Athamania
into Thessaly, it was impossible to curb or allay the heat of their
spirits any longer. For all crying out with a general voice, that Caesar
was fled, some were for pursuing and pressing upon him, others for
returning into Italy; some there were that sent their friends and
servants beforehand to Rome, to hire houses near the forum, that they
might be in readiness to sue for offices; several of their own motion
sailed off at once to Lesbos to carry to Cornelia, (whom Pompey had
conveyed thither to be in safety,) the joyful news, that the war was
ended. And a senate being called, and the matter being under debate,
Afranius was of opinion, that Italy should first be regained, for that
it was the grand prize and crown of all the war; and they who were
masters of that, would quickly have at their devotion all the provinces
of Sicily, Sardinia, Corsica, Spain, and Gaul; but what was of greatest
weight and moment to Pompey, it was his own native country that lay
near, reaching out her hand for his help; and certainly it could not be
consistent with his honor to leave her thus exposed to all indignities,
and in bondage under slaves and the flatterers of a tyrant. But Pompey
himself, on the contrary, thought it neither honorable to fly a second
time before Caesar, and be pursued, when fortune had given him the
advantage of a pursuit; nor indeed lawful before the gods to forsake
Scipio and divers other men of consular dignity dispersed throughout
Greece and Thessaly, who must necessarily fall into Caesar’s hands,
together with large sums of money and numerous forces; and as to his
care for the city of Rome, that would most eminently appear, by removing
the scene of war to a greater distance, and leaving her, without feeling
the distress or even hearing the sound of these evils, to await in peace
the return of whichever should be the victor.
With this determination, Pompey marched forwards in pursuit of
Caesar, firmly resolved with himself not to give him battle, but rather
to besiege and distress him, by keeping close at his heels, and cutting
him short. There were other reasons that made him continue this
resolution, but especially because a saying that was current among the
Romans serving in the cavalry came to his ear, to the effect, that they
ought to beat Caesar as soon as possible, and then humble Pompey too.
And some report, it was for this reason that Pompey never employed Cato
in any matter of consequence during the whole war, but now when he
pursued Caesar, left him to guard his baggage by sea, fearing lest, if
Caesar should be taken off, he himself also by Cato’s means not long
after should be forced to give up his power.
Whilst he was thus slowly attending the motions of the enemy, he was
exposed on all sides to outcries, and imputations of using his
generalship to defeat, not Caesar, but his country and the senate, that
he might always continue in authority, and never cease to keep those for
his guards and servants, who themselves claimed to govern the world.
Domitius Aenobarbus, continually calling him Agamemnon, and king of
kings, excited jealousy against him; and Favonius, by his unseasonable
raillery, did him no less injury than those who openly attacked him, as
when he cried out, “Good friends, you must not expect to gather any figs
in Tusculum this year.” But Lucius Afranius, who had lain under an
imputation of treachery for the loss of the army in Spain, when he saw
Pompey purposely declining an engagement, declared openly, that he could
not but admire, why those who were so ready to accuse him, did not go
themselves and fight this buyer and seller of their provinces.
With these and many such speeches they wrought upon Pompey, who never
could bear reproach, or resist the expectations of his friends; and thus
they forced him to break his measures, so that he forsook his own
prudent resolution to follow their vain hopes and desires: weakness that
would have been blamable ill the pilot of a ship, how much more in the
sovereign commander of such an army, and so many nations. But he, though
he had often commended those physicians who did not comply with the
capricious appetites of their patients, yet himself could not but yield
to the malady and disease of his companions and advisers in the war,
rather than use some severity in their cure. Truly who could have said
that health was not disordered and a cure not required in the case of
men who went up and down the camp, suing already for the consulship and
office of praetor, while Spinther, Domitius, and Scipio made friends,
raised factions, and quarrelled among themselves, who should succeed
Caesar in the dignity of his high-priesthood, esteeming all as lightly,
as if they were to engage only with Tigranes, king of Armenia, or some
petty Nabathaean king, not with that Caesar and his army that had
stormed a thousand towns, and subdued more than three hundred several
nations; that had fought innumerable battles with the Germans and Gauls,
and always carried the victory; that had taken a million of men
prisoners, and slain as many upon the spot in pitched battles?
But they went on soliciting and clamoring, and on reaching the plain
of Pharsalia, they forced Pompey by their pressure and importunities to
call a council of war, where Labienus, general of the horse, stood up
first and swore that he would not return out of the battle if he did not
rout the enemies; and a]l the rest took the same oath. That night Pompey
dreamed that as he went into the theater, the people received him with
great applause, and that he himself adorned the temple of Venus the
Victorious, with many spoils. This vision partly encouraged, but partly
also disheartened him, fearing lest that splendor and ornament to Venus
should be made with spoils furnished by himself to Caesar, who derived
his family from that goddess. Besides there were some panic fears and
alarms that ran through the camp, with such a noise that it awaked him
out of his sleep. And about the time of renewing the watch towards
morning, there appeared a great light over Caesar’s camp, whilst they
were all at rest, and from thence a ball of flaming fire was carried
into Pompey’s camp, which Caesar himself says he saw, as he was walking
his rounds.
Now Caesar having designed to raise his camp with the morning and
move to Scotussa, whilst the soldiers were busy in pulling down their
tents, and sending on their cattle and servants before them with their
baggage, there came in scouts who brought word that they saw arms
carried to and fro in the enemy’s camp, and heard a noise and running up
and down, as of men preparing for battle; not long after there came in
other scouts with further intelligence, that the first ranks were
already set in battle array. Thereupon Caesar, when he had told them
that the wished for day was come at last, when they should fight with
men, not with hunger and famine, instantly gave orders for the red
colors to be set up before his tent, that being the ordinary signal of
battle among the Romans. As soon as the soldiers saw that, they left
their tents, and with great shouts of joy ran to their arms; the
officers, likewise, on their parts drawing up their companies in order
of battle, every man fell into his proper rank without any trouble or
noise, as quietly and orderly as if they had been in a dance.
Pompey himself led the right wing of his army against Antony, and
placed his father-in-law Scipio in the middle against Lucius Calvinus.
The left wing was commanded by Lucius Domitius; and supported by the
great mass of the horse. For almost the whole cavalry was posted there,
in the hope of crushing Caesar, and cutting off the tenth legion, which
was spoken of as the stoutest in all the army, and in which Caesar
himself usually fought in person. Caesar observing the left wing of the
enemy to be lined and fortified with such a mighty guard of horse, and
alarmed at the gallantry of their appearance, sent for a detachment of
six cohorts out of the reserves, and placed them in the rear of the
tenth legion, commanding them not to stir, lest they should be
discovered by the enemy; but when the enemy’s horse should begin to
charge, and press upon them, that they should make up with all speed to
the front through the foremost ranks, and not throw their javelins at a
distance, as is usual with brave soldiers, that they may come to a close
fight with their swords the sooner, but that they should strike them
upwards into the eyes and faces of the enemy; telling them that those
fine young dancers would never endure the steel shining in their eyes,
but would fly to save their handsome faces. This was Caesar’s employment
at that time. But while he was thus instructing his soldiers, Pompey on
horseback was viewing the order of both armies, and when he saw how well
the enemy kept their ranks, expecting quietly the signal of battle; and,
on the contrary, how impatient and unsteady his own men were, waving up
and down in disorder for want of experience, he was very much afraid
that their ranks would be broken upon the first onset; and therefore he
gave out orders that the van should make a stand, and keeping close in
their ranks, should receive the enemy’s charge. Caesar much condemns
this command; which he says not only took off from the strength of the
blows, which would otherwise have been made with a spring; but also lost
the men the impetus, which, more than anything, in the moment of their
coming upon the enemy, fills soldiers with impulse and inspiration, the
very shouts and rapid pace adding to their fury; of which Pompey
deprived his men, arresting them in their course and cooling down their
heat.
Caesar’s army consisted of twenty-two thousand, and Pompey’s of
somewhat above twice as many. When the signal of battle was given on
both sides, and the trumpets began to sound a charge, most men of course
were fully occupied with their own matters; only some few of the noblest
Romans, together with certain Greeks there present, standing as
spectators without the battle, seeing the armies now ready to join,
could not but consider in themselves to what a pass private ambition and
emulation had brought the empire. Common arms, and kindred ranks drawn
up under the self-same standards, the whole flower and strength of the
same single city here meeting in collision with itself, offered plain
proof how blind and how mad a thing human nature is, when once possessed
with any passion; for if they had been desirous only to rule, and enjoy
in peace what they had conquered in war, the greatest and best part of
the world was subject to them both by sea and land. But if there was yet
a thirst in their ambition, that must still be fed with new trophies and
triumphs, the Parthian and German wars would yield matter enough to
satisfy the most covetous of honor. Scythia, moreover, was yet
unconquered, and the Indians too, where their ambition might be colored
over with the specious pretext of civilizing barbarous nations. And what
Scythian horse, Parthian arrows, or Indian riches, could be able to
resist seventy thousand Roman soldiers, well appointed in arms, under
the command of two such generals as Pompey and Caesar, whose names they
had heard of before that of the Romans, and whose prowess, by their
conquests of such wild, remote, savage, and brutish nations, was spread
further than the fame of the Romans themselves? Today they met in
conflict, and could no longer be induced to spare their country, even
out of regard for their own glory or the fear of losing the name which
till this day both had held, of having never yet been defeated. As for
their former private ties, and the charms of Julia, and the marriage
that had made them near connections, these could now only be looked upon
as tricks of state, the mere securities of a treaty made to serve the
needs of an occasion, not the pledges of any real friendship.
Now, therefore, as soon as the plains of Pharsalia were covered with
men, horse, and armor, and that the signal of battle was raised on
either side, Caius Crassianus, a centurion, who commanded a company of
one hundred and twenty men, was the first that advanced out of Caesar’s
army, to give the charge, and acquit himself of a solemn engagement that
he had made to Caesar. He had been the first man that Caesar had seen
going out of the camp in the morning, and Caesar, after saluting him,
had asked him what he thought of the coming battle. To which he,
stretching out his right hand, replied aloud, “Thine is the victory, O
Caesar, thou shalt conquer gloriously, and I myself this day will be the
subject of thy praise either alive or dead.” In pursuance of this
promise he hastened forward, and being followed by many more, charged
into the midst of the enemy. There they came at once to a close fight
with their swords, and made a great slaughter; but as he was still
pressing forward, and breaking the ranks of the vanguard, one of
Pompey’s soldiers ran him in at the mouth, so that the point of the
sword came out behind at his neck; and Crassianus being thus slain, the
fight became doubtful, and continued equal on that part of the battle.
Pompey had not yet brought on the right wing, but stayed and looked
about, waiting to see what execution his cavalry would do on the left.
They had already drawn out their squadrons in form, designing to turn
Caesar’s flank, and force those few horse, which he had placed in the
front, to give back upon the battalion of foot. But Caesar, on the other
side, having given the signal, his horse retreated back a little, and
gave way to those six subsidiary cohorts, which had been posted in the
rear, as a reserve to cover the flank; and which now came out, three
thousand men in number, and met the enemy; and when they came up,
standing by the horses, struck their javelins upwards, according to
their instructions, and hit the horsemen full in their faces. They,
unskillful in any manner of fight, and least of all expecting or
understanding such a kind as this, had not courage enough to endure the
blows upon their faces, but turning their backs, and covering their eyes
with their hands, shamefully took to flight. Caesar’s men, however, did
not follow them, but marched upon the foot, and attacked the wing, which
the flight of the cavalry had left unprotected, and liable to be turned
and taken in the rear, so that this wing now being attacked in the flank
by these, and charged in the front by the tenth legion, was not able to
abide the charge, or make any longer resistance, especially when they
saw themselves surrounded and circumvented in the very way in which they
had designed to invest the enemy. Thus these being likewise routed and
put to flight, when Pompey, by the dust flying in the air, conjectured
the fate of his horse, it were very hard to say what his thoughts or
intentions were, but looking like one distracted and beside himself, and
without any recollection or reflection that he was Pompey the Great, he
retired slowly towards his camp, without speaking a word to any man,
exactly according to the description in the verses,
But Jove from heaven struck Ajax with a fear;
Ajax the bold then stood astonished there,
Flung o’er his back the mighty sevenfold shield,
And trembling gazed and spied about the field.
In this state and condition he went into his own tent, and sat down,
speechless still, until some of the enemy fell in together with his men
that were flying into the camp, and then he let fall only this one word,
“What? into the very camp?” and said no more; but rose up, and putting
on a dress suitable to his present fortune, made his way secretly out.
By this time the rest of the army was put to flight, and there was a
great slaughter in the camp among the servants and those that guarded
the tents, but of the soldiers themselves there were not above six
thousand slain, as is stated by Asinius Pollio, who himself fought in
this battle on Caesar’s side. When Caesar’s soldiers had taken the camp,
they saw clearly the folly and vanity of the enemy; for all their tents
and pavilions were richly set out with garlands of myrtle, embroidered
carpets and hangings, and tables laid and covered with goblets. There
were large bowls of wine ready, and everything prepared and put in
array, in the manner rather of people who had offered sacrifice and were
going to celebrate a holiday, than of soldiers who had armed themselves
to go out to battle, so possessed with the expectation of success and so
full of empty confidence had they gone out that morning.
When Pompey had got a little way from the camp, he dismounted and
forsook his horse, having but a small retinue with him; and finding that
no man pursued him, walked on softly afoot, taken up altogether with
thoughts, such as probably might possess a man that for the space of
thirty-four years together had been accustomed to conquest and victory,
and was then at last, in his old age, learning for the first time what
defeat and flight were. And it was no small affliction to consider, that
he had lost in one hour all that glory and power, which he had been
getting in so many wars, and bloody battles; and that he who but a
little before was guarded with such an army of foot, so many squadrons
of horse, and such a mighty fleet, was now flying in so mean a
condition, and with such a slender retinue, that his very enemies who
fought him could not know him. Thus, when he had passed by the city of
Larissa, and came into the pass of Tempe, being very thirsty, he kneeled
down and drank out of the river; then rising up again, he passed through
Tempe, until he came to the seaside, and there he betook himself to a
poor fisherman’s cottage, where he rested the remainder of the night.
The next morning about break of day he went into one of the river boats,
and taking none of those that followed him except such as were free,
dismissed his servants, advising them to go boldly to Caesar, and not be
afraid. As he was rowing up and down near the shore, he chanced to spy a
large merchant-ship, lying off, just ready to set sail; the master of
which was a Roman citizen, named Peticius, who, though he was not
familiarly acquainted with Pompey, yet knew him well by sight. Now it
happened that this Peticius dreamed, the night before, that he saw
Pompey, not like the man he had often seen him, but in a humble and
dejected condition, and in that posture discoursing with him. He was
then telling his dream to the people on board, as men do when at
leisure, and especially dreams of that consequence, when of a sudden one
of the mariners told him, he saw a river boat with oars putting off from
shore, and that some of the men there shook their garments, and held out
their hands, with signs to take them in; thereupon Peticius looking
attentively, at once recognized Pompey, just as he appeared in his
dream, and smiting his hand on his head, ordered the mariners to let
down the ship’s boat, he himself waving his hand, and calling to him by
his name, already assured of his change and the change of his fortune by
that of his garb. So that without waiting for any further entreaty or
discourse, he took him into his ship, together with as many of his
company as he thought fit, and hoisted sail. There were with him the two
Lentuli, and Favonius; and a little after they spied king Deiotarus,
making up towards them from the shore; so they stayed and took him in
along with them. At supper time, the master of the ship having made
ready such provisions as he had aboard, Pompey, for want of his
servants, began to undo his shoes himself; which Favonius noticing ran
to him and undid them, and helped him to anoint himself, and always
after continued to wait upon, and attend him in all things, as servants
do their masters, even to the washing of his feet, and preparing his
supper. Insomuch that anyone there present, observing the free and
unaffected courtesy of these services, might have well exclaimed,
O heavens, in those that noble are,
Whate’er they do is fit and fair.
Pompey, sailing by the city of Amphipolis, crossed over from thence
to Mitylene, with a design to take in Cornelia and his son; and as soon
as he arrived at the port in that island, he dispatched a messenger into
the city, with news very different from Cornelia’s expectation. For she,
by all the former messages and letters sent to please her, had been put
in hopes that the war was ended at Dyrrhachium, and that there was
nothing more remaining for Pompey, but the pursuit of Caesar. The
messenger finding her in the same hopes still, was not able to salute or
speak to her, but declaring the greatness of her misfortune by his tears
rather than by his words, desired her to make haste if she would see
Pompey, with one ship only, and that not of his own. The young lady
hearing this, fell down in a swoon, and continued a long time senseless
and speechless. And when with some trouble she was brought to her senses
again, being conscious to herself that this was no time for lamentation
and tears, she started up and ran through the city towards the seaside,
where Pompey meeting and embracing her, as she sank down, supported by
his arms, “This, sir,” she exclaimed, “is the effect of my fortune, not
of yours, that I see you thus reduced to one poor vessel, who before
your marriage with Cornelia, were wont to sail in these seas with a
fleet of five hundred ships. Why therefore should you come to see me, or
why not rather have left to her evil genius one who has brought upon you
her own ill-fortune? How happy a woman had I been, if I had breathed out
my last, before the news came from Parthia of the death of Publius, the
husband of my youth, and how prudent if I had followed his destiny, as I
designed! But I was reserved for a greater mischief, even the ruin of
Pompey the Great.”
Thus, they say, Cornelia spoke to him, and this was Pompey’s reply:
“You have had, Cornelia, but one season of a better fortune, which it
may be, gave you unfounded hopes, by attending me a longer time than is
usual. It behoves us, who are mortals born, to endure these events, and
to try fortune yet again; neither is it any less possible to recover our
former state, than it was to fall from that into this.” Thereupon
Cornelia sent for her servants and baggage out of the city. The citizens
also of Mitylene came out to salute and invite Pompey into the city, but
he refused, advising them to be obedient to the conqueror, and fear not,
for that Caesar was a man of great goodness and clemency. Then turning
to Cratippus, the philosopher, who came among the rest out of the city
to visit him, he began to find some fault, and briefly argued with him
upon Providence, but Cratippus modestly declined the dispute, putting
him in better hopes only, lest by opposing, he might seem too austere or
unseasonable. For he might have put Pompey a question in his turn, in
defense of Providence; and might have demonstrated the necessity there
was that the commonwealth should be turned into a monarchy, because of
their ill government in the state; and could have asked, “How, O Pompey,
and by what token or assurance can we ascertain, that if the victory had
been yours, you would have used your fortune better than Caesar? We must
leave the divine power to act as we find it do.”
Pompey having taken his wife and friends aboard, set sail, making no
port, nor touching anywhere, but when he was necessitated to take in
provisions, or fresh water. The first city he entered was Attalia, in
Pamphylia, and whilst he was there, there came some galleys thither to
him out of Cilicia, together with a small body of soldiers, and he had
almost sixty senators with him again; then hearing that his navy was
safe too, and that Cato had rallied a considerable body of soldiers
after their overthrow, and was crossing with them over into Africa, he
began to complain and blame himself to his friends that he had allowed
himself to be driven into engaging by land, without making use of his
other forces, in which he was irresistibly the stronger, and had not
kept near enough to his fleet, that failing by land, he might have
reinforced himself from the sea, and would have been again at the head
of a power quite sufficient to encounter the enemy on equal terms. And
in truth, neither did Pompey during all the war commit a greater
oversight, nor Caesar use a more subtle stratagem, than in drawing the
fight so far off from the naval forces.
As it now was, however, since he must come to some decision, and try
some plan within his present ability, he dispatched his agents to the
neighboring cities, and himself sailed about in person to others,
requiring their aid in money and men for his ships. But, fearing lest
the rapid approach of the enemy might cut off all his preparations, he
began to consider what place would yield him the safest refuge and
retreat at present. A consultation was held, and it was generally agreed
that no province of the Romans was secure enough. As for foreign
kingdoms, he himself was of opinion, that Parthia would be the fittest
to receive and defend them in their present weakness, and best able to
furnish them with new means and send them out again with large forces.
Others of the council were for going into Africa, and to king Juba. But
Theophanes the Lesbian, thought it madness to leave Egypt, that was but
at a distance of three days’ sailing, and make no use of Ptolemy, who
was still a boy, and was highly indebted to Pompey for the friendship
and favor he had shown to his father, only to put himself under the
Parthian, and trust the most treacherous nation in the world; and rather
than make any trial of the clemency of a Roman, and his own near
connection, to whom if he would but yield to be second, he might be the
first and chief over all the rest, to go and place himself at the mercy
of Arsaces, which even Crassus had not submitted to, while alive; and,
moreover, to expose his young wife, of the family of the Scipios, among
a barbarous people, who govern by their lusts, and measure their
greatness by their power to commit affronts and insolencies; from whom,
though she suffered no dishonor, yet it might be thought she did, being
in the hands of those who had the power to do it. This argument alone,
they say, was persuasive enough to divert his course, that was designed
towards Euphrates, if it were so indeed that any counsel of Pompey’s,
and not some superior power, made him take this other way.
As soon, therefore, as it was resolved upon, that he should fly into
Egypt, setting sail from Cyprus in a galley of Seleucia, together with
Cornelia, while the rest of his company sailed along near him, some in
ships of war, and others in merchant vessels, he passed over sea without
danger. But on hearing that king Ptolemy was posted with his army at the
city of Pelusium, making war against his sister, he steered his course
that way, and sent a messenger before to acquaint the king with his
arrival, and to crave his protection. Ptolemy himself was quite young,
and therefore Pothinus, who had the principal administration of all
affairs, called a council of the chief men, those being the greatest
whom he pleased to make so, and commanded them every man to deliver his
opinion touching the reception of Pompey. It was, indeed, a miserable
thing, that the fate of the great Pompey should be left to the
determinations of Pothinus the eunuch, Theodotus of Chios, the paid
rhetoric master, and Achillas the Egyptian. For these, among the
chamberlains and menial domestics, that made up the rest of the council,
were the chief and leading men. Pompey, who thought it dishonorable for
him to owe his safety to Caesar, riding at anchor at a distance from
shore, was forced to wait the sentence of this tribunal. It seems they
were so far different in their opinions that some were for sending the
man away, and others again for inviting and receiving him; but
Theodotus, to show his cleverness and the cogency of his rhetoric,
undertook to demonstrate, that neither the one nor the other was safe in
that juncture of affairs. For if they entertained him, they would be
sure to make Caesar their enemy, and Pompey their master; or if they
dismissed him, they might render themselves hereafter obnoxious to
Pompey, for that inhospitable expulsion, and to Caesar, for the escape;
so that the most expedient course would be to send for him and take away
his life, for by that means they would ingratiate themselves with the
one, and have no reason to fear the other; adding, it is related, with a
smile, that “a dead man cannot bite.”
This advice being approved of, they committed the execution of it to
Achillas. He, therefore, taking with him as his accomplices one
Septimius, a man that had formerly held a command under Pompey, and
Salvius, another centurion, with three or four attendants, made up
towards Pompey’s galley. In the meantime, all the chiefest of those who
accompanied Pompey in this voyage, were come into his ship to learn the
event of their embassy. But when they saw the manner of their reception,
that in appearance it was neither princely nor honorable, nor indeed in
any way answerable to the hopes of Theophanes, or their expectation,
(for there came but a few men in a fisherman’s boat to meet them,) they
began to suspect the meanness of their entertainment, and gave warning
to Pompey that he should row back his galley, whilst he was out of their
reach, and make for the sea. By this time, the Egyptian boat drew near,
and Septimius standing up first, saluted Pompey in the Latin tongue, by
the title of imperator. Then Achillas, saluting him in the Greek
language, desired him to come aboard his vessel, telling him, that the
sea was very shallow towards the shore, and that a galley of that burden
could not avoid striking upon the sands. At the same time they saw
several of the king’s galleys getting their men on board, and all the
shore covered with soldiers; so that even if they changed their minds,
it seemed impossible for them to escape, and besides, their distrust
would have given the assassins a pretence for their cruelty. Pompey,
therefore, taking his leave of Cornelia, who was already lamenting his
death before it came, bade two centurions, with Philip, one of his
freedmen, and a slave called Scythes, go on board the boat before him.
And as some of the crew with Achillas were reaching out their hands to
help him, he turned about towards his wife and son, and repeated those
iambics of Sophocles,
He that once enters at a tyrant’s door,
Becomes a slave, though he were free before.
These were the last words he spoke to his friends, and so he went
aboard. Observing presently that notwithstanding there was a
considerable distance betwixt his galley and the shore, yet none of the
company addressed any words of friendliness or welcome to him all the
way, he looked earnestly upon Septimius, and said, “I am not mistaken,
surely, in believing you to have been formerly my fellow-soldier.” But
he only nodded with his head, making no reply at all, nor showing any
other courtesy. Since, therefore, they continued silent, Pompey took a
little book in his hand, in which was written out an address in Greek,
which he intended to make to king Ptolemy, and began to read it. When
they drew near to the shore, Cornelia, together with the rest of his
friends in the galley, was very impatient to see the event, and began to
take courage at last, when she saw several of the royal escort coming to
meet him, apparently to give him a more honorable reception; but in the
meantime, as Pompey took Philip by the hand to rise up more easily,
Septimius first stabbed him from behind with his sword; and after him
likewise Salvius and Achillas drew out their swords. He, therefore,
taking up his gown with both hands, drew it over his face, and neither
saying nor doing anything unworthy of himself, only groaning a little,
endured the wounds they gave him, and so ended his life, in the
fifty-ninth year of his age, the very next day after the day of his
birth.
Cornelia, with her company from the galley, seeing him murdered, gave
such a cry that it was heard to the shore, and weighing anchor with all
speed, they hoisted sail, and fled. A strong breeze from the shore
assisted their flight into the open sea, so that the Egyptians, though
desirous to overtake them, desisted from the pursuit. But they cut off
Pompey’s head, and threw the rest of his body overboard, leaving it
naked upon the shore, to be viewed by any that had the curiosity to see
so sad a spectacle. Philip stayed by and watched till they had glutted
their eyes in viewing it; and then washing it with sea-water, having
nothing else, he wrapped it up in a shirt of his own for a
winding-sheet. Then seeking up and down about the sands, at last he
found some rotten planks of a little fisher-boat, not much, but yet
enough to make up a funeral pile for a naked body, and that not quite
entire. As Philip was busy in gathering and putting these old planks
together, an old Roman citizen, who in his youth had served in the wars
under Pompey, came up to him and demanded, who he was that was preparing
the funeral of Pompey the Great. And Philip making answer, that he was
his freedman, “Nay, then,” said he, “you shall not have this honor
alone; let even me, too, I pray you, have my share in such a pious
office. that I may not altogether repent me of this pilgrimage in a
strange land, but in compensation of many misfortunes, may obtain this
happiness at last, even with mine own hands to touch the body of Pompey,
and do the last duties to the greatest general among the Romans.” And in
this manner were the obsequies of Pompey performed. The next day Lucius
Lentulus, not knowing what had passed, came sailing from Cyprus along
the shore of that coast, and seeing a funeral pile, and Philip standing
by, exclaimed, before he was yet seen by any one, “Who is this that has
found his end here?” adding, after a short pause, with a sigh, “Possibly
even thou, Pompeius Magnus!” and so going ashore, he was presently
apprehended and slain. This was the end of Pompey.
Not long after, Caesar arrived in the country that was polluted with
this foul act, and when one of the Egyptians was sent to present him
with Pompey’s head, he turned away from him with abhorrence as from a
murderer; and on receiving his seal, on which was engraved a lion
holding a sword in his paw, he burst into tears. Achillas and Pothinus
he put to death; and king Ptolemy himself, being overthrown in battle
upon the banks of the Nile, fled away and was never heard of afterwards.
Theodotus, the rhetorician, flying out of Egypt, escaped the hands of
Caesar’s justice, but lived a vagabond in banishment; wandering up and
down, despised and hated of all men, till at last Marcus Brutus, after
he had killed Caesar, finding him in his province of Asia, put him to
death, with every kind of ignominy. The ashes of Pompey were carried to
his wife Cornelia, who deposited them at his country house near Alba.
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Comparison of Pompey and Agesilaus
Thus having drawn out the history of the lives of Agesilaus and
Pompey, the next thing is to compare them; and in order to this, to
take a cursory view, and bring together the points in which they
chiefly disagree; which are these. In the first place, Pompey
attained to all his greatness and glory by the fairest and justest
means, owing his advancement to his own efforts, and to the frequent
and important aid which he rendered Sylla, in delivering Italy from
its tyrants. But Agesilaus appears to have obtained his kingdom, not
without offense both towards gods and towards men, towards these, by
procuring judgment of bastardy against Leotychides, whom his brother
had declared his lawful son, and towards those, by putting a false
gloss upon the oracle, and eluding its sentence against his
lameness. Secondly, Pompey never ceased to display his respect for
Sylla during his lifetime, and expressed it also after his death, by
enforcing the honorable interment of his corpse, in despite of
Lepidus, and by giving his daughter in marriage to his son Faustus.
But Agesilaus, upon a slight presence, cast off Lysander with
reproach and dishonor. Yet Sylla in fact had owed to Pompey’s
services, as much as Pompey ever received from him, whereas Lysander
made Agesilaus king of Sparta, and general of all Greece. Thirdly,
Pompey’s transgressions of right and justice in his political life
were occasioned chiefly by his relations with other people, and most
of his errors had some affinity, as well as himself, to Caesar and
Scipio, his fathers-in-law. But Agesilaus, to gratify the fondness
of his son, saved the life of Sphodrias by a sort of violence, when
he deserved death for the wrong he had done to the Athenians; and
when Phoebidas treacherously broke the peace with Thebes, zealously
abetted him for the sake, it was clear, of the unjust act itself. In
short, what mischief soever Pompey might be said to have brought on
Rome through compliance with the wishes of his friends or through
inadvertency, Agesilaus may be said to have brought on Sparta out of
obstinacy and malice, by kindling the Boeotian war. And if,
moreover, we are to attribute any part of these disasters to some
personal ill-fortune attaching to the men themselves, in the case of
Pompey, certainly, the Romans had no reason to anticipate it.
Whereas Agesilaus would not suffer the Lacedaemonians to avoid what
they foresaw and were forewarned must attend the “lame sovereignty.”
For had Leotychides been chargeable ten thousand times as foreign
and spurious, yet the race of the Eurypontidae was still in being,
and could easily have furnished Sparta with a lawful king, that was
sound in his limbs, had not Lysander darkened and disguised the true
sense of the oracle in favor of Agesilaus.
Such a politic piece of sophistry as was devised by Agesilaus, in
that great perplexity of the people as to the treatment to be given
to those who had played the coward at the battle of Leuctra, when
after that unhappy defeat, he decreed, that the laws should sleep
for that day, it would be hard to find any parallel to; neither
indeed have we the fellow of it in all Pompey’s story. But on the
contrary, Pompey for a friend thought it no sin to break those very
laws which he himself had made; as if to show at once the force of
his friendship, and the greatness of his power; whereas Agesilaus,
under the necessity, as it seemed, of either rescinding the laws, or
not saving the citizens, contrived an expedient by the help of which
the laws should not touch these citizens, and yet should not, to
avoid it, be overthrown. Then I must commend it as an incomparable
act of civil virtue and obedience in Agesilaus, that immediately
upon the receipt of the scytala, he left the wars in Asia, and
returned into his country. For he did not like Pompey merely advance
his country’s interest by acts that contributed at the same time to
promote his own greatness, but looking to his country’s good, for
its sake laid aside as great authority and honor as ever any man had
before or since, except Alexander the Great.
But now to take another point of view, if we sum up Pompey’s
military expeditions and exploits of war, the number of his
trophies, and the greatness of the powers which he subdued, and the
multitude of battles in which he triumphed, I am persuaded even
Xenophon himself would not put the victories of Agesilaus in balance
with his, though Xenophon has this privilege allowed him, as a sort
of special reward for his other excellences, that he may write and
speak, in favor of his hero, whatever he pleases. Methinks, too,
there is a great deal of difference betwixt these men, in their
clemency and moderation towards their enemies. For Agesilaus, while
attempting to enslave Thebes and exterminate Messene, the latter,
his country’s ancient associate, and Thebes, the mother-city of his
own royal house, almost lost Sparta itself, and did really lose the
government of Greece; whereas Pompey gave cities to those of the
pirates who were willing to change their manner of life; and when it
was in his power to lead Tigranes, king of Armenia, in triumph, he
chose rather to make him a confederate of the Romans, saying, that a
single day was worth less than all future time. But if the
preeminence in that which relates to the office and virtues of a
general, should be determined by the greatest and most important
acts and counsels of war, the Lacedaemonian would not a little
exceed the Roman. For Agesilaus never deserted his city, though it
was besieged by an army of seventy thousand men, when there were
very few soldiers within to defend it, and those had been defeated
too, but a little before, at the battle of Leuctra. But Pompey, when
Caesar with a body only of fifty-three hundred men, had taken but
one town in Italy, departed in a panic out of Rome, either through
cowardice, when there were so few, or at least through a false and
mistaken belief that there were more; and having conveyed away his
wife and children, he left all the rest of the citizens defenseless,
and fled; whereas he ought either to have conquered in fight for the
defense of his country, or yielded upon terms to the conqueror, who
was moreover his fellow-citizen, and allied to him; but now to the
same man to whom he refused a prolongation of the term of his
government, and thought it intolerable to grant another consulship,
to him he gave the power, by letting him take the city, to tell
Metellus, together with all the rest, that they were his prisoners.
That which is chiefly the office of a general, to force the enemy
into fighting when he finds himself the stronger, and to avoid being
driven into it himself when he is the weaker, this excellence
Agesilaus always displayed, and by it kept himself invincible;
whereas in contending with Pompey, Caesar, who was the weaker,
successfully declined the danger, and his own strength being in his
land forces. drove him into putting the conflict to issue with
these, and thus made himself master of the treasure, stores, and the
sea too, which were all in his enemy’s hands, and by the help of
which the victory could have been secured without fighting. And what
is alleged as an apology in vindication of Pompey, is to a general
of his age and standing the greatest of disgraces. For, granting
that a young commander might by clamor and outcry be deprived of his
fortitude and strength of mind, and weakly forsake his better
judgment, and the thing be neither strange nor altogether
unpardonable, yet for Pompey the Great, whose camp the Romans called
their country, and his tent the senate, styling the consuls,
praetors, and all other magistrates who were conducting, the
government at Rome, by no better title than that of rebels and
traitors, for him, whom they well knew never to have been under the
command of any but himself, having served all his campaigns under
himself as sole general, for him upon so small a provocation as the
scoffs of Favonius and Domitius, and lest he should bear the
nickname of Agamemnon, to be wrought upon, and even forced to hazard
the whole empire and liberty of Rome upon the cast of a die, was
surely indeed intolerable. Who, if he had so much regarded a present
infamy, should have guarded the city at first with his arms, and
fought the battle in defense of Rome, not have left it as he did;
nor while declaring his flight from Italy an artifice in the manner
of Themistocles, nevertheless be ashamed in Thessaly of a prudent
delay before engaging. Heaven had not appointed the Pharsalian
fields to be the stage and theater upon which they should contend
for the empire of Rome, neither was he summoned thither by any
herald upon challenge, with intimation that he must either undergo
the combat, or surrender the prize to another. There were many other
fields, thousands of cities, and even the whole earth placed at his
command, by the advantage of his fleet, and his superiority at sea,
if he would but have followed the examples of Maximus, Marius,
Lucullus, and even Agesilaus himself, who endured no less tumults
within the city of Sparta, when the Thebans provoked him to come out
and fight in defense of the land, and sustained in Egypt also
numerous calumnies, slanders, and suspicions on the part of the
king, whom he counseled to abstain from a battle. And thus following
always what he had determined in his own judgment upon mature
advice, by that means he not only preserved the Egyptians, against
their wills, not only kept Sparta, in those desperate convulsions,
by his sole act, safe from overthrow, but even was able to set up
trophies likewise in the city over the Thebans, having given his
countrymen an occasion of being victorious afterwards by not at
first leading them out, as they tried to force him to do to their
own destruction. The consequence was that in the end Agesilaus was
commended by the very men, when they found themselves saved, upon
whom he had put this compulsion, whereas Pompey, whose error had
been occasioned by others, found those his accusers whose advice had
misled him. Some indeed profess that he was deceived by his
father-in-law Scipio, who, designing to conceal and keep to himself
the greatest part of that treasure which he had brought out of Asia,
pressed Pompey to battle, upon the pretence that there would be a
want of money. Yet admitting he was deceived, one in his place ought
not to have been so, nor should have allowed so slight an artifice
to cause the hazard of such mighty interests. And thus we have taken
a view of each, by comparing together their conduct, and actions in
war.
As to their voyages into Egypt, one steered his course thither
out of necessity in flight; the other neither honorably, nor of
necessity, but as a mercenary soldier, having enlisted himself into
the service of a barbarous nation for pay, that he might be able
afterwards to wage war upon the Greeks. And secondly, what we charge
upon the Egyptians in the name of Pompey, the Egyptians lay to the
charge of Agesilaus. Pompey trusted them and was betrayed and
murdered by them; Agesilaus accepted their confidence and deserted
them, transferring his aid to the very enemies who were now
attacking those whom be had been brought over to assist.
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Alexander
It being my purpose to write the lives of Alexander the king, and
of Caesar, by whom Pompey was destroyed, the multitude of their great
actions affords so large a field that I were to blame if I should not by
way of apology forewarn my reader that I have chosen rather to epitomize
the most celebrated parts of their story, than to insist at large on
every particular circumstance of it. It must be borne in mind that my
design is not to write histories, but lives. And the most glorious
exploits do not always furnish us with the clearest discoveries of
virtue or vice in men; sometimes a matter of less moment, an expression
or a jest, informs us better of their characters and inclinations, than
the most famous sieges, the greatest armaments, or the bloodiest battles
whatsoever. Therefore as portrait-painters are more exact in the lines
and features of the face in which the character is seen, than in the
other parts of the body, so I must be allowed to give my more particular
attention to the marks and indications of the souls of men, and while I
endeavor by these to portray their lives, may be free to leave more
weighty matters and great battles to be treated of by others.
It is agreed on by all hands, that on the father’s side, Alexander
descended from Hercules by Caranus, and from Aeacus by Neoptolemus on
the mother’s side. His father Philip, being in Samothrace, when he was
quite young, fell in love there with Olympias, in company with whom he
was initiated in the religious ceremonies of the country, and her father
and mother being both dead, soon after, with the consent of her brother
Arymbas, he married her. The night before the consummation of their
marriage, she dreamed that a thunderbolt fell upon her body, which
kindled a great fire, whose divided flames dispersed themselves all
about, and then were extinguished. And Philip some time after he was
married, dreamt that he sealed up his wife’s body with a seal, whose
impression, as he fancied, was the figure of a lion. Some of the
diviners interpreted this as a warning to Philip to look narrowly to his
wife; but Aristander of Telmessus, considering how unusual it was to
seal up anything that was empty, assured him the meaning of his dream
was, that the queen was with child of a boy, who would one day prove as
stout and courageous as a lion. Once, moreover, a serpent was found
lying by Olympias as she slept, which more than anything else, it is
said, abated Philip’s passion for her; and whether he feared her as an
enchantress, or thought she had commerce with some god, and so looked on
himself as excluded, he was ever after less fond of her conversation.
Others say, that the women of this country having always been extremely
addicted to the enthusiastic Orphic rites, and the wild worship of
Bacchus, (upon which account they were called Clodones, and Mimallones,)
imitated in many things the practices of the Edonian and Thracian women
about Mount Haemus, from whom the word threskeuein, seems to have been
derived, as a special term for superfluous and over-curious forms of
adoration; and that Olympias, zealously affecting these fanatical and
enthusiastic inspirations, to perform them with more barbaric dread, was
wont in the dances proper to these ceremonies to have great tame
serpents about her, which sometimes creeping out of the ivy and the
mystic fans, sometimes winding themselves about the sacred spears, and
the women’s chaplets, made a spectacle which the men could not look upon
without terror.
Philip, after this vision, sent Chaeron of Megalopolis to consult the
oracle of Apollo at Delphi, by which he was commanded to perform
sacrifice, and henceforth pay particular honor, above all other gods, to
Ammon; and was told he should one day lose that eye with which he
presumed to peep through the chink of the door, when he saw the god,
under the form of a serpent, in the company of his wife. Eratosthenes
says that Olympias, when she attended Alexander on his way to the army
in his first expedition, told him the secret of his birth, and bade him
behave himself with courage suitable to his divine extraction. Others
again affirm that she wholly disclaimed any pretensions of the kind, and
was wont to say, “When will Alexander leave off slandering me to Juno?”
Alexander was born the sixth of Hecatombaeon, which month the
Macedonians call Lous, the same day that the temple of Diana at Ephesus
was burnt; which Hegesias of Magnesia makes the occasion of a conceit,
frigid enough to have stopped the conflagration. The temple, he says,
took fire and was burnt while its mistress was absent, assisting at the
birth of Alexander. And all the Eastern soothsayers who happened to be
then at Ephesus, looking upon the ruin of this temple to be the
forerunner of some other calamity, ran about the town, beating their
faces, and crying, that this day had brought forth something that would
prove fatal and destructive to all Asia.
Just after Philip had taken Potidaea, he received these three
messages at one time, that Parmenio had overthrown the Illyrians in a
great battle, that his race-horse had won the course at the Olympic
games, and that his wife had given birth to Alexander; with which being
naturally well pleased, as an addition to his satisfaction, he was
assured by the diviners that a son, whose birth was accompanied with
three such successes, could not fail of being invincible.
The statues that gave the best representation of Alexander’s person,
were those of Lysippus, (by whom alone he would suffer his image to be
made,) those peculiarities which many of his successors afterwards and
his friends used to affect to imitate, the inclination of his head a
little on one side towards his left shoulder, and his melting eye,
having been expressed by this artist with great exactness. But Apelles,
who drew him with thunderbolts in his hand, made his complexion browner
and darker than it was naturally; for he was fair and of a light color,
passing into ruddiness in his face and upon his breast. Aristoxenus in
his Memoirs tells us that a most agreeable odor exhaled from his skin,
and that his breath and body all over was so fragrant as to perfume the
clothes which he wore next him; the cause of which might probably be the
hot and adjust temperament of his body. For sweet smells, Theophrastus
conceives, are produced by the concoction of moist humors by heat, which
is the reason that those parts of the world which are driest and most
burnt up, afford spices of the best kind, and in the greatest quantity;
for the heat of the sun exhausts all the superfluous moisture which lies
in the surface of bodies, ready to generate putrefaction. And this hot
constitution, it may be, rendered Alexander so addicted to drinking, and
so choleric. His temperance, as to the pleasures of the body, was
apparent in him in his very childhood, as he was with much difficulty
incited to them, and always used them with great moderation; though in
other things he was extremely eager and vehement, and in his love of
glory, and the pursuit of it, he showed a solidity of high spirit and
magnanimity far above his age. For he neither sought nor valued it upon
every occasion, as his father Philip did, (who affected to show his
eloquence almost to a degree of pedantry, and took care to have the
victories of his racing chariots at the Olympic games engraved on his
coin,) but when he was asked by some about him, whether he would run a
race in the Olympic games, as he was very swift-footed, he answered, he
would, if he might have kings to run with him. Indeed, he seems in
general to have looked with indifference, if not with dislike, upon the
professed athletes. He often appointed prizes, for which not only
tragedians and musicians, pipers and harpers, but rhapsodists also,
strove to outvie one another; and delighted in all manner of hunting and
cudgel-playing, but never gave any encouragement to contests either of
boxing or of the pancratium.
While he was yet very young, he entertained the ambassadors from the
king of Persia, in the absence of his father, and entering much into
conversation with them, gained so much upon them by his affability, and
the questions he asked them, which were far from being childish or
trifling, (for he inquired of them the length of the ways, the nature of
the road into inner Asia, the character of their king, how he carried
himself to his enemies, and what forces he was able to bring, into the
field,) that they were struck with admiration of him, and looked upon
the ability so much famed of Philip, to be nothing in comparison with
the forwardness and high purpose that appeared thus early in his son.
Whenever he heard Philip had taken any town of importance, or won any
signal victory, instead of rejoicing at it altogether, he would tell his
companions that his father would anticipate everything, and leave him
and them no opportunities of performing great and illustrious actions.
For being more bent upon action and glory than either upon pleasure or
riches, he esteemed all that he should receive from his father as a
diminution and prevention of his own future achievements; and would have
chosen rather to succeed to a kingdom involved in troubles and wars,
which would have afforded him frequent exercise of his courage, and a
large field of honor, than to one already flourishing and settled, where
his inheritance would be an inactive life, and the mere enjoyment of
wealth and luxury.
The care of his education, as it might be presumed, was committed to
a great many attendants, preceptors, and teachers, over the whole of
whom Leonidas, a near kinsman of Olympias, a man of an austere temper,
presided, who did not indeed himself decline the name of what in reality
is a noble and honorable office, but in general his dignity, and his
near relationship, obtained him from other people the title of
Alexander’s foster father and governor. But he who took upon him the
actual place and style of his pedagogue, was Lysimachus the Acarnanian,
who, though he had nothing specially to recommend him, but his lucky
fancy of calling himself Phoenix, Alexander Achilles, and Philip Peleus,
was therefore well enough esteemed, and ranked in the next degree after
Leonidas.
Philonicus the Thessalian brought the horse Bucephalas to Philip,
offering to sell him for thirteen talents; but when they went into the
field to try him, they found him so very vicious and unmanageable, that
he reared up when they endeavored to mount him, and would not so much as
endure the voice of any of Philip’s attendants. Upon which, as they were
leading him away as wholly useless and untractable, Alexander, who stood
by, said, “What an excellent horse do they lose, for want of address and
boldness to manage him!” Philip at first took no notice of what he said;
but when he heard him repeat the same thing several times, and saw he
was much vexed to see the horse sent away, “Do you reproach,” said he to
him, “those who are older than yourself, as if you knew more, and were
better able to manage him than they?” “I could manage this horse,”
replied he, “better than others do.” “And if you do not,” said Philip,
“what will you forfeit for your rashness?” “I will pay,” answered
Alexander, “the whole price of the horse.” At this the whole company
fell a laughing; and as soon as the wager was settled amongst them, he
immediately ran to the horse, and taking hold of the bridle, turned him
directly towards the sun, having, it seems, observed that he was
disturbed at and afraid of the motion of his own shadow; then letting
him go forward a little, still keeping the reins in his hand, and
stroking him gently when he found him begin to grow eager and fiery, he
let fall his upper garment softly, and with one nimble leap securely
mounted him, and when he was seated, by little and little drew in the
bridle, and curbed him without either striking or spurring him.
Presently, when he found him free from all rebelliousness, and on]y
impatient for the course, he let him go at full speed, inciting him now
with a commanding voice, and urging him also with his heel. Philip and
his friends looked on at first in silence and anxiety for the result,
till seeing him turn at the end of his career, and come back rejoicing
and triumphing for what he had performed, they all burst out into
acclamations of applause; and his father, shedding tears, it is said,
for joy, kissed him as he came down from his horse, and in his
transport, said, “O my son, look thee out a kingdom equal to and worthy
of thyself, for Macedonia is too little for thee.”
After this, considering him to be of a temper easy to be led to his
duty by reason, but by no means to be compelled, he always endeavored to
persuade rather than to command or force him to anything; and now
looking upon the instruction and tuition of his youth to be of greater
difficulty and importance, than to be wholly trusted to the ordinary
masters in music and poetry, and the common school subjects, and to
require, as Sophocles says,
The bridle and the rudder too,
he sent for Aristotle, the most learned and most cerebrated
philosopher of his time, and rewarded him with a munificence
proportionable to and becoming the care he took to instruct his son. For
he repeopled his native city Stagira, which he had caused to be
demolished a little before, and restored all the citizens who were in
exile or slavery, to their habitations. As a place for the pursuit of
their studies and exercises, he assigned the temple of the Nymphs, near
Mieza, where, to this very day, they show you Aristotle’s stone seats,
and the shady walks which he was wont to frequent. It would appear that
Alexander received from him not only his doctrines of Morals, and of
Politics, but also something of those more abstruse and profound
theories which these philosophers, by the very names they gave them,
professed to reserve for oral communication to the initiated, and did
not allow many to become acquainted with. For when he was in Asia, and
heard Aristotle had published some treatises of that kind, he wrote to
him, using very plain language to him in behalf of philosophy, the
following letter. “Alexander to Aristotle greeting. You have not done
well to publish your books of oral doctrine; for what is there now that
we excel others in, if those things which we have been particularly
instructed in be laid open to all? For my part, I assure you, I had
rather excel others in the knowledge of what is excellent, than in the
extent of my power and dominion. Farewell.” And Aristotle, soothing this
passion for preeminence, speaks, in his excuse for himself, of these
doctrines, as in fact both published and not published: as indeed, to
say the truth, his books on metaphysics are written in a style which
makes them useless for ordinary teaching, and instructive only, in the
way of memoranda, for those who have been already conversant in that
sort of learning.
Doubtless also it was to Aristotle, that he owed the inclination he
had, not to the theory only, but likewise to the practice of the art of
medicine. For when any of his friends were sick, he would often
prescribe them their course of diet, and medicines proper to their
disease, as we may find in his epistles. He was naturally a great lover
of all kinds of learning and reading; and Onesicritus informs us, that
he constantly laid Homer’s Iliads, according to the copy corrected by
Aristotle, called the casket copy, with his dagger under his pillow,
declaring that he esteemed it a perfect portable treasure of all
military virtue and knowledge. When he was in the upper Asia, being
destitute of other books, he ordered Harpalus to send him some; who
furnished him with Philistus’s History, a great many of the plays of
Euripides, Sophocles, and Aeschylus, and some dithyrambic odes, composed
by Telestes and Philoxenus. For awhile he loved and cherished Aristotle
no less, as he was wont to say himself, than if he had been his father,
giving this reason for it, that as he had received life from the one, so
the other had taught him to live well. But afterwards, upon some
mistrust of him, yet not so great as to make him do him any hurt, his
familiarity and friendly kindness to him abated so much of its former
force and affectionateness, as to make it evident he was alienated from
him. However, his violent thirst after and passion for learning, which
were once implanted, still grew up with him, and never decayed; as
appears by his veneration of Anaxarchus, by the present of fifty talents
which he sent to Xenocrates, and his particular care and esteem of
Dandamis and Calanus.
While Philip went on his expedition against the Byzantines, he left
Alexander, then sixteen years old, his lieutenant in Macedonia,
committing the charge of his seal to him; who, not to sit idle, reduced
the rebellious Maedi, and having taken their chief town by storm, drove
out the barbarous inhabitants, and planting a colony of several nations
in their room, called the place after his own name, Alexandropolis. At
the battle of Chaeronea, which his father fought against the Grecians,
he is said to have been the first man that charged the Thebans’ sacred
band. And even in my remembrance, there stood an old oak near the river
Cephisus, which people called Alexander’s oak, because his tent was
pitched under it. And not far off are to be seen the graves of the
Macedonians who fell in that battle. This early bravery made Philip so
fond of him, that nothing pleased him more than to hear his subjects
call himself their general and Alexander their king.
But the disorders of his family, chiefly caused by his new marriages
and attachments, (the troubles that began in the women’s chambers
spreading, so to say, to the whole kingdom,) raised various complaints
and differences between them, which the violence of Olympias, a woman of
a jealous and implacable temper, made wider, by exasperating Alexander
against his father. Among the rest, this accident contributed most to
their falling out. At the wedding of Cleopatra, whom Philip fell in love
with and married, she being much too young for him, her uncle Attalus in
his drink desired the Macedonians would implore the gods to give them a
lawful successor to the kingdom by his niece. This so irritated
Alexander, that throwing one of the cups at his head, “You villain,”
said he, “what, am I then a bastard?” Then Philip taking Attalus’s part,
rose up and would have run his son through; but by good fortune for them
both, either his over-hasty rage, or the wine he had drunk, made his
foot slip, so that he fell down on the floor. At which Alexander
reproachfully insulted over him: “See there,” said he, “the man, who
makes preparations to pass out of Europe into Asia, overturned in
passing from one seat to another.” After this debauch, he and his mother
Olympias withdrew from Philip’s company, and when he had placed her in
Epirus, he himself retired into Illyria.
About this time, Demaratus the Corinthian, an old friend of the
family, who had the freedom to say anything among them without offense,
coming to visit Philip, after the first compliments and embraces were
over, Philip asked him, whether the Grecians were at amity with one
another. “It ill becomes you,” replied Demaratus, “to be so solicitous
about Greece, when you have involved your own house in so many
dissensions and calamities.” He was so convinced by this seasonable
reproach, that he immediately sent for his son home, and by Demartatus’s
mediation prevailed with him to return. But this reconciliation lasted
not long; for when Pixodorus, viceroy of Caria, sent Aristocritus to
treat for a match between his eldest daughter and Philip’s son
Arrhidaeus, hoping by this alliance to secure his assistance upon
occasion, Alexander’s mother, and some who pretended to be his friends,
presently filled his head with tales and calumnies, as if Philip, by a
splendid marriage and important alliance, were preparing the way for
settling the kingdom upon Arrhidaeus. In alarm at this, he dispatched
Thessalus, the tragic actor, into Caria, to dispose Pixodorus to slight
Arrhidaeus, both as illegitimate and a fool, and rather to accept of
himself for his son-in-law. This proposition was much more agreeable to
Pixodorus than the former. But Philip, as soon as he was made acquainted
with this transaction, went to his son’s apartment, taking with him
Philotas, the son of Parmenio, one of Alexander’s intimate friends and
companions, and there reproved him severely, and reproached him
bitterly, that he should be so degenerate, and unworthy of the power he
was to leave him, as to desire the alliance of a mean Carian, who was at
best but the slave of a barbarous prince. Nor did this satisfy his
resentment, for he wrote to the Corinthians, to send Thessalus to him in
chains, and banished Harpalus, Nearchus, Erigyius, and Ptolemy, his
son’s friends and favorites, whom Alexander afterwards recalled, and
raised to great honor and preferment.
Not long after this, Pausanias, having had an outrage done to him at
the instance of Attalus and Cleopatra, when he found he could get no
reparation for his disgrace at Philip’s hands, watched his opportunity
and murdered him. The guilt of which fact was laid for the most part
upon Olympias, who was said to have encouraged and exasperated the
enraged youth to revenge; and some sort of suspicion attached even to
Alexander himself, who, it was said, when Pausanias came and complained
to him of the injury he had received, repeated the verse out of
Euripides’s Medea: —
On husband, and on father, and on bride.
However, he took care to find out and punish the accomplices of the
conspiracy severely, and was very angry with Olympias for treating
Cleopatra inhumanly in his absence.
Alexander was but twenty years old when his father was murdered, and
succeeded to a kingdom beset on all sides with great dangers, and
rancorous enemies. For not only the barbarous nations that bordered on
Macedonia, were impatient of being governed by any but their own native
princes; but Philip likewise, though he had been victorious over the
Grecians, yet, as the time had not been sufficient for him to complete
his conquest and accustom them to his sway, had simply left all things
in a general disorder and confusion. It seemed to the Macedonians a very
critical time; and some would have persuaded Alexander to give up all
thought of retaining the Grecians in subjection by force of arms, and
rather to apply himself to win back by gentle means the allegiance of
the tribes who were designing revolt, and try the effect of indulgence
in arresting the first motions towards revolution. But he rejected this
counsel as weak and timorous, and looked upon it to be more prudence to
secure himself by resolution and magnanimity, than, by seeming to buckle
to any, to encourage all to trample on him. In pursuit of this opinion,
he reduced the barbarians to tranquility, and put an end to all fear of
war from them, by a rapid expedition into their country as far as the
river Danube, where he gave Syrmus, king of the Triballians, an entire
overthrow. And hearing the Thebans were in revolt, and the Athenians in
correspondence with them, he immediately marched through the pass of
Thermopylae, saying that to Demosthenes who had called him a child while
he was in Illyria and in the country of the Triballians, and a youth
when he was in Thessaly, he would appear a man before the walls of
Athens.
When he came to Thebes, to show how willing he was to accept of their
repentance for what was past, he only demanded of them Phoenix and
Prothytes, the authors of the rebellion, and proclaimed a general pardon
to those who would come over to him. But when the Thebans merely
retorted by demanding Philotas and Antipater to be delivered into their
hands, and by a proclamation on their part, invited all who would assert
the liberty of Greece to come over to them, he presently applied himself
to make them feel the last extremities of war. The Thebans indeed
defended themselves with a zeal and courage beyond their strength, being
much outnumbered by their enemies. But when the Macedonian garrison
sallied out upon them from the citadel, they were so hemmed in on all
sides, that the greater part of them fell in the battle; the city itself
being taken by storm, was sacked and razed, Alexander’s hope being that
so severe an example might terrify the rest of Greece into obedience,
and also in order to gratify the hostility of his confederates, the
Phocians and Plataeans. So that, except the priests, and some few who
had heretofore been the friends and connections of the Macedonians, the
family of the poet Pindar, and those who were known to have opposed the
public vote for the war, all the rest, to the number of thirty thousand,
were publicly sold for slaves; and it is computed that upwards of six
thousand were put to the sword. Among the other calamities that befell
the city, it happened that some Thracian soldiers having broken into the
house of a matron of high character and repute, named Timoclea, their
captain, after he had used violence with her, to satisfy his avarice as
well as lust, asked her, if she knew of any money concealed; to which
she readily answered she did, and bade him follow her into a garden,
where she showed him a well, into which, she told him, upon the taking
of the city she had thrown what she had of most value. The greedy
Thracian presently stooping down to view the place where he thought the
treasure lay, she came behind him, and pushed him into the well, and
then flung great stones in upon him, till she had killed him. After
which, when the soldiers led her away bound to Alexander, her very mien
and gait showed her to be a woman of dignity, and of a mind no less
elevated, not betraying the least sign of fear or astonishment. And when
the king asked her who she was, “I am,” said she, “the sister of
Theagenes, who fought the battle of Chaeronea with your father Philip,
and fell there in command for the liberty of Greece.” Alexander was so
surprised, both at what she had done, and what she said, that he could
not choose but give her and her children their freedom to go whither
they pleased.
After this he received the Athenians into favor, although they had
shown themselves so much concerned at the calamity of Thebes that out of
sorrow they omitted the celebration of the Mysteries, and entertained
those who escaped with all possible humanity. Whether it were, like the
lion, that his passion was now satisfied, or that after an example of
extreme cruelty, he had a mind to appear merciful, it happened well for
the Athenians; for he not only forgave them all past offenses, but bade
them to look to their affairs with vigilance, remembering that if he
should miscarry, they were likely to be the arbiters of Greece. Certain
it is, too, that in after-time he often repented of his severity to the
Thebans, and his remorse had such influence on his temper as to make him
ever after less rigorous to all others. He imputed also the murder of
Clitus, which he committed in his wine, and the unwillingness of the
Macedonians to follow him against the Indians, by which his enterprise
and glory was left imperfect, to the wrath and vengeance of Bacchus, the
protector of Thebes. And it was observed that whatsoever any Theban, who
had the good fortune to survive this victory, asked of him, he was sure
to grant without the least difficulty.
Soon after, the Grecians, being assembled at the Isthmus, declared
their resolution of joining with Alexander in the war against the
Persians, and proclaimed him their general. While he stayed here, many
public ministers and philosophers came from all parts to visit him, and
congratulated him on his election, but contrary to his expectation,
Diogenes of Sinope, who then was living at Corinth, thought so little of
him, that instead of coming to compliment him, he never so much as
stirred out of the suburb called the Cranium, where Alexander found him
lying along in the sun. When he saw so much company near him, he raised
himself a little, and vouchsafed to look upon Alexander; and when he
kindly asked him whether he wanted anything, “Yes,” said he, “I would
have you stand from between me and the sun.” Alexander was so struck at
this answer, and surprised at the greatness of the man, who had taken so
little notice of him, that as he went away, he told his followers who
were laughing at the moroseness of the philosopher, that if he were not
Alexander, he would choose to be Diogenes.
Then he went to Delphi, to consult Apollo concerning the success of
the war he had undertaken, and happening to come on one of the forbidden
days, when it was esteemed improper to give any answers from the oracle,
he sent messengers to desire the priestess to do her office; and when
she refused, on the plea of a law to the contrary, he went up himself,
and began to draw her by force into the temple, until tired and overcome
with his importunity, “My son,” said she, “thou art invincible.”
Alexander taking hold of what she spoke, declared he had received such
an answer as he wished for, and that it was needless to consult the god
any further. Among other prodigies that attended the departure of his
army, the image of Orpheus at Libethra, made of cypress-wood, was seen
to sweat in great abundance, to the discouragement of many. But
Aristander told him, that far from presaging any ill to him, it
signified he should perform acts so important and glorious as would make
the poets and musicians of future ages labor and sweat to describe and
celebrate them.
His army, by their computation who make the smallest amount,
consisted of thirty thousand foot, and four thousand horse; and those
who make the most of it, speak but of forty-three thousand foot, and
three thousand horse. Aristobulus says, he had not a fund of above
seventy talents for their pay, nor had he more than thirty days’
provision, if we may believe Duris; Onesicritus tells us, he was two
hundred talents in debt. However narrow and disproportionable the
beginnings of so vast an undertaking might seem to be, yet he would not
embark his army until he had informed himself particularly what means
his friends had to enable them to follow him, and supplied what they
wanted, by giving good farms to some, a village to one, and the revenue
of some hamlet or harbor town to another. So that at last he had
portioned out or engaged almost all the royal property; which giving
Perdiccas an occasion to ask him what he would leave himself, he
replied, his hopes. “Your soldiers,” replied Perdiccas, “will be your
partners in those,” and refused to accept of the estate he had assigned
him. Some others of his friends did the like, but to those who willingly
received, or desired assistance of him, he liberally granted it, as far
as his patrimony in Macedonia would reach, the most part of which was
spent in these donations.
With such vigorous resolutions, and his mind thus disposed, he passed
the Hellespont, and at Troy sacrificed to Minerva, and honored the
memory of the heroes who were buried there, with solemn libations;
especially Achilles, whose gravestone he anointed, and with his friends,
as the ancient custom is, ran naked about his sepulchre, and crowned it
with garlands, declaring how happy he esteemed him, in having while he
lived so faithful a friend, and when he was dead, so famous a poet to
proclaim his actions. While he was viewing the rest of the antiquities
and curiosities of the place, being told he might see Paris’s harp, if
he pleased, he said, he thought it not worth looking on, but he should
be glad to see that of Achilles, to which he used to sing the glories
and great actions of brave men.
In the meantime Darius’s captains having collected large forces, were
encamped on the further bank of the river Granicus, and it was necessary
to fight, as it were, in the gate of Asia for an entrance into it. The
depth of the river, with the unevenness and difficult ascent of the
opposite bank, which was to be gained by main force, was apprehended by
most, and some pronounced it an improper time to engage, because it was
unusual for the kings of Macedonia to march with their forces in the
month called Daesius. But Alexander broke through these scruples,
telling; them they should call it a second Artemisius. And when Parmenio
advised him not to attempt anything that day, because it was late, he
told him that he should disgrace the Hellespont, should he fear the
Granicus. And so without more saying, he immediately took the river with
thirteen troops of horse, and advanced against whole showers of darts
thrown from the steep opposite side, which was covered with armed
multitudes of the enemy’s horse and foot, notwithstanding the
disadvantage of the ground and the rapidity of the stream; so that the
action seemed to have more of frenzy and desperation in it, than of
prudent conduct. However, he persisted obstinately to gain the passage,
and at last with much ado making his way up the banks, which were
extremely muddy and slippery, he had instantly to join in a mere
confused hand-to-hand combat with the enemy, before he could draw up his
men, who were still passing over, into any order. For the enemy pressed
upon him with loud and warlike outcries; and charging horse against
horse, with their lances, after they had broken and spent these, they
fell to it with their swords. And Alexander, being easily known by his
buckler, and a large plume of white feathers on each side of his helmet,
was attacked on all sides, yet escaped wounding, though his cuirass was
pierced by a javelin in one of the joinings. And Rhoesaces and
Spithridates, two Persian commanders, falling upon him at once, he
avoided one of them, and struck at Rhoesaces, who had a good cuirass on,
with such force, that his spear breaking in his hand, he was glad to
betake himself to his dagger. While they were thus engaged, Spithridates
came up on one side of him, and raising himself upon his horse, gave him
such a blow with his battle-axe on the helmet, that he cut off the crest
of it, with one of his plumes, and the helmet was only just so far
strong enough to save him, that the edge of the weapon touched the hair
of his head. But as he was about to repeat his stroke, Clitus, called
the black Clitus, prevented him, by running him through the body with
his spear. At the same time Alexander dispatched Rhoesaces with his
sword. While the horse were thus dangerously engaged, the Macedonian
phalanx passed the river, and the foot on each side advanced to fight.
But the enemy hardly sustaining the first onset, soon gave ground and
fled, all but the mercenary Greeks, who, making a stand upon a rising
ground, desired quarter, which Alexander, guided rather by passion than
judgment, refused to grant, and charging them himself first, had his
horse (not Bucephalas, but another) killed under him. And this obstinacy
of his to cut off these experienced desperate men, cost him the lives of
more of his own soldiers than all the battle before, besides those who
were wounded. The Persians lost in this battle twenty thousand foot, and
two thousand five hundred horse. On Alexander’s side, Aristobulus says
there were not wanting above four and thirty, of whom nine were
foot-soldiers; and in memory of them he caused so many statues of brass,
of Lysippus’s making, to be erected. And that the Grecians might
participate the honor of his victory, he sent a portion of the spoils
home to them, particularly to the Athenians three hundred bucklers, and
upon all the rest he ordered this inscription to be set: “Alexander the
son of Philip, and the Grecians, except the Lacedaemonians, won these
from the barbarians who inhabit Asia.” All the plate and purple
garments, and other things of the same kind that he took from the
Persians, except a very small quantity which he reserved for himself, he
sent as a present to his mother.
This battle presently made a great change of affairs to Alexander’s
advantage. For Sardis itself, the chief seat of the barbarian’s power in
the maritime provinces, and many other considerable places were
surrendered to him; only Halicarnassus and Miletus stood out, which he
took by force, together with the territory about them. After which he
was a little unsettled in his opinion how to proceed. Sometimes he
thought it best to find out Darius as soon as he could, and put all to
the hazard of a battle; another while he looked upon it as a more
prudent course to make an entire reduction of the sea-coast, and not to
seek the enemy till he had first exercised his power here and made
himself secure of the resources of these provinces. While he was thus
deliberating what to do, it happened that a spring of water near the
city of Xanthus in Lycia, of its own accord swelled over its banks, and
threw up a copper plate upon the margin, in which was engraven in
ancient characters, that the time would come, when the Persian empire
should be destroyed by the Grecians. Encouraged by this accident, he
proceeded to reduce the maritime parts of Cilicia and Phoenicia, and
passed his army along the sea-coasts of Pamphylia with such expedition
that many historians have described and extolled it with that height of
admiration, as if it were no less than a miracle, and an extraordinary
effect of divine favor, that the waves which usually come rolling in
violently from the main, and hardly ever leave so much as a narrow beach
under the steep, broken cliffs at any time uncovered, should on a sudden
retire to afford him passage. Menander, in one of his comedies, alludes
to this marvel when he says,
Was Alexander ever favored more?
Each man I wish for meets me at my door,
And should I ask for passage through the sea,
The sea I doubt not would retire for me.
But Alexander himself in his epistles mentions nothing unusual in
this at all, but says he went from Phaselis, and passed through what
they call the Ladders. At Phaselis he stayed some time, and finding the
statue of Theodectes, who was a native of this town and was now dead,
erected in the marketplace, after he had supped, having drunk pretty
plentifully, he went and danced about it, and crowned it with garlands,
honoring not ungracefully in his sport, the memory of a philosopher
whose conversation he had formerly enjoyed, when he was Aristotle’s
scholar.
Then he subdued the Pisidians who made head against him, and
conquered the Phrygians, at whose chief city Gordium, which is said to
be the seat of the ancient Midas, he saw the famous chariot fastened
with cords made of the rind of the corner-tree, which whosoever should
untie, the inhabitants had a tradition, that for him was reserved the
empire of the world. Most authors tell the story that Alexander, finding
himself unable to untie the knot, the ends of which were secretly
twisted round and folded up within it, cut it asunder with his sword.
But Aristobulus tells us it was easy for him to undo it, by only pulling
the pin out of the pole, to which the yoke was tied, and afterwards
drawing off the yoke itself from below. From hence he advanced into
Paphlagonia and Cappadocia, both which countries he soon reduced to
obedience, and then hearing of the death of Memnon, the best commander
Darius had upon the sea-coasts, who, if he had lived, might, it was
supposed, have put many impediments and difficulties in the way of the
progress of his arms, he was the rather encouraged to carry the war into
the upper provinces of Asia.
Darius was by this time upon his march from Susa, very confident, not
only in the number of his men, which amounted to six hundred thousand,
but likewise in a dream, which the Persian soothsayers interpreted
rather in flattery to him, than according to the natural probability. He
dreamed that he saw the Macedonian phalanx all on fire, and Alexander
waiting on him, clad in the same dress which he himself had been used to
wear when he was courier to the late king; after which, going into the
temple of Belus, he vanished out of his sight. The dream would appear to
have supernaturally signified to him the illustrious actions the
Macedonians were to perform, and that as he from a courier’s place had
risen to the throne, so Alexander should come to be master of Asia, and
not long surviving his conquests, conclude his life with glory. Darius’s
confidence increased the more, because Alexander spent so much time in
Cilicia, which he imputed to his cowardice. But it was sickness that
detained him there, which some say he contracted from his fatigues,
others from bathing in the river Cydnus, whose waters were exceedingly
cold. However it happened, none of his physicians would venture to give
him any remedies, they thought his case so desperate, and were so afraid
of the suspicions and ill-will of the Macedonians if they should fail in
the cure; till Philip, the Acarnanian, seeing how critical his case was,
but relying on his own well-known friendship for him, resolved to try
the last efforts of his art, and rather hazard his own credit and life,
than suffer him to perish for want of physic, which he confidently
administered to him, encouraging him to take it boldly, if he desired a
speedy recovery, in order to prosecute the war. At this very time,
Parmenio wrote to Alexander from the camp, bidding him have a care of
Philip, as one who was bribed by Darius to kill him, with great sums of
money, and a promise of his daughter in marriage. When he had perused
the letter, he put it under his pillow, without showing it so much as to
any of his most intimate friends, and when Philip came in with the
potion, he took it with great cheerfulness and assurance, giving him
meantime the letter to read. This was a spectacle well worth being
present at, to see Alexander take the draught, and Philip read the
letter at the same time, and then turn and look upon one another, but
with different sentiments; for Alexander’s looks were cheerful and open,
to show his kindness to and confidence in his physician, while the other
was full of surprise and alarm at the accusation, appealing to the gods
to witness his innocence, sometimes lifting up his hands to heaven, and
then throwing himself down by the bedside, and beseeching Alexander to
lay aside all fear, and follow his directions without apprehension. For
the medicine at first worked so strongly as to drive, so to say, the
vital forces into the interior; he lost his speech, and falling into a
swoon, had scarce any sense or pulse left. However, in no long time, by
Philip’s means, his health and strength returned, and he showed himself
in public to the Macedonians, who were in continual fear and dejection
until they saw him abroad again.
There was at this time in Darius’s army a Macedonian refugee, named
Amyntas, one who was pretty well acquainted with Alexander’s character.
This man, when he saw Darius intended to fall upon the enemy in the
passes and defiles, advised him earnestly to keep where he was, in the
open and extensive plains, it being the advantage of a numerous army to
have field-room enough when it engages with a lesser force. Darius,
instead of taking his counsel, told him he was afraid the enemy would
endeavor to run away, and so Alexander would escape out of his hands.
“That fear,” replied Amyntas, “is needless, for assure yourself that far
from avoiding, you, he will make all the speed he can to meet you, and
is now most likely on his march towards you.” But Amyntas’s counsel was
to no purpose, for Darius immediately decamping, marched into Cilicia,
at the same time that Alexander advanced into Syria to meet him; and
missing one another in the night, they both turned back again.
Alexander, greatly pleased with the event, made all the haste he could
to fight in the defiles, and Darius to recover his former ground, and
draw his army out of so disadvantageous a place. For now he began to
perceive his error in engaging himself too far in a country in which the
sea, the mountains, and the river Pinarus running through the midst of
it, would necessitate him to divide his forces, render his horse almost
unserviceable, and only cover and support the weakness of the enemy.
Fortune was not kinder to Alexander in the choice of the ground, than he
was careful to improve it to his advantage. For being much inferior in
numbers, so far from allowing himself to be outflanked, he stretched his
right wing much further out than the left wing of his enemies, and
fighting there himself in the very foremost ranks, put the barbarians to
flight. In this battle he was wounded in the thigh, Chares says by
Darius, with whom he fought hand to hand. But in the account which he
gave Antipater of the battle though indeed he owns he was wounded in the
thigh with sword, though not dangerously, yet he takes no notice who it
was that wounded him.
Nothing was wanting to complete this victory, in which he overthrew
above a hundred and ten thousand of his enemies, but the taking the
person of Darius, who escaped very narrowly by flight. However, having
taken his chariot and his bow, he returned from pursuing him, and found
his own men busy in pillaging the barbarians’ camp, which (though to
disburden themselves, they had left most of their baggage at Damascus)
was exceedingly rich. But Darius’s tent, which was full of splendid
furniture, and quantities of gold and silver, they reserved for
Alexander himself, who after he had put off his arms, went to bathe
himself, saying, “Let us now cleanse ourselves from the toils of war in
the bath of Darius.” “Not so,” replied one of his followers, “but in
Alexander’s rather; for the property of the conquered is, and should be
called the conqueror’s.” Here, when he beheld the bathing vessels, the
water-pots, the pans, and the ointment boxes, all of gold, curiously
wrought, and smelt the fragrant odors with which the whole place was
exquisitely perfumed, and from thence passed into a pavilion of great
size and height, where the couches and tables and preparations for an
entertainment were perfectly magnificent, he turned to those about him
and said, “This, it seems, is royalty.”
But as he was going to supper, word was brought him that Darius’s
mother and wife and two unmarried daughters, being taken among the rest
of the prisoners, upon the sight of his chariot and bow were all in
mourning and sorrow, imagining him to be dead. After a little pause,
more livelily affected with their affliction than with his own success
he sent Leonnatus to them to let them know Darius was not dead, and that
they need not fear any harm from Alexander, who made war upon him only
for dominion; they should themselves be provided with everything they
had been used to receive from Darius. This kind message could not but be
very welcome to the captive ladies, especially being made good by
actions no less humane and generous. For he gave them leave to bury whom
they pleased of the Persians, and to make use for this purpose of what
garments and furniture they thought fit out of the booty. He diminished
nothing of their equipage, or of the attentions and respect formerly
paid them, and allowed larger pensions for their maintenance than they
had before. But the noblest and most royal part of their usage was, that
he treated these illustrious prisoners according to their virtue and
character, not suffering them to hear, or receive, or so much as to
apprehend anything that was unbecoming. So that they seemed rather
lodged in some temple, or some holy virgin chambers, where they enjoyed
their privacy sacred and uninterrupted, than in the camp of an enemy.
Nevertheless Darius’s wife was accounted the most beautiful princess
then living, as her husband the tallest and handsomest man of his time,
and the daughters were not unworthy of their parents. But Alexander,
esteeming it more kingly to govern himself than to conquer his enemies,
sought no intimacy with any one of them, nor indeed with any other woman
before marriage, except Barsine, Memnon’s widow, who was taken prisoner
at Damascus. She had been instructed in the Grecian learning, was of a
gentle temper, and, by her father Artabazus, royally descended, which
good qualities, added to the solicitations and encouragement of
Parmenio, as Aristobulus tells us, made him the more willing to attach
himself to so agreeable and illustrious a woman. Of the rest of the
female captives though remarkably handsome and well proportioned, he
took no further notice than to say jestingly, that Persian women were
terrible eye-sores. And he himself, retaliating, as it were, by the
display of the beauty of his own temperance and self-control, bade them
be removed, as he would have done so many lifeless images. When
Philoxenus, his lieutenant on the sea-coast, wrote to him to know if he
would buy two young boys, of great beauty, whom one Theodorus, a
Tarentine, had to sell, he was so offended, that he often expostulated
with his friends, what baseness Philoxenus had ever observed in him,
that he should presume to make him such a reproachful offer. And he
immediately wrote him a very sharp letter, telling him Theodorus and his
merchandise might go with his good-will to destruction. Nor was he less
severe to Hagnon, who sent him word he would buy a Corinthian youth
named Crobylus, as a present for him. And hearing that Damon and
Timotheus, two of Parmenio’s Macedonian soldiers, had abused the wives
of some strangers who were in his pay, he wrote to Parmenio, charging
him strictly, if he found them guilty, to put them to death, as wild
beasts that were only made for the mischief of mankind. In the same
letter he added, that he had not so much as seen or desired to see the
wife of Darius, no, nor suffered anybody to speak of her beauty before
him. He was wont to say, that sleep and the act of generation chiefly
made him sensible that he was mortal; as much as to say, that weariness
and pleasure proceed both from the same frailty and imbecility of human
nature.
In his diet, also, he was most temperate, as appears, omitting many
other circumstances, by what he said to Ada, whom he adopted, with the
title of mother, and afterwards created queen of Caria. For when she out
of kindness sent him every day many curious dishes, and sweetmeats, and
would have furnished him with some cooks and pastry-men, who were
thought to have great skill, he told her he wanted none of them, his
preceptor, Leonidas, having already given him the best, which were a
night march to prepare for breakfast, and a moderate breakfast to create
an appetite for supper. Leonidas also, he added, used to open and search
the furniture of his chamber, and his wardrobe, to see if his mother had
left him anything that was delicate or superfluous. He was much less
addicted to wine than was generally believed; that which gave people
occasion to think so of him was, that when he had nothing else to do, he
loved to sit long and talk, rather than drink, and over every cup hold a
long conversation. For when his affairs called upon him, he would not be
detained, as other generals often were, either by wine, or sleep,
nuptial solemnities, spectacles, or any other diversion whatsoever; a
convincing argument of which is, that in the short time he lived, he
accomplished so many and so great actions. When he was free from
employment, after he was up, and had sacrificed to the gods, he used to
sit down to breakfast, and then spend the rest of the day in hunting, or
writing memoirs, giving decisions on some military questions, or
reading. In marches that required no great haste, he would practice
shooting as he went along, or to mount a chariot, and alight from it in
full speed. Sometimes, for sport’s sake, as his journals tell us, he
would hunt foxes and go fowling. When he came in for the evening, after
he had bathed and was anointed, he would call for his bakers and chief
cooks, to know if they had his dinner ready. He never cared to dine till
it was pretty late and beginning to be dark, and was wonderfully
circumspect at meals that everyone who sat with him should be served
alike and with proper attention; and his love of talking, as was said
before, made him delight to sit long at his wine. And then, though
otherwise no prince’s conversation was ever so agreeable, he would fall
into a temper of ostentation and soldierly boasting, which gave his
flatterers a great advantage to ride him, and made his better friends
very uneasy. For though they thought it too base to strive who should
flatter him most, yet they found it hazardous not to do it; so that
between the shame and the danger, they were in a great strait how to
behave themselves. After such an entertainment, he was wont to bathe,
and then perhaps he would sleep till noon, and sometimes all day long.
He was so very temperate in his eating, that when any rare fish or
fruits were sent him, he would distribute them among his friends, and
often reserve nothing for himself. His table, however, was always
magnificent, the expense of it still increasing with his good fortune,
till it amounted to ten thousand drachmas a day, to which sum he limited
it, and beyond this he would suffer none to lay out in any entertainment
where he himself was the guest.
After the battle of Issus, he sent to Damascus to seize upon the
money and baggage, the wives and children of the Persians, of which
spoil the Thessalian horsemen had the greatest share; for he had taken
particular notice of their gallantry in the fight, and sent them thither
on purpose to make their reward suitable to their courage. Not but that
the rest of the army had so considerable a part of the booty as was
sufficient to enrich them all. This first gave the Macedonians such a
taste of the Persian wealth and women and barbaric splendor of living,
that they were ready to pursue and follow upon it with all the eagerness
of hounds upon a scent. But Alexander, before he proceeded any further,
thought it necessary to assure himself of the sea-coast. Those who
governed in Cyprus, put that island into his possession, and Phoenicia,
Tyre only excepted, was surrendered to him. During the siege of this
city, which with mounds of earth cast up, and battering engines, and two
hundred galleys by sea, was carried on for seven months together, he
dreamt that he saw Hercules upon the walls, reaching, out his hand, and
calling to him. And many of the Tyrians in their sleep, fancied that
Apollo told them he was displeased with their actions, and was about to
leave them and go over to Alexander. Upon which, as if the god had been
a deserting soldier, they seized him, so to say, in the act, tied down
the statue with ropes, and nailed it to the pedestal, reproaching him,
that he was a favorer of Alexander. Another time, Alexander dreamed he
saw a Satyr mocking him at a distance, and when he endeavored to catch
him, he still escaped from him, till at last with much perseverance, and
running about after him, he got him into his power. The soothsayers
making two words of Satyrus, assured him, that Tyre should he his own.
The inhabitants at this time show a spring of water, near which they say
Alexander slept, when he fancied the Satyr appeared to him.
While the body of the army lay before Tyre, he made an excursion
against the Arabians who inhabit the Mount Antilibanus, in which he
hazarded his life extremely to bring off his master Lysimachus, who
would needs go along with him, declaring he was neither older nor
inferior in courage to Phoenix, Achilles’s guardian. For when, quitting
their horses, they began to march up the hills on foot, the rest of the
soldiers outwent them a great deal, so that night drawing on, and the
enemy near, Alexander was fain to stay behind so long, to encourage and
help up the lagging and tired old man, that before he was aware, he was
left behind, a great way from his soldiers, with a slender attendance,
and forced to pass an extremely cold night in the dark, and in a very
inconvenient place; till seeing a great many scattered fires of the
enemy at some distance, and trusting to his agility of body, and as he
was always wont by undergoing toils and labors himself to cheer and
support the Macedonians in any distress, he ran straight to one of the
nearest fires, and with his dagger dispatching two of the barbarians
that sat by it, snatched up a lighted brand, and returned with it to his
own men. They immediately made a great fire, which so alarmed the enemy
that most of them fled, and those that assaulted them were soon routed,
and thus they rested securely the remainder of the night. Thus Chares
writes.
But to return to the siege, it had this issue. Alexander, that he
might refresh his army, harassed with many former encounters, had led
only a small party towards the walls, rather to keep the enemy busy,
than with any prospect of much advantage. It happened at this time that
Aristander, the soothsayer, after he had sacrificed, upon view of the
entrails, affirmed confidently to those who stood by, that the city
should be certainly taken that very month, upon which there was a laugh
and some mockery among the soldiers, as this was the last day of it. The
king seeing him in perplexity, and always anxious to support the credit
of the predictions, gave order that they should not count it as the
thirtieth, but as the twenty-third of the month, and ordering the
trumpets to sound, attacked the walls more seriously than he at first
intended. The sharpness of the assault so inflamed the rest of his
forces who were left in the camp, that they could not hold from
advancing to second it, which they performed with so much vigor, that
the Tyrians retired, and the town was carried that very day. The next
place he sat down before was Gaza, one of the largest cities of Syria,
where this accident befell him. A large bird flying over him, let a clod
of earth fall upon his shoulder, and then settling upon one of the
battering engines, was suddenly entangled and caught in the nets
composed of sinews, which protected the ropes with which the machine was
managed. This fell out exactly according to Aristander’s prediction,
which was, that Alexander should be wounded, and the city reduced.
From hence he sent great part of the spoils to Olympias, Cleopatra,
and the rest of his friends, not omitting his preceptor Leonidas, on
whom he bestowed five hundred talents weight of frankincense, and a
hundred of myrrh, in remembrance of the hopes he had once expressed of
him when he was but a child. For Leonidas, it seems, standing by him one
day while he was sacrificing, and seeing him take both his hands full of
incense to throw into the fire, told him it became him to be more
sparing in his offerings, and not be so profuse till he was master of
the countries which those sweet gums and spices came from. So Alexander
now wrote to him, saying, “We have sent you abundance of myrrh and
frankincense, that for the future you may not be stingy to the gods.”
Among the treasures and other booty that was taken from Darius, there
was a very precious casket, which being brought to Alexander for a great
rarity, he asked those about him what they thought fittest to be laid up
in it; and when they had delivered their various opinions, he told them
he should keep Homer’s Iliad in it. This is attested by many credible
authors, and if what those of Alexandria tell us, relying upon the
authority of Heraclides, be true, Homer was neither an idle, nor an
unprofitable companion to him in his expedition. For when he was master
of Egypt, designing to settle a colony of Grecians there, he resolved to
build a large and populous city, and give it his own name. In order to
which, after he had measured and staked out the ground with the advice
of the best architects, he chanced one night in his sleep to see a
wonderful vision; a grey-headed old man, of a venerable aspect, appeared
to stand by him, and pronounce these verses:—
An island lies, where loud the billows roar,
Pharos they call it, on the Egyptian shore.
Alexander upon this immediately rose up and went to Pharos, which, at
that time, was an island lying a little above the Canobic mouth of the
river Nile, though it has now been joined to the main land by a mole. As
soon as he saw the commodious situation of the place, it being a long
neck of land, stretching like an isthmus between large lagoons and
shallow waters on one side, and the sea on the other, the latter at the
end of it making a spacious harbor, he said, Homer, besides his other
excellences, was a very good architect, and ordered the plan of a city
to be drawn out answerable to the place. To do which, for want of chalk,
the soil being black, they laid out their lines with flour, taking in a
pretty large compass of ground in a semicircular figure, and drawing
into the inside of the circumference equal straight lines from each end,
thus giving it something of the form of a cloak or cape. While he was
pleasing himself with his design, on a sudden an infinite number of
great birds of several kinds, rising like a black cloud out of the river
and the lake, devoured every morsel of the flour that had been used in
setting out the lines; at which omen even Alexander himself was
troubled, till the augurs restored his confidence again by telling him,
it was a sign the city he was about to build would not only abound in
all things within itself, but also be the nurse and feeder of many
nations. He commanded the workmen to proceed, while he went to visit the
temple of Ammon.
This was a long and painful, and, in two respects, a dangerous
journey; first, if they should lose their provision of water, as for
several days none could be obtained; and, secondly, if a violent south
wind should rise upon them, while they were traveling through the wide
extent of deep sands, as it is said to have done when Cambyses led his
army that way, blowing the sand together in heaps, and raising, as it
were, the whole desert like a sea upon them, till fifty thousand were
swallowed up and destroyed by it. All these difficulties were weighed
and represented to him; but Alexander was not easily to be diverted from
anything he was bent upon. For fortune having hitherto seconded him in
his designs, made him resolute and firm in his opinions, and the
boldness of his temper raised a sort of passion in him for surmounting
difficulties; as if it were not enough to be always victorious in the
field, unless places and seasons and nature herself submitted to him. In
this journey, the relief and assistance the gods afforded him in his
distresses, were more remarkable, and obtained greater belief than the
oracles he received afterwards, which, however, were valued and credited
the more on account of those occurrences. For first, plentiful rains
that fell, preserved them from any fear of perishing by drought, and,
allaying the extreme dryness of the sand, which now became moist and
firm to travel on, cleared and purified the air. Besides this, when they
were out of their way, and were wandering up and down, because the marks
which were wont to direct the guides were disordered and lost, they were
set right again by some ravens, which flew before them when on their
march, and waited for them when they lingered and fell behind; and the
greatest miracle, as Callisthenes tells us, was that if any of the
company went astray in the night, they never ceased croaking and making
a noise, till by that means they had brought them into the right way
again. Having passed through the wilderness, they came to the place;
where the high-priest at the first salutation bade Alexander welcome
from his father Ammon. And being asked by him whether any of his
father’s murderers had escaped punishment, he charged him to speak with
more respect, since his was not a mortal father. Then Alexander,
changing his expression, desired to know of him if any of those who
murdered Philip were yet unpunished, and further concerning dominion,
whether the empire of the world was reserved for him? This, the god
answered, he should obtain, and that Philip’s death was fully revenged,
which gave him so much satisfaction, that he made splendid offerings to
Jupiter, and gave the priests very rich presents. This is what most
authors write concerning the oracles. But Alexander, in a letter to his
mother, tells her there were some secret answers, which at his return he
would communicate to her only. Others say that the priest, desirous as a
piece of courtesy to address him in Greek, “O Paidion,” by a slip in
pronunciation ended with the s instead of the n, and said, “O Paidios,”
which mistake Alexander was well enough pleased with, and it went for
current that the oracle had called him so.
Among the sayings of one Psammon, a philosopher, whom he heard in
Egypt, he most approved of this, that all men are governed by God,
because in everything, that which is chief and commands, is divine. But
what he pronounced himself upon this subject, was even more like a
philosopher, for he said, God was the common father of us all, but more
particularly of the best of us. To the barbarians he carried himself
very haughtily, as if he were fully persuaded of his divine birth and
parentage; but to the Grecians more moderately, and with less
affectation of divinity, except it were once in writing to the Athenians
about Samos, when he tells them that he should not himself have bestowed
upon them that free and glorious city; “You received it,” he says, “from
the bounty of him who at that time was called my lord and father,”
meaning Philip. However, afterwards being wounded with an arrow, and
feeling much pain, he turned to those about him, and told them, “This,
my friends, is real flowing blood, not Ichor,
‘Such as immortal gods are wont to shed.’”
And another time, when it thundered so much that everybody was
afraid, and Anaxarchus, the sophist, asked him if he who was Jupiter’s
son could do anything like this, “Nay,” said Alexander, laughing, “I
have no desire to be formidable to my friends, as you would have me, who
despised my table for being furnished with fish, and not with the heads
of governors of provinces.” For in fact it is related as true, that
Anaxarchus seeing a present of small fishes, which the king sent to
Hephaestion, had used this expression, in a sort of irony, and
disparagement of those who undergo vast labors and encounter great
hazards in pursuit of magnificent objects, which after all bring them
little more pleasure or enjoyment than what others have. From what I
have said upon this subject, it is apparent that Alexander in himself
was not foolishly affected, or had the vanity to think himself really a
god, but merely used his claims to divinity as a means of maintaining
among other people the sense of his superiority.
At his return out of Egypt into Phoenicia, he sacrificed and made
solemn processions, to which were added shows of lyric dances and
tragedies, remarkable not merely for the splendor of the equipage and
decorations, but for the competition among those who exhibited them. For
the kings of Cyprus were here the exhibitors, just in the same manner as
at Athens those who are chosen by lot out of the tribes. And, indeed,
they showed the greatest emulation to outvie each other; especially
Nicocreon, king of Salamis, and Pasicrates of Soli, who furnished the
chorus, and defrayed the expenses of the two most celebrated actors,
Athenodorus and Thessalus, the former performing for Pasicrates, and the
latter for Nicocreon. Thessalus was most favored by Alexander, though it
did not appear till Athenodorus was declared victor by the plurality of
votes. For then at his going away, he said the judges deserved to be
commended for what they had done, but that he would willingly have lost
part of his kingdom, rather than to have seen Thessalus overcome.
However, when he understood Athenodorus was fined by the Athenians for
being absent at the festivals of Bacchus, though he refused his request
that he would write a letter in his behalf, he gave him a sufficient sum
to satisfy the penalty. Another time, when Lycon of Scarphia happened to
act with great applause in the theater, and in a verse which he
introduced into the comic part which he was acting, begged for a present
of ten talents, he laughed and gave him the money.
Darius wrote him a letter, and sent friends to intercede with him,
requesting him to accept as a ransom of his captives the sum of a
thousand talents, and offering him in exchange for his amity and
alliance, all the countries on this side the river Euphrates, together
with one of his daughters in marriage. These propositions he
communicated to his friends, and when Parmenio told him, that for his
part, if he were Alexander, he should readily embrace them, “So would
I,” said Alexander, “if I were Parmenio.” Accordingly, his answer to
Darius was, that if he would come and yield himself up into his power,
he would treat him with all possible kindness; if not, he was resolved
immediately to go himself and seek him. But the death of Darius’s wife
in childbirth made him soon after regret one part of this answer, and he
showed evident marks of grief, at being thus deprived of a further
opportunity of exercising his clemency and good nature, which he
manifested, however, as far as he could, by giving her a most sumptuous
funeral.
Among the eunuchs who waited in the queen’s chamber, and were taken
prisoners with the women, there was one Tireus, who getting out of the
camp, fled away on horseback to Darius, to inform him of his wife’s
death. He, when he heard it, beating his head, and bursting into tears
and lamentations, said, “Alas! how great is the calamity of the
Persians! Was it not enough that their king’s consort and sister was a
prisoner in her lifetime, but she must, now she is dead also, be but
meanly and obscurely buried?” “Oh king,” replied the eunuch, “as to her
funeral rites, or any respect or honor that should have been shown in
them, you have not the least reason to accuse the ill-fortune of your
country; for to my knowledge neither your queen Statira when alive, nor
your mother, nor children, wanted anything of their former happy
condition, unless it were the light of your countenance, which I doubt
not but the lord Oromasdes will yet restore to its former glory. And
after her decease, I assure you, she had not only all due funeral
ornaments, but was honored also with the tears of your very enemies; for
Alexander is as gentle after victory, as he is terrible in the field.”
At the hearing of these words, such was the grief and emotion of
Darius’s mind, that they carried him into extravagant suspicions; and
taking Tireus aside into a more private part of his tent, “Unless thou
likewise,” said he to him, “hast deserted me, together with the good
fortune of Persia, and art become a Macedonian in thy heart; if thou yet
ownest me for thy master Darius, tell me, I charge thee, by the
veneration thou payest the light of Mithras, and this right hand of thy
king, do I not lament the least of Statira’s misfortunes in her
captivity and death? Have I not suffered something more injurious and
deplorable in her lifetime? And had I not been miserable with less
dishonor, if I had met with a more severe and inhuman enemy? For how is
it possible a young man as he is, should treat the wife of his opponent
with so much distinction, were it not from some motive that does me
disgrace?” Whilst he was yet speaking, Tireus threw himself at his feet,
and besought him neither to wrong Alexander so much, nor his dead wife
and sister, as to give utterance to any such thoughts, which deprived
him of the greatest consolation left him in his adversity, the belief
that he was overcome by a man whose virtues raised him above human
nature; that he ought to look upon Alexander with love and admiration,
who had given no less proofs of his continence towards the Persian
women, than of his valor among the men. The eunuch confirmed all he said
with solemn and dreadful oaths, and was further enlarging upon
Alexander’s moderation and magnanimity on other occasions, when Darius,
breaking away from him into the other division of the tent, where his
friends and courtiers were, lifted up his hands to heaven, and uttered
this prayer, “Ye gods,” said he, “of my family, and of my kingdom, if it
be possible, I beseech you to restore the declining affairs of Persia,
that I may leave them in as flourishing a condition as I found them, and
have it in my power to make a grateful return to Alexander for the
kindness which in my adversity he has shown to those who are dearest to
me. But if, indeed, the fatal time be come, which is to give a period to
the Persian monarchy, if our ruin be a debt that must be paid to the
divine jealousy and the vicissitude of things, then I beseech you grant
that no other man but Alexander may sit upon the throne of Cyrus.” Such
is the narrative given by the greater number of the historians.
But to return to Alexander. After he had reduced all Asia on this
side the Euphrates, he advanced towards Darius, who was coming down
against him with a million of men. In his march, a very ridiculous
passage happened. The servants who followed the camp, for sport’s sake
divided themselves into two parties, and named the commander of one of
them Alexander, and of the other Darius. At first they only pelted one
another with clods of earth, but presently took to their fists, and at
last, heated with the contention, they fought in good earnest with
stones and clubs, so that they had much ado to part them; till
Alexander, upon hearing of it, ordered the two captains to decide the
quarrel by single combat, and armed him who bore his name himself, while
Philotas did the same to him who represented Darius. The whole army were
spectators of this encounter, willing from the event of it to derive an
omen of their own future success. After they had fought stoutly a pretty
long while, at last he who was called Alexander had the better, and for
a reward of his prowess, had twelve villages given him, with leave to
wear the Persian dress. So we are told by Eratosthenes.
But the great battle of all that was fought with Darius, was not, as
most writers tell us, at Arbela, but at Gaugamela, which, in their
language, signifies the camel’s house, forasmuch as one of their ancient
kings having escaped the pursuit of his enemies on a swift camel, in
gratitude to his beast, settled him at this place, with an allowance of
certain villages and rents for his maintenance. It came to pass that in
the month Boedromion, about the beginning of the feast of Mysteries at
Athens, there was an eclipse of the moon, the eleventh night after
which, the two armies being now in view of one another, Darius kept his
men in arms, and by torchlight took a general review of them. But
Alexander, while his soldiers slept, spent the night before his tent
with his diviner Aristander, performing certain mysterious ceremonies,
and sacrificing to the god Fear. In the meanwhile the oldest of his
commanders, and chiefly Parmenio, when they beheld all the plain between
Niphates and the Gordyaean mountains shining with the lights and fires
which were made by the barbarians, and heard the uncertain and confused
sound of voices out of their camp, like the distant roaring of a vast
ocean, were so amazed at the thoughts of such a multitude, that after
some conference among themselves, they concluded it an enterprise too
difficult and hazardous for them to engage so numerous an enemy in the
day, and therefore meeting the king as he came from sacrificing,
besought him to attack Darius by night, that the darkness might conceal
the danger of the ensuing battle. To this he gave them the celebrated
answer, “I will not steal a victory,” which though some at the time
thought a boyish and inconsiderate speech, as if he played with danger,
others, however, regarded as an evidence that he confided in his present
condition, and acted on a true judgment of the future, not wishing to
leave Darius, in case he were worsted, the pretext of trying his fortune
again, which he might suppose himself to have, if he could impute his
overthrow to the disadvantage of the night, as he did before to the
mountains, the narrow passages, and the sea. For while he had such
numerous forces and large dominions still remaining, it was not any want
of men or arms that could induce him to give up the war, but only the
loss of all courage and hope upon the conviction of an undeniable and
manifest defeat.
After they were gone from him with this answer, he laid himself down
in his tent and slept the rest of the night more soundly than was usual
with him, to the astonishment of the commanders, who came to him early
in the morning, and were fain themselves to give order that the soldiers
should breakfast. But at last, time not giving them leave to wait any
longer, Parmenio went to his bedside, and called him twice or thrice by
his name, till he waked him, and then asked him how it was possible,
when he was to fight the most important battle of all, he could sleep as
soundly as if he were already victorious. “And are we not so, indeed,”
replied Alexander, smiling, “since we are at last relieved from the
trouble of wandering in pursuit of Darius through a wide and wasted
country, hoping in vain that he would fight us?” And not only before the
battle, but in the height of the danger, he showed himself great, and
manifested the self-possession of a just foresight and confidence. For
the battle for some time fluctuated and was dubious. The left wing,
where Parmenio commanded, was so impetuously charged by the Bactrian
horse that it was disordered and forced to give ground, at the same time
that Mazaeus had sent a detachment round about to fall upon those who
guarded the baggage, which so disturbed Parmenio, that he sent
messengers to acquaint Alexander that the camp and baggage would be all
lost unless he immediately believed the rear by a considerable
reinforcement drawn out of the front. This message being brought him
just as he was giving the signal to those about him for the onset, he
bade them tell Parmenio that he must have surely lost the use of his
reason, and had forgotten, in his alarm, that soldiers, if victorious,
become masters of their enemies’ baggage; and if defeated, instead of
taking care of their wealth or their slaves, have nothing more to do but
to fight gallantly and die with honor. When he had said this, he put on
his helmet, having the rest of his arms on before he came out of his
tent, which were coat of the Sicilian make, girt close about him, and
over that a breastpiece of thickly quilted linen, which was taken among
other booty at the battle of Issus. The helmet, which was made by
Theophilus, though of iron, was so well wrought and polished, that it
was as bright as the most refined silver. To this was fitted a gorget of
the same metal, set with precious stones. His sword, which was the
weapon he most used in fight, was given him by the king of the Citieans,
and was of an admirable temper and lightness. The belt which he also
wore in all engagements, was of much richer workmanship than the rest of
his armor. It was a work of the ancient Helicon, and had been presented
to him by the Rhodians, as mark of their respect to him. So long as he
was engaged in drawing up his men, or riding about to give orders or
directions, or to view them, he spared Bucephalas, who was now growing
old, and made use of another horse; but when he was actually to fight,
he sent for him again, and as soon as he was mounted, commenced the
attack.
He made the longest address that day to the Thessalians and other
Greeks, who answered him with loud shouts, desiring him to lead them on
against the barbarians, upon which he shifted his javelin into his left
hand, and with his right lifted up towards heaven, besought the gods, as
Callisthenes tells us, that if he was of a truth the son of Jupiter,
they would he pleased to assist and strengthen the Grecians. At the same
time the augur Aristander, who had a white mantle about him, and a crown
of gold on his head, rode by and showed them an eagle that soared just
over Alexander, and directed his Right towards the enemy; which so
animated the beholders, that after mutual encouragements and
exhortations, the horse charged at full speed, and were followed in a
mass by the whole phalanx of the foot. But before they could well come
to blows with the first ranks, the barbarians shrunk back, and were
hotly pursued by Alexander, who drove those that fled before him into
the middle of the battle, where Darius himself was in person, whom he
saw from a distance over the foremost ranks, conspicuous in the midst of
his life-guard, a tall and fine-looking man, drawn in a lofty chariot,
defended by an abundance of the best horse, who stood close in order
about it, ready to receive the enemy. But Alexander’s approach was so
terrible, forcing those who gave back upon those who yet maintained
their ground, that he beat down and dispersed them almost all. Only a
few of the bravest and valiantest opposed the pursuit, who were slain in
their king’s presence, falling in heaps upon one another, and in the
very pangs of death striving to catch hold of the horses. Darius now
seeing all was lost, that those who were placed in front to defend him
were broken and beat back upon him, that he could not turn or disengage
his chariot without great difficulty, the wheels being clogged and
entangled among the dead bodies, which lay in such heaps as not only
stopped, but almost covered the horses, and made them rear and grow so
unruly, that the frighted charioteer could govern them no longer, in
this extremity was glad to quit his chariot and his arms, and mounting,
it is said, upon a mare that had been taken from her foal, betook
himself to flight. But he had not escaped so either, if Parmenio had not
sent fresh messengers to Alexander, to desire him to return and assist
him against a considerable body of the enemy which yet stood together,
and would not give ground. For, indeed, Parmenio is on all hands accused
of having been sluggish and unserviceable in this battle, whether age
had impaired his courage, or that, as Callisthenes says, he secretly
disliked and envied Alexander’s growing greatness. Alexander, though he
was not a little vexed to be so recalled and hindered from pursuing his
victory, yet concealed the true reason from his men, and causing a
retreat to be sounded, as if it were too late to continue the execution
any longer, marched back towards the place of danger, and by the way met
with the news of the enemy’s total overthrow and flight.
This battle being thus over, seemed to put a period to the Persian
empire; and Alexander, who was now proclaimed king of Asia, returned
thanks to the gods in magnificent sacrifices, and rewarded his friends
and followers with great sums of money, and places, and governments of
provinces. And eager to gain honor with the Grecians, he wrote to them
that he would have all tyrannies abolished, that they might live free
according to their own laws, and specially to the Plataeans, that their
city should be rebuilt, because their ancestors had permitted their
countrymen of old to make their territory the seat of the war, when they
fought with the barbarians for their common liberty. He sent also part
of the spoils into Italy, to the Crotoniats, to honor the zeal and
courage of their citizen Phayllus, the wrestler, who, in the Median war,
when the other Grecian colonies in Italy disowned Greece, that he might
have a share in the danger, joined the fleet at Salamis, with a vessel
set forth at his own charge. So affectionate was Alexander to all kind
of virtue, and so desirous to preserve the memory of laudable actions.
From hence he marched through the province of Babylon, which
immediately submitted to him, and in Ecbatana was much surprised at the
sight of the place where fire issues in a continuous stream, like a
spring of water, out of a cleft in the earth, and the stream of naphtha,
which, not far from this spot, flows out so abundantly as to form a sort
of lake. This naphtha, in other respects resembling bitumen, is so
subject to take fire, that before it touches the flame, it will kindle
at the very light that surrounds it, and often inflame the intermediate
air also. The barbarians, to show the power and nature of it, sprinkled
the street that led to the king’s lodgings with little drops of it, and
when it was almost night, stood at the further end with torches, which
being applied to the moistened places, the first at once taking fire,
instantly, as quick as a man could think of it, it caught from one end
to another, in such a manner that the whole street was one continued
flame. Among those who used to wait on the king and find occasion to
amuse him when he anointed and washed himself, there was one
Athenophanes, an Athenian, who desired him to make an experiment of the
naphtha upon Stephanus, who stood by in the bathing place, a youth with
a ridiculously ugly face, whose talent was singing well, “For,” said he,
“if it take hold of him and is not put out, it must undeniably be
allowed to be of the most invincible strength.” The youth, as it
happened, readily consented to undergo the trial, and as soon as he was
anointed and rubbed with it, his whole body broke out into such a flame,
and was so seized by the fire, that Alexander was in the greatest
perplexity and alarm for him, and not without reason; for nothing could
have prevented his being consumed by it, if by good chance there had not
been people at hand with a great many vessels of water for the service
of the bath, with all which they had much ado to extinguish the fire;
and his body was so burned all over, that he was not cured of it a good
while after. And thus it is not without some plausibility that they
endeavor to reconcile the fable to truth, who say this was the drug in
the tragedies with which Medea anointed the crown and veil which she
gave to Creon’s daughter. For neither the things themselves, nor the
fire could kindle of its own accord, but being prepared for it by the
naphtha, they imperceptibly attracted and caught a flame which happened
to be brought near them. For the rays and emanations of fire at a
distance have no other effect upon some bodies than bare light and heat,
but in others, where they meet with airy dryness, and also sufficient
rich moisture, they collect themselves and soon kindle and create a
transformation. The manner, however, of the production of naphtha admits
of a diversity of opinion on whether this liquid substance that feeds
the flame does not rather proceed from a soil that is unctuous and
productive of fire, as that of the province of Babylon is, where the
ground is so very hot, that oftentimes the grains of barley leap up, and
are thrown out, as if the violent inflammation had made the earth throb;
and in the extreme heats the inhabitants are wont to sleep upon skins
filled with water. Harpalus, who was left governor of this country, and
was desirous to adorn the palace gardens and walks with Grecian plants,
succeeded in raising all but ivy, which the earth would not bear, but
constantly killed. For being a plant that loves a cold soil, the temper
of this hot and fiery earth was improper for it. But such digressions as
these the impatient reader will be more willing to pardon, if they are
kept within a moderate compass.
At the taking of Susa, Alexander found in the palace forty thousand
talents in money ready coined, besides an unspeakable quantity of other
furniture and treasure; amongst which was five thousand talents’ worth
of Hermionian purple, that had been laid up there a hundred and ninety
years, and yet kept its color as fresh and lively as at first. The
reason of which, they say, is that in dyeing the purple they made use of
honey, and of white oil in the white tincture, both which after the like
space of time preserve the clearness and brightness of their luster.
Dinon also relates that the Persian kings had water fetched from the
Nile and the Danube, which they laid up in their treasuries as a sort of
testimony of the greatness of their power and universal empire.
The entrance into Persia was through a most difficult country, and
was guarded by the noblest of the Persians, Darius himself having
escaped further. Alexander, however, chanced to find a guide in exact
correspondence with what the Pythia had foretold when he was a child,
that a lycus should conduct him into Persia. For by such an one, whose
father was a Lycian, and his mother a Persian, and who spoke both
languages, he was now led into the country, by a way something about,
yet without fetching any considerable compass. Here a great many of the
prisoners were put to the sword, of which himself gives this account,
that he commanded them to be killed in the belief that it would be for
his advantage. Nor was the money found here less, he says, than at Susa,
besides other movables and treasure, as much as ten thousand pair of
mules and five thousand camels could well carry away. Amongst other
things he happened to observe a large statue of Xerxes thrown carelessly
down to the ground in the confusion made by the multitude of soldiers
pressing; into the palace. He stood still, and accosting it as if it had
been alive, “Shall we,” said he, “neglectfully pass thee by, now thou
art prostrate on the ground, because thou once invadedst Greece, or
shall we erect thee again in consideration of the greatness of thy mind
and thy other virtues?” But at last, after he had paused some time, and
silently considered with himself, he went on without taking any further
notice of it. In this place he took up his winter quarters, and stayed
four months to refresh his soldiers. It is related that the first time
he sat on the royal throne of Persia, under the canopy of gold,
Demaratus, the Corinthian, who was much attached to him and had been one
of his father’s friends, wept, in an old man’s manner, and deplored the
misfortune of those Creeks whom death had deprived of the satisfaction
of seeing Alexander seated on the throne of Darius.
From hence designing to march against Darius, before he set out, he
diverted himself with his officers at an entertainment of drinking and
other pastimes, and indulged so far as to let every one’s mistress sit
by and drink with them. The most celebrated of them was Thais, an
Athenian, mistress of Ptolemy, who was afterwards king of Egypt. She,
partly as a sort of well-turned compliment to Alexander, partly out of
sport, as the drinking went on, at last was carried so far as to utter a
saying, not misbecoming her native country’s character, though somewhat
too lofty for her own condition. She said it was indeed some recompense
for the toils she had undergone in following the camp all over Asia,
that she was that day treated in, and could insult over, the stately
palace of the Persian monarchs. But, she added, it would please her much
better, if while the king looked on, she might in sport, with her own
hands, set fire to the court of that Xerxes who reduced the city of
Athens to ashes, that it might be recorded to posterity, that the women
who followed Alexander had taken a severer revenge on the Persians for
the sufferings and affronts of Greece, than all the famed commanders had
been able to do by sea or land. What she said was received with such
universal liking and murmurs of applause, and so seconded by the
encouragement and eagerness of the company, that the king himself,
persuaded to be of the party, started from his seat, and with a chaplet
of flowers on his head, and a lighted torch in his hand, led them the
way, while they went after him in a riotous manner, dancing and making
loud cries about the place; which when the rest of the Macedonians
perceived, they also in great delight ran thither with torches; for they
hoped the burning and destruction of the royal palace was an argument
that he looked homeward, and had no design to reside among the
barbarians. Thus some writers give their account of this action, while
others say it was done deliberately; however, all agree that he soon
repented of it, and gave order to put out the fire.
Alexander was naturally most munificent, and grew more so as his
fortune increased, accompanying what he gave with that courtesy and
freedom, which, to speak truth, is necessary to make a benefit really
obliging. I will give a few instances of this kind. Ariston, the captain
of the Paeonians, having killed an enemy, brought his head to show him,
and told him that in his country, such a present was recompensed with a
cup of gold. “With an empty one,” said Alexander, smiling, “but I drink
to you in this, which I give you full of wine.” Another time, as one of
the common soldier was driving a mule laden with some of the king’s
treasure, the beast grew tired, and the soldier took it upon his own
back, and began to march with it, till Alexander seeing the man so
overcharged, asked what was the matter; and when he was informed, just
as he was ready to lay down his burden for weariness, “Do not faint
now,” said he to him, “but finish the journey, and carry what you have
there to your own tent for yourself.” He was always more displeased with
those who would not accept of what he gave than with those who begged of
him. And therefore he wrote to Phocion, that he would not own him for
his friend any longer, if he refused his presents. He had never given
anything to Serapion, one of the youths that played at ball with him,
because he did not ask of him, till one day, it coming to Serapion’s
turn to play, he still threw the ball to others, and when the king asked
him why he did not direct it to him, “Because you do not ask for it,”
said he; which answer pleased him so, that he was very liberal to him
afterwards. One Proteas, a pleasant, jesting, drinking fellow, having
incurred his displeasure, got his friends to intercede for him, and
begged his pardon himself with tears, which at last prevailed, and
Alexander declared he was friends with him. “I cannot believe it,” said
Proteas, “unless you first give me some pledge of it.” The king
understood his meaning, and presently ordered five talents to be given
him. How magnificent he was in enriching his friends, and those who
attended on his person, appears by a letter which Olympias wrote to him,
where she tells him he should reward and honor those about him in a more
moderate way, For now,” said she, “you make them all equal to kings, you
give them power and opportunity of making many friends of their own, and
in the meantime you leave yourself destitute.” She often wrote to him to
this purpose, and he never communicated her letters to anybody, unless
it were one which he opened when Hephaestion was by, whom he permitted,
as his custom was, to read it along with him; but then as soon as he had
done, he took off his ring, and set the seal upon Hephaestion’s lips.
Mazaeus, who was the most considerable man in Darius’s court, had a son
who was already governor of a province. Alexander bestowed another upon
him that was better; he, however, modestly refused, and told him,
instead of one Darius, he went the way to make many Alexanders. To
Parmenio he gave Bagoas’s house, in which he found a wardrobe of apparel
worth more than a thousand talents. He wrote to Antipater, commanding
him to keep a life-guard about him for the security of his person
against conspiracies. To his mother he sent many presents, but would
never suffer her to meddle with matters of state or war, not indulging
her busy temper, and when she fell out with him upon this account, he
bore her ill-humor very patiently. Nay more, when he read a long letter
from Antipater, full of accusations against her, “Antipater,” he said,
“does not know that one tear of a mother effaces a thousand such letters
as these.”
But when he perceived his favorites grow so luxurious and extravagant
in their way of living and expenses, that Hagnon, the Teian, wore silver
nails in his shoes, that Leonnatus employed several camels, only to
bring him powder out of Egypt to use when he wrestled, and that Philotas
had hunting nets a hundred furlongs in length, that more used precious
ointment than plain oil when they went to bathe, and that they carried
about servants everywhere with them to rub them and wait upon them in
their chambers, he reproved them in gentle and reasonable terms, telling
them he wondered that they who had been engaged in so many signal
battles did not know by experience, that those who labor sleep more
sweetly and soundly than those who are labored for, and could fail to
see by comparing the Persians’ manner of living with their own, that it
was the most abject and slavish condition to be voluptuous, but the most
noble arid royal to undergo pain and labor. He argued with them further,
how it was possible for anyone who pretended to be a soldier, either to
look well after his horse, or to keep his armor bright and in good
order, who thought it much to let his hands be serviceable to what was
nearest to him, his own body. “Are you still to learn,” said he, “that
the end and perfection of our victories is to avoid the vices and
infirmities of those whom we subdue?” And to strengthen his precepts by
example, he applied himself now more vigorously than ever to hunting and
warlike expeditions, embracing all opportunities of hardship and danger,
insomuch that a Lacedaemonian, who was there on an embassy to him, and
chanced to be by when he encountered with and mastered a huge lion, told
him he had fought gallantly with the beast, which of the two should be
king. Craterus caused a representation to be made of this adventure,
consisting of the lion and the dogs, of the king engaged with the lion,
and himself coming in to his assistance, all expressed in figures of
brass, some of which were by Lysippus, and the rest by Leochares; and
had it dedicated in the temple of Apollo at Delphi. Alexander exposed
his person to danger in this manner, with the object both of inuring
himself, and inciting others to the performance of brave and virtuous
actions.
But his followers, who were grown rich, and consequently proud,
longed to indulge themselves in pleasure and idleness, and were weary of
marches and expeditions, and at last went on so far as to censure and
speak ill of him. All which at first he bore very patiently, saying, it
became a king well to do good to others, and be evil spoken of.
Meantime, on the smallest occasions that called for a show of kindness
to his friends, there was every indication on his part of tenderness and
respect. Hearing Peucestes was bitten by a bear, he wrote to him, that
he took it unkindly he should send others notice of it, and not make him
acquainted with it; “But now,” said he, “since it is so, let me know how
you do, and whether any of your companions forsook you when you were in
danger, that I may punish them.” He sent Hephaestion, who was absent
about some business, word how while they were fighting for their
diversion with an ichneumon, Craterus was by chance run through both
thighs with Perdiccas’s javelin. And upon Peucestes’s recovery from a
fit of sickness, he sent a letter of thanks to his physician Alexippus.
When Craterus was ill, he saw a vision in his sleep, after which he
offered sacrifices for his health, and bade him to do so likewise. He
wrote also to Pausanias, the physician, who was about to purge Craterus
with hellebore, partly out of an anxious concern for him, and partly to
give him a caution how he used that medicine. He was so tender of his
friends’ reputation that he imprisoned Ephialtes and Cissus, who brought
him the first news of Harpalus’s flight and withdrawal from his service,
as if they had falsely accused him. When he sent the old and infirm
soldiers home, Eurylochus, a citizen of Aegae, got his name enrolled
among the sick, though he ailed nothing, which being discovered, he
confessed he was in love with a young woman named Telesippa, and wanted
to go along with her to the seaside. Alexander inquired to whom the
woman belonged, and being told she was a free courtesan, “I will assist
you,” said he to Eurylochus, “in your amour, if your mistress be to be
gained either by presents or persuasions; but we must use no other
means, because she is free-born.”
It is surprising to consider upon what slight occasions he would
write letters to serve his friends. As when he wrote one in which he
gave order to search for a youth that belonged to Seleucus, who was run
away into Cilicia; and in another, thanked and commended Peucestes for
apprehending Nicon, a servant of Craterus; and in one to Megabyzus,
concerning a slave that had taken sanctuary in a temple, gave direction
that he should not meddle with him while he was there, but if he could
entice him out by fair means, then he gave him leave to seize him. It is
reported of him that when he first sat in judgment upon capital causes,
he would lay his hand upon one of his ears while the accuser spoke, to
keep it free and unprejudiced in behalf of the party accused. But
afterwards such a multitude of accusations were brought before him, and
so many proved true, that he lost his tenderness of heart, and gave
credit to those also that were false; and especially when anybody spoke
ill of him, he would be transported out of his reason, and show himself
cruel and inexorable, valuing his glory and reputation beyond his life
or kingdom.
He now, as we said, set forth to seek Darius, expecting he should be
put to the hazard of another battle, but heard he was taken and secured
by Bessus, upon which news he sent home the Thessalians, and gave them a
largess of two thousand talents over and above the pay that was due to
them. This long and painful pursuit of Darius, for in eleven days he
marched thirty-three hundred furlongs, harassed his soldiers so that
most of them were ready to give it up, chiefly for want of water. While
they were in this distress, it happened that some Macedonians who had
fetched water in skins upon their mules from a river they had found out,
came about noon to the place where Alexander was, and seeing him almost
choked with thirst, presently filled a helmet and offered it him. He
asked them to whom they were carrying the water; they told him to their
children, adding, that if his life were but saved, it was no matter for
them, they should be able well enough to repair that loss, though they
all perished. Then he took the helmet into his hands, and looking round
about, when he saw all those who were near him stretching their heads
out and looking, earnestly after the drink, he returned it again with
thanks without tasting a drop of it, “For,” said he, “if I alone should
drink, the rest will be out of heart.” The soldiers no sooner took
notice of his temperance and magnanimity upon this occasion, but they
one and all cried out to him to lead them forward boldly, and began
whipping on their horses. For whilst they had such a king, they said
they defied both weariness and thirst, and looked upon themselves to be
little less than immortal. But though they were all equally cheerful and
willing, yet not above threescore horse were able, it is said, to keep
up, and to fall in with Alexander upon the enemy’s camp, where they rode
over abundance of gold and silver that lay scattered about, and passing
by a great many chariots full of women that wandered here and there for
want of drivers, they endeavored to overtake the first of those that
fled, in hopes to meet with Darius among them. And at last, after much
trouble, they found him lying in a chariot, wounded all over with darts,
just at the point of death. However, he desired they would give him some
drink, and when he had drunk a little cold water, he told Polystratus,
who gave it him, that it had become the last extremity of his ill
fortune, to receive benefits and not be able to return them. “But
Alexander,” said he, “whose kindness to my mother, my wife, and my
children I hope the gods will recompense, will doubtless thank you for
your humanity to me. Tell him, therefore, in token of my acknowledgment,
I give him this right hand,” with which words he took hold of
Polystratus’s hand and died. When Alexander came up to them, he showed
manifest tokens of sorrow, and taking off his own cloak, threw it upon
the body to cover it. And sometime afterwards, when Bessus was taken, he
ordered him to be torn in pieces in this manner. They fastened him to a
couple of trees which were bound down so as to meet, and then being let
loose, with a great force returned to their places, each of them
carrying that part of the body along with it that was tied to it.
Darius’s body was laid in state, and sent to his mother with pomp
suitable to his quality. His brother Exathres, Alexander received into
the number of his intimate friends.
And now with the flower of his army he marched into Hyrcania, where
he saw a large bay of an open sea, apparently not much less than the
Euxine, with water, however, sweeter than that of other seas, but could
learn nothing of certainty concerning it, further than that in all
probability it seemed to him to be an arm issuing from the lake of
Maeotis. However, the naturalists were better informed of the truth, and
had given an account of it many years before Alexander’s expedition;
that of four gulfs which out of the main sea enter into the continent,
this, known indifferently as the Caspian and as the Hyrcanian sea, is
the most northern. Here the barbarians, unexpectedly meeting with those
who led Bucephalas, took them prisoners, and carried the horse away with
them, at which Alexander was so much vexed, that he sent a herald to let
them know he would put them all to the sword, men, women, and children,
without mercy, if they did not restore him. But on their doing so, and
at the same time surrendering their cities into his hands, he not only
treated them kindly, but also paid a ramsom for his horse to those who
took him.
From hence he marched into Parthia, where not having much to do, he
first put on the barbaric dress, perhaps with the view of making the
work of civilizing them the easier, as nothing gains more upon men than
a conformity to their fashions and customs. Or it may have been as a
first trial, whether the Macedonians might be brought to adore him, as
the Persians did their kings, by accustoming them by little and little
to bear with the alteration of his rule and course of life in other
things. However, he followed not the Median fashion, which was
altogether foreign and uncouth, and adopted neither the trousers nor the
sleeved vest, nor the tiara for the head, but taking a middle way
between the Persian mode and the Macedonian, so contrived his habit that
it was not so flaunting as the one, and yet more pompous and magnificent
than the other. At first he wore this habit only when he conversed with
the barbarians, or within doors, among his intimate friends and
companions, but afterwards he appeared in it abroad, when he rode out,
and at public audiences, a sight which the Macedonians beheld with
grief; but they so respected his other virtues and good qualities, that
they felt it reasonable in some things to gratify his fancies and his
passion of glory, in pursuit of which he hazarded himself so far, that,
besides his other adventures, he had but lately been wounded in the leg
by an arrow, which had so shattered the shank-bone that splinters were
taken out. And on another occasion he received a violent blow with a
stone upon the nape of the neck, which dimmed his sight for a good while
afterwards. And yet all this could not hinder him from exposing himself
freely to any dangers, insomuch that he passed the river Orexartes,
which he took to be the Tanais, and putting the Scythians to flight,
followed them above a hundred furlongs, though suffering all the time
from a diarrhea.
Here many affirm that the Amazon came to give him a visit. So
Clitarchus, Polyclitus, Onesicritus, Antigenes, and Ister, tell us. But
Aristobulus and Chares, who held the office of reporter of requests,
Ptolemy and Anticlides, Philon the Theban, Philip of Theangela,
Hecataeus the Eretrian, Philip the Chalcidian, and Duris the Samian, say
it is wholly a fiction. And truly Alexander himself seems to confirm the
latter statement, for in a letter in which he gives Antipater an account
of all that happened, he tells him that the king of Scythia offered him
his daughter in marriage, but makes no mention at all of the Amazon. And
many years after, when Onesicritus read this story in his fourth book to
Lysimachus, who then reigned, the king laughed quietly and asked, “Where
could I have been at that time?”
But it signifies little to Alexander whether this be credited or no.
Certain it is, that apprehending the Macedonians would be weary of
pursuing the war, he left the greater part of them in their quarters;
and having with him in Hyrcania the choice of his men only, amounting to
twenty thousand foot, and three thousand horse, he spoke to them to this
effect: That hitherto the barbarians had seen them no otherwise than as
it were in a dream, and if they should think of returning when they had
only alarmed Asia, and not conquered it, their enemies would set upon
them as upon so many women. However, he told them he would keep none of
them with him against their will, they might go if they pleased; he
should merely enter his protest, that when on his way to make the
Macedonians the masters of the world, he was left alone with a few
friends and volunteers. This is almost word for word, as he wrote in a
letter to Antipater, where he adds, that when he had thus spoken to
them, they all cried out, they would go along with him whithersoever it
was his pleasure to lead them. After succeeding with these, it was no
hard matter for him to bring over the multitude, which easily followed
the example of their betters. Now, also, he more and more accommodated
himself in his way of living to that of the natives, and tried to bring
them, also, as near as he could to the Macedonian customs, wisely
considering that whilst he was engaged in an expedition which would
carry him far from thence, it would be wiser to depend upon the goodwill
which might arise from intermixture and association as a means of
maintaining tranquillity, than upon force and compulsion. In order to
this, he chose out thirty thousand boys, whom he put under masters to
teach them the Greek tongue, and to train them up to arms in the
Macedonian discipline. As for his marriage with Roxana, whose
youthfulness and beauty had charmed him at a drinking entertainment,
where he first happened to see her, taking part in a dance, it was,
indeed, a love affair, yet it seemed at the same time to be conducive to
the object he had in hand. For it gratified the conquered people to see
him choose a wife from among themselves, and it made them feel the most
lively affection for him, to find that in the only passion which he, the
most temperate of men, was overcome by, he yet forbore till he could
obtain her in a lawful and honorable way.
Noticing, also, that among his chief friends and favorites,
Hephaestion most approved all that he did, and complied with and
imitated him in his change of habits, while Craterus continued strict in
the observation of the customs and fashions of his own country, he made
it his practice to employ the first in all transactions with the
Persians, and the latter when he had to do with the Greeks or
Macedonians. And in general he showed more affection for Hephaestion,
and more respect for Craterus; Hephaestion, as he used to say, being
Alexander’s, and Craterus the king’s friend. And so these two friends
always bore in secret a grudge to each other, and at times quarreled
openly, so much so, that once in India they drew upon one another, and
were proceeding in good earnest, with their friends on each side to
second them, when Alexander rode up and publicly reproved Hephaestion,
calling him fool and madman, not to be sensible that without his favor
he was nothing. He rebuked Craterus, also, in private, severely, and
then causing them both to come into his presence, he reconciled them, at
the same time swearing by Ammon and the rest of the gods, that he loved
them two above all other men, but if ever he perceived them fall out
again he would be sure to put both of them to death, or at least the
aggressor. After which they neither ever did or said anything, so much
as in jest, to offend one another.
There was scarcely anyone who had greater repute among the
Macedonians than Philotas, the son of Parmenio. For besides that he was
valiant and able to endure any fatigue of war, he was also next to
Alexander himself the most munificent, and the greatest lover of his
friends, one of whom asking him for some money, he commanded his steward
to give it him; and when he told him he had not wherewith, “Have you not
any plate then,” said he, “or any clothes of mine to sell?” But he
carried his arrogance and his pride of wealth and his habits of display
and luxury to a degree of assumption unbecoming a private man, and
affecting all the loftiness without succeeding in showing any of the
grace or gentleness of true greatness, by this mistaken and spurious
majesty he gained so much envy and ill-will, that Parmenio would
sometimes tell him, “My son, to be not quite so great would be better.”
For he had long before been complained of, and accused to Alexander.
Particularly when Darius was defeated in Cilicia, and an immense booty
was taken at Damascus, among the rest of the prisoners who were brought
into the camp, there was one Antigone of Pydna, a very handsome woman,
who fell to Philotas’s share. The young man one day in his cups, in the
vaunting, outspoken, soldier’s manner, declared to his mistress, that
all the great actions were performed by him and his father, the glory
and benefit of which, he said, together with the title of king, the boy
Alexander reaped and enjoyed by their means. She could not hold, but
discovered what he had said to one of her acquaintance, and he, as is
usual in such cases, to another, till at last the story came to the ears
of Craterus, who brought the woman secretly to the king. When Alexander
had heard what she had to say, he commanded her to continue her intrigue
with Philotas, and give him an account from time to time of all that
should fall from him to this purpose. He thus unwittingly caught in a
snare, to gratify some times a fit of anger, sometimes a mere love of
vainglory, let himself utter numerous foolish, indiscreet speeches
against the king in Antigone’s hearing, of which though Alexander was
informed and convinced by strong evidence, yet he would take no notice
of it at present, whether it was that he confided in Parmenio’s
affection and loyalty, or that he apprehended their authority and
interest in the army. But about this time one Limnus, a Macedonian of
Chalastra, conspired against Alexander’s life, and communicated his
design to a youth whom he was fond of, named Nicomachus, inviting him to
be of the party. But he not relishing the thing, revealed it to his
brother Balinus, who immediately addressed himself to Philotas,
requiring him to introduce them both to Alexander, to whom they had
something of great moment to impart which very nearly concerned him. But
he, for what reason is uncertain, went not with them, professing that
the king was engaged with affairs of more importance. And when they had
urged him a second time, and were still slighted by him, they applied
themselves to another, by whose means being admitted into Alexander’s
presence, they first told about Limnus’s conspiracy, and by the way let
Philotas’s negligence appear, who had twice disregarded their
application to him. Alexander was greatly incensed, and on finding that
Limnus had defended himself, and had been killed by the soldier who was
sent to seize him, he was still more discomposed, thinking he had thus
lost the means of detecting the plot. As soon as his displeasure against
Philotas began to appear, presently all his old enemies showed
themselves, and said openly, the king was too easily imposed on, to
imagine that one so inconsiderable as Limnus, a Chalastrian, should of
his own head undertake such an enterprise; that in all likelihood he was
but subservient to the design, an instrument that was moved by some
greater spring; that those ought to be more strictly examined about the
matter whose interest it was so much to conceal it. When they had once
gained the king’s ear for insinuations of this sort, they went on to
show a thousand grounds of suspicion against Philotas, till at last they
prevailed to have him seized and put to the torture, which was done in
the presence of the principal officers, Alexander himself being placed
behind some tapestry to understand what passed. Where, when he heard in
what a miserable tone, and with what abject submissions Philotas applied
himself to Hephaestion, he broke out, it is said, in this manner: “Are
you so mean-spirited and effeminate, Philotas, and yet can engage in so
desperate a design?” After his death, he presently sent into Media, and
put also Parmenio, his father, to death, who had done brave service
under Philip, and was the only man, of his older friends and counselors,
who had encouraged Alexander to invade Asia. Of three sons whom he had
had in the army, he had already lost two, and now was himself put to
death with the third. These actions rendered Alexander an object of
terror to many of his friends, and chiefly to Antipater, who, to
strengthen himself, sent messengers privately to treat for an alliance
with the Aetolians, who stood in fear of Alexander, because they had
destroyed the town of the Oeniadae; on being informed of which,
Alexander had said the children of the Oeniadae need not revenge their
fathers’ quarrel, for he would himself take care to punish the
Aetolians.
Not long after this happened the deplorable end of Clitus, which to
those who barely hear the matter-of-fact, may seem more inhuman than
that of Philotas; but if we consider the story with its circumstance of
time, and weigh the cause, we shall find it to have occurred rather
through a sort of mischance of the king’s, whose anger and over-drinking
offered an occasion to the evil genius of Clitus. The king had a present
of Grecian fruit brought him from the sea-coast, which was so fresh and
beautiful, that he was surprised at it, and called Clitus to him to see
it, and to give him a share of it. Clitus was then sacrificing, but he
immediately left off and came, followed by three sheep, on whom the
drink-offering had been already poured preparatory to sacrificing them.
Alexander, being informed of this, told his diviners, Aristander and
Cleomantis the Lacedaemonian, and asked them what it meant; on whose
assuring him, it was an ill omen, he commanded them in all haste to
offer sacrifices for Clitus’s safety, forasmuch as three days before he
himself had seen a strange vision in his sleep, of Clitus all in
mourning, sitting by Parmenio’s sons who were dead. Clitus, however,
stayed not to finish his devotions, but came straight to supper with the
king, who had sacrificed to Castor and Pollux. And when they had drunk
pretty hard, some of the company fell a singing the verses of one
Pranichus, or as others say of Pierion, which were made upon those
captains who had been lately worsted by the barbarians, on purpose to
disgrace and turn them to ridicule. This gave offense to the older men
who were there, and they upbraided both the author and the singer of the
verses, though Alexander and the younger men about him were much amused
to hear them, and encouraged them to go on, till at last Clitus, who had
drunk too much, and was besides of a froward and willful temper, was so
nettled that he could hold no longer, saying, it was not well done to
expose the Macedonians so before the barbarians and their enemies, since
though it was their unhappiness to be overcome, yet they were much
better men than those who laughed at them. And when Alexander remarked,
that Clitus was pleading his own cause, giving cowardice the name of
misfortune, Clitus started up; “This cowardice, as you are pleased to
term it,” said he to him, “saved the life of a son of the gods, when in
flight from Spithridates’s sword; and it is by the expense of Macedonian
blood, and by these wounds, that you are now raised to such a height, as
to be able to disown your father Philip, and call yourself the Son of
Ammon.” “Thou base fellow,” said Alexander, who was now thoroughly
exasperated, “dost thou think to utter these things everywhere of me,
and stir up the Macedonians to sedition, and not be punished for it?”
“We are sufficiently punished already,” answered Clitus, “if this be the
recompense of our toils, and we must esteem theirs a happy lot, who have
not lived to see their countrymen scourged with Median rods, and forced
to sue to the Persians to have access to their king.” While he talked
thus at random, and those near Alexander got up from their seats and
began to revile him in turn, the elder men did what they could to
compose the disorder. Alexander, in the meantime turning about to
Xenodochus, the Cardian, and Artemius, the Colophonian, asked them if
they were not of opinion that the Greeks, in comparison with the
Macedonians, behaved themselves like so many demi-gods among wild
beasts. But Clitus for all this would not give over, desiring Alexander
to speak out if he had anything more to say, or else why did he invite
men who were freeborn and accustomed to speak their minds openly without
restraint, to sup with him. He had better live and converse with
barbarians and slaves who would not scruple to bow the knee to his
Persian girdle and his white tunic. Which words so provoked Alexander,
that not able to suppress his anger any longer, he threw one of the
apples that lay upon the table at him, and hit him, and then looked
about for his sword. But Aristophanes, one of his life-guard, had hid
that out of the way, and others came about him and besought him, but in
vain. For breaking from them, he called out aloud to his guards in the
Macedonian language, which was a certain sign of some great disturbance
in him, and commanded a trumpeter to sound, giving him a blow with his
clenched fist for not instantly obeying him; though afterwards the same
man was commended for disobeying an order which would have put the whole
army into tumult and confusion. Clitus still refusing to yield, was with
much trouble forced by his friends out of the room. But he came in again
immediately at another door, very irreverently and confidently singing
the verses out of Euripides’s Andromache, —
In Greece, alas! how ill things ordered are!
Upon this, at last, Alexander, snatching a spear from one of the
soldiers, met Clitus as he was coming forward and was putting by the
curtain that hung before the door, and ran him through the body. He fell
at once with a cry and a groan. Upon which the king’s anger immediately
vanishing, he came perfectly to himself, and when he saw his friends
about him all in a profound silence, he pulled the spear out of the dead
body, and would have thrust it into his own throat, if the guards had
not held his hands, and by main force carried him away into his chamber,
where all that night and the next day he wept bitterly, till being quite
spent with lamenting and exclaiming, he lay as it were speechless, only
fetching deep sighs. His friends apprehending some harm from his
silence, broke into the room, but he took no notice of what any of them
said, till Aristander putting him in mind of the vision he had seen
concerning Clitus, and the prodigy that followed, as if all had come to
pass by an unavoidable fatality, he then seemed to moderate his grief.
They now brought Callisthenes, the philosopher, who was the near friend
of Aristotle, and Anaxarchus of Abdera, to him. Callisthenes used moral
language, and gentle and soothing means, hoping to find access for words
of reason, and get a hold upon the passion. But Anaxarchus, who had
always taken a course of his own in philosophy, and had a name for
despising and slighting his contemporaries, as soon as he came in, cried
out aloud, “Is this the Alexander whom the whole world looks to, lying
here weeping like a slave, for fear of the censure and reproach of men,
to whom he himself ought to be a law and measure of equity, if he would
use the right his conquests have given him as supreme lord and governor
of all, and not be the victim of a vain and idle opinion? Do not you
know,” said he, “that Jupiter is represented to have Justice and Law on
each hand of him, to signify that all the actions of a conqueror are
lawful and just?” With these and the like speeches, Anaxarchus indeed
allayed the king’s grief, but withal corrupted his character, rendering
him more audacious and lawless than he had been. Nor did he fail by
these means to insinuate himself into his favor, and to make
Callisthenes’s company, which at all times, because of his austerity,
was not very acceptable, more uneasy and disagreeable to him.
It happened that these two philosophers meeting at an entertainment,
where conversation turned on the subject of climate and the temperature
of the air, Callisthenes joined with their opinion, who held that those
countries were colder, and the winter sharper there than in Greece.
Anaxarchus would by no means allow this, but argued against it with some
heat. “Surely,” said Callisthenes, “you cannot but admit this country to
be colder than Greece, for there you used to have but one threadbare
cloak to keep out the coldest winter, and here you have three good warm
mantles one over another.” This piece of raillery irritated Anaxarchus
and the other pretenders to learning, and the crowd of flatterers in
general could not endure to see Callisthenes so much admired and
followed by the youth, and no less esteemed by the older men for his
orderly life, and his gravity, and for being contented with his
condition; all confirming what he had professed about the object he had
in his journey to Alexander, that it was only to get his countrymen
recalled from banishment, and to rebuild and repeople his native town.
Besides the envy which his great reputation raised, he also, by his own
deportment, gave those who wished him ill, opportunity to do him
mischief. For when he was invited to public entertainments, he would
most times refuse to come, or if he were present at any, he put a
constraint upon the company by his austerity and silence, which seemed
to intimate his disapproval of what he saw. So that Alexander himself
said in application to him,
That vain pretense to wisdom I detest,
Where a man’s blind to his own interest.
Being with many more invited to sup with the king, he was called upon
when the cup came to him, to make an oration extempore in praise of the
Macedonians; and he did it with such a flow of eloquence, that all who
heard it rose from their seats to clap and applaud him, and threw their
garland upon him; only Alexander told him out of Euripides,
I wonder not that you have spoke so well,
’Tis easy on good subjects to excel.
“Therefore,” said he, “if you will show the force of your eloquence,
tell my Macedonians their faults, and dispraise them, that by hearing
their errors they may learn to he better for the future.” Callisthenes
presently obeyed him, retracting all he had said before, and, inveighing
against the Macedonians with great freedom, added, that Philip thrived
and grew powerful, chiefly by the discord of the Grecians, applying this
verse to him:—
In civil strife e’en villains rise to fame;
which so offended the Macedonians, that he was odious to them ever
after. And Alexander said, that instead of his eloquence, he had only
made his ill-will appear in what he had spoken. Hermippus assures us,
that one Stroebus, a servant whom Callisthenes kept to read to him, gave
this account of these passages afterwards to Aristotle; and that when he
perceived the king grow more and more averse to him, two or three times,
as he was going away, he repeated the verses, —
Death seiz’d at last on great Patroclus too,
Though he in virtue far exceeded you.
Not without reason, therefore, did Aristotle give this character of
Callisthenes, that he was, indeed, a powerful speaker, but had no
judgment. He acted certainly a true philosopher’s part in positively
refusing, as he did, to pay adoration; and by speaking out openly
against that which the best and gravest of the Macedonians only repined
at in secret, he delivered the Grecians and Alexander himself from a
great disgrace, when the practice was given up. But he ruined himself by
it, because he went too roughly to work, as if he would have forced the
king to that which he should have effected by reason and persuasion.
Chares of Mitylene writes, that at a banquet, Alexander, after he had
drunk, reached the cup to one of his friends, who, on receiving it, rose
up towards the domestic altar, and when he had drunk, first adored, and
then kissed Alexander, and afterwards laid himself down at the table
with the rest. Which they all did one after another, till it came to
Callisthenes’s turn, who took the cup and drank, while the king who was
engaged in conversation with Hephaestion was not observing, and then
came and offered to kiss him. But Demetrius, surnamed Phidon,
interposed, saying, “Sir, by no means let him kiss you, for he only of
us all has refused to adore you;” upon which the king declined it, and
all the concern Callisthenes showed was, that he said aloud, “Then I go
away with a kiss less than the rest.” The displeasure he incurred by
this action procured credit for Hephaestion’s declaration that he had
broken his word to him in not paying the king the same veneration that
others did, as he had faithfully promised to do. And to finish his
disgrace, a number of such men as Lysimachus and Hagnon now came in with
their asseverations that the sophist went about everywhere boasting of
his resistance to arbitrary power, and that the young men all ran after
him, and honored him as the only man among so many thousands who had the
courage to preserve his liberty. Therefore when Hermolaus’s conspiracy
came to be discovered, the charges which his enemies brought against him
were the more easily believed, particularly that when the young man
asked him what he should do to be the most illustrious person on earth,
he told him the readiest way was to kill him who was already so; and
that to incite him to commit the deed, he bade him not be awed by the
golden couch, but remember Alexander was a man equally infirm and
vulnerable as another. However, none of Hermolaus’s accomplices, in the
utmost extremity, made any mention of Callisthenes’s being engaged in
the design. Nay, Alexander himself, in the letters which he wrote soon
after to Craterus, Attalus, and Alcetas, tells them that the young men
who were put to the torture, declared they had entered into the
conspiracy of themselves, without any others being privy to, or guilty
of it. But yet afterwards, in a letter to Antipater, he accuses
Callisthenes. “The young men,” he says, “were stoned to death by the
Macedonians, but for the sophist,” (meaning Callisthenes,) “I will take
care to punish him with them too who sent him to me, and who harbor
those in their cities who conspire against my life,” an unequivocal
declaration against Aristotle, in whose house Callisthenes, for his
relationship’s sake, being his niece Hero’s son, had been educated. His
death is variously related. Some say he was hanged by Alexander’s
orders; others, that he died of sickness in prison; but Chares writes he
was kept in chains seven months after he was apprehended, on purpose
that he might be proceeded against in full council, when Aristotle
should be present; and that growing very fat, and contracting a disease
of vermin, he there died, about the time that Alexander was wounded in
India, in the country of the Malli Oxydracae, all which came to pass
afterwards.
For to go on in order, Demaratus of Corinth, now quite an old man,
had made a great effort, about this time, to pay Alexander a visit; and
when he had seen him, said he pitied the misfortune of those Grecians,
who were so unhappy as to die before they had beheld Alexander seated on
the throne of Darius. But he did not long enjoy the benefit of the
king’s kindness for him, any otherwise than that soon after falling sick
and dying, he had a magnificent funeral, and the army raised him a
monument of earth, fourscore cubits high, and of a vast circumference.
His ashes were conveyed in a very rich chariot, drawn by four horses, to
the seaside.
Alexander now intent upon his expedition into India, took notice that
his soldiers were so charged with booty that it hindered their marching.
Therefore, at break of day, as soon as the baggage wagons were laden,
first he set fire to his own, and to those of his friends, and then
commanded those to be burnt which belonged to the rest of the army. An
act which in the deliberation of it had seemed more dangerous and
difficult than it proved in the execution, with which few were
dissatisfied; for most of the soldiers, as if they had been inspired,
uttering loud outcries and warlike shoutings, supplied one another with
what was absolutely necessary, and burnt and destroyed all that was
superfluous, the sight of which redoubled Alexander’s zeal and eagerness
for his design. And, indeed, he was now grown very severe and inexorable
in punishing those who committed any fault. For he put Menander, one of
his friends, to death, for deserting a fortress where he had placed him
in garrison, and shot Orsodates, one of the barbarians who revolted from
him, with his own hand.
At this time a sheep happened to yean a lamb, with the perfect shape
and color of a tiara upon the head, and testicles on each side; which
portent Alexander regarded with such dislike, that he immediately caused
his Babylonian priests, whom he usually carried about with him for such
purposes, to purify him, and told his friends he was not so much
concerned for his own sake as for theirs, out of an apprehension that
after his death the divine power might suffer his empire to fall into
the hands of some degenerate, impotent person. But this fear was soon
removed by a wonderful thing that happened not long after, and was
thought to presage better. For Proxenus, a Macedonian, who was the chief
of those who looked to the king’s furniture, as he was breaking up the
ground near the river Oxus, to set up the royal pavilion, discovered a
spring of a fat, oily liquor, which after the top was taken off, ran
pure, clear oil, without any difference either of taste or smell, having
exactly the same smoothness and brightness, and that, too, in a country
where no olives grew. The water, indeed, of the river Oxus, is said to
be the smoothest to the feeling of all waters, and to leave a gloss on
the skins of those who bathe themselves in it. Whatever might be the
cause, certain it is that Alexander was wonderfully pleased with it, as
appears by his letters to Antipater, where he speaks of it as one of the
most remarkable presages that God had ever favored him with. The
diviners told him it signified his expedition would be glorious in the
event, but very painful, and attended with many difficulties; for oil,
they said, was bestowed on mankind by God as a refreshment of their
labors.
Nor did they judge amiss, for he exposed himself to many hazards in
the battles which he fought, and received very severe wounds, but the
greatest loss in his army was occasioned through the unwholesomeness of
the air, and the want of necessary provisions. But he still applied
himself to overcome fortune and whatever opposed him, by resolution and
virtue, and thought nothing impossible to true intrepidity, and on the
other hand nothing secure or strong for cowardice. It is told of him
that when he besieged Sisimithres, who held an inaccessible, impregnable
rock against him, and his soldiers began to despair of taking it, he
asked Oxyartes whether Sisimithres was a man of courage, who assuring
him he was the greatest coward alive, “Then you tell me,” said he, “that
the place may easily be taken, since what is in command of it is weak.”
And in a little time he so terrified Sisimithres, that he took it
without any difficulty. At an attack which he made upon such another
precipitous place with some of his Macedonian soldiers, he called to one
whose name was Alexander, and told him, he at any rate must fight
bravely, if it were but for his name’s sake. The youth fought gallantly
and was killed in the action, at which he was sensibly afflicted.
Another time, seeing his men march slowly and unwillingly to the siege
of the place called Nysa, because of a deep river between them and the
town, he advanced before them, and standing upon the bank, “What a
miserable man,” said he, “am I, that I have not learned to swim!” and
then was hardly dissuaded from endeavoring to pass it upon his shield.
Here, after the assault was over, the ambassadors who from several towns
which he had blocked up, came to submit to him and make their peace,
were surprised to find him still in his armor, without anyone in waiting
or attendance upon him, and when at last some one brought him a cushion,
he made the eldest of them, named Acuphis, take it and sit down upon it.
The old man, marveling at his magnanimity and courtesy, asked him what
his countrymen should do to merit his friendship. “I would have them,”
said Alexander, “choose you to govern them, and send one hundred of the
most worthy men among them to remain with me as hostages.” Acuphis
laughed and answered, “I shall govern them with more ease, Sir, if I
send you so many of the worst, rather than the best of my subjects.”
The extent of king Taxiles’s dominions in India was thought to be as
large as Egypt, abounding in good pastures, and producing beautiful
fruits. The king himself had the reputation of a wise man, and at his
first interview with Alexander, he spoke to him in these terms: “To what
purpose,” said he, “should we make war upon one another, if the design
of your coming into these parts be not to rob us of our water or our
necessary food, which are the only things that wise men are
indispensably obliged to fight for? As for other riches and possessions,
as they are accounted in the eye of the world, if I am better provided
of them than you, I am ready to let you share with me; but if fortune
has been more liberal to you than me, I have no objection to be obliged
to you.” This discourse pleased Alexander so much, that embracing him,
“Do you think,” said he to him, “your kind words and courteous behavior
will bring you off in this interview without a contest? No, you shall
not escape so. I shall contend and do battle with you so far, that how
obliging soever you are, you shall not have the better of me.” Then
receiving some presents from him, he returned him others of greater
value, and to complete his bounty, gave him in money ready coined one
thousand talents; at which his old friends were much displeased, but it
gained him the hearts of many of the barbarians. But the best soldiers
of the Indians now entering into the pay of several of the cities,
undertook to defend them, and did it so bravely, that they put Alexander
to a great deal of trouble, till at last, after a capitulation, upon the
surrender of the place, he fell upon them as they were marching away,
and put them all to the sword. This one breach of his word remains as a
blemish upon his achievements in war, which he otherwise had performed
throughout with that justice and honor that became a king. Nor was he
less incommoded by the Indian philosophers, who inveighed against those
princes who joined his party, and solicited the free nations to oppose
him. He took several of these also, and caused them to be hanged.
Alexander, in his own letters, has given us an account of his war
with Porus. He says the two armies were separated by the river Hydaspes,
on whose opposite bank Porus continually kept his elephants in order of
battle, with their heads towards their enemies, to guard the passage;
that he, on the other hand, made every day a great noise and clamor in
his camp, to dissipate the apprehensions of the barbarians; that one
stormy dark night he passed the river, at a distance from the place
where the enemy lay, into a little island, with part of his foot, and
the best of his horse. Here there fell a most violent storm of rain,
accompanied with lightning and whirlwinds, and seeing some of his men
burnt and dying with the lightning, he nevertheless quitted the island
and made over to the other side. The Hydaspes, he says, now after the
storm, was so swollen and grown so rapid, as to have made a breach in
the bank, and a part of the river was now pouring in here, so that when
he came across, it was with difficulty he got a footing on the land,
which was slippery and unsteady, and exposed to the force of the
currents on both sides. This is the occasion when he is related to have
said, “O ye Athenians, will ye believe what dangers I incur to merit
your praise?” This, however, is Onesicritus’s story. Alexander says,
here the men left their boats, and passed the breach in their armor, up
to the breast in water, and that then he advanced with his horse about
twenty furlongs before his foot, concluding that if the enemy charged
him with their cavalry, he should be too strong for them; if with their
foot, his own would come up time enough to his assistance. Nor did he
judge amiss; for being charged by a thousand horse, and sixty armed
chariots, which advanced before their main body, he took all the
chariots, and killed four hundred horse upon the place. Porus, by this
time guessing that Alexander himself had crossed over, came on with his
whole army, except a party which he left behind, to hold the rest of the
Macedonians in play, if they should attempt to pass the river. But he,
apprehending the multitude of the enemy, and to avoid the shock of their
elephants, dividing his forces, attacked their left wing himself, and
commanded Coenus to fall upon the right, which was performed with good
success. For by this means both wings being broken, the enemies fell
back in their retreat upon the center, and crowded in upon their
elephants. There rallying, they fought a hand to hand battle, and it was
the eighth hour of the day before they were entirely defeated. This
description the conqueror himself has left us in his own epistles.
Almost all the historians agree in relating that Porus was four
cubits and a span high, and that when he was upon his elephant, which
was of the largest size, his stature and bulk were so answerable, that
he appeared to be proportionably mounted, as a horseman on his horse.
This elephant, during the whole battle, gave many singular proofs of
sagacity and of particular care of the king, whom as long as he was
strong and in a condition to fight, he defended with great courage,
repelling those who set upon him; and as soon as he perceived him
overpowered with his numerous wounds and the multitude of darts that
were thrown at him, to prevent his falling off, he softly knelt down and
began to draw out the darts with his proboscis. When Porus was taken
prisoner; and Alexander asked him how he expected to be used, he
answered, “As a king.” For that expression, he said, when the same
question was put to him a second time, comprehended everything. And
Alexander, accordingly, not only suffered him to govern his own kingdom
as satrap under himself, but gave him also the additional territory of
various independent tribes whom he subdued, a district which, it is
said, contained fifteen several nations and five thousand considerable
towns, besides abundance of villages. To another government, three times
as large as this, he appointed Philip, one of his friends.
Some little time after the battle with Porus, Bucephalas died, as
most of the authorities state, under cure of his wounds, or as
Onesicritus says, of fatigue and age, being thirty years old. Alexander
was no less concerned at his death, than if he had lost an old companion
or an intimate friend, and built a city, which he named Bucephalia, in
memory of him, on the bank of the river Hydaspes. He also, we are told,
built another city, and called it after the name of a favorite dog,
Peritas, which he had brought up himself. So Sotion assures us he was
informed by Potamon of Lesbos.
But this last combat with Porus took off the edge of the Macedonians’
courage, and stayed their further progress into India. For having found
it hard enough to defeat an enemy who brought but twenty thousand foot
and two thousand horse into the field, they thought they had reason to
oppose Alexander’s design of leading them on to pass the Ganges too,
which they were told was thirty-two furlongs broad and a hundred fathoms
deep, and the banks on the further side covered with multitudes of
enemies. For they were told that the kings of the Gandaritans and
Praesians expected them there with eighty thousand horse, two hundred
thousand foot, eight thousand armed chariots, and six thousand fighting
elephants. Nor was this a mere vain report, spread to discourage them.
For Androcottus, who not long after reigned in those parts, made a
present of five hundred elephants at once to Seleucus, and with an army
of six hundred thousand men subdued all India. Alexander at first was so
grieved and enraged at his men’s reluctancy, that he shut himself up in
his tent, and threw himself upon the ground, declaring, if they would
not pass the Ganges, he owed them no thanks for anything they had
hitherto done, and that to retreat now, was plainly to confess himself
vanquished. But at last the reasonable persuasions of his friends and
the cries and lamentations of his soldiers, who in a suppliant manner
crowded about the entrance of his tent, prevailed with him to think of
returning. Yet he could not refrain from leaving behind him various
deceptive memorials of his expedition, to impose upon after-times, and
to exaggerate his glory with posterity, such as arms larger than were
really worn, and mangers for horses, with bits of bridles above the
usual size, which he set up, and distributed in several places. He
erected altars, also, to the gods, which the kings of the Praesians even
in our time do honor to when they pass the river, and offer sacrifice
upon them after the Grecian manner. Androcottus, then a boy, saw
Alexander there, and is said often afterwards to have been heard to say,
that he missed but little of making himself master of those countries;
their king, who then reigned, was so hated and despised for the
viciousness of his life, and the meanness of his extraction.
Alexander was now eager to see the ocean. To which purpose he caused
a great many row-boats and rafts to be built, in which he fell gently
down the rivers at his leisure, yet so that his navigation was neither
unprofitable nor inactive. For by several descents upon the banks, he
made himself master of the fortified towns, and consequently of the
country on both sides. But at a siege of a town of the Mallians, who
have the repute of being the bravest people of India, he ran in great
danger of his life. For having beaten off the defendants with showers of
arrows, he was the first man that mounted the wall by a scaling ladder,
which, as soon as he was up, broke and left him almost alone, exposed to
the darts which the barbarians threw at him in great numbers from below.
In this distress, turning himself as well as he could, he leaped down in
the midst of his enemies, and had the good fortune to light upon his
feet. The brightness and clattering of his armor when he came to the
ground, made the barbarians think they saw rays of light, or some bright
phantom playing before his body, which frightened them so at first, that
they ran away and dispersed. Till seeing him seconded but by two of his
guards, they fell upon him hand to hand, and some, while he bravely
defended himself, tried to wound him through his armor with their swords
and spears. And one who stood further off, drew a bow with such just
strength, that the arrow finding its way through his cuirass, stuck in
his ribs under the breast. This stroke was so violent, that it made him
give back, and set one knee to the ground, upon which the man ran up
with his drawn scimitar, thinking to dispatch him, and had done it, if
Peucestes and Limnaeus had not interposed, who were both wounded,
Limnaeus mortally, but Peucestes stood his ground, while Alexander
killed the barbarian. But this did not free him from danger; for besides
many other wounds, at last he received so weighty a stroke of a club
upon his neck, that he was forced to lean his body against the wall,
still, however, facing the enemy. At this extremity, the Macedonians
made their way in and gathered round him. They took him up, just as he
was fainting away, having lost all sense of what was done near him, and
conveyed him to his tent, upon which it was presently reported all over
the camp that he was dead. But when they had with great difficulty and
pains sawed off the shaft of the arrow, which was of wood, and so with
much trouble got off his cuirass, they came to cut out the head of it,
which was three fingers broad and four long, and stuck fast in the bone.
During the operation, he was taken with almost mortal swoonings, but
when it was out he came to himself again. Yet though all danger was
past, he continued very weak, and confined himself a great while to a
regular diet and the method of his cure, till one day hearing the
Macedonians clamoring outside in their eagerness to see him, he took his
cloak and went out. And having sacrificed to the gods, without more
delay he went on board again, and as he coasted along, subdued a great
deal of the country on both sides, and several considerable cities.
In this voyage, he took ten of the Indian philosophers prisoners, who
had been most active in persuading Sabbas to revolt, and had caused the
Macedonians a great deal of trouble. These men, called Gymnosophists,
were reputed to be extremely ready and succinct in their answers, which
he made trial of, by putting difficult questions to them, letting them
know that those whose answers were not pertinent, should be put to
death, of which he made the eldest of them judge. The first being asked
which he thought most numerous, the dead or the living, answered, “The
living, because those who are dead are not at all.” Of the second, he
desired to know whether the earth or the sea produced the largest beast;
who told him, “The earth, for the sea is but a part of it.” His question
to the third was, Which is the cunningest of beasts? “That,” said he,
“which men have not yet found out.” He bade the fourth tell him what
argument he used to Sabbas to persuade him to revolt. “No other,” said
he, “than that he should either live or die nobly.” Of the fifth he
asked, Which was eldest, night or day? The philosopher replied, “Day was
eldest, by one day at least.” But perceiving Alexander not well
satisfied with that account, he added, that he ought not to wonder if
strange questions had as strange answers made to them. Then he went on
and inquired of the next, what a man should do to be exceedingly
beloved. “He must be very powerful,” said he, “without making himself
too much feared.” The answer of the seventh to his question, how a man
might become a god, was, “By doing that which was impossible for men to
do.” The eighth told him, “Life is stronger than death, because it
supports so many miseries.” And the last being asked, how long he
thought it decent for a man to live, said, “Till death appeared more
desirable than life.” Then Alexander turned to him whom he had made
judge, and commanded him to give sentence. “All that I can determine,”
said he, “is, that they have every one answered worse than another.”
“Nay,” said the king, “then you shall die first, for giving such a
sentence.” “Not so, O king,” replied the gymnosophist, “unless you said
falsely that he should die first who made the worst answer.” In
conclusion he gave them presents and dismissed them.
But to those who were in greatest reputation among them, and lived a
private quiet life, he sent Onesicritus, one of Diogenes the Cynic’s
disciples, desiring them to come to him. Calanus, it is said, very
arrogantly and roughly commanded him to strip himself, and hear what he
said, naked, otherwise he would not speak a word to him, though he came
from Jupiter himself. But Dandamis received him with more civility, and
hearing him discourse of Socrates, Pythagoras, and Diogenes, told him he
thought them men of great parts, and to have erred in nothing so much as
in having too great respect for the laws and customs of their country.
Others say, Dandamis only asked him the reason why Alexander undertook
so long a journey to come into those parts. Taxiles, however, persuaded
Calanus to wait upon Alexander. His proper name was Sphines, but because
he was wont to say Cale, which in the Indian tongue is a form of
salutation, to those he met with anywhere, the Greeks called him
Calanus. He is said to have shown Alexander an instructive emblem of
government, which was this. He threw a dry shriveled hide upon the
ground, and trod upon the edges of it. The skin when it was pressed in
one place, still rose up in another, wheresoever he trod round about it,
till he set his foot in the middle, which made all the parts lie even
and quiet. The meaning of this similitude being that he ought to reside
most in the middle of his empire, and not spend too much time on the
borders of it.
His voyage down the rivers took up seven months’ time, and when he
came to the sea, he sailed to an island which he himself called
Scillustis, others Psiltucis, where going ashore, he sacrificed, and
made what observations he could as to the nature of the sea and the
sea-coast. Then having besought the gods that no other man might ever go
beyond the bounds of this expedition, he ordered his fleet of which he
made Nearchus admiral, and Onesicritus pilot, to sail round about,
keeping the Indian shore on the right hand, and returned himself by land
through the country of the Orites, where he was reduced to great straits
for want of provisions, and lost a vast number of men, so that of an
army of one hundred and twenty thousand foot and fifteen thousand horse,
he scarcely brought back above a fourth part out of India, they were so
diminished by diseases, ill diet, and the scorching heats, but most by
famine. For their march was through an uncultivated country whose
inhabitants fared hardly, possessing only a few sheep, and those of a
wretched kind, whose flesh was rank and unsavory, by their continual
feeding upon sea-fish.
After sixty days march he came into Gedrosia, where he found great
plenty of all things, which the neighboring kings and governors of
provinces, hearing of his approach, had taken care to provide. When he
had here refreshed his army, he continued his march through Carmania,
feasting all the way for seven days together. He with his most intimate
friends banqueted and reveled night and day upon a platform erected on a
lofty, conspicuous scaffold, which was slowly drawn by eight horses.
This was followed by a great many chariots, some covered with purple and
embroidered canopies, and some with green boughs, which were continually
supplied afresh, and in them the rest of his friends and commanders
drinking, and crowned with garlands of flowers. Here was now no target
or helmet or spear to be seen; instead of armor, the soldiers handled
nothing but cups and goblets and Thericlean drinking vessels, which,
along the whole way, they dipped into large bowls and jars, and drank
healths to one another, some seating themselves to it, others as they
went along. All places resounded with music of pipes and flutes, with
harping and singing, and women dancing as in the rites of Bacchus. For
this disorderly, wandering march, besides the drinking part of it, was
accompanied with all the sportiveness and insolence of bacchanals, as
much as if the god himself had been there to countenance and lead the
procession. As soon as he came to the royal palace of Gedrosia, he again
refreshed and feasted his army; and one day after he had drunk pretty
hard, it is said, he went to see a prize of dancing contended for, in
which his favorite Bagoas, having gained the victory, crossed the
theater in his dancing habit, and sat down close by him, which so
pleased the Macedonians, that they made loud acclamations for him to
kiss Bagoas, and never stopped clapping their hands and shouting till
Alexander put his arms round him and kissed him.
Here his admiral, Nearchus, came to him and delighted him so with the
narrative of his voyage, that he resolved himself to sail out of the
mouth of Euphrates with a great fleet, with which he designed to go
round by Arabia and Africa, and so by Hercules’s Pillars into the
Mediterranean; in order for which, he directed all sorts of vessels to
be built at Thapsacus, and made great provision everywhere of seamen and
pilots. But the tidings of the difficulties he had gone through in his
Indian expedition, the danger of his person among the Mallians, the
reported loss of a considerable part of his forces, and a general doubt
as to his own safety, had begun to give occasion for revolt among many
of the conquered nations, and for acts of great injustice, avarice, and
insolence on the part of the satraps and commanders in the provinces, so
that there seemed to be an universal fluctuation and disposition to
change. Even at home, Olympias and Cleopatra had raised a faction
against Antipater, and divided his government between them, Olympias
seizing upon Epirus, and Cleopatra upon Macedonia. When Alexander was
told of it, he said his mother had made the best choice, for the
Macedonians would never endure to be ruled by a woman. Upon this he
dispatched Nearchus again to his fleet, to carry the war into the
maritime provinces, and as he marched that way himself, he punished
those commanders who had behaved ill, particularly Oxyartes, one of the
sons of Abuletes, whom he killed with his own hand, thrusting him
through the body with his spear. And when Abuletes, instead of the
necessary provisions which he ought to have furnished, brought him three
thousand talents in coined money, he ordered it to be thrown to his
horses, and when they would not touch it, “What good,” he said, “will
this provision do us?” and sent him away to prison.
When he came into Persia, he distributed money among the women, as
their own kings had been wont to do, who as often as they came thither,
gave every one of them a piece of gold; on account of which custom, some
of them, it is said, had come but seldom, and Ochus was so sordidly
covetous, that to avoid this expense, he never visited his native
country once in all his reign. Then finding Cyrus’s sepulchre opened and
rifled, he put Polymachus, who did it, to death, though he was a man of
some distinction, a born Macedonian of Pella. And after he had read the
inscription, he caused it to be cut again below the old one in Greek
characters; the words being these: “O man, whosoever thou art, and from
whencesoever thou comest (for I know thou wilt come), I am Cyrus, the
founder of the Persian empire; do not grudge me this little earth which
covers my body.” The reading of this sensibly touched Alexander, filling
him with the thought of the uncertainty and mutability of human affairs.
At the same time, Calanus having been a little while troubled with a
disease in the bowels, requested that he might have a funeral pile
erected, to which he came on horseback, and after he had said some
prayers and sprinkled himself and cut off some of his hair to throw into
the fire, before he ascended it, he embraced and took leave of the
Macedonians who stood by, desiring them to pass that day in mirth and
good-fellowship with their king, whom in a little time, he said, he
doubted not but to see again at Babylon. Having thus said, he lay down,
and covering up his face, he stirred not when the fire came near him,
but continued still in the same posture as at first, and so sacrificed
himself, as it was the ancient custom of the philosophers in those
countries to do. The same thing was done long after by another Indian,
who came with Caesar to Athens, where they still show you “the Indian’s
monument.” At his return from the funeral pile, Alexander invited a
great many of his friends and principal officers to supper, and proposed
a drinking match, in which the victor should receive a crown. Promachus
drank twelve quarts of wine, and won the prize, which was a talent, from
them all; but he survived his victory but three days, and was followed,
as Chares says, by forty-one more, who died of the same debauch, some
extremely cold weather having set in shortly after.
At Susa, he married Darius’s daughter Statira, and celebrated also
the nuptials of his friends, bestowing the noblest of the Persian ladies
upon the worthiest of them, at the same time making in an entertainment
in honor of the other Macedonians whose marriages had already taken
place. At this magnificent festival, it is reported, there were no less
than nine thousand guests, to each of whom he gave a golden cup for the
libations. Not to mention other instances of his wonderful magnificence,
he paid the debts of his army, which amounted to nine thousand eight
hundred and seventy talents. But Antigenes, who had lost one of his
eyes, though he owed nothing, got his name set down in the list of those
who were in debt, and bringing one who pretended to be his creditor, and
to have supplied him from the bank, received the money. But when the
cheat was found out, the king was so incensed at it, that he banished
him from court, and took away his command, though he was an excellent
soldier, and a man of great courage. For when he was but a youth, and
served under Philip at the siege of Perinthus, where he was wounded in
the eye by an arrow shot out of an engine, he would neither let the
arrow be taken out, nor be persuaded to quit the field, till he had
bravely repulsed the enemy and forced them to retire into the town.
Accordingly he was not able to support such a disgrace with any
patience, and it was plain that grief and despair would have made him
kill himself, but that the king fearing it, not only pardoned him, but
let him also enjoy the benefit of his deceit.
The thirty thousand boys whom he left behind him to be taught and
disciplined, were so improved at his return, both in strength and
beauty, and performed their exercises with such dexterity and wonderful
agility, that he was extremely pleased with them, which grieved the
Macedonians, and made them fear he would have the less value for them.
And when he proceeded to send down the infirm and maimed soldiers to the
sea, they said they were unjustly and infamously dealt with, after they
were worn out in his service upon all occasions, now to be turned away
with disgrace and sent home into their country among their friends and
relations, in a worse condition than when they came out; therefore they
desired him to dismiss them one and all, and to account his Macedonians
useless, now he was so well furnished with a set of dancing boys, with
whom, if he pleased, he might go on and conquer the world. These
speeches so incensed Alexander, that after he had given them a great
deal of reproachful language in his passion, he drove them away, and
committed the watch to Persians, out of whom he chose his guards and
attendants. When the Macedonians saw him escorted by these men, and
themselves excluded and shamefully disgraced, their high spirits fell,
and conferring with one another, they found that jealousy and rage had
almost distracted them. But at last coming to themselves again, they
went without their arms, with on]y their under garments on, crying and
weeping, to offer themselves at his tent, and desired him to deal with
them as their baseness and ingratitude deserved. However, this would not
prevail; for though his anger was already something mollified, yet he
would not admit them into his presence, nor would they stir from thence,
but continued two days and nights before his tent, bewailing themselves,
and imploring him as their lord to have compassion on them. But the
third day he came out to them, and seeing them very humble and penitent,
he wept himself a great while, and after a gentle reproof spoke kindly
to them, and dismissed those who were unserviceable with magnificent
rewards, and with this recommendation to Antipater, that when they came
home, at all public shows and in the theaters, they should sit on the
best and foremost seats, crowned with chaplets of flowers. He ordered,
also, that the children of those who had lost their lives in his
service, should have their fathers’ pay continued to them.
When he came to Ecbatana in Media, and had dispatched his most urgent
affairs, he began to divert himself again with spectacles and public
entertainments, to carry on which he had a supply of three thousand
actors and artists, newly arrived out of Greece. But they were soon
interrupted by Hephaestion’s falling sick of a fever, in which, being a
young man and a soldier too, he could not confine himself to so exact a
diet as was necessary; for whilst his physician Glaucus was gone to the
theater, he ate a fowl for his dinner, and drank a large draught of
wine, upon which he became very ill, and shortly after died. At this
misfortune, Alexander was so beyond all reason transported, that to
express his sorrow, he immediately ordered the manes and tails of all
his horses and mules to be cut, and threw down the battlements of the
neighboring cities. The poor physician he crucified, and forbade playing
on the flute, or any other musical instrument in the camp a great while,
till directions came from the oracle of Ammon, and enjoined him to honor
Hephaestion, and sacrifice to him as to a hero. Then seeking to
alleviate his grief in war, he set out, as it were, to a hunt and chase
of men, for he fell upon the Cossaeans, and put the whole nation to the
sword. This was called a sacrifice to Hephaestion’s ghost. In his
sepulchre and monument and the adorning of them, he intended to bestow
ten thousand talents; and designing that the excellence of the
workmanship and the singularity of the design might outdo the expense,
his wishes turned, above all other artists, to Stasicrates, because he
always promised something very bold, unusual, and magnificent in his
projects. Once when they had met before, he had told him, that of all
the mountains he knew, that of Athos in Thrace was the most capable of
being adapted to represent the shape and lineaments of a man; that if he
pleased to command him, he would make it the noblest and most durable
statue in the world, which in its left hand should hold a city of ten
thousand inhabitants, and out of its right should pour a copious river
into the sea. Though Alexander declined this proposal, yet now he spent
a great deal of time with workmen to invent and contrive others even
more extravagant and sumptuous.
As he was upon his way to Babylon, Nearchus, who had sailed back out
of the ocean up the mouth of the river Euphrates, came to tell him he
had met with some Chaldaean diviners, who had warned him against
Alexander’s going thither. Alexander, however, took no thought of it,
and went on, and when he came near the walls of the place, he saw a
great many crows fighting with one another, some of whom fell down just
by him. After this, being privately informed that Apollodorus, the
governor of Babylon, had sacrificed, to know what would become of him,
he sent for Pythagoras, the soothsayer, and on his admitting the thing,
asked him, in what condition he found the victim; and when he told him
the liver was defective in its lobe, “A great presage indeed!” said
Alexander. However, he offered Pythagoras no injury, but was sorry that
he had neglected Nearchus’s advice, and stayed for the most part outside
the town, removing his tent from place to place, and sailing up and down
the Euphrates. Besides this, he was disturbed by many other prodigies. A
tame ass fell upon the biggest and handsomest lion that he kept, and
killed him by a kick. And one day after he had undressed himself to be
anointed, and was playing at ball, just as they were going to bring his
clothes again, the young men who played with him perceived a man clad in
the king’s robes, with a diadem upon his head, sitting silently upon his
throne. They asked him who he was, to which he gave no answer a good
while, till at last coming to himself, he told them his name was
Dionysius, that he was of Messenia, that for some crime of which he was
accused, he was brought thither from the sea-side, and had been kept
long in prison, that Serapis appeared to him, had freed him from his
chains, conducted him to that place, and commanded him to put on the
king’s robe and diadem, and to sit where they found him, and to say
nothing. Alexander, when he heard this, by the direction of his
soothsayers, put the fellow to death, but he lost his spirits, and grew
diffident of the protection and assistance of the gods, and suspicious
of his friends. His greatest apprehension was of Antipater and his sons,
one of whom, Iolaus, was his chief cupbearer; and Cassander, who had
lately arrived, and had been bred up in Greek manners, the first time he
saw some of the barbarians adore the king, could not forbear laughing at
it aloud, which so incensed Alexander, that he took him by the hair with
both hands, and dashed his head against the wall. Another time,
Cassander would have said something in defense of Antipater to those who
accused him, but Alexander interrupting him said, “What is it you say?
Do you think people, if they had received no injury, would come such a
journey only to calumniate your father?” To which when Cassander
replied, that their coming so far from the evidence was a great proof of
the falseness of their charges, Alexander smiled, and said those were
some of Aristotle’s sophisms, which would serve equally on both sides;
and added, that both he and his father should be severely punished, if
they were found guilty of the least injustice towards those who
complained. All which made such a deep impression of terror in
Cassander’s mind, that long after when he was king of Macedonia, and
master of Greece, as he was walking up and down at Delphi, and looking
at the statues, at the sight of that of Alexander he was suddenly struck
with alarm, and shook all over, his eyes rolled, his head grew dizzy,
and it was long before he recovered himself.
When once Alexander had given way to fears of supernatural influence,
his mind grew so disturbed and so easily alarmed, that if the least
unusual or extraordinary thing happened, he thought it a prodigy or a
presage, and his court was thronged with diviners and priests whose
business was to sacrifice and purify and foretell the future. So
miserable a thing is incredulity and contempt of divine power on the one
hand, and so miserable, also, superstition on the other, which like
water, where the level has been lowered, flowing in and never stopping,
fills the mind with slavish fears and follies, as now in Alexander’s
case. But upon some answers which were brought him from the oracle
concerning Hephaestion, he laid aside his sorrow, and fell again to
sacrificing and drinking; and having given Nearchus a splendid
entertainment, after he had bathed, as was his custom, just as he was
going to bed, at Medius’s request he went to supper with him. Here he
drank all the next day, and was attacked with a fever, which seized him,
not as some write, after he had drunk of the bowl of Hercules; nor was
he taken with any sudden pain in his back, as if he had been struck with
lance, for these are the inventions of some authors who thought it their
duty to make the last scene of so great an action as tragical and moving
as they could. Aristobulus tells us, that in the rage of his fever and a
violent thirst, he took a draught of wine, upon which he fell into
delirium, and died on the thirtieth day of the month Daesius.
But the journals give the following record. On the eighteenth of the
month, he slept in the bathing-room on account of his fever. The next
day he bathed and removed into his chamber, and spent his time in
playing dice with Medius. In the evening he bathed and sacrificed, and
ate freely, and had the fever on him through the night. On the
twentieth, after the usual sacrifices and bathing, he lay in the
bathing-room and heard Nearchus’s narrative of his voyage, and the
observations he had made in the great sea. The twenty-first he passed in
the same manner, his fever still increasing, and suffered much during
the night. The next day the fever was very violent, and he had himself
removed and his bed set by the great bath, and discoursed with his
principal officers about finding fit men to fill up the vacant places in
the army. On the twenty-fourth he was much worse, and was carried out of
his bed to assist at the sacrifices, and gave order that the general
officers should wait within the court, whilst the inferior officers kept
watch without doors. On the twenty-fifth he was removed to his palace on
the other side the river, where he slept a little, but his fever did not
abate, and when the generals came into his chamber, he was speechless,
and continued so the following day. The Macedonians, therefore,
supposing he was dead, came with great clamors to the gates, and menaced
his friends so that they were forced to admit them, and let them all
pass through unarmed along by his bedside. The same day Python and
Seleucus were dispatched to the temple of Serapis to inquire if they
should bring Alexander thither, and were answered by the god, that they
should not remove him. On the twenty-eighth, in the evening, he died.
This account is most of it word for word as it is written in the diary.
At the time, nobody had any suspicion of his being poisoned, but upon
some information given six years after, they say Olympias put many to
death, and scattered the ashes of Iolaus, then dead, as if he had given
it him. But those who affirm that Aristotle counseled Antipater to do
it, and that by his means the poison was brought, adduce one Hagnothemis
as their authority, who, they say, heard king Antigonus speak of it, and
tell us that the poison was water, deadly cold as ice, distilling from a
rock in the district of Nonacris, which they gathered like a thin dew,
and kept in an ass’s hoof; for it was so very cold and penetrating that
no other vessel would hold it. However, most are of opinion that all
this is a mere made-up story, no slight evidence of which is, that
during the dissensions among the commanders, which lasted several days,
the body continued clear and fresh, without any sign of such taint or
corruption, though it lay neglected in a close, sultry place.
Roxana, who was now with child, and upon that account much honored by
the Macedonians, being jealous of Statira, sent for her by a counterfeit
letter, as if Alexander had been still alive; and when she had her in
her power, killed her and her sister, and threw their bodies into a
well, which they filled up with earth, not without the privity and
assistance of Perdiccas, who in the time immediately following the
king’s death, under cover of the name of Arrhidaeus, whom he carried
about him as a sort of guard to his person, exercised the chief
authority Arrhidaeus, who was Philip’s son by an obscure woman of the
name of Philinna, was himself of weak intellect, not that he had been
originally deficient either in body or mind; on the contrary, in his
childhood, he had showed a happy and promising character enough. But a
diseased habit of body, caused by drugs which Olympias gave him, had
ruined not only his health, but his understanding.
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Caesar
After Sylla became master of Rome, he wished to make Caesar put
away his wife Cornelia, daughter of Cinna, the late sole ruler of the
commonwealth, but was unable to effect it either by promises or
intimidation, and so contented himself with confiscating her dowry. The
ground of Sylla’s hostility to Caesar, was the relationship between him
and Marius; for Marius, the elder, married Julia, the sister of Caesar’s
father, and had by her the younger Marius, who consequently was Caesar’s
first cousin. And though at the beginning, while so many were to be put
to death and there was so much to do, Caesar was overlooked by Sylla,
yet he would not keep quiet, but presented himself to the people as a
candidate for the priesthood, though he was yet a mere boy. Sylla,
without any open opposition, took measures to have him rejected, and in
consultation whether he should be put to death, when it was urged by
some that it was not worth his while to contrive the death of a boy, he
answered, that they knew little who did not see more than one Marius in
that boy. Caesar, on being informed of this saying, concealed himself,
and for a considerable time kept out of the way in the country of the
Sabines, often changing his quarters, till one night, as he was removing
from one house to another on account of his health, he fell into the
hands of Sylla’s soldiers, who were searching those parts in order to
apprehend any who had absconded. Caesar, by a bribe of two talents,
prevailed with Cornelius, their captain, to let him go, and was no
sooner dismissed but he put to sea, and made for Bithynia. After a short
stay there with Nicomedes, the king, in his passage back he was taken
near the island Pharmacusa by some of the pirates, who, at that time,
with large fleets of ships and innumerable smaller vessels infested the
seas everywhere.
When these men at first demanded of him twenty talents for his
ransom, he laughed at them for not understanding the value of their
prisoner, and voluntarily engaged to give them fifty. He presently
dispatched those about him to several places to raise the money, till at
last he was left among a set of the most bloodthirsty people in the
world, the Cilicians, only with one friend and two attendants. Yet he
made so little of them, that when he had a mind to sleep, he would send
to them, and order them to make no noise. For thirty-eight days, with
all the freedom in the world, he amused himself with joining in their
exercises and games, as if they had not been his keepers, but his
guards. He wrote verses and speeches, and made them his auditors, and
those who did not admire them, he called to their faces illiterate and
barbarous, and would often, in raillery, threaten to hang them. They
were greatly taken with this, and attributed his free talking to a kind
of simplicity and boyish playfulness. As soon as his ransom was come
from Miletus, he paid it, and was discharged, and proceeded at once to
man some ships at the port of Miletus, and went in pursuit of the
pirates, whom he surprised with their ships still stationed at the
island, and took most of them. Their money he made his prize, and the
men he secured in prison at Pergamus, and made application to Junius,
who was then governor of Asia, to whose office it belonged, as praetor,
to determine their punishment. Junius, having his eye upon the money,
for the sum was considerable, said he would think at his leisure what to
do with the prisoners, upon which Caesar took his leave of him, and went
off to Pergamus, where he ordered the pirates to be brought forth and
crucified; the punishment he had often threatened them with whilst he
was in their hands, and they little dreamed he was in earnest.
In the meantime Sylla’s power being now on the decline, Caesar’s
friends advised him to return to Rome, but he went to Rhodes, and
entered himself in the school of Apollonius, Molon’s son, a famous
rhetorician, one who had the reputation of a worthy man, and had Cicero
for one of his scholars. Caesar is said to have been admirably fitted by
nature to make a great statesman and orator, and to have taken such
pains to improve his genius this way, that without dispute he might
challenge the second place. More he did not aim at, as choosing to be
first rather amongst men of arms and power, and, therefore, never rose
to that height of eloquence to which nature would have carried him, his
attention being diverted to those expeditions and designs, which at
length gained him the empire. And he himself, in his answer to Cicero’s
panegyric on Cato, desires his reader not to compare the plain discourse
of a soldier with the harangues of an orator who had not only fine
parts, but had employed his life in this study.
When he was returned to Rome, he accused Dolabella of
maladministration, and many cities of Greece came in to attest it.
Dolabella was acquitted, and Caesar, in return for the support he had
received from the Greeks, assisted them in their prosecution of Publius
Antonius for corrupt practices, before Marcus Lucullus, praetor of
Macedonia. In this cause he so far succeeded, that Antonius was forced
to appeal to the tribunes at Rome, alleging that in Greece he could not
have fair play against Grecians. In his pleadings at Rome, his eloquence
soon obtained him great credit and favor, and he won no less upon the
affections of the people by the affability of his manners and address,
in which he slowed a tact and consideration beyond what could have been
expected at his age; and the open house he kept, the entertainments he
gave, and the general splendor of his manner of life contributed little
by little to create and increase his political influence. His enemies
slighted the growth of it at first, presuming it would soon fail when
his money was gone; whilst in the meantime it was growing up and
flourishing among the common people. When his power at last was
established and not to be overthrown, and now openly tended to the
altering of the whole constitution, they were aware too late, that there
is no beginning so mean, which continued application will not make
considerable, and that despising a danger at first, will make it at last
irresistible. Cicero was the first who had any suspicions of his designs
upon the government, and, as a good pilot is apprehensive of a storm
when the sea is most smiling, saw the designing temper of the man
through this disguise of good-humor and affability, and said, that in
general, in all he did and undertook, he detected the ambition for
absolute power, “but when I see his hair so carefully arranged, and
observe him adjusting it with one finger, I cannot imagine it should
enter into such a man’s thoughts to subvert the Roman state.” But of
this more hereafter.
The first proof he had of the people’s good-will to him, was when he
received by their suffrages a tribuneship in the army, and came out on
the list with a higher place than Caius Popilius. A second and clearer
instance of their favor appeared upon his making a magnificent oration
in praise of his aunt Julia, wife to Marius, publicly in the forum, at
whose funeral he was so bold as to bring forth the images of Marius,
which nobody had dared to produce since the government came into Sylla’s
hands, Marius’s party having from that time been declared enemies of the
State. When some who were present had begun to raise a cry against
Caesar, the people answered with loud shouts and clapping in his favor,
expressing their joyful surprise and satisfaction at his having, as it
were, brought up again from the grave those honors of Marius, which for
so long a time had been lost to the city. It had always been the custom
at Rome to make funeral orations in praise of elderly matrons, but there
was no precedent of any upon young women till Caesar first made one upon
the death of his own wife. This also procured him favor, and by this
show of affection he won upon the feelings of the people, who looked
upon him as a man of great tenderness and kindness of heart. After he
had buried his wife, he went as quaestor into Spain under one of the
praetors, named Vetus, whom he honored ever after, and made his son his
own quaestor, when he himself came to be praetor. After this employment
was ended, he married Pompeia, his third wife, having then a daughter by
Cornelia, his first wife, whom he afterwards married to Pompey the
Great. He was so profuse in his expenses, that before he had any public
employment, he was in debt thirteen hundred talents, and many thought
that by incurring such expense to be popular, he changed a solid good
for what would prove but short and uncertain return; but in truth he was
purchasing what was of the greatest value at an inconsiderable rate.
When he was made surveyor of the Appian Way, he disbursed, besides the
public money, a great sum out of his private purse; and when he was
aedile, be provided such a number of gladiators, that he entertained the
people with three hundred and twenty single combats, and by his great
liberality and magnificence in theatrical shows, in processions, and
public feastings, he threw into the shade all the attempts that had been
made before him, and gained so much upon the people, that everyone was
eager to find out new offices and new honors for him in return for his
munificence.
There being two factions in the city, one that of Sylla, which was
very powerful, the other that of Marius, which was then broken and in a
very low condition, he undertook to revive this and to make it his own.
And to this end, whilst he was in the height of his repute with the
people for the magnificent shows he gave as aedile, he ordered images of
Marius, and figures of Victory, with trophies in their hands, to be
carried privately in the night and placed in the capitol. Next morning,
when some saw them bright with gold and beautifully made, with
inscriptions upon them, referring them to Marius’s exploits over the
Cimbrians, they were surprised at the boldness of him who had set them
up, nor was it difficult to guess who it was. The fame of this soon
spread and brought together a great concourse of people. Some cried out
that it was an open attempt against the established government thus to
revive those honors which had been buried by the laws and decrees of the
senate; that Caesar had done it to sound the temper of the people whom
he had prepared before, and to try whether they were tame enough to bear
his humor, and would quietly give way to his innovations. On the other
hand, Marius’s party took courage, and it was incredible how numerous
they were suddenly seen to be, and what a multitude of them appeared and
came shouting into the capitol. Many, when they saw Marius’s likeness,
cried for joy, and Caesar was highly extolled as the one man, in the
place of all others, who was a relation worthy of Marius. Upon this the
senate met, and Catulus Lutatius, one of the most eminent Romans of that
time, stood up and inveighed against Caesar, closing his speech with the
remarkable saying, that Caesar was now not working mines, but planting
batteries to overthrow the state. But when Caesar had made an apology
for himself, and satisfied the senate, his admirers were very much
animated, and advised him not to depart from his own thoughts for
anyone, since with the people’s good favor he would erelong get the
better of them all, and be the first man in the commonwealth.
At this time, Metellus, the High-Priest, died, and Catulus and
Isauricus, persons of the highest reputation, and who had great
influence in the senate, were competitors for the office; yet Caesar
would not give way to them, but presented himself to the people as a
candidate against them. The several parties seeming very equal, Catulus,
who, because he had the most honor to lose, was the most apprehensive of
the event, sent to Caesar to buy him off, with offers of a great sum of
money. But his answer was, that he was ready to borrow a larger sum than
that, to carry on the contest. Upon the day of election, as his mother
conducted him out of doors with tears, after embracing her, “My mother,”
he said, “today you will see me either High-Priest, or an exile.” When
the votes were taken, after a great struggle, he carried it, and excited
among the senate and nobility great alarm lest he might now urge on the
people to every kind of insolence. And Piso and Catulus found fault with
Cicero for having let Caesar escape, when in the conspiracy of Catiline
he had given the government such advantage against him. For Catiline,
who had designed not only to change the present state of affairs, but to
subvert the whole empire and confound all, had himself taken to flight,
while the evidence was yet incomplete against him, before his ultimate
purposes had been properly discovered. But he had left Lentulus and
Cethegus in the city to supply his place in the conspiracy, and whether
they received any secret encouragement and assistance from Caesar is
uncertain; all that is certain, is, that they were fully convicted in
the senate, and when Cicero, the consul, asked the several opinions of
the senators, how they would have them punished, all who spoke before
Caesar sentenced them to death; but Caesar stood up and made a set
speech, in which he told them, that he thought it without precedent and
not just to take away the lives of persons of their birth and
distinction before they were fairly tried, unless there was an absolute
necessity for it; but that if they were kept confined in any towns of
Italy Cicero himself should choose, till Catiline was defeated, then the
senate might in peace and at their leisure determine what was best to be
done.
This sentence of his carried so much appearance of humanity, and he
gave it such advantage by the eloquence with which he urged it, that not
only those who spoke after him closed with it, but even they who had
before given a contrary opinion, now came over to his, till it came
about to Catulus’s and Cato’s turn to speak. They warmly opposed it, and
Cato intimated in his speech the suspicion of Caesar himself, and
pressed the matter so strongly, that the criminals were given up to
suffer execution. As Caesar was going out of the senate, many of the
young men who at that time acted as guards to Cicero, ran in with their
naked swords to assault him. But Curio, it is said, threw his gown over
him, and conveyed him away, and Cicero himself, when the young men
looked up to see his wishes, gave a sign not to kill him, either for
fear of the people, or because he thought the murder unjust and illegal.
If this be true, I wonder how Cicero came to omit all mention of it in
his book about his consulship. He was blamed, however, afterwards, for
not having made use of so fortunate an opportunity against Caesar, as if
he had let it escape him out of fear of the populace, who, indeed,
showed remarkable solicitude about Caesar, and some time after, when he
went into the senate to clear himself of the suspicions he lay under,
and found great clamors raised against him, upon the senate in
consequence sitting longer than ordinary, they went up to the house in a
tumult, and beset it, demanding Caesar, and requiring them to dismiss
him. Upon this, Cato, much fearing some movement among the poor
citizens, who were always the first to kindle the flame among the
people, and placed all their hopes in Caesar, persuaded the senate to
give them a monthly allowance of corn, an expedient which put the
commonwealth to the extraordinary charge of seven million five hundred
thousand drachmas in the year, but quite succeeded in removing the great
cause of terror for the present, and very much weakened Caesar’s power,
who at that time was just going to be made praetor, and consequently
would have been more formidable by his office.
But there was no disturbance during his praetorship, only what
misfortune he met with in his own domestic affairs. Publius Clodius was
a patrician by descent, eminent both for his riches and eloquence, but
in licentiousness of life and audacity exceeded the most noted
profligates of the day. He was in love with Pompeia, Caesar’s wife, and
she had no aversion to him. But there was strict watch kept on her
apartment, and Caesar’s mother, Aurelia, who was a discreet woman, being
continually about her, made any interview very dangerous and difficult.
The Romans have a goddess whom they call Bona, the same whom the Greeks
call Gynaecea. The Phrygians, who claim a peculiar title to her, say she
was mother to Midas. The Romans profess she was one of the Dryads, and
married to Faunus. The Grecians affirm that she is that mother of
Bacchus whose name is not to be uttered, and, for this reason, the women
who celebrate her festival, cover the tents with vine-branches, and, in
accordance with the fable, a consecrated serpent is placed by the
goddess. It is not lawful for a man to be by, nor so much as in the
house, whilst the rites are celebrated, but the women by themselves
perform the sacred offices, which are said to be much the same with
those used in the solemnities of Orpheus. When the festival comes, the
husband, who is either consul or praetor; and with him every male
creature, quits the house. The wife then taking it under her care, sets
it in order, and the principal ceremonies are performed during the
night, the women playing together amongst themselves as they keep watch,
and music of various kinds going on.
As Pompeia was at that time celebrating this feast, Clodius, who as
yet had no beard, and so thought to pass undiscovered, took upon him the
dress and ornaments of a singing woman, and so came thither, having the
air of a young girl. Finding the doors open, he was without any stop
introduced by the maid, who was in the intrigue. She presently ran to
tell Pompeia, but as she was away a long time, he grew uneasy in waiting
for her, and left his post and traversed the house from one room to
another, still taking care to avoid the lights, till at last Aurelia’s
woman met him, and invited him to play with her, as the women did among
themselves. He refused to comply, and she presently pulled him forward,
and asked him who he was, and whence he came. Clodius told her he was
waiting for Pompeia’s own maid, Abra, being in fact her own name also,
and as he said so, betrayed himself by his voice. Upon which the woman
shrieking, ran into the company where there were lights, and cried out,
she had discovered a man. The women were all in a fright. Aurelia
covered up the sacred things and stopped the proceedings, and having
ordered the doors to be shut, went about with lights to find Clodius,
who was got into the maid’s room that he had come in with, and was
seized there. The women knew him, and drove him out of doors, and at
once, that same night, went home and told their husbands the story. In
the morning, it was all about the town, what an impious attempt Clodius
had made, and how he ought to be punished as an offender, not only
against those whom he had affronted, but also against the public and the
gods. Upon which one of the tribunes impeached him for profaning the
holy rites, and some of the principal senators combined together and
gave evidence against him, that besides many other horrible crimes, he
had been guilty of incest with his own sister, who was married to
Lucullus. But the people set themselves against this combination of the
nobility, and defended Clodius, which was of great service to him with
the judges, who took alarm and were afraid to provoke the multitude.
Caesar at once dismissed Pompeia, but being summoned as a witness
against Clodius, said he had nothing to charge him with. This looking
like a paradox, the accuser asked him why he parted with his wife.
Caesar replied, “I wished my wife to be not so much as suspected.” Some
say that Caesar spoke this as his real thought; others, that he did it
to gratify the people, who were very earnest to save Clodius. Clodius,
at any rate, escaped; most of the judges giving their opinions so
written as to be illegible, that they might not be in danger from the
people by condemning him, nor in disgrace with the nobility by
acquitting him.
Caesar, in the meantime, being out of his praetorship, had got the
province of Spain, but was in great embarrassment with his creditors,
who, as he was going off, came upon him, and were very pressing and
importunate. This led him to apply himself to Crassus, who was the
richest man in Rome, but wanted Caesar’s youthful vigor and heat to
sustain the opposition against Pompey. Crassus took upon him to satisfy
those creditors who were most uneasy to him, and would not be put off
any longer, and engaged himself to the amount of eight hundred and
thirty talents, upon which Caesar was now at liberty to go to his
province. In his journey, as he was crossing the Alps, and passing by a
small village of the barbarians with but few inhabitants and those
wretchedly poor, his companions asked the question among themselves by
way of mockery, if there were any canvassing for offices there; any
contention which should be uppermost, or feuds of great men one against
another. To which Caesar made answer seriously, “For my part, I had
rather be the first man among these fellows, than the second man in
Rome.” It is said that another time, when free from business in Spain,
after reading some part of the history of Alexander, he sat a great
while very thoughtful, and at last burst out into tears. His friends
were surprised, and asked him the reason of it. “Do you think,” said he,
“I have not just cause to weep, when I consider that Alexander at my age
had conquered so many nations, and I have all this time done nothing
that is memorable?” As soon as he came into Spain he was very active,
and in a few days had got together ten new cohorts of foot in addition
to the twenty which were there before. With these he marched against the
Calaici and Lusitani and conquered them, and advancing as far as the
ocean, subdued the tribes which never before had been subject to the
Romans. Having managed his military affairs with good success, he was
equally happy in the course of his civil government. He took pains to
establish a good understanding amongst the several states, and no less
care to heal the differences between debtors and creditors. He ordered
that the creditor should receive two parts of the debtor’s yearly
income, and that the other part should be managed by the debtor himself,
till by this method the whole debt was at last discharged. This conduct
made him leave his province with a fair reputation; being rich himself,
and having enriched his soldiers, and having received from them the
honorable name of Imperator.
There is a law among the Romans, that whoever desires the honor of a
triumph must stay without the city and expect his answer. And another,
that those who stand for the consulship shall appear personally upon the
place. Caesar was come home at the very time of choosing consuls, and
being in a difficulty between these two opposite laws, sent to the
senate to desire that since he was obliged to be absent, he might sue
for the consulship by his friends. Cato, being backed by the law, at
first opposed his request; afterwards perceiving that Caesar had
prevailed with a great part of the senate to comply with it, he made it
his business to gain time, and went on wasting the whole day in
speaking. Upon which Caesar thought fit to let the triumph fall, and
pursued the consulship. Entering the town and coming forward
immediately, he had recourse to a piece of state-policy by which
everybody was deceived but Cato. This was the reconciling of Crassus and
Pompey, the two men who then were most powerful in Rome. There had been
a quarrel between them, which he now succeeded in making up, and by this
means strengthened himself by the united power of both, and so under the
cover of an action which carried all the appearance of a piece of
kindness and good-nature, caused what was in effect a revolution in the
government. For it was not the quarrel between Pompey and Caesar, as
most men imagine, which was the origin of the civil wars, but their
union, their conspiring together at first to subvert the aristocracy,
and so quarreling afterwards between themselves. Cato, who often
foretold what the consequence of this alliance would be, had then the
character of a sullen, interfering man, but in the end the reputation of
a wise but unsuccessful counselor.
Thus Caesar being doubly supported by the interests of Crassus and
Pompey, was promoted to the consulship, and triumphantly proclaimed with
Calpurnius Bibulus. When he entered on his office, he brought in bills
which would have been preferred with better grace by the most audacious
of the tribunes than by a consul, in which he proposed the plantation of
colonies and division of lands, simply to please the commonalty. The
best and most honorable of the senators opposed it, upon which, as he
had long wished for nothing more than for such a colorable pretext, he
loudly protested how much against his will it was to be driven to seek
support from the people, and how the senate’s insulting and harsh
conduct left no other course possible for him, than to devote himself
henceforth to the popular cause and interest. And so he hurried out of
the senate, and presenting himself to the people, and there placing
Crassus and Pompey, one on each side of him, he asked them whether they
consented to the bills he had proposed. They owned their assent, upon
which he desired them to assist him against those who had threatened to
oppose him with their swords. They engaged they would, and Pompey added
further, that he would meet their swords with a sword and buckler too.
These words the nobles much resented, as neither suitable to his own
dignity, nor becoming the reverence due to the senate, but resembling
rather the vehemence of a boy, or the fury of a madman. But the people
were pleased with it. In order to get a yet firmer hold upon Pompey,
Caesar having a daughter, Julia, who had been before contracted to
Servilius Caepio, now betrothed her to Pompey, and told Servilius he
should have Pompey’s daughter, who was not unengaged either, but
promised to Sylla’s son, Faustus. A little time after, Caesar married
Calpurnia, the daughter of Piso, and got Piso made consul for the year
following. Cato exclaimed loudly against this, and protested with a
great deal of warmth, that it was intolerable the government should be
prostituted by marriages, and that they should advance one another to
the commands of armies, provinces, and other great posts, by means of
women. Bibulus, Caesar’s colleague, finding it was to no purpose to
oppose his bills, but that he was in danger of being murdered in the
forum, as also was Cato, confined himself to his house, and there let
the remaining part of his consulship expire. Pompey, when he was
married, at once filled the forum with soldiers, and gave the people his
help in passing the new laws, and secured Caesar the government of all
Gaul, both on this and the other side of the Alps, together with
Illyricum, and the command of four legions for five years. Cato made
some attempts against these proceedings, but was seized and led off on
the way to prison by Caesar, who expected he would appeal to the
tribunes. But when he saw that Cato went along without speaking a word,
and not only the nobility were indignant, but that the people, also, out
of respect for Cato’s virtue, were following in silence, and with
dejected looks, he himself privately desired one of the tribunes to
rescue Cato. As for the other senators, some few of them attended the
house, the rest being disgusted, absented themselves. Hence Considius, a
very old man, took occasion one day to tell Caesar, that the senators
did not meet because they were afraid of his soldiers. Caesar asked,
“Why don’t you then, out of the same fear, keep at home?” To which
Considius replied, that age was his guard against fear, and that the
small remains of his life were not worth much caution. But the most
disgraceful thing that was done in Caesar’s consulship, was his
assisting to gain the tribuneship for the same Clodius who had made the
attempt upon his wife’s chastity, and intruded upon the secret vigils.
He was elected on purpose to effect Cicero’s downfall; nor did Caesar
leave the city to join his army, till they two had overpowered Cicero,
and driven him out of Italy.
Thus far have we followed Caesar’s actions before the wars of Gaul.
After this, he seems to begin his course afresh, and to enter upon a new
life and scene of action. And the period of those wars which he now
fought, and those many expeditions in which he subdued Gaul, showed him
to be a soldier and general not in the least inferior to any of the
greatest and most admired commanders who had ever appeared at the head
of armies. For if we compare him with the Fabii, the Metelli, the
Scipios, and with those who were his contemporaries, or not long before
him, Sylla, Marius, the two Luculli, or even Pompey himself, whose
glory, it may be said, went up at that time to heaven for every
excellence in war, we shall find Caesar’s actions to have surpassed them
all. One he may be held to have outdone in consideration of the
difficulty of the country in which he fought, another in the extent of
territory which he conquered; some, in the number and strength of the
enemies whom he defeated; one man, because of the wildness and
perfidiousness of the tribes whose good-will he conciliated, another in
his humanity and clemency to those he overpowered; others, again in his
gifts and kindnesses to his soldiers; all alike in the number of the
battles which he fought and the enemies whom he killed. For he had not
pursued the wars in Gaul full ten years, when he had taken by storm
above eight hundred towns, subdued three hundred states, and of the
three millions of men, who made up the gross sum of those with whom at
several times he engaged, he had killed one million, and taken captive a
second.
He was so much master of the good-will and hearty service of his
soldiers, that those who in other expeditions were but ordinary men,
displayed a courage past defeating or withstanding when they went upon
any danger where Caesar’s glory was concerned. Such a one was Acilius,
who, in the sea-fight before Marseilles, had his right hand struck off
with a sword, yet did not quit his buckler out of his left, but struck
the enemies in the face with it, till he drove them off, and made
himself master of the vessel. Such another was Cassius Scaeva, who, in a
battle near Dyrrhachium, had one of his eyes shot out with an arrow, his
shoulder pierced with one javelin, and his thigh with another; and
having received one hundred and thirty darts upon his target, called to
the enemy, as though he would surrender himself. But when two of them
came up to him, he cut off the shoulder of one with a sword, and by a
blow over the face forced the other to retire, and so with the
assistance of his friends, who now came up, made his escape. Again, in
Britain, when some of the foremost officers had accidentally got into a
morass full of water, and there were assaulted by the enemy, a common
soldier, whilst Caesar stood and looked on, threw himself into the midst
of them, and after many signal demonstrations of his valor, rescued the
officers, and beat off the barbarians. He himself, in the end, took to
the water, and with much difficulty, partly by swimming, partly by
wading, passed it, but in the passage lost his shield. Caesar and his
officers saw it and admired, and went to meet him with joy and
acclamation. But the soldier, much dejected and in tears, threw himself
down at Caesar’s feet, and begged his pardon for having let go his
buckler. Another time in Africa, Scipio having taken a ship of Caesar’s
in which Granius Petro, lately appointed quaestor, was sailing, gave the
other passengers as free prize to his soldiers, but thought fit to offer
the quaestor his life. But he said it was not usual for Caesar’s
soldiers to take, but give mercy, and having said so, fell upon his
sword and killed himself.
This love of honor and passion for distinction were inspired into
them and cherished in them by Caesar himself, who, by his unsparing
distribution of money and honors, showed them that he did not heap up
wealth from the wars for his own luxury, or the gratifying his private
pleasures, but that all he received was but a public fund laid by for
the reward and encouragement of valor, and that he looked upon all he
gave to deserving soldiers as so much increase to his own riches. Added
to this, also, there was no danger to which he did not willingly expose
himself, no labor from which he pleaded all exemption. His contempt of
danger was not so much wondered at by his soldiers, because they knew
how much he coveted honor. But his enduring so much hardship, which he
did to all appearance beyond his natural strength, very much astonished
them. For he was a spare man, had a soft and white skin, was distempered
in the head, and subject to an epilepsy, which, it is said, first seized
him at Corduba. But he did not make the weakness of his constitution a
pretext for his ease, but rather used war as the best physic against his
indispositions; whilst by indefatigable journeys, coarse diet, frequent
lodging in the field, and continual laborious exercise, he struggled
with his diseases, and fortified his body against all attacks. He slept
generally in his chariots or litters, employing even his rest in pursuit
of action. In the day he was thus carried to the forts, garrisons, and
camps, one servant sitting with him, who used to write down what he
dictated as he went, and a soldier attending behind with his sword
drawn. He drove so rapidly, that when he first left Rome, he arrived at
the river Rhone within eight days. He had been an expert rider from his
childhood; for it was usual with him to sit with his hands joined
together behind his back, and so to put his horse to its full speed. And
in this war he disciplined himself so far as to be able to dictate
letters from on horseback, and to give directions to two who took notes
at the same time, or, as Oppius says, to more. And it is thought that he
was the first who contrived means for communicating with friends by
cipher, when either press of business, or the large extent of the city,
left him no time for a personal conference about matters that required
dispatch. How little nice he was in his diet, may be seen in the
following instance. When at the table of Valerius Leo, who entertained
him at supper at Milan, a dish of asparagus was put before him, on which
his host instead of oil had poured sweet ointment. Caesar partook of it
without any disgust, and reprimanded his friends for finding fault with
it. “For it was enough,” said he, “not to eat what you did not like; but
he who reflects on another man’s want of breeding, shows he wants it as
much himself.” Another time upon the road he was driven by a storm into
a poor man’s cottage, where he found but one room, and that such as
would afford but a mean reception to a single person, and therefore told
his companions, places of honor should be given up to the greater men,
and necessary accommodations to the weaker, and accordingly ordered that
Oppius, who was in bad health, should lodge within, whilst he and the
rest slept under a shed at the door.
His first war in Gaul was against the Helvetians and Tigurini, who
having burnt their own towns, twelve in number, and four hundred
villages, would have marched forward through that part of Gaul which was
included in the Roman province, as the Cimbrians and Teutons formerly
had done. Nor were they inferior to these in courage; and in numbers
they were equal, being in all three hundred thousand, of which one
hundred and ninety thousand were fighting men. Caesar did not engage the
Tigurini in person, but Labienus, under his directions, routed them near
the river Arar. The Helvetians surprised Caesar, and unexpectedly set
upon him as he was conducting his army to a confederate town. He
succeeded, however, in making his retreat into a strong position, where,
when he had mustered and marshalled his men, his horse was brought to
him; upon which he said, “When I have won the battle, I will use my
horse for the chase, but at present let us go against the enemy,” and
accordingly charged them on foot. After a long and severe combat, he
drove the main army out of the field, but found the hardest work at
their carriages and ramparts, where not only the men stood and fought,
but the women also and children defended themselves, till they were cut
to pieces; insomuch that the fight was scarcely ended till midnight.
This action, glorious in itself, Caesar crowned with another yet more
noble, by gathering in a body all the barbarians that had escaped out of
the battle, above one hundred thousand in number, and obliging them to
reoccupy the country which they had deserted, and the cities which they
had burnt. This he did for fear the Germans should pass in and possess
themselves of the land whilst it lay uninhabited.
His second war was in defense of the Gauls against the Germans,
though some time before he had made Ariovistus, their king, recognized
at Rome as an ally. But they were very insufferable neighbors to those
under his government; and it was probable, when occasion offered, they
would renounce the present arrangements, and march on to occupy Gaul.
But finding his officers timorous, and especially those of the young
nobility who came along with him in hopes of turning their campaigns
with him into a means for their own pleasure or profit, he called them
together, and advised them to march off, and not run the hazard of a
battle against their inclinations, since they had such weak and unmanly
feelings; telling them that he would take only the tenth legion, and
march against the barbarians, whom he did not expect to find an enemy
more formidable than the Cimbri, nor, he added, should they find him a
general inferior to Marius. Upon this, the tenth legion deputed some of
their body to pay him their acknowledgments and thanks, and the other
legions blamed their officers, and all, with great vigor and zeal,
followed him many days’ journey, till they encamped within two hundred
furlongs of the enemy. Ariovistus’s courage to some extent was cooled
upon their very approach; for never expecting the Romans would attack
the Germans, whom he had thought it more likely they would not venture
to withstand even in defense of their own subjects, he was the more
surprised at Caesar’s conduct, and saw his army to be in consternation.
They were still more discouraged by the prophecies of their holy women,
who foretell the future by observing the eddies of rivers, and taking
signs from the windings and noise of streams, and who now warned them
not to engage before the next new moon appeared. Caesar having had
intimation of this, and seeing the Germans lie still, thought it
expedient to attack them whilst they were under these apprehensions,
rather than sit still and wait their time. Accordingly he made his
approaches to the strong-holds and hills on which they lay encamped, and
so galled and fretted them, that at last they came down with great fury
to engage. But he gained a signal victory, and pursued them for four
hundred furlongs, as far as the Rhine; all which space was covered with
spoils and bodies of the slain. Ariovistus made shift to pass the Rhine
with the small remains of an army, for it is said the number of the
slain amounted to eighty thousand.
After this action, Caesar left his army at their winter-quarters in
the country of the Sequani, and in order to attend to affairs at Rome,
went into that part of Gaul which lies on the Po, and was part of his
province; for the river Rubicon divides Gaul, which is on this side the
Alps, from the rest of Italy. There he sat down and employed himself in
courting people’s favor; great numbers coming to him continually, and
always finding their requests answered; for he never failed to dismiss
all with present pledges of his kindness in hand, and further hopes for
the future. And during all this time of the war in Gaul, Pompey never
observed how Caesar was on the one hand using the arms of Rome to effect
his conquests, and on the other was gaining over and securing to himself
the favor of the Romans, with the wealth which those conquests obtained
him. But when he heard that the Belgae, who were the most powerful of
all the Gauls, and inhabited a third part of the country, were revolted,
and had got together a great many thousand men in arms, he immediately
set out and took his way thither with great expedition, and falling upon
the enemy as they were ravaging the Gauls, his allies, he soon defeated
and put to flight the largest and least scattered division of them. For
though their numbers were great, yet they made but a slender defense,
and the marshes and deep rivers were made passable to the Roman foot by
the vast quantity of dead bodies. Of those who revolted, all the tribes
that lived near the ocean came over without fighting, and he, therefore,
led his army against the Nervii, the fiercest and most warlike people of
all in those parts. These live in a country covered with continuous
woods, and having lodged their children and property out of the way in
the depth of the forest, fell upon Caesar with a body of sixty thousand
men, before he was prepared for them, while he was making his
encampment. They soon routed his cavalry, and having surrounded the
twelfth and seventh legions, killed all the officers, and had not Caesar
himself snatched up a buckler, and forced his way through his own men to
come up to the barbarians, or had not the tenth legion, when they saw
him in danger, run in from the tops of the hills, where they lay, and
broken through the enemy’s ranks to rescue him, in all probability not a
Roman would have been saved. But now, under the influence of Caesar’s
bold example, they fought a battle, as the phrase is, of more than human
courage, and yet with their utmost efforts they were not able to drive
the enemy out of the field, but cut them down fighting in their defense.
For out of sixty thousand men, it is stated that not above five hundred
survived the battle, and of four hundred of their senators not above
three.
When the Roman senate had received news of this, they voted
sacrifices and festivals to the gods, to be strictly observed for the
space of fifteen days, a longer space than ever was observed for any
victory before. The danger to which they had been exposed by the joint
outbreak of such a number of nations was felt to have been great; and
the people’s fondness for Caesar gave additional luster to successes
achieved by him. He now, after settling everything in Gaul, came back
again, and spent the winter by the Po, in order to carry on the designs
he had in hand at Rome. All who were candidates for offices used his
assistance, and were supplied with money from him to corrupt the people
and buy their votes, in return of which, when they were chosen, they did
all things to advance his power. But what was more considerable, the
most eminent and powerful men in Rome in great numbers came to visit him
at Lucca, Pompey, and Crassus, and Appius, the governor of Sardinia, and
Nepos, the proconsul of Spain, so that there were in the place at one
time one hundred and twenty lictors, and more than two hundred senators.
In deliberation here held, it was determined that Pompey and Crassus
should be consuls again for the following year; that Caesar should have
a fresh supply of money, and that his command should be renewed to him
for five years more. It seemed very extravagant to all thinking men,
that those very persons who had received so much money from Caesar
should persuade the senate to grant him more, as if he were in want.
Though in truth it was not so much upon persuasion as compulsion, that,
with sorrow and groans for their own acts, they passed the measure. Cato
was not present, for they had sent him seasonably out of the way into
Cyprus; but Favonius, who was a zealous imitator of Cato, when he found
he could do no good by opposing it, broke out of the house, and loudly
declaimed against these proceedings to the people, but none gave him any
hearing; some slighting him out of respect to Crassus and Pompey, and
the greater part to gratify Caesar, on whom depended their hopes.
After this, Caesar returned again to his forces in Gaul, where he
found that country involved in a dangerous war, two strong nations of
the Germans having lately passed the Rhine, to conquer it; one of them
called the Usipes, the other the Tenteritae. Of the war with this
people, Caesar himself has given this account in his commentaries, that
the barbarians, having sent ambassadors to treat with him, did, during
the treaty, set upon him in his march, by which means with eight hundred
men they routed five thousand of his horse, who did not suspect their
coming; that afterwards they sent other ambassadors to renew the same
fraudulent practices, whom he kept in custody, and led on his army
against the barbarians, as judging it mere simplicity to keep faith with
those who had so faithlessly broken the terms they had agreed to. But
Tanusius states, that when the senate decreed festivals and sacrifices
for this victory, Cato declared it to be his opinion that Caesar ought
to be given into the hands of the barbarians, that so the guilt which
this breach of faith might otherwise bring upon the state, might be
expiated by transferring the curse on him, who was the occasion of it.
Of those who passed the Rhine, there were four hundred thousand cut off;
those few who escaped were sheltered by the Sugambri, a people of
Germany. Caesar took hold of this pretense to invade the Germans, being
at the same time ambitious of the honor of being the first man that
should pass the Rhine with an army. He carried a bridge across it,
though it was very wide, and the current at that particular point very
full, strong, and violent, bringing down with its waters trunks of
trees, and other lumber, which much shook and weakened the foundations
of his bridge. But he drove great piles of wood into the bottom of the
river above the passage, to catch and stop these as they floated down,
and thus fixing his bridle upon the stream, successfully finished this
bridge, which no one who saw could believe to be the work but of ten
days.
In the passage of his army over it, he met with no opposition; the
Suevi themselves, who are the most warlike people of all Germany, flying
with their effects into the deepest and most densely wooded valleys.
When he had burnt all the enemy’s country, and encouraged those who
embraced the Roman interest, he went back into Gaul, after eighteen
days’ stay in Germany. But his expedition into Britain was the most
famous testimony of his courage. For he was the first who brought a navy
into the western ocean, or who sailed into the Atlantic with an army to
make war; and by invading an island, the reported extent of which had
made its existence a matter of controversy among historians, many of
whom questioned whether it were not a mere name and fiction, not a real
place, he might be said to have carried the Roman empire beyond the
limits of the known world. He passed thither twice from that part of
Gaul which lies over against it, and in several battles which he fought,
did more hurt to the enemy than service to himself, for the islanders
were so miserably poor, that they had nothing worth being plundered of.
When he found himself unable to put such an end to the war as he wished,
he was content to take hostages from the king, and to impose a tribute,
and then quitted the island. At his arrival in Gaul, he found letters
which lay ready to be conveyed over the water to him from his friends at
Rome, announcing his daughter’s death, who died in labor of a child by
Pompey. Caesar and Pompey both were much afflicted with her death, nor
were their friends less disturbed, believing that the alliance was now
broken, which had hitherto kept the sickly commonwealth in peace, for
the child also died within a few days after the mother. The people took
the body of Julia, in spite of the opposition of the tribunes, and
carried it into the field of Mars, and there her funeral rites were
performed, and her remains are laid.
Caesar’s army was now grown very numerous, so that he was forced to
disperse them into various camps for their winter-quarters, and he
having gone himself to Italy as he used to do, in his absence a general
outbreak throughout the whole of Gaul commenced, and large armies
marched about the country, and attacked the Roman quarters, and
attempted to make themselves masters of the forts where they lay. The
greatest and strongest party of the rebels, under the command of
Abriorix, cut off Costa and Titurius with all their men, while a force
sixty thousand strong besieged the legion under the command of Cicero,
and had almost taken it by storm, the Roman soldiers being all wounded,
and having quite spent themselves by a defense beyond their natural
strength. But Caesar, who was at a great distance, having received the
news, quickly got together seven thousand men, and hastened to relieve
Cicero. The besiegers were aware of it, and went to meet him, with great
confidence that they should easily overpower such an handful of men.
Caesar, to increase their presumption, seemed to avoid fighting, and
still marched off, till he found a place conveniently situated for a few
to engage against many, where he encamped. He kept his soldiers from
making any attack upon the enemy, and commanded them to raise the
ramparts higher, and barricade the gates, that by show of fear, they
might heighten the enemy’s contempt of them. Till at last they came
without any order in great security to make an assault, when he issued
forth, and put them to flight with the loss of many men.
This quieted the greater part of the commotions in these parts of
Gaul, and Caesar, in the course of the winter, visited every part of the
country, and with great vigilance took precautions against all
innovations. For there were three legions now come to him to supply the
place of the men he had lost, of which Pompey furnished him with two,
out of those under his command; the other was newly raised in the part
of Gaul by the Po. But in a while the seeds of war, which had long since
been secretly sown and scattered by the most powerful men in those
warlike nations, broke forth into the greatest and most dangerous war
that ever was in those parts, both as regards the number of men in the
vigor of their youth who were gathered and armed from all quarters, the
vast funds of money collected to maintain it, the strength of the towns,
and the difficulty of the country where it was carried on. It being
winter, the rivers were frozen, the woods covered with snow, and the
level country flooded, so that in some places the ways were lost through
the depth of the snow; in others, the overflowing of marshes and streams
made every kind of passage uncertain. All which difficulties made it
seem impracticable for Caesar to make any attempt upon the insurgents.
Many tribes had revolted together, the chief of them being the Arverni
and Carnutini ; the general who had the supreme command in war was
Vergentorix, whose father the Gauls had put to death on suspicion of his
aiming at absolute government.
He having disposed his army in several bodies, and set officers over
them, drew over to him all the country round about as far as those that
lie upon the Arar, and having intelligence of the opposition which
Caesar now experienced at Rome, thought to engage all Gaul in the war.
Which if he had done a little later, when Caesar was taken up with the
civil wars, Italy had been put into as great a terror as before it was
by the Cimbri. But Caesar, who above all men was gifted with the faculty
of making the right use of everything in war, and most especially of
seizing the right moment, as soon as he heard of the revolt, returned
immediately the same way he went, and showed the barbarians, by the
quickness of his march in such a severe season, that an army was
advancing against them which was invincible. For in the time that one
would have thought it scarce credible that a courier or express should
have come with a message from him, he himself appeared with all his
army, ravaging the country, reducing their posts, subduing their towns,
receiving into his protection those who declared for him. Till at last
the Edui, who hitherto had styled themselves brethren to the Romans, and
had been much honored by them, declared against him, and joined the
rebels, to the great discouragement of his army. Accordingly he removed
thence, and passed the country of the Lingones, desiring to reach the
territories of the Sequani, who were his friends, and who lay like a
bulwark in front of Italy against the other tribes of Gaul. There the
enemy came upon him, and surrounded him with many myriads, whom he also
was eager to engage; and at last, after some time and with much
slaughter, gained on the whole a complete victory; though at first he
appears to have met with some reverse, and the Aruveni show you a small
sword hanging up in a temple, which they say was taken from Caesar.
Caesar saw this afterwards himself, and smiled, and when his friends
advised it should be taken down, would not permit it, because he looked
upon it as consecrated.
After the defeat a great part of those who had escaped, fled with
their king into a town called Alesia, which Caesar besieged, though the
height of the walls, and number of those who defended them, made it
appear impregnable; and meantime, from without the walls, he was
assailed by a greater danger than can be expressed. For the choice men
of Gaul, picked out of each nation, and well armed, came to relieve
Alesia, to the number of three hundred thousand; nor were there in the
town less than one hundred and seventy thousand. So that Caesar being
shut up betwixt two such forces, was compelled to protect himself by two
walls, one towards the town, the other against the relieving army, as
knowing it these forces should join, his affairs would be entirely
ruined. The danger that he underwent before Alesia, justly gained him
great honor on many accounts, and gave him an opportunity of showing
greater instances of his valor and conduct than any other contest had
done. One wonders much how he should be able to engage and defeat so
many thousands of men without the town, and not be perceived by those
within, but yet more, that the Romans themselves, who guarded their wall
which was next the town, should be strangers to it. For even they knew
nothing of the victory, till they heard the cries of the men and
lamentations of the women who were in the town, and had from thence seen
the Romans at a distance carrying into their camp a great quantity of
bucklers, adorned with gold and silver, many breastplates stained with
blood, besides cups and tents made in the Gallic fashion. So soon did so
vast an army dissolve and vanish like a ghost or dream, the greatest
part of them being killed upon the spot. Those who were in Alesia,
having given themselves and Caesar much trouble, surrendered at last;
and Vergentorix, who was the chief spring of all the war, putting his
best armor on, and adorning his horse, rode out of the gates, and made a
turn about Caesar as he was sitting, then quitted his horse, threw off
his armor, and remained seated quietly at Caesar’s feet until he was led
away to be reserved for the triumph.
Caesar had long ago resolved upon the overthrow of Pompey, as had
Pompey, for that matter, upon his. For Crassus, the fear of whom had
hitherto kept them in peace, having now been killed in Parthia, if the
one of them wished to make himself the greatest man in Rome, he had only
to overthrow the other; and if he again wished to prevent his own fall,
he had nothing for it but to be beforehand with him whom he feared.
Pompey had not been long under any such apprehensions, having till
lately despised Caesar, as thinking it no difficult matter to put down
him whom he himself had advanced. But Caesar had entertained this design
from the beginning against his rivals, and had retired, like an expert
wrestler, to prepare himself apart for the combat. Making the Gallic
wars his exercise-ground, he had at once improved the strength of his
soldiery, and had heightened his own glory by his great actions, so that
he was looked on as one who might challenge comparison with Pompey. Nor
did he let go any of those advantages which were now given him both by
Pompey himself and the times, and the ill government of Rome, where all
who were candidates for offices publicly gave money, and without any
shame bribed the people, who having received their pay, did not contend
for their benefactors with their bare suffrages, but with bows, swords,
and slings. So that after having many times stained the place of
election with the blood of men killed upon the spot, they left the city
at last without a government at all, to be carried about like a ship
without a pilot to steer her; while all who had any wisdom could only be
thankful if a course of such wild and stormy disorder and madness might
end no worse than in a monarchy. Some were so bold as to declare openly,
that the government was incurable but by a monarchy, and that they ought
to take that remedy from the hands of the gentlest physician, meaning
Pompey, who, though in words he pretended to decline it, yet in reality
made his utmost efforts to be declared dictator. Cato perceiving his
design, prevailed with the senate to make him sole consul, that with the
offer of a more legal sort of monarchy he might be withheld from
demanding the dictatorship. They over and above voted him the
continuance of his provinces, for he had two, Spain and all Africa,
which he governed by his lieutenants, and maintained armies under him,
at the yearly charge of a thousand talents out of the public treasury.
Upon this Caesar also sent and petitioned for the consulship, and the
continuance of his provinces. Pompey at first did not stir in it, but
Marcellus and Lentulus opposed it, who had always hated Caesar, and now
did every thing, whether fit or unfit, which might disgrace and affront
him. For they took away the privilege of Roman citizens from the people
of New Comum, who were a colony that Caesar had lately planted in Gaul;
and Marcellus, who was then consul, ordered one of the senators of that
town, then at Rome, to be whipped, and told him he laid that mark upon
him to signify he was no citizen of Rome, bidding him, when he went back
again, to show it to Caesar. After Marcellus’s consulship, Caesar began
to lavish gifts upon all the public men out of the riches he had taken
from the Gauls; discharged Curio, the tribune, from his great debts;
gave Paulus, then consul, fifteen hundred talents, with which he built
the noble court of justice adjoining the forum, to supply the place of
that called the Fulvian. Pompey, alarmed at these preparations, now
openly took steps, both by himself and his friends, to have a successor
appointed in Caesar’s room, and sent to demand back the soldiers whom he
had lent him to carry on the wars in Gaul. Caesar returned them, and
made each soldier a present of two hundred and fifty drachmas. The
officer who brought them home to Pompey, spread amongst the people no
very fair or favorable report of Caesar, and flattered Pompey himself
with false suggestions that he was wished for by Caesar’s army; and
though his affairs here were in some embarrassment through the envy of
some, and the ill state of the government, yet there the army was at his
command, and if they once crossed into Italy, would presently declare
for him; so weary were they of Caesar’s endless expeditions, and so
suspicious of his designs for a monarchy. Upon this Pompey grew
presumptuous, and neglected all warlike preparations, as fearing no
danger, and used no other means against him than mere speeches and
votes, for which Caesar cared nothing. And one of his captains, it is
said, who was sent by him to Rome, standing before the senate-house one
day, and being told that the senate would not give Caesar a longer time
in his government, clapped his hand on the hilt of his sword, and said,
“But this shall.”
Yet the demands which Caesar made had the fairest colors of equity
imaginable. For he proposed to lay down his arms, and that Pompey should
do the same, and both together should become private men, and each
expect a reward of his services from the public. For that those who
proposed to disarm him, and at the same time to confirm Pompey in all
the power he held, were simply establishing the one in the tyranny which
they accused the other of aiming at. When Curio made these proposals to
the people in Caesar’s name, he was loudly applauded, and some threw
garlands towards him, and dismissed him as they do successful wrestlers,
crowned with flowers. Antony, being tribune, produced a letter sent from
Caesar on this occasion, and read it, though the consuls did what they
could to oppose it. But Scipio, Pompey’s father-in-law, proposed in the
senate, that if Caesar did not lay down his arms within such a time, he
should be voted an enemy; and the consuls putting it to the question,
whether Pompey should dismiss his soldiers, and again, whether Caesar
should disband his, very few assented to the first, but almost all to
the latter. But Antony proposing again, that both should lay down their
commissions, all but a very few agreed to it. Scipio was upon this very
violent, and Lentulus the consul cried aloud, that they had need of
arms, and not of suffrages, against a robber; so that the senators for
the present adjourned, and appeared in mourning as a mark of their grief
for the dissension.
Afterwards there came other letters from Caesar, which seemed yet
more moderate, for he proposed to quit everything else, and only to
retain Gaul within the Alps, Illyricum, and two legions, till he should
stand a second time for consul. Cicero, the orator, who was lately
returned from Cilicia, endeavored to reconcile differences, and softened
Pompey, who was willing to comply in other things, but not to allow him
the soldiers. At last Cicero used his persuasions with Caesar’s friends
to accept of the provinces, and six thousand soldiers only, and so to
make up the quarrel. And Pompey was inclined to give way to this, but
Lentulus, the consul, would not hearken to it, but drove Antony and
Curio out of the senate-house with insults, by which he afforded Caesar
the most plausible pretense that could be, and one which he could
readily use to inflame the soldiers, by showing them two persons of such
repute and authority, who were forced to escape in a hired carriage in
the dress of slaves. For so they were glad to disguise themselves, when
they fled out of Rome.
There were not about him at that time above three hundred horse, and
five thousand foot; for the rest of his army, which was left behind the
Alps, was to be brought after him by officers who had received orders
for that purpose. But he thought the first motion towards the design
which he had on foot did not require large forces at present, and that
what was wanted was to make this first step suddenly, and so as to
astound his enemies with the boldness of it; as it would be easier, he
thought, to throw them into consternation by doing what they never
anticipated, than fairly to conquer them, if he had alarmed them by his
preparations. And therefore, he commanded his captains and other
officers to go only with their swords in their hands, without any other
arms, and make themselves masters of Ariminum, a large city of Gaul,
with as little disturbance and bloodshed as possible. He committed the
care of these forces to Hortensius, and himself spent the day in public
as a stander-by and spectator of the gladiators, who exercised before
him. A little before night he attended to his person, and then went into
the hall, and conversed for some time with those he had invited to
supper, till it began to grow dusk, when he rose from table, and made
his excuses to the company, begging them to stay till he came back,
having already given private directions to a few immediate friends, that
they should follow him, not all the same way, but some one way, some
another. He himself got into one of the hired carriages, and drove at
first another way, but presently turned towards Ariminum. When he came
to the river Rubicon, which parts Gaul within the Alps from the rest of
Italy, his thoughts began to work, now he was just entering upon the
danger, and he wavered much in his mind, when he considered the
greatness of the enterprise into which he was throwing himself. He
checked his course, and ordered a halt, while he revolved with himself,
and often changed his opinion one way and the other, without speaking a
word. This was when his purposes fluctuated most; presently he also
discussed the matter with his friends who were about him, (of which
number Asinius Pollio was one,) computing how many calamities his
passing that river would bring upon mankind, and what a relation of it
would be transmitted to posterity. At last, in a sort of passion,
casting aside calculation, and abandoning himself to what might come,
and using the proverb frequently in their mouths who enter upon
dangerous and bold attempts, “The die is cast,” with these words he took
the river. Once over, he used all expedition possible, and before it was
day reached Ariminum, and took it. It is said that the night before he
passed the river, he had an impious dream, that he was unnaturally
familiar with his own mother.
As soon as Ariminum was taken, wide gates, so to say, were thrown
open, to let in war upon every land alike and sea, and with the limits
of the province, the boundaries of the laws were transgressed. Nor would
one have thought that, as at other times, the mere men and women fled
from one town of Italy to another in their consternation, but that the
very towns themselves left their sites, and fled for succor to each
other. The city of Rome was overrun as it were with a deluge, by the
conflux of people flying in from all the neighboring places. Magistrates
could no longer govern, nor the eloquence of any orator quiet it; it was
all but suffering shipwreck by the violence of its own tempestuous
agitation. The most vehement contrary passions and impulses were at work
everywhere. Nor did those who rejoiced at the prospect of the change
altogether conceal their feelings, but when they met, as in so great a
city they frequently must, with the alarmed and dejected of the other
party, they provoked quarrels by their bold expressions of confidence in
the event. Pompey, sufficiently disturbed of himself; was yet more
perplexed by the clamors of others; some telling him that he justly
suffered for having armed Caesar against himself and the government;
others blaming him for permitting Caesar to be insolently used by
Lentulus, when he made such ample concessions, and offered such
reasonable proposals towards an accommodation. Favonius bade him now
stamp upon the ground; for once talking big in the senate, he desired
them not to trouble themselves about making any preparations for the
war, for that he himself, with one stamp of his foot, would fill all
Italy with soldiers. Yet still Pompey at that time had more forces than
Caesar; but he was not permitted to pursue his own thoughts, but being
continually disturbed with false reports and alarms, as if the enemy was
close upon him and carrying all before him, he gave way, and let himself
be borne down by the general cry. He put forth an edict declaring the
city to be in a state of anarchy, and left it with orders that the
senate should follow him, and that no one should stay behind who did not
prefer tyranny to their country and liberty.
The consuls at once fled, without making even the usual sacrifices;
so did most of the senators, carrying off their own goods in as much
haste as if they had been robbing their neighbors. Some, who had
formerly much favored Caesar’s cause, in the prevailing alarm, quitted
their own sentiments, and without any prospect of good to themselves,
were carried along by the common stream. It was a melancholy thing to
see the city tossed in these tumults, like a ship given up by her
pilots, and left to run, as chance guides her, upon any rock in her way.
Yet, in spite of their sad condition, people still esteemed the place of
their exile to be their country for Pompey’s sake, and fled from Rome,
as if it had been Caesar’s camp. Labienus even, who had been one of
Caesar’s nearest friends, and his lieutenant, and who had fought by him
zealously in the Gallic wars, now deserted him, and went over to Pompey.
Caesar sent all his money and equipage after him, and then sat down
before Corfinium, which was garrisoned with thirty cohorts under the
command of Domitius. He, in despair of maintaining the defense,
requested a physician, whom he had among his attendants, to give him
poison; and taking the dose, drank it, in hopes of being dispatched by
it. But soon after, when he was told that Caesar showed the utmost
clemency towards those he took prisoners, he lamented his misfortune,
and blamed the hastiness of his resolution. His physician consoled him,
by informing him that he had taken a sleeping draught, not a poison;
upon which, much rejoiced, and rising from his bed, he went presently to
Caesar, and gave him the pledge of his hand, yet afterwards again went
over to Pompey. The report of these actions at Rome, quieted those who
were there, and some who had fled thence returned.
Caesar took into his army Domitius’s soldiers, as he did all those
whom he found in any town enlisted for Pompey’s service. Being now
strong and formidable enough, he advanced against Pompey himself, who
did not stay to receive him, but fled to Brundisium, having sent the
consuls before with a body of troops to Dyrrhachium. Soon after, upon
Caesar’s approach, he set to sea, as shall be more particularly related
in his Life. Caesar would have immediately pursued him, but wanted
shipping, and therefore went back to Rome, having made himself master of
all Italy without bloodshed in the space of sixty days. When he came
thither, he found the city more quiet than he expected, and many
senators present, to whom he addressed himself with courtesy and
deference, desiring them to send to Pompey about any reasonable
accommodations towards a peace. But nobody complied with this proposal;
whether out of fear of Pompey, whom they had deserted, or that they
thought Caesar did not mean what he said, but thought it his interest to
talk plausibly. Afterwards, when Metellus, the tribune, would have
hindered him from taking money out of the public treasure, and adduced
some laws against it, Caesar replied, that arms and laws had each their
own time; “If what I do displeases you, leave the place; war allows no
free talking. When I have laid down my arms, and made peace, come back
and make what speeches you please. And this,” he added, “I tell you in
diminution of my own just right, as indeed you and all others who have
appeared against me and are now in my power, may be treated as I
please.” Having said this to Metellus, he went to the doors of the
treasury, and the keys being not to be found, sent for smiths to force
them open. Metellus again making resistance, and some encouraging him in
it, Caesar, in a louder tone, told him he would put him to death, if he
gave him any further disturbance. “And this,” said he, “you know, young
man, is more disagreeable for me to say, than to do.” These words made
Metellus withdraw for fear, and obtained speedy execution henceforth for
all orders that Caesar gave for procuring necessaries for the war.
He was now proceeding to Spain, with the determination of first
crushing Afranius and Varro, Pompey’s lieutenants, and making himself
master of the armies and provinces under them, that he might then more
securely advance against Pompey, when he had no enemy left behind him.
In this expedition his person was often in danger from ambuscades, and
his army by want of provisions, yet he did not desist from pursuing the
enemy, provoking them to fight, and hemming them with his
fortifications, till by main force he made himself master of their camps
and their forces.
Only the generals got off, and fled to Pompey.
When Caesar came back to Rome, Piso, his father-in-law, advised him
to send men to Pompey, to treat of a peace; but Isauricus, to ingratiate
himself with Caesar, spoke against it. After this, being created
dictator by the senate, he called home the exiles, and gave back then
rights as citizens to the children of those who had suffered under
Sylla; he relieved the debtors by an act remitting some part of the
interest on their debts, and passed some other measures of the same
sort, but not many. For within eleven days he resigned his dictatorship,
and having declared himself consul, with Servilius Isauricus, hastened
again to the war. He marched so fast, that he left all his army behind
him, except six hundred chosen horse, and five legions, with which he
put to sea in the very middle of winter, about the beginning of the
month January, (which corresponds pretty nearly with the Athenian month
Posideon,) and having past the Ionian Sea, took Oricum and Apollonia,
and then sent back the ships to Brundisium, to bring over the soldiers
who were left behind in the march. They, while yet on the march, their
bodies now no longer in the full vigor of youth, and they themselves
weary with such a multitude of wars, could not but exclaim against
Caesar, “When at last, and where, will this Caesar let us be quiet? He
carries us from place to place, and uses us as if we were not to be worn
out, and had no sense of labor. Even our iron itself is spent by blows,
and we ought to have some pity on our bucklers and breastplates, which
have been used so long. Our wounds, if nothing else, should make him see
that we are mortal men, whom he commands, subject to the same pains and
sufferings as other human beings. The very gods themselves cannot force
the winter season, or hinder the storms in their time; yet he pushes
forward, as if he were not pursuing, but flying from an enemy.” So they
talked as they marched leisurely towards Brundisium. But when they came
thither, and found Caesar gone off before them, their feelings changed,
and they blamed themselves as traitors to their general. They now railed
at their officers for marching so slowly, and placing themselves on the
heights overlooking the sea towards Epirus, they kept watch to see if
they could espy the vessels which were to transport them to Caesar.
He in the meantime was posted in Apollonia, but had not an army with
him able to fight the enemy, the forces from Brundisium being so long in
coming, which put him to great suspense and embarrassment what to do. At
last he resolved upon a most hazardous experiment, and embarked, without
anyone’s knowledge, in a boat of twelve oars, to cross over to
Brundisium, though the sea was at that time covered with a vast fleet of
the enemies. He got on board in the night time, in the dress of a slave,
and throwing himself down like a person of no consequence, lay along at
the bottom of the vessel. The river Anius was to carry them down to sea,
and there used to blow a gentle gale every morning from the land, which
made it calm at the mouth of the river, by driving the waves forward;
but this night there had blown a strong wind from the sea, which
overpowered that from the land, so that where the river met the influx
of the sea-water and the opposition of the waves, it was extremely rough
and angry; and the current was beaten back with such a violent swell,
that the master of the boat could not make good his passage, but ordered
his sailors to tack about and return. Caesar, upon this, discovers
himself, and taking the man by the hand, who was surprised to see him
there, said, “Go on, my friend, and fear nothing; you carry Caesar and
his fortune in your boat.” The mariners, when they heard that, forgot
the storm, and laying all their strength to their oars, did what they
could to force their way down the river. But when it was to no purpose,
and the vessel now took in much water, Caesar finding himself in such
danger in the very mouth of the river, much against his will permitted
the master to turn back. When he was come to land, his soldiers ran to
him in a multitude, reproaching him for what he had done, and indignant
that he should think himself not strong enough to get a victory by their
sole assistance, but must disturb himself, and expose his life for those
who were absent, as if he could not trust those who were with him.
After this, Antony came over with the forces from Brundisium, which
encouraged Caesar to give Pompey battle, though he was encamped very
advantageously, and furnished with plenty of provisions both by sea and
land, whilst he himself was at the beginning but ill-supplied, and
before the end was extremely pinched for want of necessaries, so that
his soldiers were forced to dig up a kind of root which grew there, and
tempering it with milk, to feed on it. Sometimes they made a kind of
bread of it, and advancing up to the enemy’s outposts, would throw in
these loaves, telling them, that as long as the earth produced such
roots they would not give up blockading Pompey. But Pompey took what
care he could, that neither the loaves nor the words should reach his
men, who were out of heart and despondent, through terror at the
fierceness and hardiness of their enemies, whom they looked upon as a
sort of wild beasts. There were continual skirmishes about Pompey’s
outworks, in all which Caesar had the better, except one, when his men
were forced to fly in such a manner that he had like to have lost his
camp. For Pompey made such a vigorous sally on them that not a man stood
his ground; the trenches were filled with the slaughter, many fell upon
their own ramparts and bulwarks, whither they were driven in flight by
the enemy. Caesar met them, and would have turned them back, but could
not. When he went to lay hold of the ensigns, those who carried them
threw them down, so that the enemies took thirty-two of them. He himself
narrowly escaped; for taking hold of one of his soldiers, a big and
strong man, that was flying by him, he bade him stand and face about;
but the fellow, full of apprehensions from the danger he was in, laid
hold of his sword, as if he would strike Caesar, but Caesar’s
armor-bearer cut off his arm. Caesar’s affairs were so desperate at that
time, that when Pompey, either through over-cautiousness, or his ill
fortune, did not give the finishing stroke to that great success, but
retreated after he had driven the routed enemy within their camp,
Caesar, upon seeing his withdrawal, said to his friends, “The victory
to-day had been on the enemies’ side, if they had had a general who knew
how to gain it.” When he was retired into his tent, he laid himself down
to sleep, but spent that night as miserably as ever he did any, in
perplexity and consideration with himself, coming to the conclusion that
he had conducted the war amiss. For when he had a fertile country before
him, and all the wealthy cities of Macedonia and Thessaly, he had
neglected to carry the war thither, and had sat down by the seaside,
where his enemies had such a powerful fleet, so that he was in fact
rather besieged by the want of necessaries, than besieging others with
his arms. Being thus distracted in his thoughts with the view of the
difficulty and distress he was in, he raised his camp, with the
intention of advancing towards Scipio, who lay in Macedonia; hoping
either to entice Pompey into a country where he should fight without the
advantage he now had of supplies from the sea, or to overpower Scipio,
if not assisted.
This set all Pompey’s army and officers on fire to hasten and pursue
Caesar, whom they concluded to be beaten and flying. But Pompey was
afraid to hazard a battle on which so much depended, and being himself
provided with all necessaries for any length of time, thought to tire
out and waste the vigor of Caesar’s army, which could not last long. For
the best part of his men, though they had great experience and showed an
irresistible courage in all engagements, yet by their frequent marches,
changing their camps, attacking fortifications, and keeping long
night-watches, were getting worn-out and broken; they being now old,
their bodies less fit for labor, and their courage, also, beginning to
give way with the failure of their strength. Besides, it was said that
an infectious disease, occasioned by their irregular diet, was
prevailing in Caesar’s army, and what was of greatest moment, he was
neither furnished with money nor provisions, so that in a little time he
must needs fall of himself.
For these reasons Pompey had no mind to fight him, but was thanked
for it by none but Cato, who rejoiced at the prospect of sparing his
fellow-citizens. For he when he saw the dead bodies of those who had
fallen in the last battle on Caesar’s side, to the number of a thousand,
turned away, covered his face, and shed tears. But everyone else
upbraided Pompey for being reluctant to fight, and tried to goad him on
by such nicknames as Agamemnon, and king of kings, as if he were in no
hurry to lay down his sovereign authority, but was pleased to see so
many commanders attending on him, and paying their attendance at his
tent. Favonius, who affected Cato’s free way of speaking his mind,
complained bitterly that they should eat no figs even this year at
Tusculum, because of Pompey’s love of command. Afranius, who was lately
returned out of Spain, and on account of his ill success there, labored
under the suspicion of having been bribed to betray the army, asked why
they did not fight this purchaser of provinces. Pompey was driven,
against his own will, by this kind of language, into offering battle,
and proceeded to follow Caesar. Caesar had found great difficulties in
his march, for no country would supply him with provisions, his
reputation being very much fallen since his late defeat. But after he
took Gomphi, a town of Thessaly, he not only found provisions for his
army, but physic too. For there they met with plenty of wine, which they
took very freely, and heated with this, sporting and reveling on their
march in bacchanalian fashion, they shook off the disease, and their
whole constitution was relieved and changed into another habit.
When the two armies were come into Pharsalia, and both encamped
there, Pompey’s thoughts ran the same way as they had done before,
against fighting, and the more because of some unlucky presages, and a
vision he had in a dream. But those who were about him were so confident
of success, that Domitius, and Spinther, and Scipio, as if they had
already conquered, quarreled which should succeed Caesar in the
pontificate. And many sent to Rome to take houses fit to accommodate
consuls and praetors, as being sure of entering upon those offices, as
soon as the battle was over. The cavalry especially were obstinate for
fighting, being splendidly armed and bravely mounted, and valuing
themselves upon the fine horses they kept, and upon their own handsome
persons; as also upon the advantage of their numbers, for they were five
thousand against one thousand of Caesar’s. Nor were the numbers of the
infantry less disproportionate, there being forty-five thousand of
Pompey’s, against twenty-two thousand of the enemy.
Caesar, collecting his soldiers together, told them that Corfinius
was coming up to them with two legions, and that fifteen cohorts more
under Calenus were posted at Megara and Athens; he then asked them
whether they would stay till these joined them, or would hazard the
battle by themselves. They all cried out to him not to wait, but on the
contrary to do whatever he could to bring about an engagement as soon as
possible. When he sacrificed to the gods for the lustration of his army,
upon the death of the first victim, the augur told him, within three
days he should come to a decisive action. Caesar asked him whether he
saw anything in the entrails, which promised a happy event. “That,” said
the priest, “you can best answer yourself; for the gods signify a great
alteration from the present posture of affairs. If, therefore, you think
yourself well off now, expect worse fortune; if unhappy, hope for
better.” The night before the battle, as he walked the rounds about
midnight, there was a light seen in the heaven, very bright and flaming,
which seemed to pass over Caesar’s camp, and fall into Pompey’s. And
when Caesar’s soldiers came to relieve the watch in the morning, they
perceived a panic disorder among the enemies. However, he did not expect
to fight that day, but set about raising his camp with the intention of
marching towards Scotussa.
But when the tents were now taken down, his scouts rode up to him,
and told him the enemy would give him battle. With this news he was
extremely pleased, and having performed his devotions to the gods, set
his army in battle array, dividing them into three bodies. Over the
middlemost he placed Domitius Calvinus; Antony commanded the left wing,
and he himself the right, being resolved to fight at the head of the
tenth legion. But when he saw the enemies’ cavalry taking position
against him, being struck with their fine appearance and their number,
he gave private orders that six cohorts from the rear of the army should
come round and join him, whom he posted behind the right wing, and
instructed them what they should do, when the enemy’s horse came to
charge. On the other side, Pompey commanded the right wing, Domitius the
left, and Scipio, Pompey’s father-in-law, the center. The whole weight
of the cavalry was collected on the left wing, with the intent that they
should outflank the right wing of the enemy, and rout that part where
the general himself commanded. For they thought no phalanx of infantry
could be solid enough to sustain such a shock, but that they must
necessarily be broken and shattered all to pieces upon the onset of so
immense a force of cavalry. When they were ready on both sides to give
the signal for battle, Pompey commended his foot who were in the front
to stand their ground, and without breaking their order, receive quietly
the enemy’s first attack, till they came within javelin’s cast. Caesar,
in this respect, also, blames Pompey’s generalship, as if he had not
been aware how the first encounter, when made with an impetus and upon
the run, gives weight and force to the strokes, and fires the men’s
spirits into a flame, which the general concurrence fans to full heat.
He himself was just putting the troops into motion and advancing to the
action, when he found one of his captains, a trusty and experienced
soldier, encouraging his men to exert their utmost. Caesar called him by
his name, and said, “What hopes, Caius Crassinius, and what grounds for
encouragement?” Crassinius stretched out his hand, and cried in a loud
voice, “We shall conquer nobly, Caesar; and I this day will deserve your
praises, either alive or dead.” So he said, and was the first man to run
in upon the enemy, followed by the hundred and twenty soldiers about
him, and breaking through the first rank, still pressed on forwards with
much slaughter of the enemy, till at last he was struck back by the
wound of a sword, which went in at his mouth with such force that it
came out at his neck behind.
Whilst the foot was thus sharply engaged in the main battle, on the
flank Pompey’s horse rode up confidently, and opened their ranks very
wide, that they might surround the Fight wing of Caesar. But before they
engaged, Caesar’s cohorts rushed out and attacked them, and did not dart
their javelins at a distance, nor strike at the thighs and legs, as they
usually did in close battle, but aimed at their faces. For thus Caesar
had instructed them, in hopes that young gentlemen, who had not known
much of battles and wounds, but came wearing their hair long, in the
flower of their age and height of their beauty, would be more
apprehensive of such blows, and not care for hazarding both a danger at
present and a blemish for the future. And so it proved, for they were so
far from bearing the stroke of the javelins, that they could not stand
the sight of them, but turned about, and covered their faces to secure
them. Once in disorder, presently they turned about to fly; and so most
shamefully ruined all. For those who had beat them back, at once
outflanked the infantry, and falling on their rear, cut them to pieces.
Pompey, who commanded the other wing of the army, when he saw his
cavalry thus broken and flying, was no longer himself, nor did he now
remember that he was Pompey the Great, but like one whom some god had
deprived of his senses, retired to his tent without speaking; a word,
and there sat to expect the event, till the whole army was routed, and
the enemy appeared upon the works which were thrown up before the camp,
where they closely engaged with his men, who were posted there to defend
it. Then first he seemed to have recovered his senses, and uttering, it
is said, only these words, “What, into the camp too?” he laid aside his
general’s habit, and putting on such clothes as might best favor his
flight, stole off. What fortune he met with afterwards, how he took
shelter in Egypt, and was murdered there, we tell you in his Life.
Caesar, when he came to view Pompey’s camp, and saw some of his
opponents dead upon the ground, others dying, said, with a groan, “This
they would have; they brought me to this necessity. I, Caius Caesar,
after succeeding in so many wars, had been condemned, had I dismissed my
army.” These words, Pollio says, Caesar spoke in Latin at that time, and
that he himself wrote them in Greek; adding, that those who were killed
at the taking of the camp, were most of them servants; and that not
above six thousand soldiers fell. Caesar incorporated most of the foot
whom he took prisoners, with his own legions, and gave a free pardon to
many of the distinguished persons, and amongst the rest, to Brutus, who
afterwards killed him. He did not immediately appear after the battle
was over, which put Caesar, it is said, into great anxiety for him; nor
was his pleasure less when he saw him present himself alive.
There were many prodigies that foreshowed this victory, but the most
remarkable that we are told of, was that at Tralles. In the temple of
Victory stood Caesar’s statue. The ground on which it stood was
naturally hard and solid, and the stone with which it was paved still
harder; yet it is said that a palm-tree shot itself up near the pedestal
of this statue. In the city of Padua, one Caius Cornelius, who had the
character of a good augur, the fellow-citizen and acquaintance of Livy,
the historian, happened to be making some augural observations that very
day when the battle was fought. And first, as Livy tells us, he pointed
out the time of the fight, and said to those who were by him, that just
then the battle was begun, and the men engaged. When he looked a second
time, and observed the omens, he leaped up as if he had been inspired,
and cried out, “Caesar, you are victorious.” This much surprised the
standers by, but he took the garland which he had on from his head, and
swore he would never wear it again till the event should give authority
to his art. This Livy positively states for a truth.
Caesar, as a memorial of his victory, gave the Thessalians their
freedom, and then went in pursuit of Pompey. When he was come into Asia,
to gratify Theopompus, the author of the collection of fables, he
enfranchised the Cnidians, and remitted one third of their tribute to
all the people of the province of Asia. When he came to Alexandria,
where Pompey was already murdered, he would not look upon Theodotus, who
presented him with his head, but taking only his signet, shed tears.
Those of Pompey’s friends who had been arrested by the king of Egypt, as
they were wandering in those parts, he relieved, and offered them his
own friendship. In his letter to his friends at Rome, he told them that
the greatest and most signal pleasure his victory had given him, was to
be able continually to save the lives of fellow-citizens who had fought
against him. As to the war in Egypt, some say it was at once dangerous
and dishonorable, and noways necessary, but occasioned only by his
passion for Cleopatra. Others blame the ministers of the king, and
especially the eunuch Pothinus, who was the chief favorite, and had
lately killed Pompey, who had banished Cleopatra, and was now secretly
plotting Caesar’s destruction, (to prevent which, Caesar from that time
began to sit up whole nights, under pretense of drinking, for the
security of his person,) while openly he was intolerable in his affronts
to Caesar, both by his words and actions. For when Caesar’s soldiers had
musty and unwholesome corn measured out to them, Pothinus told them they
must be content with it, since they were fed at another’s cost. He
ordered that his table should be served with wooden and earthen dishes,
and said Caesar had carried off all the gold and silver plate, under
pretense of arrears of debt. For the present king’s father owed Caesar
one thousand seven hundred and fifty myriads of money; Caesar had
formerly remitted to his children the rest, but thought fit to demand
the thousand myriads at that time, to maintain his army. Pothinus told
him that he had better go now and attend to his other affairs of greater
consequence, and that he should receive his money at another time with
thanks. Caesar replied that he did not want Egyptians to be his
counselors, and soon after, privately sent for Cleopatra from her
retirement.
She took a small boat, and one only of her confidents, Apollodorus,
the Sicilian, along with her, and in the dusk of the evening landed near
the palace. She was at a loss how to get in undiscovered, till she
thought of putting herself into the coverlet of a bed and lying at
length, whilst Apollodorus tied up the bedding and carried it on his
back through the gates to Caesar’s apartment. Caesar was first
captivated by this proof of Cleopatra’s bold wit, and was afterwards so
overcome by the charm of her society, that he made a reconciliation
between her and her brother, on condition that she should rule as his
colleague in the kingdom. A festival was kept to celebrate this
reconciliation, where Caesar’s barber, a busy, listening fellow, whose
excessive timidity made him inquisitive into everything, discovered that
there was a plot carrying on against Caesar by Achillas, general of the
king’s forces, and Pothinus, the eunuch. Caesar, upon the first
intelligence of it, set a guard upon the hall where the feast was kept,
and killed Pothinus. Achillas escaped to the army, and raised a
troublesome and embarrassing war against Caesar, which it was not easy
for him to manage with his few soldiers against so powerful a city and
so large an army. The first difficulty he met with was want of water,
for the enemies had turned the canals. Another was, when the enemy
endeavored to cut off his communication by sea, he was forced to divert
that danger by setting fire to his own ships, which, after burning the
docks, thence spread on and destroyed the great library. A third was,
when in an engagement near Pharos, he leaped from the mole into a small
boat, to assist his soldiers who were in danger, and when the Egyptians
pressed him on every side, he threw himself into the sea, and with much
difficulty swam off. This was the time when, according to the story, he
had a number of manuscripts in his hand, which, though he was
continually darted at, and forced to keep his head often under water,
yet he did not let go, but held them up safe from wetting in one hand,
whilst he swam with the other. His boat, in the meantime, was quickly
sunk. At last, the king having gone off to Achillas and his party,
Caesar engaged and conquered them. Many fell in that battle, and the
king himself was never seen after. Upon this, he left Cleopatra queen of
Egypt, who soon after had a son by him, whom the Alexandrians called
Caesarion, and then departed for Syria.
Thence he passed to Asia, where he heard that Domitius was beaten by
Pharnaces, son of Mithridates, and had fled out of Pontus with a handful
of men; and that Pharnaces pursued the victory so eagerly, that though
he was already master of Bithynia and Cappadocia, he had a further
design of attempting the Lesser Armenia, and was inviting all the kings
and tetrarchs there to rise. Caesar immediately marched against him with
three legions, fought him near Zela, drove him out of Pontus, and
totally defeated his army. When he gave Amantius, a friend of his at
Rome, an account of this action, to express the promptness and rapidity
of it, he used three words, I came, saw, and conquered, which in Latin
having all the same cadence, carry with them a very suitable air of
brevity.
Hence he crossed into Italy, and came to Rome at the end of that
year, for which he had been a second time chosen dictator, though that
office had never before lasted a whole year, and was elected consul for
the next. He was ill spoken of, because upon a mutiny of some soldiers,
who killed Cosconius and Galba, who had been praetors, he gave them only
the slight reprimand of calling them Citizens, instead of
Fellow-Soldiers, and afterwards assigned to each man a thousand
drachmas, besides a share of lands in Italy. He was also reflected on
for Dolabella’s extravagance, Amantius’s covetousness, Antony’s
debauchery, and Corfinius’s profuseness, who pulled down Pompey’s house,
and rebuilt it, as not magnificent enough; for the Romans were much
displeased with all these. But Caesar, for the prosecution of his own
scheme of government, though he knew their characters and disapproved
them, was forced to make use of those who would serve him.
After the battle of Pharsalia, Cato and Scipio fled into Africa, and
there, with the assistance of king Juba, got together a considerable
force, which Caesar resolved to engage. He, accordingly, passed into
Sicily about the winter-solstice, and to remove from his officers’ minds
all hopes of delay there, encamped by the sea-shore, and as soon as ever
he had a fair wind, put to sea with three thousand foot and a few horse.
When he had landed them, he went back secretly, under some apprehensions
for the larger part of his army, but met them upon the sea, and brought
them all to the same camp. There he was informed that the enemies relied
much upon an ancient oracle, that the family of the Scipios should be
always victorious in Africa. There was in his army a man, otherwise mean
and contemptible, but of the house of the Africani, and his name Scipio
Sallutio. This man Caesar, (whether in raillery, to ridicule Scipio, who
commended the enemy, or seriously to bring over the omen to his side, it
were hard to say,) put at the head of his troops, as if he were general,
in all the frequent battles which he was compelled to fight. For he was
in such want both of victualing for his men, and forage for his horses,
that he was forced to feed the horses with sea-weed, which he washed
thoroughly to take off its saltiness, and mixed with a little grass, to
give it a more agreeable taste. The Numidians, in great numbers, and
well horsed, whenever he went, came up and commanded the country.
Caesar’s cavalry being one day unemployed, diverted themselves with
seeing an African, who entertained them with dancing and at the same
time playing upon the pipe to admiration. They were so taken with this,
that they alighted, and gave their horses to some boys, when on a sudden
the enemy surrounded them, killed some, pursued the rest, and fell in
with them into their camp; and had not Caesar himself and Asinius Pollio
come to their assistance, and put a stop to their flight, the war had
been then at an end. In another engagement, also, the enemy had again
the better, when Caesar, it is said, seized a standard-bearer, who was
running away, by the neck, and forcing him to face about, said, “Look,
that is the way to the enemy.”
Scipio, flushed with this success at first, had a mind to come to one
decisive action. He therefore left Afranius and Juba in two distinct
bodies not far distant, and marched himself towards Thapsus, where he
proceeded to build a fortified camp above a lake, to serve as a
center-point for their operations, and also as a place of refuge. Whilst
Scipio was thus employed, Caesar with incredible dispatch made his way
through thick woods, and a country supposed to be impassable, cut off
one party of the enemy, and attacked another in the front. Having routed
these, he followed up his opportunity and the current of his good
fortune, and on the first onset carried Afranius’s camp, and ravaged
that of the Numidians, Juba, their king, being glad to save himself by
flight; so that in a small part of a single day he made himself master
of three camps, and killed fifty thousand of the enemy, with the loss
only of fifty of his own men. This is the account some give of that
fight. Others say, he was not in the action, but that he was taken with
his usual distemper just as he was setting his army in order. He
perceived the approaches of it, and before it had too far disordered his
senses, when he was already beginning to shake under its influence,
withdrew into a neighboring fort, where he reposed himself. Of the men
of consular and praetorian dignity that were taken after the fight,
several Caesar put to death, others anticipated him by killing
themselves.
Cato had undertaken to defend Utica, and for that reason was not in
the battle. The desire which Caesar had to take him alive, made him
hasten thither; and upon the intelligence that he had dispatched
himself, he was much discomposed, for what reason is not so well agreed.
He certainly said, “Cato, I must grudge you your death, as you grudged
me the honor of saving your life.” Yet the discourse he wrote against
Cato after his death, is no great sign of his kindness, or that he was
inclined to be reconciled to him. For how is it probable that he would
have been tender of his life, when he was so bitter against his memory?
But from his clemency to Cicero, Brutus, and many others who fought
against him, it may be divined that Caesar’s book was not written so
much out of animosity to Cato, as in his own vindication. Cicero had
written an encomium upon Cato, and called it by his name. A composition
by so great a master upon so excellent a subject, was sure to be in
everyone’s hands. This touched Caesar, who looked upon a panegyric on
his enemy, as no better than an invective against himself; and therefore
he made in his Anti-Cato, a collection of whatever could be said in his
derogation. The two compositions, like Cato and Caesar themselves, have
each of them their several admirers.
Caesar, upon his return to Rome, did not omit to pronounce before the
people a magnificent account of his victory, telling them that he had
subdued a country which would supply the public every year with two
hundred thousand attic bushels of corn, and three million pounds weight
of oil. He then led three triumphs for Egypt, Pontus, and Africa, the
last for the victory over, not Scipio, but king Juba, as it was
professed, whose little son was then carried in the triumph, the
happiest captive that ever was, who of a barbarian Numidian, came by
this means to obtain a place among the most learned historians of
Greece. After the triumphs, he distributed rewards to his soldiers, and
treated the people with feasting and shows. He entertained the whole
people together at one feast, where twenty-two thousand dining couches
were laid out; and he made a display of gladiators, and of battles by
sea, in honor, as he said, of his daughter Julia, though she had been
long since dead. When these shows were over, an account was taken of the
people, who from three hundred and twenty thousand, were now reduced to
one hundred and fifty thousand. So great a waste had the civil war made
in Rome alone, not to mention what the other parts of Italy and the
provinces suffered.
He was now chosen a fourth time consul, and went into Spain against
Pompey’s sons. They were but young, yet had gathered together a very
numerous army, and showed they had courage and conduct to command it, so
that Caesar was in extreme danger. The great battle was near the town of
Munda, in which Caesar seeing his men hard pressed, and making but a
weak resistance, ran through the ranks among the soldiers, and crying
out, asked them whether they were not ashamed to deliver him into the
hands of boys? At last, with great difficulty, and the best efforts he
could make, he forced back the enemy, killing thirty thousand of them,
though with the loss of one thousand of his best men. When he came back
from the fight, he told his friends that he had often fought for
victory, but this was the first time that he had ever fought for life.
This battle was won on the feast of Bacchus, the very day in which
Pompey, four years before. had set out for the war. The younger of
Pompey’s sons escaped; but Didius, some days after the fight, brought
the head of the elder to Caesar. This was the last war he was engaged
in. The triumph which he celebrated for this victory, displeased the
Romans beyond any thing. For he had not defeated foreign generals, or
barbarian kings, but had destroyed the children and family of one of the
greatest men of Rome, though unfortunate; and it did not look well to
lead a procession in celebration of the calamities of his country, and
to rejoice in those things for which no other apology could be made
either to gods or men, than their being absolutely necessary. Besides
that, hitherto he had never sent letters or messengers to announce any
victory over his fellow-citizens, but had seemed rather to be ashamed of
the action, than to expect honor from it.
Nevertheless his countrymen, conceding all to his fortune, and
accepting the bit, in the hope that the government of a single person
would give them time to breathe after so many civil wars and calamities,
made him dictator for life. This was indeed a tyranny avowed, since his
power now was not only absolute, but perpetual too. Cicero made the
first proposals to the senate for conferring honors upon him, which
might in some sort be said not to exceed the limits of ordinary human
moderation. But others, striving which should deserve most, carried them
so excessively high, that they made Caesar odious to the most
indifferent and moderate sort of men, by the pretension and the
extravagance of the titles which they decreed him. His enemies, too, are
thought to have had some share in this, as well as his flatterers. It
gave them advantage against him, and would be their justification for
any attempt they should make upon him; for since the civil wars were
ended, he had nothing else that he could be charged with. And they had
good reason to decree a temple to Clemency, in token of their thanks for
the mild use he made of his victory. For he not only pardoned many of
those who fought against him, but, further, to some gave honors and
offices; as particularly to Brutus and Cassius, who both of them were
praetors. Pompey’s images that were thrown down, he set up again, upon
which Cicero also said that by raising Pompey’s statues he had fixed his
own. When his friends advised him to have a guard, and several offered
their service, he would not hear of it; but said it was better to suffer
death once, than always to live in fear of it. He looked upon the
affections of the people to be the best and surest guard, and
entertained them again with public feasting, and general distributions
of corn; and to gratify his army, he sent out colonies to several
places, of which the most remarkable were Carthage and Corinth; which as
before they had been ruined at the same time, so now were restored and
repeopled together.
As for the men of high rank, he promised to some of them future
consulships and praetorships, some he consoled with other offices and
honors, and to all held out hopes of favor by the solicitude he showed
to rule with the general good-will; insomuch that upon the death of
Maximus one day before his consulship was ended, he made Caninius
Revilius consul for that day. And when many went to pay the usual
compliments and attentions to the new consul, “Let us make haste,” said
Cicero, “lest the man be gone out of his office before we come.”
Caesar was born to do great things, and had a passion after honor,
and the many noble exploits he had done did not now serve as an
inducement to him to sit still and reap the fruit of his past labors,
but were incentives and encouragments to go on, and raised in him ideas
of still greater actions, and a desire of new glory, as if the present
were all spent. It was in fact a sort of emulous struggle with himself,
as it had been with another, how he might outdo his past actions by his
future. In pursuit of these thoughts, he resolved to make war upon the
Parthians, and when he had subdued them, to pass through Hyrcania;
thence to march along by the Caspian Sea to Mount Caucasus, and so on
about Pontus, till he came into Scythia; then to overrun all the
countries bordering upon Germany, and Germany itself; and so to return
through Gaul into Italy, after completing the whole circle of his
intended empire, and bounding it on every side by the ocean. While
preparations were making for this expedition, he proposed to dig through
the isthmus on which Corinth stands; and appointed Anienus to
superintend the work. He had also a design of diverting the Tiber, and
carrying it by a deep channel directly from Rome to Circeii, and so into
the sea near Tarracina, that there might be a safe and easy passage for
all merchants who traded to Rome. Besides this, he intended to drain all
the marshes by Pomentium and Setia, and gain ground enough from the
water to employ many thousands of men in tillage. He proposed further to
make great mounds on the shore nearest Rome, to hinder the sea from
breaking in upon the land, to clear the coast at Ostia of all the hidden
rocks and shoals that made it unsafe for shipping, and to form ports and
harbors fit to receive the large number of vessels that would frequent
them.
These things were designed without being carried into effect; but his
reformation of the calendar, in order to rectify the irregularity of
time, was not only projected with great scientific ingenuity, but was
brought to its completion, and proved of very great use. For it was not
only in ancient times that the Romans had wanted a certain rule to make
the revolutions of their months fall in with the course of the year, so
that their festivals and solemn days for sacrifice were removed by
little and little, till at last they came to be kept at seasons quite
the contrary to what was at first intended, but even at this time the
people had no way of computing the solar year; only the priests could
say the time, and they, at their pleasure, without giving any notice,
slipped in the intercalary month, which they called Mercedonius. Numa
was the first who put in this month, but his expedient was but a poor
one and quite inadequate to correct all the errors that arose in the
returns of the annual cycles, as we have shown in his life. Caesar
called in the best philosophers and mathematicians of his time to settle
the point, and out of the systems he had before him, formed a new and
more exact method of correcting the calendar, which the Romans use to
this day, and seem to succeed better than any nation in avoiding the
errors occasioned by the inequality of the cycles. Yet even this gave
offense to those who looked with an evil eye on his position, and felt
oppressed by his power. Cicero, the orator, when someone in his company
chanced to say, the next morning Lyra would rise, replied, “Yes, in
accordance with the edict,” as if even this were a matter of compulsion.
But that which brought upon him the most apparent and mortal hatred,
was his desire of being king; which gave the common people the first
occasion to quarrel with him, and proved the most specious pretense to
those who had been his secret enemies all along. Those, who would have
procured him that title, gave it out, that it was foretold in the
Sybils’ books that the Romans should conquer the Parthians when they
fought against them under the conduct of a king, but not before. And one
day, as Caesar was coming down from Alba to Rome, some were so bold as
to salute him by the name of king; but he finding the people disrelish
it, seemed to resent it himself, and said his name was Caesar, not king.
Upon this, there was a general silence, and he passed on looking not
very well pleased or contented. Another time, when the senate had
conferred on him some extravagant honors, he chanced to receive the
message as he was sitting on the rostra, where, though the consuls and
praetors themselves waited on him, attended by the whole body of the
senate, he did not rise, but behaved himself to them as if they had been
private men, and told them his honors wanted rather to be retrenched
than increased. This treatment offended not only the senate, but the
commonalty too, as if they thought the affront upon the senate equally
reflected upon the whole republic; so that all who could decently leave
him went off, looking much discomposed. Caesar, perceiving the false
step he had made, immediately retired home; and laying his throat bare,
told his friends that he was ready to offer this to anyone who would
give the stroke. But afterwards he made the malady from which he
suffered, the excuse for his sitting, saying that those who are attacked
by it, lose their presence of mind, if they talk much standing; that
they presently grow giddy, fall into convulsions, and quite lose their
reason. But this was not the reality, for he would willingly have stood
up to the senate, had not Cornelius Balbus, one of his friends, or
rather flatterers, hindered him. “Will you not remember,” said he, “you
are Caesar, and claim the honor which is due to your merit?”
He gave a fresh occasion of resentment by his affront to the
tribunes. The Lupercalia were then celebrated, a feast at the first
institution belonging, as some writers say, to the shepherds, and having
some connection with the Arcadian Lycaea. Many young noblemen and
magistrates run up and down the city with their upper garments off,
striking all they meet with thongs of hide, by way of sport; and many
women, even of the highest rank, place themselves in the way, and hold
out their hands to the lash, as boys in a school do to the master, out
of a belief that it procures an easy labor to those who are with child,
and makes those conceive who are barren. Caesar, dressed in a triumphal
robe, seated himself in a golden chair at the rostra, to view this
ceremony. Antony, as consul, was one of those who ran this course, and
when he came into the forum, and the people made way for him, he went up
and reached to Caesar a diadem wreathed with laurel. Upon this, there
was a shout, but only a slight one, made by the few who were planted
there for that purpose; but when Caesar refused it, there was universal
applause. Upon the second offer, very few, and upon the second refusal,
all again applauded. Caesar finding it would not take, rose up, and
ordered the crown to be carried into the capitol. Caesar’s statues were
afterwards found with royal diadems on their heads. Flavius and
Marullus, two tribunes of the people, went presently and pulled them
off, and having apprehended those who first saluted Caesar as king,
committed them to prison. The people followed them with acclamations,
and called them by the name of Brutus, because Brutus was the first who
ended the succession of kings, and transferred the power which before
was lodged in one man into the hands of the senate and people. Caesar so
far resented this, that he displaced Marullus and Flavius; and in urging
his charges against them, at the same time ridiculed the people, by
himself giving the men more than once the names of Bruti, and Cumaei.
This made the multitude turn their thoughts to Marcus Brutus, who, by
his father’s side, was thought to be descended from that first Brutus,
and by his mother’s side from the Servilii, another noble family, being
besides nephew and son-in-law to Cato. But the honors and favors he had
received from Caesar, took off the edge from the desires he might
himself have felt for overthrowing the new monarchy. For he had not only
been pardoned himself after Pompey’s defeat at Pharsalia, and had
procured the same grace for many of his friends, but was one in whom
Caesar had a particular confidence. He had at that time the most
honorable praetorship of the year, and was named for the consulship four
years after, being preferred before Cassius, his competitor. Upon the
question as to the choice, Caesar, it is related, said that Cassius had
the fairer pretensions, but that he could not pass by Brutus. Nor would
he afterwards listen to some who spoke against Brutus, when the
conspiracy against him was already afoot, but laying his hand on his
body, said to the informers, “Brutus will wait for this skin of mine,”
intimating that he was worthy to bear rule on account of his virtue, but
would not be base and ungrateful to gain it. Those who desired a change,
and looked on him as the only, or at least the most proper, person to
effect it, did not venture to speak with him; but in the night time laid
papers about his chair of state, where he used to sit and determine
causes, with such sentences in them as, “You are asleep, Brutus,” “You
are no longer Brutus.” Cassius, when he perceived his ambition a little
raised upon this, was more instant than before to work him yet further,
having himself a private grudge against Caesar, for some reasons that we
have mentioned in the Life of Brutus. Nor was Caesar without suspicions
of him, and said once to his friends, “What do you think Cassius is
aiming at? I don’t like him, he looks so pale.” And when it was told him
that Antony and Dolabella were in a plot against him, he said he did not
fear such fat, luxurious men, but rather the pale, lean fellows, meaning
Cassius and Brutus.
Fate, however, is to all appearance more unavoidable than unexpected.
For many strange prodigies and apparitions are said to have been
observed shortly before the event. As to the lights in the heavens, the
noises heard in the night, and the wild birds which perched in the
forum, these are not perhaps worth taking notice of in so great a case
as this. Strabo, the philosopher, tells us that a number of men were
seen, looking as if they were heated through with fire, contending with
each other; that a quantity of flame issued from the hand of a soldier’s
servant, so that they who saw it thought he must be burnt, but that
after all he had no hurt. As Caesar was sacrificing, the victim’s heart
was missing, a very bad omen, because no living creature can subsist
without a heart. One finds it also related by many, that a soothsayer
bade him prepare for some great danger on the ides of March. When the
day was come, Caesar, as he went to the senate, met this soothsayer, and
said to him by way of raillery, “The ides of March are come;” who
answered him calmly, “Yes, they are come, but they are not past.” The
day before this assassination, he supped with Marcus Lepidus; and as he
was signing some letters, according to his custom, as he reclined at
table, there arose a question what sort of death was the best. At which
he immediately, before anyone could speak, said, “A sudden one.”
After this, as he was in bed with his wife, all the doors and windows
of the house flew open together; he was startled at the noise, and the
light which broke into the room, and sat up in his bed, where by the
moonshine he perceived Calpurnia fast asleep, but heard her utter in her
dream some indistinct words and inarticulate groans. She fancied at that
time she was weeping over Caesar, and holding him butchered in her arms.
Others say this was not her dream, but that she dreamed that a pinnacle
which the senate, as Livy relates, had ordered to be raised on Caesar’s
house by way of ornament and grandeur, was tumbling down, which was the
occasion of her tears and ejaculations. When it was day, she begged of
Caesar, if it were possible, not to stir out, but to adjourn the senate
to another time; and if he slighted her dreams, that he would be pleased
to consult his fate by sacrifices, and other kinds of divination. Nor
was he himself without some suspicion and fears; for he never before
discovered any womanish superstition in Calpurnia, whom he now saw in
such great alarm. Upon the report which the priests made to him, that
they had killed several sacrifices, and still found them inauspicious,
he resolved to send Antony to dismiss the senate.
In this juncture, Decimus Brutus, surnamed Albinus, one whom Caesar
had such confidence in that he made him his second heir, who
nevertheless was engaged in the conspiracy with the other Brutus and
Cassius, fearing lest if Caesar should put off the senate to another
day, the business might get wind, spoke scoffingly and in mockery of the
diviners, and blamed Caesar for giving the senate so fair an occasion of
saying he had put a slight upon them, for that they were met upon his
summons, and were ready to vote unanimously, that he should be declared
king of all the provinces out of Italy, and might wear a diadem in any
other place but Italy, by sea or land. If anyone should be sent to tell
them they might break up for the present, and meet again when Calpurnia
should chance to have better dreams, what would his enemies say? Or who
would with any patience hear his friends, if they should presume to
defend his government as not arbitrary and tyrannical? But if he was
possessed so far as to think this day unfortunate, yet it were more
decent to go himself to the senate, and to adjourn it in his own person.
Brutus, as he spoke these words, took Caesar by the hand, and conducted
him forth. He was not gone far from the door, when a servant of some
other person’s made towards him, but not being able to come up to him,
on account of the crowd of those who pressed about him, he made his way
into the house, and committed himself to Calpurnia, begging of her to
secure him till Caesar returned, because he had matters of great
importance to communicate to him.
Artemidorus, a Cnidian, a teacher of Greek logic, and by that means
so far acquainted with Brutus and his friends as to have got into the
secret, brought Caesar in a small written memorial, the heads of what he
had to depose. He had observed that Caesar, as he received any papers,
presently gave them to the servants who attended on him; and therefore
came as near to him as he could, and said, “Read this, Caesar, alone,
and quickly, for it contains matter of great importance which nearly
concerns you.” Caesar received it, and tried several times to read it,
but was still hindered by the crowd of those who came to speak to him.
However, he kept it in his hand by itself till he came into the senate.
Some say it was another who gave Caesar this note, and that Artemidorus
could not get to him, being all along kept off by the crowd.
All these things might happen by chance. But the place which was
destined for the scene of this murder, in which the senate met that day,
was the same in which Pompey’s statue stood, and was one of the edifices
which Pompey had raised and dedicated with his theater to the use of the
public, plainly showing that there was something of a supernatural
influence which guided the action, and ordered it to that particular
place. Cassius, just before the act, is said to have looked towards
Pompey’s statue, and silently implored his assistance, though he had
been inclined to the doctrines of Epicurus. But this occasion, and the
instant danger, carried him away out of all his reasonings, and filled
him for the time with a sort of inspiration. As for Antony, who was firm
to Caesar, and a strong man, Brutus Albinus kept him outside the house,
and delayed him with a long conversation contrived on purpose. When
Caesar entered, the senate stood up to show their respect to him, and of
Brutus’s confederates, some came about his chair and stood behind it,
others met him, pretending to add their petitions to those of Tillius
Cimber, in behalf of his brother, who was in exile; and they followed
him with their joint supplications till he came to his seat. When he was
sat down, he refused to comply with their requests, and upon their
urging him further, began to reproach them severally for their
importunities, when Tillius, laying hold of his robe with both his
hands, pulled it down from his neck, which was the signal for the
assault. Casca gave him the first cut, in the neck, which was not mortal
nor dangerous, as coming from one who at the beginning of such a bold
action was probably very much disturbed. Caesar immediately turned
about, and laid his hand upon the dagger and kept hold of it. And both
of them at the same time cried out, he that received the blow, in Latin,
“Vile Casca, what does this mean?” and he that gave it, in Greek, to his
brother, “Brother, help!” Upon this first onset, those who were not
privy to the design were astonished and their horror and amazement at
what they saw were so great, that they durst not fly nor assist Caesar,
nor so much as speak a word. But those who came prepared for the
business enclosed him on every side, with their naked daggers in their
hands. Which way soever he turned, he met with blows, and saw their
swords leveled at his face and eyes, and was encompassed, like a wild
beast in the toils, on every side. For it had been agreed they should
each of them make a thrust at him, and flesh themselves with his blood;
for which reason Brutus also gave him one stab in the groin. Some say
that he fought and resisted all the rest, shifting his body to avoid the
blows, and calling out for help, but that when he saw Brutus’s sword
drawn, he covered his face with his robe and submitted, letting himself
fall, whether it were by chance, or that he was pushed in that direction
by his murderers, at the foot of the pedestal on which Pompey’s statue
stood, and which was thus wetted with his blood. So that Pompey himself
seemed to have presided, as it were, over the revenge done upon his
adversary, who lay here at his feet, and breathed out his soul through
his multitude of wounds, for they say he received three and twenty. And
the conspirators themselves were many of them wounded by each other,
whilst they all leveled their blows at the same person.
When Caesar was dispatched, Brutus stood forth to give a reason for
what they had done, but the senate would not hear him, but flew out of
doors in all haste, and filled the people with so much alarm and
distraction, that some shut up their houses, others left their counters
and shops. All ran one way or the other, some to the place to see the
sad spectacle, others back again after they had seen it. Antony and
Lepidus, Caesar’s most faithful friends, got off privately, and hid
themselves in some friends’ houses. Brutus and his followers, being yet
hot from the deed, marched in a body from the senate-house to the
capitol with their drawn swords, not like persons who thought of
escaping, but with an air of confidence and assurance, and as they went
along, called to the people to resume their liberty, and invited the
company of any more distinguished people whom they met. And some of
these joined the procession and went up along with them, as if they also
had been of the conspiracy, and could claim a share in the honor of what
had been done. As, for example, Caius Octavius and Lentulus Spinther,
who suffered afterwards for their vanity, being taken off by Antony and
the young Caesar, and lost the honor they desired, as well as their
lives, which it cost them, since no one believed they had any share in
the action. For neither did those who punished them profess to revenge
the fact, but the ill-will. The day after, Brutus with the rest came
down from the capitol, and made a speech to the people, who listened
without expressing either any pleasure or resentment, but showed by
their silence that they pitied Caesar, and respected Brutus. The senate
passed acts of oblivion for what was past, and took measures to
reconcile all parties. They ordered that Caesar should be worshipped as
a divinity, and nothing, even of the slightest consequence, should be
revoked, which he had enacted during his government. At the same time
they gave Brutus and his followers the command of provinces, and other
considerable posts. So that all people now thought things were well
settled, and brought to the happiest adjustment.
But when Caesar’s will was opened, and it was found that he had left
a considerable legacy to each one of the Roman citizens, and when his
body was seen carried through the market-place all mangled with wounds,
the multitude could no longer contain themselves within the bounds of
tranquillity and order, but heaped together a pile of benches, bars, and
tables, which they placed the corpse on, and setting fire to it, burnt
it on them. Then they took brands from the pile, and ran some to fire
the houses of the conspirators, others up and down the city, to find out
the men and tear them to pieces, but met, however, with none of them,
they having taken effectual care to secure themselves.
One Cinna, a friend of Caesar’s, chanced the night before to have an
odd dream. He fancied that Caesar invited him to supper, and that upon
his refusal to go with him, Caesar took him by the hand and forced him,
though he hung back. Upon hearing the report that Caesar’s body was
burning in the market-place, he got up and went thither, out of respect
to his memory, though his dream gave him some ill apprehensions, and
though he was suffering from a fever. One of the crowd who saw him
there, asked another who that was, and having learned his name, told it
to his next neighbor. It presently passed for a certainty that he was
one of Caesar’s murderers, as, indeed, there was another Cinna, a
conspirator, and they, taking this to be the man, immediately seized
him, and tore him limb from limb upon the spot.
Brutus and Cassius, frightened at this, within a few days retired out
of the city. What they afterwards did and suffered, and how they died,
is written in the Life of Brutus. Caesar died in his fifty-sixth year,
not having survived Pompey above four years. That empire and power which
he had pursued through the whole course of his life with so much hazard,
he did at last with much difficulty compass, but reaped no other fruits
from it than the empty name and invidious glory. But the great genius
which attended him through his lifetime, even after his death remained
as the avenger of his murder, pursuing through every sea and land all
those who were concerned in it, and suffering none to escape, but
reaching all who in any sort or kind were either actually engaged in the
fact, or by their counsels any way promoted it.
The most remarkable of mere human coincidences was that which befell
Cassius, who, when he was defeated at Philippi, killed himself with the
same dagger which he had made use of against Caesar. The most signal
preternatural appearances were the great comet, which shone very bright
for seven nights after Caesar’s death, and then disappeared, and the
dimness of the sun, whose orb continued pale and dull for the whole of
that year, never showing its ordinary radiance at its rising, and giving
but a weak and feeble heat. The air consequently was damp and gross, for
want of stronger rays to open and rarify it. The fruits, for that
reason, never properly ripened, and began to wither and fall off for
want of heat, before they were fully formed. But above all, the phantom
which appeared to Brutus showed the murder was not pleasing to the gods.
The story of it is this.
Brutus being to pass his army from Abydos to the continent on the
other side, laid himself down one night, as he used to do, in his tent,
and was not asleep, but thinking of his affairs, and what events he
might expect. For he is related to have been the least inclined to sleep
of all men who have commanded armies, and to have had the greatest
natural capacity for continuing awake, and employing himself without
need of rest. He thought he heard a noise at the door of his tent, and
looking that way, by the light of his lamp, which was almost out, saw a
terrible figure, like that of a man, but of unusual stature and severe
countenance. He was somewhat frightened at first, but seeing it neither
did nor spoke anything to him, only stood silently by his bed-side, he
asked who it was. The specter answered him, “Thy evil genius, Brutus,
thou shalt see me at Philippi.” Brutus answered courageously, “Well, I
shall see you,” and immediately the appearance vanished. When the time
was come, he drew up his army near Philippi against Antony and Caesar,
and in the first battle won the day, routed the enemy, and plundered
Caesar’s camp. The night before the second battle, the same phantom
appeared to him again, but spoke not a word. He presently understood his
destiny was at hand, and exposed himself to all the danger of the
battle. Yet he did not die in the fight, but seeing his men defeated,
got up to the top of a rock, and there presenting his sword to his naked
breast, and assisted, as they say, by a friend, who helped him to give
the thrust, met his death.
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Phocion
Demades, the orator, when in the height of the power which he obtained
at Athens by advising the state in the interest of Antipater and the
Macedonians, being necessitated to write and speak many things below the
dignity, and contrary to the character, of the city, was wont to excuse
himself by saying he steered only the shipwrecks of the commonwealth.
This hardy saying of his might have some appearance of truth, if applied
to Phocion’s government. For Demades indeed was himself the mere wreck
of his country, living and ruling so dissolutely, that Antipater took
occasion to say of him, when he was now grown old, that he was like a
sacrificed beast, all consumed except the tongue and the belly. But
Phocion’s was a real virtue, only overmatched in the unequal contest
with an adverse time, and rendered by the ill fortunes of Greece
inglorious and obscure. We must not, indeed, allow ourselves to concur
with Sophocles in so far diminishing the force of virtue as to say that,
When fortune fails, the sense we had before
Deserts us also, and is ours no more.
Yet thus much, indeed, must be allowed to happen in the conflicts
between good men and ill fortune, that instead of due returns of honor
and gratitude, obloquy and unjust surmises may often prevail, to weaken,
in a considerable degree, the credit of their virtue.
It is commonly said that public bodies are most insulting and
contumelious to a good man, when they are puffed up with prosperity and
success. But the contrary often happens; afflictions and public
calamities naturally embittering and souring the minds and tempers of
men, and disposing them to such peevishness and irritability, that
hardly any word or sentiment of common vigor can be addressed to them,
but they will be apt to take offense. He that remonstrates with them on
their errors, is presumed to be insulting over their misfortunes, and
any free spoken expostulation is construed into contempt. Honey itself
is searching in sore and ulcerated parts; and the wisest and most
judicious counsels prove provoking to distempered minds, unless offered
with those soothing and compliant approaches which made the poet, for
instance, characterize agreeable things in general, by a word expressive
of a grateful and easy touch, exciting nothing of offense or resistance.
Inflamed eyes require a retreat into dusky places, amongst colors of the
deepest shades, and are unable to endure the brilliancy of light. So
fares it in the body politic, in times of distress and humiliation; a
certain sensitiveness and soreness of humor prevail, with a weak
incapacity of enduring any free and open advice, even when the necessity
of affairs most requires such plain-dealing, and when the consequences
of any single error may be beyond retrieving. At such times the conduct
of public affairs is on all hands most hazardous. Those who humor the
people are swallowed up in the common ruin; those who endeavor to lead
them aright, perish the first in their attempt.
Astronomers tell us, the sun’s motion is neither exactly parallel
with that of the heavens in general, nor yet directly and diametrically
opposite, but describing an oblique line, with insensible declination he
steers his course in such a gentle, easy curve, as to dispense his light
and influence, in his annual revolution, at several seasons, in just
proportions to the whole creation. So it happens in political affairs;
if the motions of rulers be constantly opposite and cross to the tempers
and inclination of the people, they will be resented as arbitrary and
harsh; as, on the other side, too much deference, or encouragement, as
too often it has been, to popular faults and errors, is full of danger
and ruinous consequences. But where concession is the response to
willing obedience, and a statesman gratifies his people, that he may the
more imperatively recall them to a sense of the common interest, then,
indeed, human beings, who are ready enough to serve well and submit to
much, if they are not always ordered about and roughly handled, like
slaves, may be said to be guided and governed upon the method that leads
to safety. Though it must be confessed, it is a nice point and extremely
difficult, so to temper this lenity as to preserve the authority of the
government. But if such a blessed mixture and temperament may be
obtained, it seems to be of all concords and harmonies the most
concordant and most harmonious. For thus we are taught even God governs
the world, not by irresistible force, but persuasive argument and
reason, controlling it into compliance with his eternal purposes.
Cato the younger is a similar instance. His manners were little
agreeable or acceptable to the people, and he received very slender
marks of their favor; witness his repulse when he sued for the
consulship, which he lost, as Cicero says, for acting rather like a
citizen in Plato’s commonwealth, than among the dregs of Romulus’s
posterity, the same thing happening to him, in my opinion, as we observe
in fruits ripe before their season, which we rather take pleasure in
looking at and admiring, than actually use; so much was his
old-fashioned virtue out of the present mode, among the depraved customs
which time and luxury had introduced, that it appeared indeed remarkable
and wonderful, but was too great and too good to suit the present
exigencies, being so out of all proportion to the times. Yet his
circumstances were not altogether like Phocion’s, who came to the helm
when the ship of the state was just upon sinking. Cato’s time was,
indeed, stormy and tempestuous, yet so as he was able to assist in
managing the sails, and lend his helping hand to those who, which he was
not allowed to do, commanded at the helm. Others were to blame for the
result; yet his courage and virtue made it in spite of all a hard task
for fortune to ruin the commonwealth, and it was only with long time and
effort and by slow degrees, when he himself had all but succeeded in
averting it, that the catastrophe was at last effected.
Phocion and he may be well compared together, not for any mere
general resemblances, as though we should say, both were good men and
great statesmen. For assuredly there is difference enough among virtues
of the same denomination, as between the bravery of Alcibiades and that
of Epaminondas, the prudence of Themistocles and that of Aristides, the
justice of Numa and that of Agesilaus. But these men’s virtues, even
looking to the most minute points of difference, bear the same color,
stamp, and character impressed upon them, so as not to be
distinguishable. The mixture is still made in the same exact
proportions, whether we look at the combination to be found in them both
of lenity on the one hand, with austerity on the other; their boldness
upon some occasions, and caution on others; their extreme solicitude for
the public, and perfect neglect of themselves; their fixed and immovable
bent to all virtuous and honest actions, accompanied with an extreme
tenderness and scrupulosity as to doing anything which might appear mean
or unworthy; so that we should need a very nice and subtle logic of
discrimination to detect and establish the distinctions between them.
As to Cato’s extraction, it is confessed by all to have been
illustrious, as will be said hereafter, nor was Phocion’s, I feel
assured, obscure or ignoble. For had he been the son of a turner, as
Idomeneus reports, it had certainly not been forgotten to his
disparagement by Glaucippus, the son of Hyperides, when heaping up a
thousand spiteful things to say against him. Nor, indeed, had it been
possible for him, in such circumstances, to have had such a liberal
breeding and education in his youth, as to be first Plato’s, and
afterwards Xenocrates’s scholar in the Academy, and to have devoted
himself from the first to the pursuit of the noblest studies and
practices. His countenance was so composed, that scarcely was he ever
seen by any Athenian either laughing, or in tears. He was rarely known,
so Duris has recorded, to appear in the public baths, or was observed
with his hand exposed outside his cloak, when he wore one. Abroad, and
in the camp, he was so hardy in going always thin clad and barefoot,
except in a time of excessive and intolerable cold, that the soldiers
used to say in merriment, that it was like to be a hard winter when
Phocion wore his coat.
Although he was most gentle and humane in his disposition, his aspect
was stern and forbidding, so that he was seldom accosted alone by any
who were not intimate with him. When Chares once made some remark on his
frowning looks, and the Athenians laughed at the jest. “My sullenness,”
said Phocion, “never yet made any of you sad, but these men’s jollities
have given you sorrow enough.” In like manner Phocion’s language, also,
was full of instruction, abounding in happy maxims and wise thoughts,
but admitted no embellishment to its austere and commanding brevity.
Zeno said a philosopher should never speak till his words had been
steeped in meaning; and such, it may be said, were Phocion’s, crowding
the greatest amount of significance into the smallest allowance of
space. And to this, probably, Polyeuctus, the Sphettian, referred, when
he said that Demosthenes was, indeed, the best orator of his time, but
Phocion the most powerful speaker. His oratory, like small coin of great
value, was to be estimated, not by its bulk, but its intrinsic worth. He
was once observed, it is said, when the theater was filling with the
audience, to walk musing alone behind the scenes, which one of his
friends taking notice of, said, “Phocion, you seem to be thoughtful.”
“Yes,” replied he, “I am considering how I may shorten what I am going
to say to the Athenians.” Even Demosthenes himself, who used to despise
the rest of the haranguers, when Phocion stood up, was wont to say
quietly to those about him, “Here is the pruning-knife of my periods.”
This however, might refer, perhaps, not so much to his eloquence, as to
the influence of his character, since not only a word, but even a nod
from a person who is esteemed, is of more force than a thousand
arguments or studied sentences from others.
In his youth he followed Chabrias, the general, from whom he gained
many lessons in military knowledge, and in return did something to
correct his unequal and capricious humor. For whereas at other times
Chabrias was heavy and phlegmatic, in the heat of battle he used to be
so fired and transported, that he threw himself headlong into danger
beyond the forwardest, which, indeed, in the end, cost him his life in
the island of Chios, he having pressed his own ship foremost to force a
landing. But Phocion, being a man of temper as well as courage, had the
dexterity at some times to rouse the general, when in his
procrastinating mood, to action, and at others to moderate and cool the
impetuousness of his unseasonable fury. Upon which account Chabrias, who
was a good-natured, kindly-tempered man, loved him much, and procured
him commands and opportunities for action, giving him means to make
himself known in Greece, and using his assistance in all his affairs of
moment. Particularly the sea-fight at Naxos added not a little to
Phocion’s reputation, when he had the left squadron committed to him by
Chabrias, as in this quarter the battle was sharply contested, and was
decided by a speedy victory. And this being the first prosperous
sea-battle the city had engaged in with its own force since its
captivity, Chabrias won great popularity by it, and Phocion, also, got
the reputation of a good commander. The victory was gained at the time
of the Great Mysteries, and Chabrias used to keep the commemoration of
it, by distributing wine among the Athenians, yearly, on the sixteenth
day of Boedromion.
After this, Chabrias sent Phocion to demand their quota of the
charges of the war from the islanders, and offered him a guard of twenty
ships. Phocion told him, if he intended him to go against them as
enemies, that force was insignificant; if as to friends and allies, one
vessel was sufficient. So he took his own single galley, and having
visited the cities, and treated with the magistrates in an equitable and
open manner, he brought back a number of ships, sent by the confederates
to Athens, to convey the supplies. Neither did his friendship and
attention close with Chabrias’s life, but after his decease he carefully
maintained it to all that were related to him, and chiefly to his son
Ctesippus, whom he labored to bring to some good, and although he was a
stupid and intractable young fellow, always endeavored, so far as in him
lay, to correct and cover his faults and follies. Once, however, when
the youngster was very impertinent and troublesome to him in the camp,
interrupting him with idle questions, and putting forward his opinions
and suggestions of how the war should be conducted, he could not forbear
exclaiming, “O Chabrias, Chabrias, how grateful I show myself for your
friendship, in submitting to endure your son.”
Upon looking into public matters, and the way in which they were now
conducted, he observed that the administration of affairs was cut and
parceled out, like so much land by allotment, between the military men
and the public speakers, so that neither these nor those should
interfere with the claims of the others. As the one were to address the
assemblies, to draw up votes and prepare motions, men, for example, like
Eubulus, Aristophon, Demosthenes, Lycurgus, and Hyperides, and were to
push their interests here; so, in the meantime, Diopithes, Menestheus,
Leosthenes, and Chares, were to make their profit by war and in military
commands. Phocion, on the other hand, was desirous to restore and carry
out the old system, more complete in itself, and more harmonious and
uniform, which prevailed in the times of Pericles, Aristides, and Solon;
when statesmen showed themselves, to use Archilochus’s words, —
Mars’ and the Muses’ friends alike designed,
To arts and arms indifferently inclined,
and the presiding goddess of his country was, he did not fail to see,
the patroness and protectress of both civil and military wisdom. With
these views, while his advice at home was always for peace and
quietness, he nevertheless held the office of general more frequently
than any of the statesmen, not only of his own times, but of those
preceding, never, indeed, promoting or encouraging military expeditions,
yet never, on the other hand, shunning or declining, when he was called
upon by the public voice. Thus much is well known, that he was no less
than forty-five several times chosen general, he being never on any one
of those occasions present at the election, but having the command, in
his absence, by common suffrage, conferred on him, and he sent for on
purpose to undertake it. Insomuch that it amazed those who did not well
consider, to see the people always prefer Phocion, who was so far from
humoring them or courting their favor, that he always thwarted and
opposed them. But so it was, as great men and princes are said to call
in their flatterers when dinner has been served, so the Athenians, upon
slight occasions, entertained and diverted themselves with their spruce
speakers and trim orators, but when it came to action, they were sober
and considerate enough to single out the austerest and wisest for public
employment, however much he might be opposed to their wishes and
sentiments. This, indeed, he made no scruple to admit, when the oracle
from Delphi was read, which informed them that the Athenians were all of
one mind, a single dissentient only excepted, frankly coming forward and
declaring that they need look no further; he was the man, there was no
one but he who was dissatisfied with everything they did. And when once
he gave his opinion to the people, and was met with the general
approbation and applause of the assembly, turning to some of his
friends, he asked them, “Have I inadvertently said something foolish?”
Upon occasion of a public festivity, being solicited for his
contribution by the example of others, and the people pressing him much,
he bade them apply themselves to the wealthy; for his part he should
blush to make a present here, rather than a repayment there, turning
and, pointing to Callicles, the money-lender. Being still clamored upon
and importuned, he told them this tale. A certain cowardly fellow
setting out for the wars, hearing the ravens croak in his passage, threw
down his arms, resolving to wait. Presently he took them and ventured
out again, but hearing the same music, once more made a stop. “For,”
said he, “you may croak till you are tired, but you shall make no dinner
upon me.”
The Athenians urging him at an unseasonable time to lead them out
against the enemy, he peremptorily refused, and being upbraided by them
with cowardice and pusillanimity, he told them, “Just now, do what you
will, I shall not be brave; and do what I will, you will not be cowards.
Nevertheless, we know well enough what we are.” And when again, in a
time of great danger, the people were very harsh upon him, demanding a
strict account how the public money had been employed, and the like, he
bade them, “First, good friends, make sure you are safe.” After a war,
during which they had been very tractable and timorous, when, upon peace
being made, they began again to be confident and overbearing, and to cry
out upon Phocion, as having lost them the honor of victory, to all their
clamor he made only this answer, “My friends, you are fortunate in
having a leader who knows you; otherwise, you had long since been
undone.”
Having a controversy with the Boeotians about boundaries, which he
counseled them to decide by negotiation, they inclined to blows. “You
had better,” said he, “carry on the contest with the weapons in which
you excel, (your tongues,) and not by war, in which you are inferior.”
Once, when he was addressing them, and they would not hear him or let
him go on, said he, “You may compel me to act against my wishes, but you
shall never force me to speak against my judgment.” Among the many
public speakers who opposed him, Demosthenes, for example, once told
him, “The Athenians, Phocion, will kill you some day when they once are
in a rage.” “And you,” said he, “if they once are in their senses.”
Polyeuctus, the Sphettian, once on a hot day was urging war with Philip,
and being a corpulent man, and out of breath and in a great heat with
speaking, took numerous draughts of water as he went on. “Here, indeed,”
said Phocion, “is a fit man to lead us into a war! What think you he
will do when he is carrying his corslet and his shield to meet the
enemy, if even here, delivering a prepared speech to you has almost
killed him with exhaustion?” When Lycurgus in the assembly made many
reflections on his past conduct, upbraiding him above all for having
advised them to deliver up the ten citizens whom Alexander had demanded,
he replied that he had been the author of much safe and wholesome
counsel, which had not been followed.
There was a man called Archibiades, nicknamed the Lacedaemonian, who
used to go about with a huge overgrown beard, wearing an old threadbare
cloak, and affecting a very stern countenance. Phocion once, when
attacked in council by the rest, appealed to this man for his support
and testimony. And when he got up and began to speak on the popular
side, putting his hand to his beard, “O Archibiades,” said he, “it is
time you should shave.” Aristogiton, a common accuser, was a terrible
man of war within the assembly, always inflaming the people to battle,
but when the muster-roll came to be produced, he appeared limping on a
crutch, with a bandage on his leg; Phocion descried him afar off, coming
in, and cried out to the clerk, “Put down Aristogiton, too, as lame and
worthless.”
So that it is a little wonderful, how a man so severe and harsh upon
all occasions should, notwithstanding, obtain the name of the Good. Yet,
though difficult, it is not, I suppose, impossible for men’s tempers,
any more than for wines, to be at the same time harsh and agreeable to
the taste; just as on the other hand many that are sweet at the first
taste, are found, on further use, extremely disagreeable and very
unwholesome. Hyperides, we are told, once said to the people, “Do not
ask yourselves, men of Athens, whether or not I am bitter, but whether
or not I am paid for being so,” as though a covetous purpose were the
only thing that should make a harsh temper insupportable, and as if men
might not even more justly render themselves obnoxious to popular
dislike and censure, by using their power and influence in the
indulgence of their own private passions of pride and jealousy, anger
and animosity. Phocion never allowed himself from any feeling of
personal hostility to do hurt to any fellow-citizen, nor, indeed,
reputed any man his enemy, except so far as he could not but contend
sharply with such as opposed the measures he urged for the public good;
in which argument he was, indeed, a rude, obstinate, and uncompromising
adversary. For his general conversation, it was easy, courteous, and
obliging to all, to that point that he would befriend his very opponents
in their distress, and espouse the cause of those who differed most from
him, when they needed his patronage. His friends reproaching him for
pleading in behalf of a man of indifferent character, he told them the
innocent had no need of an advocate. Aristogiton, the sycophant, whom we
mentioned before, having after sentence passed upon him, sent earnestly
to Phocion to speak with him in the prison, his friends dissuaded him
from going; “Nay, by your favor,” said he, “where should I rather choose
to pay Aristogiton a visit?”
As for the allies of the Athenians, and the islanders, whenever any
admiral besides Phocion was sent, they treated him as an enemy suspect,
barricaded their gates, blocked up their havens, brought in from the
country their cattle, slaves, wives, and children, and put them in
garrison; but upon Phocion’s arrival, they went out to welcome him in
their private boats and barges, with streamers and garlands, and
received him at landing with every demonstration of joy and pleasure.
When king Philip was effecting his entry into Euboea, and was
bringing over troops from Macedonia, and making himself master of the
cities, by means of the tyrants who ruled in them, Plutarch of Eretria
sent to request aid of the Athenians for the relief of the island, which
was in imminent danger of falling wholly into the hands of the
Macedonians. Phocion was sent thither with a handful of men in
comparison, in expectation that the Euboeans themselves would flock in
and join him. But when he came, he found all things in confusion, the
country all betrayed, the whole ground, as it were, undermined under his
feet, by the secret pensioners of king Philip, so that he was in the
greatest risk imaginable. To secure himself as far as he could, he
seized a small rising ground, which was divided from the level plains
about Tamynae by a deep watercourse, and here he enclosed and fortified
the choicest of his army. As for the idle talkers and disorderly bad
citizens who ran off from his camp and made their way back, he bade his
officers not regard them, since here they would have been not only
useless and ungovernable themselves, but an actual hindrance to the
rest; and further, being conscious to themselves of the neglect of their
duty, they would be less ready to misrepresent the action, or raise a
cry against them at their return home. When the enemy drew nigh, he bade
his men stand to their arms, until he had finished the sacrifice, in
which he spent a considerable time, either by some difficulty of the
thing itself, or on purpose to invite the enemy nearer. Plutarch,
interpreting this tardiness as a failure in his courage, fell on alone
with the mercenaries, which the cavalry perceiving, could not be
contained, but issuing also out of the camp, confusedly and in disorder,
spurred up to the enemy. The first who came up were defeated, the rest
were put to the rout, Plutarch himself took to flight, and a body of the
enemy advanced in the hope of carrying the camp, supposing themselves to
have secured the victory. But by this time, the sacrifice being over,
the Athenians within the camp came forward, and falling upon them put
them to flight, and killed the greater number as they fled among the
entrenchments, while Phocion ordering his infantry to keep on the watch
and rally those who came in from the previous flight, himself, with a
body of his best men, engaged the enemy in a sharp and bloody fight, in
which all of them behaved with signal courage and gallantry. Thallus,
the son of Cineas, and Glaucus, of Polymedes, who fought near the
general, gained the honors of the day. Cleophanes, also, did good
service in the battle. Recovering the cavalry from its defeat, and with
his shouts and encouragement bringing them up to succor the general, who
was in danger, he confirmed the victory obtained by the infantry.
Phocion now expelled Plutarch from Eretria, and possessed himself of the
very important fort of Zaretra, situated where the island is pinched in,
as it were, by the seas on each side, and its breadth most reduced to a
narrow girth. He released all the Greeks whom he took out of fear of the
public speakers at Athens, thinking they might very likely persuade the
people in their anger into committing some act of cruelty.
This affair thus dispatched and settled, Phocion set sail homewards,
and the allies had soon as good reason to regret the loss of his just
and humane dealing, as the Athenians that of his experience and courage.
Molossus, the commander who took his place, had no better success than
to fall alive into the enemy’s hands. Philip, full of great thoughts and
designs, now advanced with all his forces into the Hellespont, to seize
the Chersonesus and Perinthus, and after them, Byzantium. The Athenians
raised a force to relieve them, but the popular leaders made it their
business to prefer Chares to be general, who, sailing thither, effected
nothing worthy of the means placed in his hands. The cities were afraid,
and would not receive his ships into their harbors, so that he did
nothing but wander about, raising money from their friends, and despised
by their enemies. And when the people, chafed by the orators, were
extremely indignant, and repented having ever sent any help to the
Byzantines, Phocion rose and told them they ought not to be angry with
the allies for distrusting, but with their generals for being
distrusted. “They make you suspected,” he said, “even by those who
cannot possibly subsist without your succor.” The assembly being moved
with this speech of his, changed their minds on the sudden, and
commanded him immediately to raise another force, and go himself to
assist their confederates in the Hellespont; an appointment which, in
effect, contributed more than anything to the relief of Byzantium.
For Phocion’s name was already honorably known; and an old
acquaintance of his, who had been his fellow-student in the Academy,
Leon, a man of high renown for virtue among the Byzantines, having
vouched for Phocion to the city, they opened their gates to receive him,
not permitting him, though he desired it, to encamp without the walls,
but entertained him and all the Athenians with perfect reliance, while
they, to requite their confidence, behaved among their new hosts soberly
and inoffensively, and exerted themselves on all occasions with the
greatest zeal and resolution for their defense. Thus king Philip was
driven out of the Hellespont, and was despised to boot, whom till now,
it had been thought impossible to match, or even to oppose. Phocion also
took some of his ships, and recaptured some of the places he had
garrisoned, making besides several inroads into the country, which he
plundered and overran, until he received a wound from some of the enemy
who came to the defense, and, thereupon, sailed away home.
The Megarians at this time privately praying aid of the Athenians,
Phocion, fearing lest the Boeotians should hear of it, and anticipate
them, called an assembly at sunrise, and brought forward the petition of
the Megarians, and immediately after the vote had been put, and carried
in their favor, he sounded the trumpet, and led the Athenians straight
from the assembly, to arm and put themselves in posture. The Megarians
received them joyfully, and he proceeded to fortify Nisea, and built two
new long walls from the city to the arsenal, and so joined it to the
sea, so that having now little reason to regard the enemies on the land
side, it placed its dependence entirely on the Athenians.
When final hostilities with Philip were now certain, and in Phocion’s
absence other generals had been nominated, he on his arrival from the
islands, dealt earnestly with the Athenians, that since Philip showed
peaceable inclinations towards them, and greatly apprehended the danger,
they would consent to a treaty. Being contradicted in this by one of the
ordinary frequenters of the courts of justice, a common accuser, who
asked him if he durst presume to persuade the Athenians to peace, now
their arms were in their hands, “Yes,” said he, “though I know that if
there be war, I shall be in office over you, and if peace, you over me.”
But when he could not prevail, and Demosthenes’s opinion carried it,
advising them to make war as far off from home as possible, and fight
the battle out of Attica, “Good friend,” said Phocion, “let us not ask
where we shall fight, but how we may conquer in the war. That will be
the way to keep it at a distance. If we are beaten, it will be quickly
at our doors.” After the defeat, when the clamorers and incendiaries in
the town would have brought up Charidemus to the hustings, to be
nominated to the command, the best of the citizens were in a panic, and
supporting themselves with the aid of the council of the Areopagus, with
entreaties and tears hardly prevailed upon the people to have Phocion
entrusted with the care of the city. He was of opinion, in general, that
the fair terms to be expected from Philip should be accepted, yet after
Demades had made a motion that the city should receive the common
conditions of peace in concurrence with the rest of the states of
Greece, he opposed it, till it were known what the particulars were
which Philip demanded. He was overborne in this advice, under the
pressure of the time, but almost immediately after, the Athenians
repented it, when they understood that by these articles, they were
obliged to furnish Philip both with horse and shipping. “It was the fear
of this,” said Phocion, “that occasioned my opposition. But since the
thing is done, let us make the best of it, and not be discouraged. Our
forefathers were sometimes in command, and sometimes under it; and by
doing their duty, whether as rulers or as subjects, saved their own
country and the rest of Greece.”
Upon the news of Philip’s death, he opposed himself to any public
demonstrations of joy and jubilee, saying it would be ignoble to show
malice upon such an occasion, and that the army that had fought them at
Chaeronea, was only diminished by a single man.
When Demosthenes made his invectives against Alexander, now on his
way to attack Thebes, he repeated those verses of Homer, —
“Unwise one, wherefore to a second stroke
His anger be foolhardy to provoke?”
and asked, “Why stimulate his already eager passion for glory? Why
take pains to expose the city to the terrible conflagration now so near?
We, who accepted office to save our fellow-citizens, will not, however
they desire it, be consenting to their destruction.”
After Thebes was lost, and Alexander had demanded Demosthenes,
Lycurgus, Hyperides, and Charidemus to be delivered up, the whole
assembly turning their eyes to him, and calling on him by name to
deliver his opinion, at last he rose up, and showing them one of his
most intimate friends, whom he loved and confided in above all others,
told them, “You have brought things amongst you to that pass, that for
my part, should he demand this my friend Nicocles, I would not refuse to
give him up. For as for myself, to have it in my power to sacrifice my
own life and fortune for the common safety, I should think the greatest
of good fortune. Truly,” he added, “it pierces my heart to see those who
are fled hither for succor from the desolation of Thebes. Yet it is
enough for Greece to have Thebes to deplore. It will be more for the
interest of all that we should deprecate the conqueror’s anger, and
intercede for both, than run the hazard of another battle.”
When this was decreed by the people, Alexander is said to have
rejected their first address when it was presented, throwing it from him
scornfully, and turning his back upon the deputation, who left him in
affright. But the second, which was presented by Phocion, he received,
understanding from the older Macedonians how much Philip had admired and
esteemed him. And he not only gave him audience and listened to his
memorial and petition, but also permitted him to advise him, which he
did to this effect, that if his designs were for quietness, he should
make peace at once; if glory were his aim, he should make war, not upon
Greece, but on the barbarians. And with various counsels and
suggestions, happily designed to meet the genius and feelings of
Alexander, he so won upon him, and softened his temper, that he bade the
Athenians not forget their position, as if anything went wrong with him,
the supremacy belonged to them. And to Phocion himself, whom he adopted
as his friend and guest, he showed a respect, and admitted him to
distinctions, which few of those who were continually near his person
ever received. Duris, at any rate, tells us, that when he became great,
and had conquered Darius, in the heading of all his letters he left off
the word Greeting, except in those he wrote to Phocion. To him, and to
Antipater alone, he condescended to use it. This, also, is stated by
Chares.
As for his munificence to him, it is well known he sent him a present
at one time of one hundred talents; and this being brought to Athens,
Phocion asked of the bearers, how it came to pass, that among all the
Athenians, he alone should be the object of this bounty. And being told
that Alexander esteemed him alone a person of honor and worth, “Let him,
then,” said he, “permit me to continue so, and be still so reputed.”
Following him to his house, and observing his simple and plain way of
living, his wife employed in kneading bread with her own hands, himself
drawing water to wash his feet, they pressed him to accept it, with some
indignation, being ashamed, as they said, that Alexander’s friend should
live so poorly and pitifully. So Phocion pointing out to them a poor old
fellow, in a dirty worn-out coat, passing by, asked them if they thought
him in worse condition than this man. They bade him not mention such a
comparison. “Yet,” said Phocion, “he with less to live upon than I,
finds it sufficient, and in brief,” he continued, “if I do not use this
money, what good is there in my having it; and if I do use it, I shall
procure an ill name, both for myself and for Alexander, among my
countrymen.” So the treasure went back again from Athens, to prove to
Greece, by a signal example, that he who could afford to give so
magnificent a present, was yet not so rich as he who could afford to
refuse it. And when Alexander was displeased, and wrote back to him to
say that he could not esteem those his friends, who would not be obliged
by him, not even would this induce Phocion to accept the money, but he
begged leave to intercede with him in behalf of Echecratides, the
sophist, and Athenodorus, the Imbrian, as also for Demaratus and
Sparton, two Rhodians, who had been arrested upon some charges, and were
in custody at Sardis. This was instantly granted by Alexander, and they
were set at liberty. Afterwards, when sending Craterus into Macedonia,
he commanded him to make him an offer of four cities in Asia, Cius,
Gergithus, Mylasa, and Elaea, any one of which, at his choice, should be
delivered to him; insisting yet more positively with him, and declaring
he should resent it, should he continue obstinate in his refusal. But
Phocion was not to be prevailed with at all, and, shortly after,
Alexander died.
Phocion’s house is shown to this day in Melita, ornamented with small
plates of copper, but otherwise plain and homely. Concerning his wives,
of the first of them there is little said, except that she was sister of
Cephisodotus, the statuary. The other was a matron of no less reputation
for her virtues and simple living among the Athenians, than Phocion was
for his probity. It happened once when the people were entertained with
a new tragedy, that the actor, just as he was to enter the stage to
perform the part of a queen, demanded to have a number of attendants
sumptuously dressed, to follow in his train, and on their not being
provided, was sullen and refused to act, keeping the audience waiting,
till at last Melanthius, who had to furnish the chorus, pushed him on
the stage, crying out, “What, don’t you know that Phocion’s wife is
never attended by more than a single waiting woman, but you must needs
be grand, and fill our women’s heads with vanity?” This speech of his,
spoken loud enough to be heard, was received with great applause, and
clapped all round the theater. She herself, when once entertaining a
visitor out of Ionia, who showed her all her rich ornaments, made of
gold and set with jewels, her wreaths, necklaces, and the like, “For my
part,” said she, “all my ornament is my husband Phocion, now for the
twentieth year in office as general at Athens.”
He had a son named Phocus, who wished to take part in the games at
the great feast of Minerva. He permitted him so to do, in the contest of
leaping, not with any view to the victory, but in the hope that the
training and discipline for it would make him a better man, the youth
being in a general way a lover of drinking, and ill-regulated in his
habits. On his having succeeded in the sports, many were eager for the
honor of his company at banquets in celebration of the victory. Phocion
declined all these invitations but one, and when he came to this
entertainment and saw the costly preparations, even the water brought to
wash the guests’ feet being mingled with wine and spices, he reprimanded
his son, asking him why he would so far permit his friend to sully the
honor of his victory. And in the hope of wholly weaning the young man
from such habits and company, he sent him to Lacedaemon, and placed him
among the youths then under the course of the Spartan discipline. This
the Athenians took offense at, as though he slighted and contemned the
education at home; and Demades twitted him with it publicly, “Suppose,
Phocion, you and I advise the Athenians to adopt the Spartan
constitution. If you like, I am ready to introduce a bill to that
effect, and to speak in its favor.” “Indeed,” said Phocion, “you with
that strong scent of perfumes about you, and with that mantle on your
shoulders, are just the very man to speak in honor of Lycurgus, and
recommend the Spartan table.”
When Alexander wrote to demand a supply of galleys, and the public
speakers objected to sending them, Phocion, on the council requesting
his opinion, told them freely, “Sirs, I would either have you victorious
yourselves, or friends of those who are so.” He took up Pytheas, who
about this time first began to address the assembly, and already showed
himself a confident, talking fellow, by saying that a young slave whom
the people had but bought yesterday, ought to have the manners to hold
his tongue. And when Harpalus, who had fled from Alexander out of Asia,
carrying off a large sum of money, came to Attica, and there was a
perfect race among the ordinary public men of the assembly who should be
the first to take his pay, he distributed amongst these some trifling
sums by way of a bait and provocative, but to Phocion he made an offer
of no less than seven hundred talents and all manner of other advantages
he pleased to demand; with the compliment that he would entirely commit
himself and all his affairs to his disposal. Phocion answered sharply,
Harpalus should repent of it, if he did not quickly leave off corrupting
and debauching the city, which for the time silenced him, and checked
his proceedings. But afterwards, when the Athenians were deliberating in
council about him, he found those that had received money from him to be
his greatest enemies, urging and aggravating matters against him, to
prevent themselves being discovered, whereas Phocion, who had never
touched his pay, now, so far as the public interest would admit of it,
showed some regard to his particular security. This encouraged him once
more to try his inclinations, and upon further survey, finding that he
himself was a fortress, inaccessible on every quarter to the approaches
of corruption, he professed a particular friendship to Phocion’s
son-in-law, Charicles. And admitting him into his confidence in all his
affairs, and continually requesting his assistance, he brought him into
some suspicion. Upon the occasion, for example, of the death of
Pythonice, who was Harpalus’s mistress, for whom he had a great
fondness, and had a child by her, he resolved to build her a sumptuous
monument, and committed the care of it to his friend Charicles. This
commission, disreputable enough in itself, was yet further disparaged by
the figure the piece of workmanship made after it was finished. It is
yet to be seen in the Hermeum. as you go from Athens to Eleusis, with
nothing in its appearance answerable to the sum of thirty talents, with
which Charicles is said to have charged Harpalus for its erection. After
Harpalus’s own decease, his daughter was educated by Phocion and
Charicles with great care. But when Charicles was called to account for
his dealings with Harpalus, and entreated his father-in-law’s
protection, begging that he would appear for him in the court, Phocion
refused, telling him, “I did not choose you for my son-in-law for any
but honorable purposes.”
Asclepiades, the son of Hipparchus, brought the first tidings of
Alexander’s death to Athens, which Demades told them was not to be
credited; for, were it true, the whole world would ere this have stunk
with the dead body. But Phocion seeing the people eager for an instant
revolution, did his best to quiet and repress them. And when numbers of
them rushed up to the hustings to speak, and cried out that the news was
true, and Alexander was dead, “If he is dead today,” said he, “he will
be so tomorrow and the day after tomorrow equally. So that there is no
need to take counsel hastily or before it is safe.”
When Leosthenes now had embarked the city in the Lamian war, greatly
against Phocion’s wishes, to raise a laugh against Phocion, he asked him
scoffingly, what the State had been benefited by his having now so many
years been general. “It is not a little,” said Phocion, “that the
citizens have been buried in their own sepulchers.” And when Leosthenes
continued to speak boldly and boastfully in the assembly, “Young man,”
he said, “your speeches are like cypress trees, stately and tall, and no
fruit to come of them.” And when he was then attacked by Hyperides, who
asked him when the time would come, that he would advise the Athenians
to make war, “As soon,” said he, “as I find the young men keep their
ranks, the rich men contribute their money, and the Orators leave off
robbing the treasury.” Afterwards, when many admired the forces raised,
and the preparations for war that were made by Leosthenes, they asked
Phocion how he approved of the new levies. “Very well,” said he, “for
the short course; but what I fear, is the long race. Since however late
the war may last, the city has neither money, ships, nor soldiers, but
these.” And the event justified his prognostics. At first all things
appeared fair and promising. Leosthenes gained great reputation by
worsting the Boeotians in battle, and driving Antipater within the walls
of Lamia, and the citizens were so transported with the first successes,
that they kept solemn festivities for them, and offered public
sacrifices to the gods. So that some, thinking Phocion must now be
convinced of his error, asked him whether he would not willingly have
been author of these successful actions. “Yes,” said he, “most gladly,
but also of the former counsel.” And when one express after another came
from the camp, confirming and magnifying the victories, “When,” said he,
“will the end of them come?”
Leosthenes, soon after, was killed, and now those who feared lest if
Phocion obtained the command, he would put an end to the war, arranged
with an obscure person in the assembly, who should stand up and profess
himself to be a friend and old confidant of Phocion’s, and persuade the
people to spare him at this time, and reserve him (with whom none could
compare) for a more pressing occasion, and now to give Antiphilus the
command of the army. This pleased the generality, but Phocion made it
appear he was so far from having any friendship with him of old
standing, that he had not so much as the least familiarity with him;
“Yet now, sir,” says he, “give me leave to put you down among the number
of my friends and well-wishers, as you have given a piece of advice so
much to my advantage.”
And when the people were eager to make an expedition against the
Boeotians, he at first opposed it; and on his friends telling him the
people would kill him, for always running counter to them, “That will be
unjust of them,” he said, “if I give them honest advice, if not, it will
be just of them.’’ But when he found them persisting and shouting to him
to lead them out, he commanded the crier to make proclamation, that all
the Athenians under sixty should instantly provide themselves with five
days’ provision, and follow him from the assembly. This caused a great
tumult. Those in years were startled, and clamored against the order; he
demanded wherein he injured them, “For I,” says he, “am now fourscore,
and am ready to lead you.” This succeeded in pacifying them for the
present.
But when Micion, with a large force of Macedonians and mercenaries,
began to pillage the sea-coast, having made a descent upon Rhamnus, and
overrun the neighboring country, Phocion led out the Athenians to attack
him. And when sundry private persons came, intermeddling with his
dispositions, and telling him that he ought to occupy such or such a
hill, detach the cavalry in this or that direction, engage the enemy on
this point or that, “O Hercules,” said he, “how many generals have we
here, and how few soldiers!” Afterwards, having formed the battle, one
who wished to show his bravery, advanced out of his post before the
rest, but on the enemy’s approaching, lost heart, and retired back into
his rank. “Young man,” said Phocion, “are you not ashamed twice in one
day to desert your station, first that on which I had placed you, and
secondly, that on which you had placed yourself?” However, he entirely
routed the enemy, killing Micion and many more on the spot. The Grecian
army, also, in Thessaly, after Leonnatus and the Macedonians who came
with him out of Asia, had arrived and joined Antipater, fought and beat
them in a battle. Leonnatus was killed in the fight, Antiphilus
commanding the foot, and Menon, the Thessalian, the horse.
But not long after, Craterus crossed from Asia with numerous forces;
a pitched battle was fought at Cranon; the Greeks were beaten; though
not, indeed, in a signal defeat, nor with any great loss of men. But
what with their want of obedience to their commanders, who were young
and over-indulgent with them, and what with Antipater’s tampering and
treating with their separate cities, one by one, the end of it was that
the army was dissolved, and the Greeks shamefully surrendered the
liberty of their country.
Upon the news of Antipater’s now advancing at once against Athens
with all his force, Demosthenes and Hyperides deserted the city, and
Demades, who was altogether insolvent for any part of the fines that had
been laid upon him by the city, for he had been condemned no less than
seven times for introducing bills contrary to the laws, and who had been
disfranchised, and was no longer competent to vote in the assembly, laid
hold of this season of impunity, to bring in a bill for sending
ambassadors with plenipotentiary power to Antipater, to treat about a
peace. But the people distrusted him, and called upon Phocion to give
his opinion, as the person they only and entirely confided in. He told
them, “If my former counsels had been prevalent with you, we had not
been reduced to deliberate on the question at all.” However, the vote
passed; and a decree was made, and he with others deputed to go to
Antipater, who lay now encamped in the Theban territories, but intended
to dislodge immediately, and pass into Attica. Phocion’s first request
was, that he would make the treaty without moving his camp. And when
Craterus declared that it was not fair to ask them to be burdensome to
the country of their friends and allies by their stay, when they might
rather use that of their enemies for provisions and the support of their
army, Antipater taking him by the hand, said, “We must grant this favor
to Phocion.” For the rest, he bade them return to their principals, and
acquaint them that he could only offer them the same terms, namely, to
surrender at discretion, which Leosthenes had offered to him when he was
shut up in Lamia.
When Phocion had returned to the city, and acquainted them with this
answer, they made a virtue of necessity, and complied, since it would be
no better. So Phocion returned to Thebes with the other ambassadors, and
among the rest, Xenocrates, the philosopher, the reputation of whose
virtue and wisdom was so great and famous everywhere, that they
conceived there could not be any pride, cruelty, or anger arising in the
heart of man, which would not at the mere sight of him be subdued into
something of reverence and admiration. But the result, as it happened,
was the very opposite, Antipater showed such a want of feeling, and such
a dislike of goodness. He saluted everyone else, but would not so much
as notice Xenocrates. Xenocrates, they tell us, observed upon it, that
Antipater when meditating such cruelty to Athens, did well to be ashamed
of seeing him. When he began to speak, he would not hear him, but broke
in and rudely interrupted him, until at last he was obliged to he
silent. But when Phocion had declared the purport of their embassy, he
replied shortly, that he would make peace with the Athenians on these
conditions, and no others; that Demosthenes and Hyperides should be
delivered up to him; that they should retain their ancient form of
government, the franchise being determined by a property qualification;
that they should receive a garrison into Munychia, and pay a certain sum
for the cost of the war. As things stood, these terms were judged
tolerable by the rest of the ambassadors; Xenocrates only said, that if
Antipater considered the Athenians slaves, he was treating them fairly,
but if free, severely. Phocion pressed him only to spare them the
garrison, and used many arguments and entreaties. Antipater replied,
“Phocion, we are ready to do you any favor, which will not bring ruin
both on ourselves and on you.” Others report it differently; that
Antipater asked Phocion, supposing he remitted the garrison to the
Athenians, would he, Phocion, stand surety for the city’s observing the
terms and attempting no revolution? And when he hesitated, and did not
at once reply, Callimedon, the Carabus, a hot partisan and professed
enemy of free states, cried out, “And if he should talk so idly,
Antipater, will you be so much abused as to believe him and not carry
out your own purpose?” So the Athenians received the garrison, and
Menyllus for the governor, a fair-dealing man, and one of Phocion’s
acquaintance.
But the proceeding seemed sufficiently imperious and arbitrary,
indeed rather a spiteful and insulting ostentation of power, than that
the possession of the fortress would be of any great importance. The
resentment felt upon it was heightened by the time it happened in, for
the garrison was brought in on the twentieth of the month of Boedromion,
just at the time of the great festival, when they carry forth Iacchus
with solemn pomp from the city to Eleusis; so that the solemnity being
disturbed, many began to call to mind instances, both ancient and
modern, of divine interventions and intimations. For in old time, upon
the occasions of their happiest successes, the presence of the shapes
and voices of the mystic ceremonies had been vouchsafed to them,
striking terror and amazement into their enemies; but now, at the very
season of their celebration, the gods themselves stood witnesses of the
saddest oppressions of Greece, the most holy time being profaned, and
their greatest jubilee made the unlucky date of their most extreme
calamity. Not many years before, they had a warning from the oracle at
Dodona, that they should carefully guard the summits of Diana, lest
haply strangers should seize them. And about this very time, when they
dyed the ribbons and garlands with which they adorn the couches and cars
of the procession, instead of a purple they received only a faint yellow
color; and to make the omen yet greater, all the things that were dyed
for common use, took the natural color. While a candidate for initiation
was washing a young pig in the haven of Cantharus, a shark seized him,
bit off all his lower parts up to the belly, and devoured them, by which
the god gave them manifestly to understand, that having lost the lower
town and the sea-coast, they should keep only the upper city.
Menyllus was sufficient security that the garrison should behave
itself inoffensively. But those who were now excluded from the franchise
by poverty, amounted to more than twelve thousand; so that both those
that remained in the city thought themselves oppressed and shamefully
used, and those who on this account left their homes and went away into
Thrace, where Antipater offered them a town and some territory to
inhabit, regarded themselves only as a colony of slaves and exiles. And
when to this was added the deaths of Demosthenes at Calauria, and of
Hyperides at Cleonae, as we have elsewhere related, the citizens began
to think with regret of Philip and Alexander, and almost to wish the
return of those times. And as, after Antigonus was slain, when those
that had taken him off were afflicting and oppressing the people, a
countryman in Phrygia, digging in the fields, was asked what he was
doing, “I am,” said he, fetching a deep sigh, “searching for Antigonus;”
so said many that remembered those days, and the contests they had with
those kings, whose anger, however great, was yet generous and placable;
whereas Antipater, with the counterfeit humility of appearing like a
private man, in the meanness of his dress and his homely fare, merely
belied his real love of that arbitrary power, which he exercised, as a
cruel master and despot, to distress those under his command. Yet
Phocion had interest with him to recall many from banishment by his
intercession, and prevailed also for those who were driven out, that
they might not, like others, be hurried beyond Taenarus, and the
mountains of Ceraunia, but remain in Greece, and plant themselves in
Peloponnesus, of which number was Agnonides, the sycophant. He was no
less studious to manage the affairs within the city with equity and
moderation, preferring constantly those that were men of worth and good
education to the magistracies, and recommending the busy and turbulent
talkers, to whom it was a mortal blow to be excluded from office and
public debating, to learn to stay at home, and be content to till their
land. And observing that Xenocrates paid his alien-tax as a foreigner,
he offered him the freedom of the city, which he refused, saying he
could not accept a franchise which he had been sent, as an ambassador,
to deprecate.
Menyllus wished to give Phocion a considerable present of money, who,
thanking him, said, neither was Menyllus greater than Alexander, nor his
own occasions more urgent to receive it now, than when he refused it
from him.. And on his pressing him to permit his son Phocus to receive
it, he replied, “If my son returns to a right mind, his patrimony is
sufficient; if not, all supplies will be insufficient.” But to Antipater
he answered more sharply, who would have him engaged in something
dishonorable. “Antipater,” said he, “cannot have me both as his friend
and his flatterer.” And, indeed, Antipater was wont to say, he had two
friends at Athens, Phocion and Demades; the one would never suffer him
to gratify him at all, the other would never be satisfied. Phocion might
well think that poverty a virtue, in which, after having so often been
general of the Athenians, and admitted to the friendship of potentates
and princes, he had now grown old. Demades, meantime, delighted in
lavishing his wealth even in positive transgressions of the law. For
there having been an order that no foreigner should be hired to dance in
any chorus on the penalty of a fine of one thousand drachmas on the
exhibitor, he had the vanity to exhibit an entire chorus of a hundred
foreigners, and paid down the penalty of a thousand drachmas a head upon
the stage itself. Marrying his son Demeas, he told him with the like
vanity, “My son, when I married your mother, it was done so privately it
was not known to the next neighbors, but kings and princes give presents
at your nuptials.”
The garrison in Munychia continued to be felt as a great grievance,
and the Athenians did not cease to be importunate upon Phocion, to
prevail with Antipater for its removal; but whether he despaired of
effecting it, or perhaps observed the people to be more orderly, and
public matters more reasonably conducted by the awe that was thus
created, he constantly declined the office, and contented himself with
obtaining from Antipater the postponement for the present of the payment
of the sum of money in which the city was fined. So the people, leaving
him off, applied themselves to Demades, who readily undertook the
employment, and took along with him his son also into Macedonia; and
some superior power, as it seems, so ordering it, he came just at that
nick of time, when Antipater was already seized with his sickness, and
Cassander, taking upon himself the command, had found a letter of
Demades’s, formerly written by him to Antigonus in Asia, recommending
him to come and possess himself of the empire of Greece and Macedon, now
hanging, he said, (a scoff at Antipater,) “by an old and rotten thread.”
So when Cassander saw him come, he seized him; and first brought out the
son and killed him so close before his face, that the blood ran all over
his clothes and person, and then, after bitterly taunting and upbraiding
him with his ingratitude and treachery, dispatched him himself.
Antipater being dead, after nominating Polysperchon general-in-chief,
and Cassander commander of the cavalry, Cassander at once set up for
himself and immediately dispatched Nicanor to Menyllus, to succeed him
in the command of the garrison, commanding him to possess himself of
Munychia before the news of Antipater’s death should be heard; which
being done, and some days after the Athenians hearing the report of it,
Phocion was taxed as privy to it before, and censured heavily for
dissembling it, out of friendship for Nicanor. But he slighted their
talk, and making it his duty to visit and confer continually with
Nicanor, he succeeded in procuring his good-will and kindness for the
Athenians, and induced him even to put himself to trouble and expense to
seek popularity with them, by undertaking the office of presiding at the
games.
In the meantime Polysperchon, who was entrusted with the charge of
the king, to countermine Cassander, sent a letter to the city, declaring
in the name of the king, that he restored them their democracy, and that
the whole Athenian people were at liberty to conduct their commonwealth
according to their ancient customs and constitutions. The object of
these pretenses was merely the overthrow of Phocion’s influence, as the
event manifested. For Polysperchon’s design being to possess himself of
the city, he despaired altogether of bringing it to pass, whilst Phocion
retained his credit; and the most certain way to ruin him, would be
again to fill the city with a crowd of disfranchised citizens, and let
loose the tongues of the demagogues and common accusers.
With this prospect, the Athenians were all in excitement, and Nicanor,
wishing to confer with them on the subject, at a meeting of the Council
in Piraeus, came himself, trusting for the safety of his person to
Phocion. And when Dercyllus, who commanded the guard there, made an
attempt to seize him, upon notice of it beforehand, he made his escape,
and there was little doubt he would now lose no time in righting himself
upon the city for the affront; and when Phocion was found fault with for
letting him get off and not securing him, he defended himself by saying
that he had no mistrust of Nicanor, nor the least reason to expect any
mischief from him, but should it prove otherwise, for his part he would
have them all know, he would rather receive than do the wrong. And so
far as he spoke for himself alone, the answer was honorable and
high-minded enough, but he who hazards his country’s safety, and that,
too, when he is her magistrate and chief commander, can scarcely he
acquitted, I fear, of transgressing a higher and more sacred obligation
of justice, which he owed to his fellow citizens. For it will not even
do to say, that he dreaded the involving the city in war, by seizing
Nicanor, and hoped by professions of confidence and just-dealing, to
retain him in the observance of the like; but it was, indeed, his
credulity and confidence in him, and an overweening opinion of his
sincerity, that imposed upon him. So that notwithstanding the sundry
intimations he had of his making preparations to attack Piraeus, sending
soldiers over into Salamis, and tampering with, and endeavoring to
corrupt various residents in Piraeus, he would, notwithstanding all this
evidence, never be persuaded to believe it. And even when Philomedes of
Lampra had got a decree passed, that all the Athenians should stand to
their arms, and be ready to follow Phocion their general, he yet sat
still and did nothing, until Nicanor actually led his troops out from
Munychia, and drew trenches about Piraeus; upon which, when Phocion at
last would have led out the Athenians, they cried out against him, and
slighted his orders.
Alexander, the son of Polysperchon, was at hand with a considerable
force, and professed to come to give them succor against Nicanor, but
intended nothing less, if possible, than to surprise the city, whilst
they were in tumult and divided among themselves. For all that had
previously been expelled from the city, now coming back with him, made
their way into it, and were joined by a mixed multitude of foreigners
and disfranchised persons, and of these a motley and irregular public
assembly came together, in which they presently divested Phocion of all
power, and chose other generals; and if, by chance Alexander had not
been spied from the walls, alone in close conference with Nicanor, and
had not this, which was often repeated, given the Athenians cause of
suspicion, the city had not escaped the snare. The orator Agnonides,
however, at once fell foul upon Phocion, and impeached him of treason;
Callimedon and Charicles, fearing the worst, consulted their own
security by flying from the city; Phocion, with a few of his friends
that stayed with him, went over to Polysperchon, and out of respect for
him, Solon of Plataea, and Dinarchus of Corinth, who were reputed
friends and confidants of Polysperchon, accompanied him. But on account
of Dinarchus falling ill, they remained several days in Elatea, during
which time, upon the persuasion of Agnonides and on the motion of
Archestratus a decree passed that the people should send delegates
thither to accuse Phocion. So both parties reached Polysperchon at the
same time, who was going through the country with the king, and was then
at a small village of Phocis, Pharygae, under the mountain now called
Galate, but then Acrurium.
There Polysperchon, having set up the golden canopy, and seated the
king and his company under it, ordered Dinarchus at once to be taken,
and tortured, and put to death; and that done, gave audience to the
Athenians, who filled the place with noise and tumult, accusing and
recriminating on one another, till at last Agnonides came forward, and
requested they might all be shut up together in one cage, and conveyed
to Athens, there to decide the controversy. At that the king could not
forbear smiling, but the company that attended, for their own amusement,
Macedonians and strangers, were eager to hear the altercation, and made
signs to the delegates to go on with their case at once. But it was no
sort of fair hearing. Polysperchon frequently interrupted Phocion, till
at last Phocion struck his staff on the ground, and declined to speak
further. And when Hegemon said, Polysperchon himself could bear witness
to his affection for the people, Polysperchon called out fiercely, “Give
over slandering me to the king,” and the king starting up was about to
have run him through with his javelin, but Polysperchon interposed and
hindered him; so that the assembly dissolved.
Phocion, then, and those about him, were seized; those of his friends
that were not immediately by him, on seeing this, hid their faces, and
saved themselves by flight. The rest Clitus took and brought to Athens,
to be submitted to trial; but, in truth, as men already sentenced to
die. The manner of conveying them was indeed extremely moving; they were
carried in chariots through the Ceramicus, straight to the place of
judicature, where Clitus secured them till they had convoked an assembly
of the people, which was open to all comers, neither foreigners, nor
slaves, nor those who had been punished with disfranchisement, being
refused admittance, but all alike, both men and women, being allowed to
come into the court, and even upon the place of speaking. So having read
the king’s letters, in which he declared he was satisfied himself that
these men were traitors, however, they being a free city, he willingly
accorded them the grace of trying and judging them according to their
own laws, Clitus brought in his prisoners. Every respectable citizen, at
the sight of Phocion, covered up his face, and stooped down to conceal
his tears. And one of them had the courage to say, that since the king
had committed so important a cause to the judgment of the people, it
would be well that the strangers, and those of servile condition, should
withdraw. But the populace would not endure it, crying out they were
oligarchs, and enemies to the liberty of the people, and deserved to be
stoned; after which no man durst offer anything further in Phocion’s
behalf. He was himself with difficulty heard at all, when he put the
question, “Do you wish to put us to death lawfully, or unlawfully?” Some
answered, “According to law.” He replied, “How can you, except we have a
fair hearing?” But when they were deaf to all he said, approaching
nearer, “As to myself,” said he, “I admit my guilt, and pronounce my
public conduct to have deserved sentence of death. But why, O men of
Athens, kill others who have offended in nothing?” The rabble cried out,
they were his friends, that was enough. Phocion therefore drew back, and
said no more.
Then Agnonides read the bill, in accordance with which the people
should decide by show of hands whether they judged them guilty, and if
so it should be found, the penalty should be death. When this had been
read out, some desired it might be added to the sentence, that Phocion
should be tortured also, and that the rack should be produced with the
executioners. But Agnonides perceiving even Clitus to dislike this, and
himself thinking it horrid and barbarous, said, “When we catch that
slave, Callimedon, men of Athens, we will put him to the rack, but I
shall make no motion of the kind in Phocion’s case.” Upon which one of
the better citizens remarked, he was quite right; “If we should torture
Phocion, what could we do to you?” So the form of the bill was approved
of, and the show of hands called for; upon which, not one man retaining
his seat, but all rising up, and some with garlands on their heads, they
condemned them all to death.
There were present with Phocion, Nicocles, Thudippus, Hegemon, and
Pythocles. Demetrius the Phalerian, Callimedon, Charicles, and some
others, were included in the condemnation, being absent.
After the assembly was dismissed, they were carried to the prison;
the rest with cries and lamentations, their friends and relatives
following; and clinging about them, but Phocion looking (as men observed
with astonishment at his calmness and magnanimity) just the same as when
he had been used to return to his home attended, as general, from the
assembly. His enemies ran along by his side, reviling and abusing him.
And one of them coming up to him, spat in his face; at which Phocion,
turning to the officers, only said, “You should stop this indecency.”
Thudippus, on their reaching the prison, when he observed the
executioner tempering the poison and preparing it for them, gave way to
his passion, and began to bemoan his condition and the hard measure he
received, thus unjustly to suffer with Phocion. “You cannot be
contented,” said he, “to die with Phocion?” One of his friends that
stood by, asked him if he wished to have anything said to his son. “Yes,
by all means,” said he, “bid him bear no grudge against the Athenians.”
Then Nicocles, the dearest and most faithful of his friends, begged to
be allowed to drink the poison first. “My friend,” said he, “you ask
what I am loath and sorrowful to give, but as I never yet in all my life
was so thankless as to refuse you, I must gratify you in this also.”
After they had all drunk of it, the poison ran short; and the
executioner refused to prepare more, except they would pay him twelve
drachmas, to defray the cost of the quantity required. Some delay was
made, and time spent, when Phocion called one of his friends, and
observing that a man could not even die at Athens without paying for it,
requested him to give the sum.
It was the nineteenth day of the month Munychion, on which it was the
usage to have a solemn procession in the city, in honor of Jupiter. The
horsemen, as they passed by, some of them threw away their garlands,
others stopped, weeping, and casting sorrowful looks towards the prison
doors, and all the citizens whose minds were not absolutely debauched by
spite and passion, or who had any humanity left, acknowledged it to have
been most impiously done, not, at least, to let that day pass, and the
city so be kept pure from death and a public execution at the solemn
festival. But as if this triumph had been insufficient, the malice of
Phocion’s enemies went yet further; his dead body was excluded from
burial within the boundaries of the country, and none of the Athenians
could light a funeral pile to burn the corpse; neither durst any of his
friends venture to concern themselves about it. A certain Conopion, a
man who used to do these offices for hire, took the body and carried it
beyond Eleusis, and procuring fire from over the frontier of Megara,
burned it. Phocion’s wife, with her servant-maids, being present and
assisting at the solemnity, raised there an empty tomb, and performed
the customary libations, and gathering up the bones in her lap, and
bringing them home by night, dug a place for them by the fireside in her
house, saying, “Blessed hearth, to your custody I commit the remains of
a good and brave man; and, I beseech you, protect and restore them to
the sepulcher of his fathers, when the Athenians return to their right
minds.”
And, indeed, a very little time and their own sad experience soon
informed them what an excellent governor, and how great an example and
guardian of justice and of temperance they had bereft themselves of. And
now they decreed him a statue of brass, and his bones to be buried
honorably at the public charge; and for his accusers, Agnonides they
took themselves, and caused him to be put to death. Epicurus and
Demophilus, who fled from the city for fear, his son met with, and took
his revenge upon them. This son of his, we are told, was in general of
an indifferent character, and once, when enamored of a slave girl kept
by a common harlot merchant, happened to hear Theodorus, the atheist,
arguing in the Lyceum, that if it were a good and honorable thing to buy
the freedom of a friend in the masculine, why not also of a friend in
the feminine, if, for example, a master, why not also a mistress? So
putting the good argument and his passion together, he went off and
purchased the girl’s freedom. The death which was thus suffered by
Phocion, revived among the Greeks the memory of that of Socrates, the
two cases being so similar, and both equally the sad fault and
misfortune of the city.
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Cato the Younger
The family of Cato derived its first luster from his
great-grandfather Cato, whose virtue gained him such great reputation
and authority among the Romans, as we have written in his life.
This Cato was, by the loss of both his parents, left an orphan,
together with his brother Caepio, and his sister Porcia. He had also a
half-sister, Servilia, by the mother’s side. All these lived together,
and were bred up in the house of Livius Drusus, their uncle by the
mother who, at that time, had a great share in the government, being a
very eloquent speaker, a man of the greatest temperance, and yielding in
dignity to none of the Romans.
It is said of Cato, that even from his infancy, in his speech, his
countenance, and all his childish pastimes, he discovered an inflexible
temper, unmoved by any passion, and firm in everything. He was resolute
in his purposes, much beyond the strength of his age, to go through with
whatever he undertook. He was rough and ungentle toward those that
flattered him, and still more unyielding to those who threatened him. It
was difficult to excite him to laughter; his countenance seldom relaxed
even into a smile; he was not quickly or easily provoked to anger, but
if once incensed, he was no less difficult to pacify.
When he began to learn, he proved dull, and slow to apprehend, but of
what he once received, his memory was remarkably tenacious. And such, in
fact, we find generally to be the course of nature; men of fine genius
are readily reminded of things, but those who receive with most pains
and difficulty, remember best; every new thing they learn, being, as it
were, burnt and branded in on their minds. Cato’s natural stubbornness
and slowness to be persuaded, may also have made it more difficult for
him to be taught. For to learn, is to submit to have something done to
one; and persuasion comes soonest to those who have least strength to
resist it. Hence young men are sooner persuaded than those that are more
in years, and sick men, than those that are well in health In fine,
where there is least previous doubt and difficulty the new impression is
most easily accepted. Yet Cato, they say, was very obedient to his
preceptor, and would do whatever he was commanded; but he would also ask
the reason, and inquire the cause of everything. And, indeed, his
teacher was a very well-bred man, more ready to instruct, than to beat
his scholars. His name was Sarpedon.
When Cato was a child, the allies of the Romans sued to be made free
citizens of Rome. Pompaedius Silo, one of their deputies, a brave
soldier, and a man of great repute, who had contracted a friendship with
Drusus, lodged at his house for several days, in which time being grown
familiar with the children, “Well,” said he to them, “will you entreat
your uncle to befriend us in our business?” Caepio, smiling, assented,
but Cato made no answer, only he looked steadfastly and fiercely on the
strangers. Then said Pompaedius, “And you, young sir, what say you to
us? will not you, as well as your brother, intercede with your uncle in
our behalf?” And when Cato continued to give no answer, by his silence
and his countenance seeming to deny their petition, Pompaedius snatched
him up to the window as if he would throw him out, and told him to
consent, or he would fling him down, and, speaking in a harsher tone,
held his body out of the window, and shook him several times. When Cato
had suffered this a good while, unmoved and unalarmed, Pompaedius
setting him down, said in an under-voice to his friend, “What a blessing
for Italy, that he is but a child! If he were a man, I believe we should
not gain one voice among the people.” Another time, one of his
relations, on his birthday, invited Cato and some other children to
supper, and some of the company diverted themselves in a separate part
of the house, and were at play, the elder and the younger together,
their sport being to act the pleadings before the judges, accusing one
another, and carrying away the condemned to prison. Among these a very
beautiful young child, being bound and carried by a bigger into prison,
cried out to Cato, who seeing what was going on, presently ran to the
door, and thrusting away those who stood there as guard, took out the
child, and went home in anger, followed by some of his companions.
Cato at length grew so famous among them, that when Sylla designed to
exhibit the sacred game of young men riding courses on horseback, which
they called Troy, having gotten together the youth of good birth, he
appointed two for their leaders. One of them they accepted for his
mother’s sake, being the son of Metella, the wife of Sylla; but as for
the other, Sextus, the nephew of Pompey, they would not be led by him,
nor exercise under him. Then Sylla asking, whom they would have, they
all cried out, Cato; and Sextus willingly yielded the honor to him, as
the more worthy.
Sylla, who was a friend of their family, sent at times for Cato and
his brother to see them and talk with them; a favor which he showed to
very few, after gaining his great power and authority. Sarpedon, full of
the advantage it would be, as well for the honor as the safety of his
scholars, would often bring Cato to wait upon Sylla at his house, which,
for the multitude of those that were being carried off in custody, and
tormented there, looked like a place of execution. Cato was then in his
fourteenth year, and seeing the heads of men said to be of great
distinction brought thither, and observing the secret sighs of those
that were present, he asked his preceptor, “Why does nobody kill this
man?’’ “Because,” said he, “they fear him, child, more than they hate
him.” “Why, then,” replied Cato, “did you not give me a sword, that I
might stab him, and free my country from this slavery?” Sarpedon hearing
this, and at the same time seeing his countenance swelling with anger
and determination, took care thenceforward to watch him strictly, lest
he should hazard any desperate attempt.
While he was yet very young, to some that asked him, whom he loved
best, he answered, his brother. And being asked, whom next, he replied,
his brother, again. So likewise the third time, and still the same, till
they left off to ask any further. As he grew in age, this love to his
brother grew yet the stronger. When he was about twenty years old, he
never supped, never went out of town, nor into the forum, without
Caepio. But when his brother made use of precious ointments and
perfumes, Cato declined them; and he was, in all his habits, very strict
and austere, so that when Caepio was admired for his moderation and
temperance, he would acknowledge that indeed he might be accounted such,
in comparison with some other men, “but,” said he, “when I compare
myself with Cato, I find myself scarcely different from Sippius,” one at
that time notorious for his luxurious and effeminate living.
Cato being made priest of Apollo, went to another house, took his
portion of their paternal inheritance, amounting to a hundred and twenty
talents, and began to live yet more strictly than before. Having gained
the intimate acquaintance of Antipater the Tyrian, the Stoic
philosopher, he devoted himself to the study, above everything, of moral
and political doctrine. And though possessed, as it were, by a kind of
inspiration for the pursuit of every virtue, yet what most of all virtue
and excellence fixed his affection, was that steady and inflexible
Justice, which is not to be wrought upon by favor or compassion. He
learned also the art of speaking and debating in public, thinking that
political philosophy, like a great city, should maintain for its
security the military and warlike element. But he would never recite his
exercises before company, nor was he ever heard to declaim. And to one
that told him, men blamed his silence, “But I hope not my life,” he
replied, “I will begin to speak, when I have that to say which had not
better be unsaid.”
The great Porcian Hall, as it was called, had been built and
dedicated to the public use by the old Cato, when aedile. Here the
tribunes of the people used to transact their business, and because one
of the pillars was thought to interfere with the convenience of their
seats, they deliberated whether it were best to remove it to another
place, or to take it away. This occasion first drew Cato, much against
his will, into the forum; for he opposed the demand of the tribunes, and
in so doing, gave a specimen both of his courage and his powers of
speaking, which gained him great admiration. His speech had nothing
youthful or refined in it, but was straightforward, full of matter, and
rough, at the same time that there was a certain grace about his rough
statements which won the attention; and the speaker’s character showing
itself in all he said, added to his severe language something that
excited feelings of natural pleasure and interest. His voice was full
and sounding, and sufficient to be heard by so great a multitude, and
its vigor and capacity of endurance quite indefatigable; for he often
would speak a whole day, and never stop.
When he had carried this cause, he betook himself again to study and
retirement. He employed himself in inuring his body to labor and violent
exercise; and habituated himself to go bareheaded in the hottest and the
coldest weather, and to walk on foot at all seasons. When he went on a
journey with any of his friends, though they were on horseback and he on
foot, yet he would often join now one, then another, and converse with
them on the way. In sickness, the patience he showed in supporting, and
the abstinence he used for curing his distempers, were admirable. When
he had an ague, he would remain alone, and suffer nobody to see him,
till he began to recover, and found the fit was over. At supper, when he
threw dice for the choice of dishes, and lost, and the company offered
him nevertheless his choice, he declined to dispute, as he said, the
decision of Venus. At first, he was wont to drink only once after
supper, and then go away; but in process of time he grew to drink more,
insomuch that oftentimes he would continue till morning. This his
friends explained by saying that state affairs and public business took
him up all day, and being desirous of knowledge, he liked to pass the
night at wine in the conversation of philosophers. Hence, upon one
Memmius saying in public, that Cato spent whole nights in drinking, “You
should add,” replied Cicero, “that he spends whole days in gambling.”
And in general Cato esteemed the customs and manners of men at that time
so corrupt, and a reformation in them so necessary, that he thought it
requisite, in many things, to go contrary to the ordinary way of the
world. Seeing the lightest and gayest purple was then most in fashion,
he would always wear that which was nearest black; and he would often go
out of doors, after his morning meal, without either shoes or tunic; not
that he sought vainglory from such novelties, but he would accustom
himself to be ashamed only of what deserves shame, and to despise all
other sorts of disgrace.
The estate of one Cato, his cousin, which was worth one hundred
talents, falling to him, he turned it all into ready money, which he
kept by him for any of his friends that should happen to want, to whom
he would lend it without interest. And for some of them, he suffered his
own land and his slaves to be mortgaged to the public treasury.
When he thought himself of an age fit to marry, having never before
known any woman, he was contracted to Lepida, who had before been
contracted to Metellus Scipio, but on Scipio’s own withdrawal from it,
the contract had been dissolved, and she left at liberty. Yet Scipio
afterward repenting himself, did all he could to regain her, before the
marriage with Cato was completed, and succeeded in so doing. At which
Cato was violently incensed, and resolved at first to go to law about
it; but his friends persuaded him to the contrary. However, he was so
moved by the heat of youth and passion, that he wrote a quantity of
iambic verses against Scipio, in the bitter, sarcastic style of
Archilochus, without, however, his license and scurrility. After this,
he married Atilia, the daughter of Soranus, the first, but not the only
woman he ever knew, less happy thus far than Laelius, the friend of
Scipio, who in the whole course of so long a life never knew but the one
woman to whom he was united in his first and only marriage.
In the war of the slaves, which took its name from Spartacus, their
ringleader, Gellius was general, and Cato went a volunteer, for the sake
of his brother Caepio, who was a tribune in the army. Cato could find
here no opportunity to show his zeal or exercise his valor, on account
of the ill conduct of the general. However, amidst the corruption and
disorders of that army, he showed such a love of discipline, so much
bravery upon occasion, and so much courage and wisdom in everything,
that it appeared he was no way inferior to the old Cato. Gellius offered
him great rewards, and would have decreed him the first honors; which,
however, he refused, saying, he had done nothing that deserved them.
This made him be thought a man of a strange and eccentric temper.
There was a law passed, moreover, that the candidates who stood for
any office should not have prompters in their canvass, to tell them the
names of the citizens; and Cato, when he sued to be elected tribune, was
the only man that obeyed this law. He took great pains to learn by his
own knowledge to salute those he had to speak with, and to call them by
their names; yet even those who praised him for this, did not do so
without some envy and jealousy, for the more they considered the
excellence of what he did, the more they were grieved at the difficulty
they found to do the like.
Being chosen tribune, he was sent into Macedon to join Rubrius, who
was general there. It is said that his wife showing much concern, and
weeping at his departure, Munatius, one of Cato’s friends, said to her,
“Do not trouble yourself, Atilia, I will engage to watch over him for
you.” “By all means,” replied Cato; and when they had gone one day’s
journey together, “Now,” said he to Munatius, after they had supped,
“that you may be sure to keep your promise to Atilia, you must not leave
me day nor night,” and from that time, he ordered two beds to be made in
his own chamber, that Munatius might lie there. And so he continued to
do, Cato making it his jest to see that he was always there. There went
with him fifteen slaves, two freedmen, and four of his friends; these
rode on horseback, but Cato always went on foot, yet would he keep by
them, and talk with each of them in turn, as they went.
When he came to the army, which consisted of several legions, the
general gave him the command of one; and as he looked upon it as a small
matter, and not worthy a commander, to give evidence of his own single
valor, he resolved to make his soldiers, as far as he could, like
himself, not, however, in this, relaxing the terrors of his office, but
associating reason with his authority. He persuaded and instructed every
one in particular, and bestowed rewards or punishments according to
desert; and at length his men were so well disciplined, that it was hard
to say, whether they were more peaceable, or more warlike, more valiant,
or more just; they were alike formidable to their enemies and courteous
to their allies, fearful to do wrong, and forward to gain honor. And
Cato himself acquired in the fullest measure, what it had been his least
desire to seek, glory and good repute; he was highly esteemed by all
men, and entirely beloved by the soldiers. Whatever he commanded to be
done, he himself took part in the performing; in his apparel, his diet
and mode of traveling, he was more like a common soldier than an
officer; but in character, high purpose, and wisdom, he far exceeded all
that had the names and titles of commanders, and he made himself,
without knowing it, the object of general affection. For the true love
of virtue is in all men produced by the love and respect they bear to
him that teaches it; and those who praise good men, yet do not love
them, may respect their reputation, but do not really admire, and will
never imitate their virtue.
There dwelt at that time in Pergamus, Athenodorus, surnamed Cordylio,
a man of high repute for his knowledge of the stoic philosophy, who was
now grown old, and had always steadily refused the friendship and
acquaintance of princes and great men. Cato understood this; so that
imagining he should not be able to prevail with him by sending or
writing, and being by the laws allowed two months’ absence from the
army, he resolved to go into Asia to see him in person, trusting to his
own good qualities not to lose his labor. And when he had conversed with
him, and succeeded in persuading him out of his former resolutions, he
returned and brought him to the camp, as joyful and as proud of this
victory as if he had done some heroic exploit, greater than any of those
of Pompey or Lucullus, who, with their armies, at that time were
subduing so many nations and kingdoms.
While Cato was yet in the service, his brother, on a journey towards
Asia, fell sick at Aenus in Thrace, letters with intelligence of which
were immediately dispatched to him. The sea was very rough, and no
convenient ship of any size to be had; so Cato, getting into a small
trading-vessel, with only two of his friends and three servants, set
sail from Thessalonica, and having very narrowly escaped drowning, he
arrived at Aenus just as Caepio expired. Upon this occasion, he was
thought to have showed himself more a fond brother than a philosopher,
not only in the excess of his grief, bewailing, and embracing the dead
body, but also in the extravagant expenses of the funeral, the vast
quantity of rich perfumes and costly garments which were burnt with the
corpse, and the monument of Thasian marble, which he erected, at the
cost of eight talents, in the public place of the town of Aenus. For
there were some who took upon them to cavil at all this, as not
consistent with his usual calmness and moderation, not discerning that
though he were steadfast, firm, and inflexible to pleasure, fear, or
foolish entreaties, yet he was full of natural tenderness and brotherly
affection. Divers of the cities and princes of the country, sent him
many presents, to honor the funeral of his brother; but he took none of
their money, only the perfumes and ornaments he received, and paid for
them also. And afterwards, when the inheritance was divided between him
and Caepio’s daughter, he did not require any portion of the funeral
expenses to be discharged out of it. Notwithstanding this, it has been
affirmed that he made his brother’s ashes be passed through a sieve, to
find the gold that was melted down when burnt with the body. But he who
made this statement appears to have anticipated an exemption for his
pen, as much as for his sword, from all question and criticism.
The time of Cato’s service in the army being expired, he received, at
his departure, not only the prayers and praises, but the tears, and
embraces of the soldiers, who spread their clothes at his feet, and
kissed his hand as he passed, an honor which the Romans at that time
scarcely paid even to a very few of their generals and
commander-in-chief. Having left the army, he resolved, before he would
return home and apply himself to state affairs, to travel in Asia, and
observe the manners, the customs, and the strength of every province. He
was also unwilling to refuse the kindness of Deiotarus, king of Galatia,
who having had great familiarity and friendship with his father, was
very desirous to receive a visit from him. Cato’s arrangements in his
journey were as follows. Early in the morning he sent out his baker and
his cook towards the place where he designed to stay the next night;
these went soberly and quietly into the town, in which, if there
happened to be no friend or acquaintance of Cato or his family, they
provided for him in an inn, and gave no disturbance to anybody; but if
there were no inn, then and in this case only, they went to the
magistrates, and desiring them to help them to lodgings, took without
complaint whatever was allotted to them. His servants thus behaving
themselves towards the magistrates, without noise and threatening, were
often discredited, or neglected by them, so that Cato many times arrived
and found nothing provided for him. And it was all the worse when he
appeared himself; still less account was taken of him. When they saw him
sitting, without saying anything, on his baggage, they set him down at
once as a person of no consequence, who did not venture to make any
demand. Sometimes, on such occasions, he would call them to him and tell
them, “Foolish people, lay aside this inhospitality. All your visitors
will not be Catos. Use your courtesy, to take off the sharp edge of
power. There are men enough who desire but a pretense, to take from you
by force, what you give with such reluctance.”
While he traveled in this manner, a diverting accident befell him in
Syria. As he was going into Antioch, he saw a great multitude of people
outside the gates, ranged in order on either side the way; here the
young men with long cloaks, there the children decently dressed; others
wore garlands and white garments, who were the priests and magistrates.
Cato, imagining all this could mean nothing but a display in honor of
his reception, began to be angry with his servants who had been sent
before, for suffering it to be done; then making his friends alight, he
walked along with them on foot. As soon as he came near the gate, an
elderly man, who seemed to be master of these ceremonies, with a wand
and a garland in his hand, came up to Cato, and without saluting him,
asked him, where he had left Demetrius, and how soon he thought he would
be there. This Demetrius was Pompey’s servant, and as at this time the
whole world, so to say, had its eyes fixed upon Pompey, this man also
was highly honored, on account of his influence with his master. Upon
this, Cato’s friends fell into such violent laughter, that they could
not restrain themselves while they passed through the crowd; and he
himself, ashamed and distressed, uttered the words, “Unfortunate city!”
and said no more. Afterwards, however, it always made him laugh, when he
either told the story or was otherwise reminded of it.
Pompey himself shortly after made the people ashamed of their
ignorance and folly in thus neglecting him, for Cato, coming in his
journey to Ephesus, went to pay his respects to him, who was the elder
man, had gained much honor, and was then general of a great army. Yet
Pompey would not receive him sitting, but as soon as he saw him, rose
up, and going to meet him, as the more honorable person, gave him his
hand, and embraced him with great show of kindness. He said much in
commendation of his virtue, both at that time when receiving him, and
also yet more, after he had withdrawn. So that now all men began at once
to display their respect for Cato, and discovered in the very same
things for which they despised him before, an admirable mildness of
temper, and greatness of spirit. And indeed the civility that Pompey
himself showed him, appeared to come from one that rather respected than
loved him; and the general opinion was, that while Cato was there, he
paid him admiration, but was not sorry when he was gone. For when other
young men came to see him, he usually urged and entreated them to
continue with him. Now he did not at all invite Cato to stay, but as if
his own power were lessened by the other’s presence, he very willingly
allowed him to take his leave. Yet to Cato alone, of all those who went
for Rome, he recommended his children and his wife, who was indeed
connected by relationship with Cato.
After this, all the cities through which he passed, strove and
emulated each other in showing him respect and honor. Feasts and
entertainments were made for his reception, so that he bade his friends
keep strict watch and take care of him, lest he should end by making
good what was said by Curio, who though he were his familial friend, yet
disliking the austerity of his temper, asked him one day, if when he
left the army, he designed to see Asia, and Cato answering, “Yes, by all
means,” “You do well,” replied Curio, “you will bring back with you a
better temper and pleasanter manners;” pretty nearly the very words he
used.
Deiotarus being now an old man, had sent for Cato, to recommend his
children and family to his protection; and as soon as he came, brought
him presents of all sorts of things, which he begged and entreated him
to accept. And his importunities displeased Cato so much, that though he
came but in the evening, he stayed only that night, and went away early
the next morning. After he was gone one day’s journey, he found at
Pessinus a yet greater quantity of presents provided for him there, and
also letters from Deiotarus, entreating him to receive them, or at least
to permit his friends to take them, who for his sake deserved some
gratification, and could not have much done for them out of Cato’s own
means. Yet he would not suffer it, though he saw some of them very
willing to receive such gifts, and ready to complain of his severity;
but he answered, that corruption would never want pretense, and his
friends should share with him in whatever he should justly and honestly
obtain, and so returned the presents to Deiotarus.
When he took ship for Brundusium, his friends would have persuaded
him to put his brother’s ashes into another vessel; but he said, he
would sooner part with his life than leave them, and so set sail. And as
it chanced, he, we are told, had a very dangerous passage, though others
at the same time went over safely enough.
After he was returned to Rome, he spent his time for the most part
either at home, in conversation with Athenodorus, or at the forum, in
the service of his friends. Though it was now the time that he should
become quaestor, he would not stand for the place till he had studied
the laws relating to it, and by inquiry from persons of experience, had
attained a distinct understanding of the duty and authority belonging to
it. With this knowledge, as soon as he came into the office, he made a
great reformation among the clerks and under-officers of the treasury,
people who had long practice and familiarity in all the public records
and the laws, and, when new magistrates came in year by year, so
ignorant and unskillful as to be in absolute need of others to teach
them what to do, did not submit and give way, but kept the power in
their own hands, and were in effect the treasurers themselves. Till
Cato, applying himself roundly to the work, showed that he possessed not
only the title and honor of a quaestor, but the knowledge and
understanding and full authority of his office. So that he used the
clerks and under-officers like servants, as they were, exposing their
corrupt practices, and instructing their ignorance. Being bold impudent
fellows, they flattered the other quaestors, his colleagues, and by
their means endeavored to maintain an opposition against him. But he
convicted the chiefest of them of a breach of trust in the charge of an
inheritance, and turned him out of his place. A second he brought to
trial for dishonesty, who was defended by Lutatius Catulus, at that time
censor, a man very considerable for his office, but yet more for his
character, as he was eminent above all the Romans of that age for his
reputed wisdom and integrity. He was also intimate with Cato, and much
commended his way of living. So perceiving he could not bring off his
client, if he stood a fair trial, he openly began to beg him off. Cato
objected to his doing this. And when he continued still to be
importunate, “It would be shameful, Catulus,” he said, “that the censor,
the judge of all our lives, should incur the dishonor of removal by our
officers.” At this expression, Catalus looked as if he would have made
some answer; but he said nothing, and either through anger or shame went
away silent, and out of countenance. Nevertheless, the man was not found
guilty, for the voices that acquitted him were but one in number less
than those that condemned him, and Marcus Lollius, one of Cato’s
colleagues, who was absent by reason of sickness, was sent for by
Catalus, and entreated to come and save the man. So Lollius was brought
into court in a chair, and gave his voice also for acquitting him. Yet
Cato never after made use of that clerk, and never paid him his salary,
nor would he make any account of the vote given by Lollius. Having thus
humbled the clerks, and brought them to be at command, he made use of
the books and registers as he thought fit, and in a little while gained
the treasury a higher name than the Senate-house itself; and all men
said, Cato had made the office of a quaestor equal to the dignity of a
consul. When he found many indebted to the state upon old accounts, and
the state also in debt to many private persons, he took care that the
public might no longer either do or suffer wrong; he strictly and
punctually exacted what was due to the treasury, and as freely and
speedily paid all those to whom it was indebted. So that the people were
filled with sentiments of awe and respect, on seeing those made to pay,
who thought to have escaped with their plunder, and others receiving all
their due, who despaired of getting anything. And whereas usually those
who brought false bills and pretended orders of the senate, could
through favor get them accepted, Cato would never be so imposed upon,
and in the case of one particular order, question arising, whether it
had passed the senate, he would not believe a great many witnesses that
attested it, nor would admit of it, till the consuls came and affirmed
it upon oath.
There were at that time a great many whom Sylla had made use of as
his agents in the proscription, and to whom he had for their service in
putting men to death, given twelve thousand drachmas apiece. These men
everybody hated as wicked and polluted wretches, but nobody durst be
revenged upon them. Cato called everyone to account, as wrongfully
possessed of the public money, and exacted it of them, and at the same
time sharply reproved them for their unlawful and impious actions. After
these proceedings, they were presently accused of murder, and being
already in a manner prejudged as guilty, they were easily found so, and
accordingly suffered; at which the whole people rejoiced, and thought
themselves now to see the old tyranny finally abolished, and Sylla
himself, so to say, brought to punishment.
Cato’s assiduity also, and indefatigable diligence, won very much
upon the people. He always came first of any of his colleagues to the
treasury, and went away the last. He never missed any assembly of the
people, or sitting of the senate; being always anxious and on the watch
for those who lightly, or as a matter of interest, passed votes in favor
of this or that person, for remitting debts or granting away customs
that were owing to the state. And at length, having kept the exchequer
pure and clear from base informers, and yet having filled it with
treasure, he made it appear the state might be rich, without oppressing
the people. At first he excited feelings of dislike and irritation in
some of his colleagues, but after a while they were well contented with
him, since he was perfectly willing that they should cast all the odium
on him, when they declined to gratify their friends with the public
money, or to give dishonest judgments in passing their accounts; and
when hard pressed by suitors, they could readily answer it was
impossible to do anything, unless Cato would consent. On the last day of
his office, he was honorably attended to his house by almost all the
people; but on the way he was informed that several powerful friends
were in the treasury with Marcellus, using all their interest with him
to pass a certain debt to the public revenue, as if it had been a gift.
Marcellus had been one of Cato’s friends from his childhood, and so long
as Cato was with him, was one of the best of his colleagues in this
office, but when alone, was unable to resist the importunity of suitors,
and prone to do anybody a kindness. So Cato immediately turned back, and
finding that Marcellus had yielded to pass the thing, he took the book,
and while Marcellus silently stood by and looked on, struck it out. This
done, he brought Marcellus out of the treasury, and took him home with
him; who for all this, neither then, nor ever after, complained of him,
but always continued his friendship and familiarity with him.
Cato after he had laid down his office, yet did not cease to keep a
watch upon the treasury. He had his servants who continually wrote out
the details of the expenditure, and he himself kept always by him
certain books, which contained the accounts of the revenue from Sylla’s
time to his own quaestorship, which he had bought for five talents.
He was always first at the senate, and went out last; and often,
while the others were slowly collecting, he would sit and read by
himself, holding his gown before his book. He was never once out of town
when the senate was to meet. And when afterwards Pompey and his party,
finding that he could never be either persuaded or compelled to favor
their unjust designs, endeavored to keep him from the senate, by
engaging him in business for his friends, to plead their causes, or
arbitrate in their differences, or the like, he quickly discovered the
trick, and to defeat it, fairly told all his acquaintance that he would
never meddle in any private business when the senate was assembled.
Since it was not in the hope of gaining honor or riches, nor out of mere
impulse, or by chance that he engaged himself in politics, but he
undertook the service of the state, as the proper business of an honest
man, and therefore he thought himself obliged to be as constant to his
public duty, as the bee to the honeycomb. To this end, he took care to
have his friends and correspondents everywhere, to send him reports of
the edicts, decrees, judgments, and all the important proceedings that
passed in any of the provinces. Once when Clodius, the seditious orator,
to promote his violent and revolutionary projects, traduced to the
people some of the priests and priestesses, (among whom Fabia, sister to
Cicero’s wife, Terentia, ran great danger,) Cato, having boldly
interfered, and having made Clodius appear so infamous that he was
forced to leave the town, was addressed, when it was over, by Cicero,
who came to thank him for what he had done. “You must thank the
commonwealth,” said he, for whose sake alone he professed to do
everything. Thus he gained a great and wonderful reputation; so that an
advocate in a cause, where there was only one witness against him, told
the judges they ought not to rely upon a single witness, though it were
Cato himself. And it was a sort of proverb with many people, if any very
unlikely and incredible thing were asserted, to say, they would not
believe it, though Cato himself should affirm it. One day a debauched
and sumptuous liver talking in the senate about frugality and
temperance, Amnaeus standing up, cried, “Who can endure this, Sir, to
have you feast like Crassus, build like Lucullus and talk like Cato.” So
likewise those who were vicious and dissolute in their manners, yet
affected to be grave and severe in their language, were in derision
called Catos.
At first, when his friends would have persuaded him to stand to be
tribune of the people, he thought it undesirable; for that the power of
so great an office ought to be reserved, as the strongest medicines, for
occasions of the last necessity. But afterwards in a vacation time, as
he was going, accompanied with his books and philosophers, to Lucania,
where he had lands with a pleasant residence, they met by the way a
great many horses, carriages, and attendants, of whom they understood,
that Metellus Nepos was going to Rome, to stand to be tribune of the
people. Hereupon Cato stopped, and after a little pause, gave orders to
return back immediately; at which the company seeming to wonder, “Don’t
you know,” said he, “how dangerous of itself the madness of Metellus is?
and now that he comes armed with the support of Pompey, he will fall
like lightning on the state, and bring it to utter disorder; therefore
this is no time for idleness and diversion, but we must go and prevent
this man in his designs, or bravely die in defense of our liberty.”
Nevertheless, by the persuasion of his friends, he went first to his
country-house, where he stayed but a very little time, and then returned
to town.
He arrived in the evening, and went straight the next morning to the
forum, where he began to solicit for the tribuneship, in opposition to
Metellus. The power of this office consists rather in controlling, than
performing any business; for though all the rest except any one tribune
should be agreed, yet his denial or intercession could put a stop to the
whole matter. Cato, at first, had not many that appeared for him; but as
soon as his design was known, all the good and distinguished persons of
the city quickly came forward to encourage and support him, looking upon
him, not as one that desired a favor of them, but one that proposed to
do a great favor to his country and all honest men; who had many times
refused the same office, when he might have had it without trouble, but
now sought it with danger, that he might defend their liberty and their
government. It is reported that so great a number flocked about him,
that he was like to be stifled amidst the press, and could scarce get
through the crowd. He was declared tribune, with several others, among
whom was Metellus.
When Cato was chosen into this office, observing that the election of
consuls was become a matter of purchase, he sharply rebuked the people
for this corruption, and in the conclusion of his speech protested, he
would bring to trial whomever he should find giving money, making an
exception only in the case of Silanus, on account of their near
connection, he having married Servilia, Cato’s sister. He therefore did
not prosecute him, but accused Lucius Murena, who had been chosen consul
by corrupt means with Silanus. There was a law that the party accused
might appoint a person to keep watch upon his accuser, that he might
know fairly what means he took in preparing the accusation. He that was
set upon Cato by Murena, at first followed and observed him strictly,
yet never found him dealing any way unfairly or insidiously, but always
generously and candidly going on in the just and open methods of
proceeding. And he so admired Cato’s great spirit, and so entirely
trusted to his integrity, that meeting him in the forum, or going to his
house, he would ask him, if he designed to do anything that day in order
to the accusation, and if Cato said no, he went away, relying on his
word. When the cause was pleaded, Cicero, who was then consul and
defended Murena, took occasion to be extremely witty and jocose, in
reference to Cato, upon the stoic philosophers, and their paradoxes, as
they call them, and so excited great laughter among the judges; upon
which Cato, smiling, said to the standers by, “What a pleasant consul we
have, my friends.” Murena was acquitted, and afterwards showed himself a
man of no ill feeling or want of sense; for when he was consul, he
always took Cato’s advice in the most weighty affairs, and during all
the time of his office, paid him much honor and respect. Of which not
only Murena’s prudence, but also Cato’s own behavior, was the cause; for
though he were terrible and severe as to matters of justice, in the
senate, and at the bar, yet after the thing was over, his manner to all
men was perfectly friendly and humane.
Before he entered on the office of tribune, he assisted Cicero, at
that time consul, in many contests that concerned his office, but most
especially in his great and noble acts at the time of Catiline’s
conspiracy, which owed their last successful issue to Cato. Catiline had
plotted a dreadful and entire subversion of the Roman state by sedition
and open war, but being convicted by Cicero, was forced to fly the city.
Yet Lentulus and Cethegus remained with several others, to carry on the
same plot; and blaming Catiline, as one that wanted courage, and had
been timid and petty in his designs, they themselves resolved to set the
whole town on fire, and utterly to overthrow the empire, rousing whole
nations to revolt and exciting foreign wars. But the design was
discovered by Cicero, (as we have written in his life,) and the matter
brought before the senate. Silanus, who spoke first, delivered his
opinion, that the conspirators ought to suffer the last of punishments,
and was therein followed by all who spoke after him; till it came to
Caesar, who being an excellent speaker, and looking upon all changes and
commotions in the state as materials useful for his own purposes,
desired rather to increase than extinguish them; and standing up, he
made a very merciful and persuasive speech, that they ought not to
suffer death without fair trial according to law, and moved that they
might be kept in prison. Thus was the house almost wholly turned by
Caesar, apprehending also the anger of the people; insomuch that even
Silanus retracted, and said he did not mean to propose death, but
imprisonment, for that was the utmost a Roman could suffer. Upon this
they were all inclined to the milder and more merciful opinion, when
Cato standing up, began at once with great passion and vehemence to
reproach Silanus for his change of opinion, and to attack Caesar, who
would, he said, ruin the commonwealth by soft words and popular
speeches, and was endeavoring to frighten the senate, when he himself
ought to fear, and be thankful, if he escaped unpunished or unsuspected,
who thus openly and boldly dared to protect the enemies of the state,
and while finding no compassion for his own native country, brought,
with all its glories, so near to utter ruin, could yet be full of pity
for those men, who had better never have been born, and whose death must
deliver the commonwealth from bloodshed and destruction. This only of
all Cato’s speeches, it is said, was preserved; for Cicero, the consul,
had disposed, in various parts of the senate-house, several of the most
expert and rapid writers, whom he had taught to make figures comprising
numerous words in a few short strokes; as up to that time they had not
used those we call short-hand writers, who then, as it is said,
established the first example of the art. Thus Cato carried it, and so
turned the house again, that it was decreed the conspirators should be
put to death.
Not to omit any small matters that may serve to show Cato’s temper,
and add something to the portraiture of his mind, it is reported, that
while Caesar and he were in the very heat, and the whole senate
regarding them two, a little note was brought in to Caesar, which Cato
declared to be suspicious, and urging that some seditious act was going
on, bade the letter be read. Upon which Caesar handed the paper to Cato;
who discovering it to be a love-letter from his sister Servilia to
Caesar, by whom she had been corrupted, threw it to him again, saying,
“Take it, drunkard,” and so went on with his discourse. And, indeed, it
seems Cato had but ill-fortune in women; for this lady was ill spoken
of, for her familiarity with Caesar, and the other Servilia, Cato’s
sister also, was yet more ill-conducted; for being married to Lucullus,
one of the greatest men in Rome, and having brought him a son, she was
afterwards divorced for incontinency. But what was worst of all, Cato’s
own wife Atilia was not free from the same fault; and after she had
borne him two children, he was forced to put her away for her
misconduct. After that he married Marcia, the daughter of Philippus, a
woman of good reputation, who yet has occasioned much discourse; and the
life of Cato, like a dramatic piece, has this one scene or passage full
of perplexity and doubtful meaning.
It is thus related by Thrasea, who refers to the authority of
Munatius, Cato’s friend and constant companion. Among many that loved
and admired Cato, some were more remarkable and conspicuous than others.
Of these was Quintus Hortensius, a man of high repute and approved
virtue, who desired not only to live in friendship and familiarity with
Cato, but also to unite his whole house and family with him by some sort
or other of alliance in marriage. Therefore he set himself to persuade
Cato, that his daughter Porcia, who was already married to Bibulus, and
had borne him two children, might nevertheless be given to him, as a
fair plot of land, to bear fruit also for him. “For,” said he, “though
this in the opinion of men may seem strange, yet in nature it is honest,
and profitable for the public, that a woman in the prime of her youth
should not lie useless, and lose the fruit of her womb, nor, on the
other side, should burden and impoverish one man, by bringing him too
many children. Also by this communication of families among worthy men,
virtue would increase, and be diffused through their posterity; and the
commonwealth would be united and cemented by their alliances.” Yet if
Bibulus would not part with his wife altogether, he would restore her as
soon as she had brought him a child, whereby he might be united to both
their families. Cato answered, that he loved Hortensius very well, and
much approved of uniting their houses, but he thought it strange to
speak of marrying his daughter, when she was already given to another.
Then Hortensius, turning the discourse, did not hesitate to speak openly
and ask for Cato’s own wife, for she was young and fruitful, and he had
already children enough. Neither can it be thought that Hortensius did
this, as imagining Cato did not care for Marcia; for, it is said, she
was then with child. Cato, perceiving his earnest desire, did not deny
his request, but said that Philippus, the father of Marcia, ought also
to be consulted. Philippus, therefore, being sent for, came; and finding
they were well agreed, gave his daughter Marcia to Hortensius in the
presence of Cato, who himself also assisted at the marriage. This was
done at a later time, but since I was speaking of women, I thought it
well to mention it now.
Lentulus and the rest of the conspirators were put to death, but
Caesar, finding so much insinuated and charged against him in the
senate, betook himself to the people, and proceeded to stir up the most
corrupt and dissolute elements of the state to form a party in his
support. Cato, apprehensive of what might ensue, persuaded the senate to
win over the poor and unprovided-for multitude, by a distribution of
corn, the annual charge of which amounted to twelve hundred and fifty
talents. This act of humanity and kindness unquestionably dissipated the
present danger. But Metellus, coming into his office of tribune, began
to hold tumultuous assemblies, and had prepared a decree, that Pompey
the Great should presently be called into Italy, with all his forces, to
preserve the city from the danger of Catiline’s conspiracy. This was the
fair pretense; but the true design was, to deliver all into the hands of
Pompey, and give him an absolute power. Upon this the senate was
assembled, and Cato did not fall sharply upon Metellus, as he often did,
but urged his advice in the most reasonable and moderate tone. At last
he descended even to entreaty, and extolled the house of Metellus, as
having always taken part with the nobility. At this Metellus grew the
more insolent, and despising Cato, as if he yielded and were afraid, let
himself proceed to the most audacious menaces, openly threatening to do
whatever he pleased in spite of the senate. Upon this Cato changed his
countenance, his voice, and his language; and after many sharp
expressions, boldly concluded, that while he lived, Pompey should never
come armed into the city. The senate thought them both extravagant, and
not well in their safe senses; for the design of Metellus seemed to be
mere rage and frenzy, out of excess of mischief bringing all things to
ruin and confusion, and Cato’s virtue looked like a kind of ecstasy of
contention in the cause of what was good and just.
But when the day came for the people to give their voices for the
passing this decree, and Metellus beforehand occupied the forum with
armed men, strangers, gladiators, and slaves, those that in hopes of
change followed Pompey, were known to be no small part of the people,
and besides, they had great assistance from Caesar, who was then
praetor; and though the best and chiefest men of the city were no less
offended at these proceedings than Cato, they seemed rather likely to
suffer with him, than able to assist him. In the meantime Cato’s whole
family were in extreme fear and apprehension for him; some of his
friends neither ate nor slept all the night, passing the whole time in
debating and perplexity; his wife and sisters also bewailed and lamented
him. But he himself, void of all fear, and full of assurance, comforted
and encouraged them by his own words and conversation with them. After
supper he went to rest at his usual hour, and was the next day waked out
of a profound sleep by Minucius Thermus, one of his colleagues. So soon
as he was up, they two went together into the forum, accompanied by very
few, but met by a great many, who bade them have a care of themselves.
Cato, therefore, when he saw the temple of Castor and Pollux encompassed
with armed men, and the steps guarded by gladiators, and at the top
Metellus and Caesar seated together, turning to his friends, “Behold,”
said he, “this audacious coward, who has levied a regiment of soldiers
against one unarmed naked man;” and so he went on with Thermus. Those
who kept the passages, gave way to these two only, and would not let
anybody else pass. Yet Cato taking Munatius by the hand, with much
difficulty pulled him through along with him. Then going directly to
Metellus and Caesar, he sat himself down between them, to prevent their
talking to one another, at which they were both amazed and confounded.
And those of the honest party, observing the countenance, and admiring
the high spirit and boldness of Cato, went nearer, and cried out to him
to have courage, exhorting also one another to stand together, and not
betray their liberty, nor the defender of it.
Then the clerk took out the bill, but Cato forbade him to read it,
whereupon Metellus took it, and would have read it himself, but Cato
snatched away the book. Yet Metellus having the decree by heart, began
to recite it without book; but Thermus put his hand to his mouth, and
stopped his speech. Metellus seeing them fully bent to withstand him,
and the people cowed, and inclining to the better side, sent to his
house for armed men. And on their rushing in with great noise and
terror, all the rest dispersed and ran away, except Cato, who alone
stood still, while the other party threw sticks and stones at him from
above, until Murena, whom he had formerly accused, came up to protect
him, and holding his gown before him, cried out to them to leave off
throwing; and, in fine, persuading and pulling him along, he forced him
into the temple of Castor and Pollux. Metellus now seeing the place
clear, and all the adverse party fled out of the forum, thought he might
easily carry his point; so he commanded the soldiers to retire, and
recommencing in an orderly manner, began to proceed to passing the
decree. But the other side having recovered themselves, returned very
boldly, and with loud shouting, insomuch that Metellus’s adherents were
seized with a panic, supposing them to be coming with a reinforcement of
armed men, and fled every one out of the place. They being thus
dispersed, Cato came in again, and confirmed the courage, and commended
the resolution of the people; so that now the majority were, by all
means, for deposing Metellus from his office. The senate also being
assembled, gave orders once more for supporting Cato, and resisting the
motion, as of a nature to excite sedition and perhaps civil war in the
city.
But Metellus continued still very bold and resolute; and seeing his
party stood greatly in fear of Cato, whom they looked upon as
invincible, he hurried out of the senate into the forum, and assembled
the people, to whom he made a bitter and invidious speech against Cato,
crying out, he was forced to fly from his tyranny, and this conspiracy
against Pompey; that the city would soon repent their having dishonored
so great a man. And from hence he started to go to Asia, with the
intention, as would be supposed, of laying before Pompey all the
injuries that were done him. Cato was highly extolled for having
delivered the state from this dangerous tribuneship, and having in some
measure defeated, in the person of Metellus, the power of Pompey; but he
was yet more commended when, upon the senate proceeding to disgrace
Metellus and depose him from his office, he altogether opposed and at
length diverted the design. The common people admired his moderation and
humanity, in not trampling wantonly on an enemy whom he had overthrown,
and wiser men acknowledged his prudence and policy, in not exasperating
Pompey.
Lucullus soon after returned from the war in Asia, the finishing of
which, and thereby the glory of the whole, was thus, in all appearance,
taken out of his hands by Pompey. And he was also not far from losing
his triumph, for Caius Memmius traduced him to the people, and
threatened to accuse him; rather, however, out of love to Pompey, than
for any particular enmity to him. But Cato, being allied to Lucullus,
who had married his sister Servilia, and also thinking it a great
injustice, opposed Memmius, thereby exposing himself to much slander and
misrepresentation, insomuch that they would have turned him out of his
office, pretending that he used his power tyrannically. Yet at length
Cato so far prevailed against Memmius, that he was forced to let fall
the accusations, and abandon the contest. And Lucullus having thus
obtained his triumph, yet more sedulously cultivated Cato’s friendship,
which he looked upon as a great guard and defense for him against
Pompey’s power.
And now Pompey also returning with glory from the war, and confiding
in the good-will of the people, shown in their splendid reception of
him, thought he should be denied nothing, and sent therefore to the
senate to put off the assembly for the election of consuls, till he
could be present to assist Piso, who stood for that office. To this most
of the senators were disposed to yield; Cato, only, not so much thinking
that this delay would be of great importance, but, desiring to cut down
at once Pompey’s high expectations and designs, withstood his request,
and so overruled the senate, that it was carried against him. And this
not a little disturbed Pompey, who found he should very often fail in
his projects, unless he could bring over Cato to his interest. He sent,
therefore, for Munatius, his friend; and Cato having two nieces that
were marriageable, he offered to marry the eldest himself, and take the
youngest for his son. Some say they were not his nieces, but his
daughters. Munatius proposed the matter to Cato, in presence of his wife
and sisters; the women were full of joy at the prospect of an alliance
with so great and important a person. But Cato, without delay or
balancing, forming his decision at once, answered, “Go, Munatius, go and
tell Pompey, that Cato is not assailable on the side of the women’s
chamber; I am grateful indeed for the intended kindness, and so long as
his actions are upright, I promise him a friendship more sure than any
marriage alliance, but I will not give hostages to Pompey’s glory,
against my country’s safety.” This answer was very much against the
wishes of the women, and to all his friends it seemed somewhat harsh and
haughty. But afterwards, when Pompey, endeavoring to get the consulship
for one of his friends, gave pay to the people for their votes, and the
bribery was notorious, the money being counted out in Pompey’s own
gardens, Cato then said to the women, they must necessarily have been
concerned in the contamination of these misdeeds of Pompey, if they had
been allied to his family; and they acknowledged that he did best in
refusing it. Yet if we may judge by the event, Cato was much to blame in
rejecting that alliance, which thereby fell to Caesar. And then that
match was made, which, uniting his and Pompey’s power, had well-nigh
ruined the Roman empire, and did destroy the commonwealth. Nothing of
which perhaps had come to pass, but that Cato was too apprehensive of
Pompey’s least faults, and did not consider how he forced him into
conferring on another man the opportunity of committing the greatest.
These things, however, were yet to come. Lucullus, meantime, and
Pompey, had a great dispute concerning their orders and arrangements in
Pontus, each endeavoring that his own ordinances might stand. Cato took
part with Lucullus, who was manifestly suffering wrong; and Pompey,
finding himself the weaker in the senate, had recourse to the people,
and to gain votes, he proposed a law for dividing the lands among the
soldiers. Cato opposing him in this also, made the bill be rejected.
Upon this he joined himself with Clodius, at that time the most violent
of all the demagogues; and entered also into friendship with Caesar,
upon an occasion of which also Cato was the cause. For Caesar returning
from his government in Spain, at the same time sued to be chosen consul,
and yet desired not to lose his triumph. Now the law requiring that
those who stood for any office should be present, and yet that whoever
expected a triumph should continue without the walls, Caesar requested
the senate, that his friends might be permitted to canvass for him in
his absence. Many of the senators were willing to consent to it, but
Cato opposed it, and perceiving them inclined to favor Caesar, spent the
whole day in speaking, and so prevented the senate from coming to any
conclusion. Caesar, therefore, resolving to let fall his pretensions to
the triumph, came into the town, and immediately made a friendship with
Pompey, and stood for the consulship. And so soon as he was declared
consul elect, he married his daughter Julia to Pompey. And having thus
combined themselves together against the commonwealth, the one proposed
laws for dividing the lands among the poor people, and the other was
present to support the proposals Lucullus, Cicero, and their friends,
joined with Bibulus, the other consul, to hinder their passing, and,
foremost of them all, Cato, who already looked upon the friendship and
alliance of Pompey and Caesar as very dangerous, and declared he did not
so much dislike the advantage the people should get by this division of
the lands, as he feared the reward these men would gain, by thus
courting and cozening the people. And in this he gained over the senate
to his opinion, as likewise many who were not senators, who were
offended at Caesar’s ill conduct, that he, in the office of consul,
should thus basely and dishonorably flatter the people; practicing, to
win their favor, the same means that were wont to be used only by the
most rash and rebellious tribunes. Caesar, therefore, and his party,
fearing they should not carry it by fair dealing, fell to open force.
First a basket of dung was thrown upon Bibulus as he was going to the
forum; then they set upon his lictors and broke their rods; at length
several darts were thrown, and many men wounded; so that all that were
against those laws, fled out of the forum, the rest with what haste they
could, and Cato, last of all, walking out slowly, often turning back and
calling down vengeance upon them.
Thus the other party not only carried their point of dividing the
lands, but also ordained, that all the senate should swear to confirm
this law, and to defend it against whoever should attempt to alter it,
indicting great penalties on those that should refuse the oath. All the
senators seeing the necessity they were in, took the oath, remembering
the example of Metellus in old time, who refusing to swear upon the like
occasion, was forced to leave Italy. As for Cato, his wife and children
with tears besought him, his friends and familiars persuaded and
entreated him, to yield and take the oath; but he that principally
prevailed with him was Cicero, the orator, who urged upon him that it
was perhaps not even right in itself, that a private man should oppose
what the public had decreed; that the thing being already past altering,
it were folly and madness to throw himself into danger, without the
chance of doing his country any good; it would be the greatest of all
evils, to embrace, as it were, the opportunity to abandon the
commonwealth, for whose sake he did everything, and to let it fall into
the hands of those who designed nothing but its ruin, as if he were glad
to be saved from the trouble of defending it. “For,” said he, “though
Cato have no need of Rome, yet Rome has need of Cato, and so likewise
have all his friends.” Of whom Cicero professed he himself was the
chief, being; at that time aimed at by Clodius, who openly threatened to
fall upon him, as soon as ever he should get to be tribune. Thus Cato,
they say, moved by the entreaties and the arguments of his friends, went
unwillingly to take the oath, which he did the last of all, except only
Favonius, one of his intimate acquaintance.
Caesar, exalted with this success, proposed another law, for dividing
almost all the country of Campania among the poor and needy citizens.
Nobody durst speak against it but Cato, whom Caesar therefore pulled
from the rostra, and dragged to prison: yet Cato did not even thus remit
his freedom of speech, but as he went along, continued to speak against
the law, and advised the people to put down all legislators who proposed
the like. The senate and the best of the citizens followed him with sad
and dejected looks, showing their grief and indignation by their
silence, so that Caesar could not be ignorant how much they were
offended; but for contention’s sake, he still persisted, expecting Cato
should either supplicate him, or make an appeal. But when he saw that he
did not so much as think of doing either, ashamed of what he was doing
and of what people thought of it, he himself privately bade one of the
tribunes interpose and procure his release. However, having won the
multitude by these laws and gratifications, they decreed that Caesar
should have the government of Illyricum, and all Gaul, with an army of
four legions, for the space of five years, though Cato still cried out
they were, by their own vote, placing a tyrant in their citadel. Publius
Clodius, who illegally of a patrician became a plebeian, was declared
tribune of the people, as he had promised to do all things according to
their pleasure, on condition he might banish Cicero. And for consuls,
they set up Calpurnius Piso, the father of Caesar’s wife, and Aulus
Gabinius, one of Pompey’s creatures, as they tell us, who best knew his
life and manners.
Yet when they had thus firmly established all things, having mastered
one part of the city by favor, and the other by fear, they themselves
were still afraid of Cato, and remembered with vexation what pains and
trouble their success over him had cost them, and indeed what shame and
disgrace, when at last they were driven to use violence to him. This
made Clodius despair of driving Cicero out of Italy while Cato stayed at
home. Therefore, having first laid his design, as soon as he came into
his office, he sent for Cato, and told him, that he looked upon him as
the most incorrupt of all the Romans, and was ready to show he did so.
“For whereas,” said he, “many have applied to be sent to Cyprus on the
commission in the case of Ptolemy, and have solicited to have the
appointment, I think you alone are deserving of it, and I desire to give
you the favor of the appointment.” Cato at once cried out, it was a mere
design upon him, and no favor, but an injury. Then Clodius proudly and
fiercely answered, “If you will not take it as a kindness, you shall go,
though never so unwillingly;” and immediately going into the assembly of
the people, he made them pass a decree, that Cato should be sent to
Cyprus. But they ordered him neither ship, nor soldier, nor any
attendant, except two secretaries; one of whom was a thief and a rascal,
and the other a retainer to Clodius. Besides, as if Cyprus and Ptolemy
were not work sufficient, he was ordered also to restore the refugees of
Byzantium. For Clodius was resolved to keep him far enough off, whilst
himself continued tribune.
Cato being in this necessity of going away, advised Cicero, who was
next to be set upon, to make no resistance, lest he should throw the
state into civil war and confusion, but to give way to the times, and
thus become once more the preserver of his country. He himself sent
forward Canidius, one of his friends, to Cyprus, to persuade Ptolemy to
yield, without being forced; which if he did, he should want neither
riches nor honor, for the Romans would give him the priesthood of the
goddess at Paphos. He himself stayed at Rhodes, making some
preparations, and expecting an answer from Cyprus. In the meantime,
Ptolemy, king of Egypt, who had left Alexandria, upon some quarrel
between him and his subjects, and was sailing for Rome, in hopes that
Pompey and Caesar would send troops to restore him, in his way thither
desired to see Cato, to whom he sent, supposing he would come to him.
Cato had taken purging medicine at the time when the messenger came, and
made answer, that Ptolemy had better come to him, if he thought fit. And
when he came, he neither went forward to meet him, nor so much as rose
up to him, but saluting him as an ordinary person, bade him sit down.
This at once threw Ptolemy into some confusion, who was surprised to see
such stern and haughty manners in one who made so plain and unpretending
an appearance; but afterwards, when he began to talk about his affairs,
he was no less astonished at the wisdom and freedom of his discourse.
For Cato blamed his conduct, and pointed out to him what honor and
happiness he was abandoning, and what humiliations and troubles he would
run himself into; what bribery he must resort to and what cupidity he
would have to satisfy, when he came to the leading men at Rome, whom all
Egypt turned into silver would scarcely content. He therefore advised
him to return home, and be reconciled to his subjects, offering to go
along with him, and assist him in composing the differences. And by this
language Ptolemy being brought to himself, as it might be out of a fit
of madness or delirium and discerning the truth and wisdom of what Cato
said, resolved to follow his advice; but he was again over-persuaded by
his friends to the contrary, and so, according to his first design, went
to Rome. When he came there, and was forced to wait at the gate of one
of the magistrates, he began to lament his folly, in having rejected,
rather, as it seemed to him, the oracle of a god, than the advice merely
of a good and wise man.
In the meantime, the other Ptolemy, in Cyprus, very luckily for Cato,
poisoned himself. It was reported he had left great riches; therefore
Cato designing to go first to Byzantium, sent his nephew Brutus to
Cyprus, as he would not wholly trust Canidius. Then, having reconciled
the refugees and the people of Byzantium, he left the city in peace and
quietness; and so sailed to Cyprus, where he found a royal treasure of
plate, tables, precious stones and purple, all which was to be turned
into ready money. And being determined to do everything with the
greatest exactness, and to raise the price of everything to the utmost,
to this end he was always present at selling the things, and went
carefully into all the accounts. Nor would he trust to the usual customs
of the market, but looked doubtfully upon all alike, the officers,
criers, purchasers, and even his own friends; and so in fine he himself
talked with the buyers, and urged them to bid high, and conducted in
this manner the greatest part of the sales.
This mistrustfulness offended others of his friends, and, in
particular, Munatius, the most intimate of them all, became almost
irreconcilable. And this afforded Caesar the subject of his severest
censures in the book he wrote against Cato. Yet Munatius himself
relates, that the quarrel was not so much occasioned by Cato’s mistrust,
as by his neglect of him, and by his own jealousy of Canidius. For
Munatius also wrote a book concerning Cato, which is the chief authority
followed by Thrasea. Munatius says, that coming to Cyprus after the
other, and having a very poor lodging provided for him, he went to
Cato’s house, but was not admitted, because he was engaged in private
with Canidius; of which he afterwards complained in very gentle terms to
Cato, but received a very harsh answer, that too much love, according to
Theophrastus, often causes hatred; “and you,” he said, “because you bear
me much love, think you receive too little honor, and presently grow
angry. I employ Canidius on account of his industry and his fidelity; he
has been with me from the first, and I have found him to be trusted.”
These things were said in private between them two; but Cato afterwards
told Canidius what had passed; on being informed of which, Munatius
would no more go to sup with him, and when he was invited to give his
counsel, refused to come. Then Cato threatened to seize his goods, as
was the custom in the case of those who were disobedient; but Munatius
not regarding his threats, returned to Rome, and continued a long time
thus discontented. But afterwards, when Cato was come back also, Marcia,
who as yet lived with him, contrived to have them both invited to sup
together at the house of one Barca; Cato came in last of all, when the
rest were laid down, and asked, where he should be. Barca answered him,
where he pleased; then looking about, he said, he would be near
Munatius, and went and placed himself next to him; yet he showed him no
other mark of kindness, all the time they were at table together. But
another time, at the entreaty of Marcia, Cato wrote to Munatius, that he
desired to speak with him. Munatius went to his house in the morning,
and was kept by Marcia till all the company was gone; then Cato came,
threw both his arms about him, and embraced him very kindly, and they
were reconciled. I have the more fully related this passage, for that I
think the manners and tempers of men are more clearly discovered by
things of this nature, than by great and conspicuous actions.
Cato got together little less than seven thousand talents of silver;
but apprehensive of what might happen in so long a voyage by sea, he
provided a great many coffers, that held two talents and five hundred
drachmas apiece; to each of these he fastened a long rope, and to the
other end of the rope a piece of cork, so that if the ship should
miscarry, it might be discovered thereabout the chests lay under water.
Thus all the money, except a very little, was safely transported. But he
had made two books, in which all the accounts of his commission were
carefully written out, and neither of these was preserved. For his
freedman Philargyrus, who had the charge of one of them, setting sail
from Cenchreae was lost, together with the ship and all her freight. And
the other Cato himself kept safe, till he came to Corcyra, but there he
set up his tent in the market-place, and the sailors being very cold in
the night, made a great many fires, some of which caught the tents, so
that they were burnt, and the book lost. And though he had brought with
him several of Ptolemy’s stewards, who could testify to his integrity,
and stop the mouths of enemies and false accusers, yet the loss annoyed
him, and he was vexed with himself about the matter, as he had designed
them not so much for a proof of his own fidelity, as for a pattern of
exactness to others.
The news did not fail to reach Rome, that he was coming up the river.
All the magistrates, the priests, and the whole senate, with great part
of the people, went out to meet him; both the banks of the Tiber were
covered with people; so that his entrance was in solemnity and honor not
inferior to a triumph. But it was thought somewhat strange, and looked
like willfulness and pride, that when the consuls and praetors appeared,
he did not disembark, nor stay to salute them, but rowed up the stream
in a royal galley of six banks of oars, and stopped not till he brought
his vessels to the dock. However, when the money was carried through the
streets, the people much wondered at the vast quantity of it, and the
senate being assembled, decreed him in honorable terms an extraordinary
praetorship, and also the privilege of appearing at the public
spectacles in a robe faced with purple. Cato declined all these honors,
but declaring what diligence and fidelity he had found in Nicias, the
steward of Ptolemy, he requested the senate to give him his freedom.
Philippus, the father of Marcia, was that year consul, and the
authority and power of the office rested in a manner in Cato; for the
other consul paid him no less regard for his virtue’s sake, than
Philippus did on account of the connection between them. And Cicero now
being returned from his banishment, into which he was driven by Clodius,
and having again obtained great credit among the people, went, in the
absence of Clodius, and by force took away the records of his
tribuneship, which had been laid up in the capitol. Hereupon the senate
was assembled, and Clodius complained of Cicero, who answered, that
Clodius was never legally tribune, and therefore whatever he had done,
was void, and of no authority. But Cato interrupted him while he spoke,
and at last standing up said, that indeed he in no way justified or
approved of Clodius’s proceedings; but if they questioned the validity
of what had been done in his tribuneship, they might also question what
himself had done at Cyprus, for the expedition was unlawful, if he that
sent him had no lawful authority: for himself, he thought Clodius wee
legally made tribune, who, by permission of the law, was from a
patrician adopted into a plebeian family; if he had done ill in his
office, he ought to be called to account for it; but the authority of
the magistracy ought not to suffer for the faults of the magistrate.
Cicero took this ill, and for a long time discontinued his friendship
with Cato; but they were afterwards reconciled.
Pompey and Crassus, by agreement with Caesar, who crossed the Alps to
see them, had formed a design, that they two should stand to be chosen
consuls a second time, and when they should be in their office, they
would continue to Caesar his government for five years more, and take to
themselves the greatest provinces, with armies and money to maintain
them. This seemed a plain conspiracy to subvert the constitution and
parcel out the empire. Several men of high character had intended to
stand to be consuls that year, but upon the appearance of these great
competitors, they all desisted, except only Lucius Domitius, who had
married Porcia, the sister of Cato, and was by him persuaded to stand it
out, and not abandon such an undertaking, which, he said, was not merely
to gain the consulship, but to save the liberty of Rome. In the
meantime, it was the common topic among the more prudent part of the
citizens, that they ought not to suffer the power of Pompey and Crassus
to be united, which would then be carried beyond all bounds, and become
dangerous to the state; that therefore one of them must be denied. For
these reasons they took part with Domitius, whom they exhorted and
encouraged to go on, assuring him, that many who feared openly to appear
for him, would privately assist him. Pompey’s party fearing this, laid
wait for Domitius, and set upon him as he was going before daylight,
with torches, into the Field. First he that bore the light next before
Domitius, was knocked down and killed; then several others being
wounded, all the rest fled, except Cato and Domitius, whom Cato held,
though himself were wounded in the arm, and crying out, conjured the
others to stay, and not while they had any breath, forsake the defense
of their liberty against those tyrants, who plainly showed with what
moderation they were likely to use the power, which they endeavored to
gain by such violence. But at length Domitius also, no longer willing to
face the danger, fled to his own house, and so Pompey and Crassus were
declared consuls.
Nevertheless, Cato would not give over, but resolved to stand himself
to be praetor that year, which he thought would be some help to him in
his design of opposing them; that he might not act as a private man,
when he was to contend with public magistrates. Pompey and Crassus
apprehended this; and fearing that the office of praetor in the person
of Cato might be equal in authority to that of consul, they assembled
the senate unexpectedly, without giving any notice to a great many of
the senators, and made an order, that those who were chosen praetors,
should immediately enter upon their office, without attending the usual
time, in which, according to law, they might be accused, if they had
corrupted the people with gifts. When by this order they had got leave
to bribe freely, without being called to account, they set up their own
friends and dependents to stand for the praetorship, giving money, and
watching the people as they voted. Yet the virtue and reputation of Cato
was like to triumph over all these stratagems; for the people generally
felt it to be shameful that a price should be paid for the rejection of
Cato, who ought rather to be paid himself to take upon him the office.
So he carried it by the voices of the first tribe. Hereupon Pompey
immediately framed a lie, crying out, it thundered; and straight broke
up the assembly; for the Romans religiously observed this as a bad omen,
and never concluded any matter after it had thundered. Before the next
time, they had distributed larger bribes, and driving also the best men
out of the Field, by these foul means they procured Vatinius to be
chosen praetor, instead of Cato. It is said, that those who had thus
corruptly and dishonestly given their voices, at once, when it was done,
hurried, as if it were in flight, out of the Field. The others staying
together, and exclaiming at the event, one of the tribunes continued the
assembly, and Cato standing up, as it were by inspiration, foretold all
the miseries that afterward befell the state, exhorted them to beware of
Pompey and Crassus, who were guilty of such things, and had laid such
designs, that they might well fear to have Cato praetor. When he had
ended this speech, he was followed to his house by a greater number of
people than were all the new praetors elect put together.
Caius Trebonius now proposed the law for allotting provinces to the
consuls, one of whom was to have Spain and Africa, the other Egypt and
Syria, with full power of making war, and carrying it on both by sea and
land, as they should think fit. When this was proposed, all others
despaired of putting any stop to it, and neither did nor said anything
against it. But Cato, before the voting began, went up into the place of
speaking, and desiring to be heard, was with much difficulty allowed two
hours to speak. Having spent that time in informing them and reasoning
with them, and in foretelling to them much that was to come, he was not
suffered to speak any longer; but as he was going on, a sergeant came
and pulled him down; yet when he was down, he still continued speaking
in a loud voice, and finding many to listen to him, and join in his
indignation. Then the sergeant took him, and forced him out of the
forum; but as soon as he got loose, he returned again to the place of
speaking, crying out to the people to stand by him. When he had done
thus several times, Trebonius grew very angry, and commanded him to be
carried to prison; but the multitude followed him, and listened to the
speech which he made to them, as he went along, so that Trebonius began
to be afraid again, and ordered him to be released. Thus that day was
expended, and the business staved off by Cato. But in the days
succeeding, many of the citizens being overawed by fears and threats,
and others won by gifts and favors, Aquillius, one of the tribunes, they
kept by an armed force within the senate-house; Cato, who cried, it
thundered, they drove out of the forum; many were wounded, and some
slain; and at length by open force they passed the law. At this many
were so incensed, that they got together, and were going to throw down
the statues of Pompey; but Cato went, and diverted them from that
design.
Again, another law was proposed, concerning the provinces and legions
for Caesar. Upon this occasion Cato did not apply himself to the people,
but appealed to Pompey himself; and told him, he did not consider now,
that he was setting Caesar upon his own shoulders, who would shortly
grow too weighty for him, and at length, not able to lay down the
burden, nor yet to bear it any longer, he would precipitate both it and
himself with it upon the commonwealth; and then he would remember Cato’s
advice, which was no less advantageous to him, than just and honest in
itself. Thus was Pompey often warned, but still disregarded and slighted
it, never mistrusting Caesar’s change, and always confiding in his own
power and good fortune.
Cato was made praetor the following year; but, it seems, he did not
do more honor and credit to the office by his signal integrity, than he
disgraced and diminished it by his strange behavior. For he would often
come to the court without his shoes, and sit upon the bench without any
under garment, and in this attire would give judgment in capital causes,
and upon persons of the highest rank. It is said, also, he used to drink
wine after his morning meal, and then transact the business of his
office; but this was wrongfully reported of him. The people were at that
time extremely corrupted by the gifts of those who sought offices, and
most made a constant trade of selling their voices. Cato was eager
utterly to root this corruption out of the commonwealth; he therefore
persuaded the senate to make an order, that those who were chosen into
any office, though nobody should accuse them, should be obliged to come
into the court, and give account upon oath of their proceedings in their
election. This was extremely obnoxious to those who stood for the
offices, and yet more to those vast numbers who took the bribes.
Insomuch that one morning, as Cato was going to the tribunal, a great
multitude of people flocked together, and with loud cries and
maledictions reviled him, and threw stones at him. Those that were about
the tribunal presently fled, and Cato himself being forced thence, and
jostled about in the throng, very narrowly escaped the stones that were
thrown at him, and with much difficulty got hold of the Rostra, where,
standing up with a bold and undaunted countenance, he at once mastered
the tumult, and silenced the clamor; and addressing them in fit terms
for the occasion, was heard with great attention, and perfectly quelled
the sedition. Afterwards, on the senate commending him for this, “But
I,” said he, “do not commend you for abandoning your praetor in danger,
and bringing him no assistance.”
In the meantime, the candidates were in great perplexity; for every
one dreaded to give money himself, and yet feared lest his competitors
should. At length they agreed to lay down one hundred and twenty-five
thousand drachmas apiece, and then all of them to canvass fairly and
honestly, on condition, that if any one was found to make use of
bribery, he should forfeit the money. Being thus agreed, they chose Cato
to keep the stakes, and arbitrate the matter; to him they brought the
sum concluded on, and before him subscribed the agreement. The money he
did not choose to have paid for them, but took their securities who
stood bound for them. Upon the day of election, he placed himself by the
tribune who took the votes, and very watchfully observing all that
passed, he discovered one who had broken the agreement, and immediately
ordered him to pay his money to the rest. They, however, commending his
justice highly, remitted the penalty, as thinking the discovery a
sufficient punishment. It raised, however, as much envy against Cato as
it gained him reputation, and many were offended at his thus taking upon
himself the whole authority of the senate, the courts of judicature, and
the magistracies. For there is no virtue, the honor and credit for which
procures a man more odium than that of justice; and this, because more
than any other, it acquires a man power and authority among the common
people. For they only honor the valiant and admire the wise, while in
addition they also love just men, and put entire trust and confidence in
them. They fear the bold man, and mistrust the clever man, and moreover
think them rather beholding; to their natural complexion, than to any
goodness of their will, for these excellences; they look upon valor as a
certain natural strength of the mind, and wisdom as a constitutional
acuteness; whereas a man has it in his power to be just, if he have but
the will to be so, and therefore injustice is thought the most
dishonorable, because it is least excusable.
Cato upon this account was opposed by all the great men, who thought
themselves reproved by his virtue. Pompey especially looked upon the
increase of Cato’s credit, as the ruin of his own power, and therefore
continually set up men to rail against him. Among these was the
seditious Clodius, now again united to Pompey; who declared openly, that
Cato had conveyed away a great deal of the treasure that was found in
Cyprus; and that he hated Pompey, only because he refused to marry his
daughter. Cato answered, that although they had allowed him neither
horse nor man, he had brought more treasure from Cyprus alone, than
Pompey had, after so many wars and triumphs, from the ransacked world;
that he never sought the alliance of Pompey; not that he thought him
unworthy of being related to him, but because he differed so much from
him, in things that concerned the commonwealth. “For,” said he, “I laid
down the province that was given me, when I went out of my praetorship;
Pompey, on the contrary, retains many provinces for himself; and he
bestows many on others; and but now he sent Caesar a force of six
thousand men into Gaul, which Caesar never asked the people for, nor had
Pompey obtained their consent to give. Men, and horse, and arms in any
number, are become the mutual gifts of private men to one another; and
Pompey keeping the titles of commander and general, hands over the
armies and provinces to others to govern, while he himself stays at home
to preside at the contests of the canvass, and to stir up tumults at
elections; out of the anarchy he thus creates amongst us, seeking, we
see well enough, a monarchy for himself.” Thus he retorted on Pompey.
He had an intimate friend and admirer of the name of Marcus Favonius,
much the same to Cato as we are told Apollodorus, the Phalerian, was in
old time to Socrates, whose words used to throw him into perfect
transports and ecstasies, getting into his head, like strong wine, and
intoxicating him to a sort of frenzy. This Favonius stood to be chosen
aedile, and was like to lose it; but Cato, who was there to assist him,
observed that all the votes were written in one hand, and discovering
the cheat, appealed to the tribunes, who stopped the election. Favonius
was afterward chosen aedile, and Cato, who assisted him in all things
that belonged to his office, also undertook the care of the spectacles
that were exhibited in the theater; giving the actors crowns, not of
gold, but of wild olive, such as used to be given at the Olympic games;
and instead of the magnificent presents that were usually made, he
offered to the Greeks beet root, lettuces, radishes, and pears; and to
the Romans, earthen pots of wine, pork, figs, cucumbers, and little
fagots of wood. Some ridiculed Cato for his economy, others looked with
respect on this gentle relaxation of his usual rigor and austerity. In
fine, Favonius himself mingled with the crowd, and sitting among the
spectators, clapped and applauded Cato, bade him bestow rewards on those
who did well, and called on the people to pay their honors to him, as
for himself he had placed his whole authority in Cato’s hands. At the
same time, Curio, the colleague of Favonius, gave very magnificent
entertainments in another theater; but the people left his, and went to
those of Favonius, which they much applauded, and joined heartily in the
diversion, seeing him act the private man, and Cato the master of the
shows, who, in fact, did all this in derision of the great expenses that
others incurred, and to teach them that in amusements men ought to seek
amusement only, and the display of a decent cheerfulness, not great
preparations and costly magnificence, demanding the expenditure of
endless care and trouble about things of little concern.
After this Scipio, Hypsaeus, and Milo, stood to be consuls, and that
not only with the usual and now recognized disorders of bribery and
corruption, but with arms and slaughter, and every appearance of
carrying their audacity and desperation to the length of actual civil
war. Whereupon it was proposed, that Pompey might be empowered to
preside over that election. This Cato at first opposed, saying that the
laws ought not to seek protection from Pompey, but Pompey from the laws.
Yet the confusion lasting a long time, the forum continually, as it
were, besieged with three armies, and no possibility appearing of a stop
being put to these disorders, Cato at length agreed, that rather than
fall into the last extremity, the senate should freely confer all on
Pompey, since it was necessary to make use of a lesser illegality as a
remedy against the greatest of all, and better to set up a monarchy
themselves, than to suffer a sedition to continue, that must certainly
end in one. Bibulus, therefore, a friend of Cato’s, moved the senate to
create Pompey sole consul; for that either he would reestablish the
lawful government, or they should serve under the best master. Cato
stood up, and, contrary to all expectation, seconded this motion,
concluding, that any government was better than mere confusion, and that
he did not question but Pompey would deal honorably, and take care of
the commonwealth, thus committed to his charge. Pompey being hereupon
declared consul, invited Cato to see him in the suburbs. When he came,
he saluted and embraced him very kindly, acknowledged the favor he had
done him, and desired his counsel and assistance, in the management of
this office. Cato made answer, that what he had spoken on any former
occasion was not out of hate to Pompey, nor what he had now done, out of
love to him, but all for the good of the commonwealth; that in private,
if he asked him, he would freely give his advice; and in public, though
he asked him not, he would always speak his opinion. And he did
accordingly. For first, when Pompey made severe laws for punishing and
laying great fines on those who had corrupted the people with gifts,
Cato advised him to let alone what was already passed, and to provide
for the future; for if he should look up past misdemeanors, it would be
difficult to know where to stop; and if he would ordain new penalties,
it would be unreasonable to punish men by a law, which at that time they
had not the opportunity of breaking. Afterwards, when many considerable
men, and some of Pompey’s own relations were accused, and he grew
remiss, and disinclined to the prosecution, Cato sharply reproved him,
and urged him to proceed. Pompey had made a law, also, to forbid the
custom of making commendatory orations in behalf of those that were
accused; yet he himself wrote one for Munatius Plancus, and sent it
while the cause was pleading; upon which Cato, who was sitting as one of
the judges, stopped his ears with his hands, and would not hear it read.
Whereupon Plancus, before sentence was given, excepted against him, but
was condemned notwithstanding. And indeed Cato was a great trouble and
perplexity to almost all that were accused of anything, as they feared
to have him one of their judges, yet did not dare to demand his
exclusion. And many had been condemned, because by refusing him, they
seemed to show that they could not trust their own innocence; and it was
a reproach thrown in the teeth of some by their enemies, that they had
not accepted Cato for their judge.
In the meanwhile, Caesar kept close with his forces in Gaul, and
continued in arms; and at the same time employed his gifts, his riches,
and his friends above all things, to increase his power in the city. And
now Cato’s old admonitions began to rouse Pompey out of the negligent
security in which he lay, into a sort of imagination of danger at hand;
but seeing him slow and unwilling, and timorous to undertake any
measures of prevention against Caesar, Cato resolved himself to stand
for the consulship, and presently force Caesar either to lay down his
arms or discover his intentions. Both Cato’s competitors were persons of
good position; Sulpicius, who was one, owed much to Cato’s credit and
authority in the city, and it was thought unhandsome and ungratefully
done, to stand against him; not that Cato himself took it ill, “For it
is no wonder,” said he, “if a man will not yield to another, in that
which he esteems the greatest good.” He had persuaded the senate to make
an order, that those who stood for offices, should themselves ask the
people for their votes, and not solicit by others, nor take others about
with them, to speak for them, in their canvass. And this made the common
people very hostile to him, if they were to lose not only the means of
receiving money, but also the opportunity of obliging several persons,
and so to become by his means both poor and less regarded. Besides this,
Cato himself was by nature altogether unfit for the business of
canvassing, as he was more anxious to sustain the dignity of his life
and character, than to obtain the office. Thus by following his own way
of soliciting, and not suffering his friends to do those things which
take with the multitude, he was rejected, and lost the consulship.
But whereas, upon such occasions, not only those who missed the
office, but even their friends and relations, used to feel themselves
disgraced and humiliated, and observed a sort of mourning for several
days after, Cato took it so unconcernedly, that he anointed himself, and
played at ball in the Field, and after breakfasting, went into the
forum, as he used to do, without his shoes or his tunic, and there
walked about with his acquaintance. Cicero blames him, for that when
affairs required such a consul, he would not take more pains, nor
condescend to pay some court to the people, as also because that he
afterwards neglected to try again; whereas he had stood a second time to
be chosen praetor. Cato answered, that he lost the praetorship the first
time, not by the voice of the people, but by the violence and corrupt
dealing of his adversaries; whereas in the election of consuls, there
had been no foul play. So that he plainly saw the people did not like
his manners, which an honest man ought not to alter for their sake; nor
yet would a wise man attempt the same thing again, while liable to the
same prejudices.
Caesar was at this time engaged with many warlike nations, and was
subduing them at great hazards. Among the rest, it was believed he had
set upon the Germans, in a time of truce, and had thus slain three
hundred thousand of them. Upon which, some of his friends moved the
senate for a public thanksgiving; but Cato declared, they ought to
deliver Caesar into the hands of those who had been thus unjustly
treated, and so expiate the offense and not bring a curse upon the city;
“Yet we have reason,” said he, “to thank the gods, for that they spared
the commonwealth, and did not take vengeance upon the army, for the
madness and folly of the general.” Hereupon Caesar wrote a letter to the
senate, which was read openly, and was full of reproachful language and
accusations against Cato; who, standing up, seemed not at all concerned,
and without any heat or passion, but in a calm and, as it were,
premeditated discourse, made all Caesar’s charges against him show like
mere common scolding and abuse, and in fact a sort of pleasantry and
play on Caesar’s part; and proceeding then to go into all Caesar’s
political courses, and to explain and reveal (as though he had been not
his constant opponent, but his fellow-conspirator,) his whole conduct
and purpose from its commencement, he concluded by telling the senate,
it was not the sons of the Britons or the Gauls they need fear, but
Caesar himself, if they were wise. And this discourse so moved and
awakened the senate, that Caesar’s friends repented they had had a
letter read, which had given Cato an opportunity of saying so many
reasonable things, and such severe truths against him. However, nothing
was then decided upon; it was merely said, that it would be well to send
him a successor. Upon that Caesar’s friends required, that Pompey also
should lay down his arms, and resign his provinces, or else that Caesar
might not be obliged to either. Then Cato cried out, what he had
foretold was come to pass; now it was manifest he was using his forces
to compel their judgment, and was turning against the state those armies
he had got from it by imposture and trickery. But out of the
Senate-house Cato could do but little, as the people were ever ready to
magnify Caesar and the senate, though convinced by Cato, were afraid of
the people.
But when the news was brought that Caesar had seized Ariminum, and
was marching with his army toward Rome, then all men, even Pompey, and
the common people too, cast their eyes on Cato, who had alone foreseen
and first clearly declared Caesar’s intentions. He, therefore, told
them, “If you had believed me, or regarded my advice, you would not now
have been reduced to stand in fear of one man, or to put all your hopes
in one alone.” Pompey acknowledged, that Cato indeed had spoken most
like a prophet, while he himself had acted too much like a friend. And
Cato advised the senate to put all into the hands of Pompey; “For those
who can raise up great evils,” said he, “can best allay them.”
Pompey, finding he had not sufficient forces, and that those he could
raise, were not very resolute, forsook the city. Cato, resolving to
follow Pompey into exile, sent his younger son to Munatius, who was then
in the country of Bruttium, and took his eldest with him; but wanting
somebody to keep his house and take care of his daughters, he took
Marcia again, who was now a rich widow, Hortensius being dead, and
having left her all his estate. Caesar afterward made use of this action
also, to reproach him with covetousness, and a mercenary design in his
marriage. “For,” said he, “if he had need of wife, why did he part with
her? And if he had not, why did he take her again? Unless he gave her
only as a bait to Hortensius; and lent her when she was young, to have
her again when she was rich.” But in answer to this, we might fairly
apply the saying of Euripides.
To speak of mysteries — the chief of these
Surely were cowardice in Hercules.
For it is much the same thing to reproach Hercules for cowardice, and
to accuse Cato of covetousness; though otherwise, whether he did
altogether right in this marriage, might be disputed. As soon, however,
as he had again taken Marcia, he committed his house and his daughters
to her, and himself followed Pompey. And it is said, that from that day
he never cut his hair, nor shaved his beard, nor wore a garland, but was
always full of sadness, grief, and dejectedness for the calamities of
his country, and continually showed the same feeling to the last,
whatever party had misfortune or success.
The government of Sicily being allotted to him, he passed over to
Syracuse; where understanding that Asinius Pollio was arrived at
Messena, with forces from the enemy, Cato sent to him, to know the
reason of his coming thither: Pollio, on the other side, called upon him
to show reason for the present convulsions. And being at the same time
informed how Pompey had quite abandoned Italy, and lay encamped at
Dyrrhachium, he spoke of the strangeness and incomprehensibility of the
divine government of things; “Pompey, when he did nothing wisely nor
honestly, was always successful; and now that he would preserve his
country, and defend her liberty, he is altogether unfortunate.” As for
Asinius, he said, he could drive him out of Sicily, but as there were
larger forces coming to his assistance, he would not engage the island
in a war. He therefore advised the Syracusans to join the conquering
party and provide for their own safety; and so set sail from thence.
When he came to Pompey, he uniformly gave advice to protract the war;
as he always hoped to compose matters, and was by no means desirous that
they should come to action; for the commonwealth would suffer extremely,
and be the certain cause of its own ruin, whoever were conqueror by the
sword. In like manner, he persuaded Pompey and the council to ordain,
that no city should be sacked that was subject to the people of Rome;
and that no Roman should be killed, but in the heat of battle; and
hereby he got himself great honor, and brought over many to Pompey’s
party, whom his moderation and humanity attracted. Afterwards being sent
into Asia, to assist those who were raising men, and preparing ships in
those parts, he took with him his sister Servilia, and a little boy whom
she had by Lucullus. For since her widowhood, she had lived with her
brother, and much recovered her reputation, having put herself under his
care, followed him in his voyages, and complied with his severe way of
living. Yet Caesar did not fail to asperse him upon her account also.
Pompey’s officers in Asia, it seems, had no great need of Cato; but
he brought over the people of Rhodes by his persuasions, and leaving his
sister Servilia and her child there, he returned to Pompey, who had now
collected very great forces both by sea and land. And here Pompey, more
than in any other act, betrayed his intentions. For at first he designed
to give Cato the command of the navy, which consisted of no less than
five hundred ships of war, besides a vast number of light galleys,
scouts, and open boats. But presently bethinking himself, or put in mind
by his friends, that Cato’s principal and only aim being to free his
country from all usurpation, if he were master of such great forces, as
soon as ever Caesar should be conquered, he would certainly call upon
Pompey, also, to lay down his arms, and be subject to the laws, he
changed his mind, and though he had already mentioned it to Cato,
nevertheless made Bibulus admiral. Notwithstanding this, he had no
reason to suppose that Cato’s zeal in the cause was in any way
diminished. For before one of the battles at Dyrrhachium, when Pompey
himself, we are told, made an address to the soldiers and bade the
officers do the like, the men listened to them but coldly, and with
silence, until Cato, last of all, came forward, and in the language of
philosophy, spoke to them, as the occasion required, concerning liberty,
manly virtue, death, and a good name; upon all which he delivered
himself with strong natural passion, and concluded with calling in the
aid of the gods, to whom he directed his speech, as if they were present
to behold them fight for their country. And at this the army gave such a
shout and showed such excitement, that their officers led them on full
of hope and confidence to the danger. Caesar’s party were routed, and
put to flight; but his presiding fortune used the advantage of Pompey’s
cautiousness and diffidence, to render the victory incomplete. But of
this we have spoken in the life of Pompey. While, however, all the rest
rejoiced, and magnified their success, Cato alone bewailed his country,
and cursed that fatal ambition, which made so many brave Romans murder
one another.
After this, Pompey following Caesar into Thessaly, left at
Dyrrhachium a quantity of munitions, money, and stores, and many of his
domestics and relations; the charge of all which he gave to Cato, with
the command only of fifteen cohorts. For though he trusted him much, yet
he was afraid of him too, knowing full well, that if he had bad success,
Cato would be the last to forsake him, but if he conquered, would never
let him use his victory at his pleasure. There were, likewise, many
persons of high rank that stayed with Cato at Dyrrhachium. When they
heard of the overthrow at Pharsalia, Cato resolved with himself, that if
Pompey were slain, he would conduct those that were with him into Italy,
and then retire as far from the tyranny of Caesar as he could, and live
in exile; but if Pompey were safe, he would keep the army together for
him. With this resolution he passed over to Corcyra, where the navy lay,
there he would have resigned his command to Cicero, because he had been
consul, and himself only a praetor: but Cicero refused it, and was going
for Italy. At which Pompey’s son being incensed, would rashly and in
heat have punished all those who were going away, and in the first place
have laid hands on Cicero; but Cato spoke with him in private, and
diverted him from that design. And thus he clearly saved the life of
Cicero, and rescued several others also from ill-treatment.
Conjecturing that Pompey the Great was fled toward Egypt or Africa,
Cato resolved to hasten after him; and having taken all his men aboard,
he set sail; but first to those who were not zealous to continue the
contest, he gave free liberty to depart. When they came to the coast of
Africa, they met with Sextus, Pompey’s younger son, who told them of the
death of his father in Egypt; at which they were all exceedingly
grieved, and declared that after Pompey they would follow no other
leader but Cato. Out of compassion therefore to so many worthy persons,
who had given such testimonies of their fidelity, and whom he could not
for shame leave in a desert country, amidst so many difficulties, he
took upon him the command, and marched toward the city of Cyrene, which
presently received him, though not long before they had shut their gates
against Labienus. Here he was informed that Scipio, Pompey’s
father-in-law, was received by king Juba, and that Attius Varus, whom
Pompey had made governor of Africa, had joined them with his forces.
Cato therefore resolved to march toward them by land, it being now
winter; and got together a number of asses to carry water, and furnished
himself likewise with plenty of all other provision, and a number of
carriages. He took also with him some of those they call Psylli, who
cure the biting of serpents, by sucking out the poison with their
mouths, and have likewise certain charms, by which they stupefy and lay
asleep the serpents.
Thus they marched seven days together, Cato all the time going on
foot at the head of his men, and never making use of any horse or
chariot. Ever since the battle of Pharsalia, he used to sit at table,
and added this to his other ways of mourning, that he never lay down but
to sleep.
Having passed the winter in Africa, Cato drew out his army, which
amounted to little less than ten thousand. The affairs of Scipio and
Varus went very ill, by reason of their dissensions and quarrels among
themselves, and their submissions and flatteries to king Juba, who was
insupportable for his vanity, and the pride he took in his strength and
riches. The first time he came to a conference with Cato, he had ordered
his own seat to be placed in the middle, between Scipio and Cato; which
Cato observing, took up his chair, and set himself on the other side of
Scipio, to whom he thus gave the honor of sitting in the middle, though
he were his enemy, and had formerly published some scandalous writing
against him. There are people who speak as if this were quite an
insignificant matter, and who nevertheless find fault with Cato, because
in Sicily, walking one day with Philostratus, he gave him the middle
place, to show his respect for philosophy. However, he now succeeded
both in humbling the pride of Juba, who was treating Scipio and Varus
much like a pair of satraps under his orders, and also in reconciling
them to each other. All the troops desired him to be their leader;
Scipio, likewise, and Varus gave way to it, and offered him the command;
but he said, he would not break those laws, which he sought to defend,
and he, being, but propraetor, ought not to command in the presence of a
proconsul, (for Scipio had been created proconsul,) besides that people
took it as a good omen; to see a Scipio command in Africa, and the very
name inspired the soldiers with hopes of success.
Scipio, having taken upon him the command, presently resolved, at the
instigation of Juba, to put all the inhabitants of Utica to the sword,
and to raze the city, for having, as they professed, taken part with
Caesar. Cato would by no means suffer this; but invoking the gods,
exclaiming and protesting against it in the council of war, he with much
difficulty delivered the poor people from this cruelty. And afterwards,
upon the entreaty of the inhabitants, and at the instance of Scipio,
Cato took upon himself the government of Utica, lest, one way or other,
it should fall into Caesar’s hands; for it was a strong place, and very
advantageous for either party. And it was yet better provided and more
strongly fortified by Cato, who brought in great store of corn, repaired
the walls, erected towers, and made deep trenches and palisades around
the town. The young men of Utica he lodged among these works, having
first taken their arms from them; the rest of the inhabitants he kept
within the town, and took the greatest care, that no injury should be
done nor affront offered them by the Romans. From hence he sent great
quantity of arms, money, and provision to the camp, and made this city
their chief magazine.
He advised Scipio, as he had before done Pompey, by no means to
hazard a battle against a man experienced in war, and formidable in the
field, but to use delay; for time would gradually abate the violence of
the crisis, which is the strength of usurpation. But Scipio out of pride
rejected this counsel, and wrote a letter to Cato, in which he
reproached him with cowardice; and that he could not be content to lie
secure himself within walls and trenches, but he must hinder others from
boldly using their own good-sense to seize the right opportunity. In
answer to this, Cato wrote word again, that he would take the horse and
foot which he had brought into Africa, and go over into Italy, to make a
diversion there, and draw Caesar off from them. But Scipio derided this
proposition also. Then Cato openly let it be seen that he was sorry he
had yielded the command to Scipio, who he saw would not carry on the war
with any wisdom, and if, contrary to all appearance, he should succeed,
he would use his success as unjustly at home. For Cato had then made up
his mind, and so he told his friends, that he could have but slender
hopes in those generals that had so much boldness, and so little
conduct; yet if anything should happen beyond expectation, and Caesar
should be overthrown, for his part he would not stay at Rome, but would
retire from the cruelty and inhumanity of Scipio, who had already
uttered fierce and proud threats against many.
But what Cato had looked for, fell out sooner than he expected. Late
in the evening came one from the army, whence he had been three days
coming, who brought word there had been a great battle near Thapsus;
that all was utterly lost; Caesar had taken the camps, Scipio and Juba
were fled with a few only, and all the rest of the army was lost. This
news arriving in time of war, and in the night, so alarmed the people,
that they were almost out of their wits, and could scarce keep
themselves within the walls of the city. But Cato came forward, and
meeting the people in this hurry and clamor, did all he could to comfort
and encourage them, and somewhat appeased the fear and amazement they
were in, telling them that very likely things were not so bad in truth,
but much exaggerated in the report. And so he pacified the tumult for
the present. The next morning, he sent for the three hundred, whom he
used as his council; these were Romans, who were in Africa upon
business, in commerce and money-lending; there were also several
senators and their sons. They were summoned to meet in the temple of
Jupiter. While they were coming together, Cato walked about very quietly
and unconcerned, as if nothing new had happened. He had a book in his
hand, which he was reading; in this book was an account of what
provision he had for war, armor, corn, ammunition and soldiers.
When they were assembled, he began his discourse; first, as regarded
the three hundred themselves, and very much commended the courage and
fidelity they had shown, and their having very well served their country
with their persons, money, and counsel. Then he entreated them by no
means to separate, as if each single man could hope for any safety in
forsaking his companions; on the contrary, while they kept together,
Caesar would have less reason to despise them, if they fought against
him, and be more forward to pardon them, if they submitted to him.
Therefore, he advised them to consult among themselves, nor should he
find fault, whichever course they adopted. If they thought fit to submit
to fortune, he would impute their change to necessity; but if they
resolved to stand firm, and undertake the danger for the sake of
liberty, he should not only commend, but admire their courage, and would
himself be their leader and companion too, till they had put to the
proof the utmost fortune of their country; which was not Utica or
Adrumetum, but Rome, and she had often, by her own greatness, raised
herself after worse disasters. Besides, as there were many things that
would conduce to their safety, so chiefly this, that they were to fight
against one whose affairs urgently claimed his presence in various
quarters. Spain was already revolted to the younger Pompey; Rome was
unaccustomed to the bridle, and impatient of it, and would therefore be
ready to rise in insurrection upon any turn of affairs. As for
themselves, they ought not to shrink from the danger; and in this might
take example from their enemy, who so freely exposes his life to effect
the most unrighteous designs, yet never can hope for so happy a
conclusion, as they may promise themselves; for notwithstanding the
uncertainty of war, they will be sure of a most happy life, if they
succeed, or a most glorious death, if they miscarry. However, he said,
they ought to deliberate among themselves, and he joined with them in
praying the gods that in recompense of their former courage and
goodwill, they would prosper their present determinations. When Cato had
thus spoken, many were moved and encouraged by his arguments, but the
greatest part were so animated by the sense of his intrepidity,
generosity, and goodness, that they forgot the present danger, and as if
he were the only invincible leader, and above all fortune, they
entreated him to employ their persons, arms, and estates, as he thought
fit; for they esteemed it far better to meet death in following his
counsel, than to find their safety in betraying one of so great virtue.
One of the assembly proposed the making a decree, to set the slaves at
liberty; and most of the rest approved the motion. Cato said, that it
ought not to be done, for it was neither just nor lawful; but if any of
their masters would willingly set them free, those that were fit for
service should be received. Many promised so to do; whose names he
ordered to be enrolled, and then withdrew.
Presently after this, he received letters from Juba and Scipio. Juba,
with some few of his men, was retired to a mountain, where he waited to
hear what Cato would resolve upon; and intended to stay there for him,
if he thought fit to leave Utica, or to come to his aid with his troops,
if he were besieged. Scipio was on shipboard, near a certain promontory,
not far from Utica, expecting an answer upon the same account. But Cato
thought fit to retain the messengers, till the three hundred should come
to some resolution,
As for the senators that were there, they showed great forwardness,
and at once set free their slaves, and furnished them with arms. But the
three hundred being men occupied in merchandise and money-lending, much
of their substance also consisting in slaves, the enthusiasm that Cato’s
speech had raised in them, did not long continue. As there are
substances that easily admit heat, and as suddenly lose it, when the
fire is removed, so these men were heated and inflamed, while Cato was
present; but when they began to reason among themselves, the fear they
had of Caesar, soon overcame their reverence for Cato and for virtue.
“For who are we,” said they, “and who is it we refuse to obey? Is it not
that Caesar, who is now invested with all the power of Rome? and which
of us is a Scipio, a Pompey, or a Cato? But now that all men make their
honor give way to their fear, shall we alone engage for the liberty of
Rome, and in Utica declare war against him, before whom Cato and Pompey
the Great fled out of Italy? Shall we set free our slaves against
Caesar, who have ourselves no more liberty than he is pleased to allow?
No, let us, poor creatures, know ourselves, submit to the victor, and
send deputies to implore his mercy.” Thus said the most moderate of
them; but the greatest part were for seizing the senators, that by
securing them, they might appease Caesar’s anger. Cato, though he
perceived the change, took no notice of it; but wrote to Juba and Scipio
to keep away from Utica, because he mistrusted the three hundred.
A considerable body of horse, which had escaped from the late fight,
riding up towards Utica, sent three men before to Cato, who yet did not
all bring the same message; for one party was for going to Juba, another
for joining with Cato, and some again were afraid to go into Utica. When
Cato heard this, he ordered Marcus Rubrius to attend upon the three
hundred, and quietly take the names of those who of their own accord set
their slaves at liberty, but by no means to force anybody. Then, taking
with him the senators, he went out of the town, and met the principal
officers of these horsemen, whom he entreated not to abandon so many
Roman senators, nor to prefer Juba for their commander before Cato, but
consult the common safety, and to come into the city, which was
impregnable, and well furnished with corn and other provision,
sufficient for many years. The senators, likewise, with tears besought
them to stay. Hereupon the officers went to consult their soldiers, and
Cato with the senators sat down upon an embankment, expecting their
resolution. In the meantime comes Rubrius in great disorder, crying out,
the three hundred were all in commotion, and exciting revolt and tumult
in the city. At this all the rest fell into despair, lamenting and
bewailing their condition. Cato endeavored to comfort them, and sent to
the three hundred, desiring them to have patience. Then the officers of
the horse returned with no very reasonable demands. They said, they did
not desire to serve Juba, for his pay, nor should they fear Caesar,
while they followed Cato, but they dreaded to be shut up with the
Uticans, men of traitorous temper, and Carthaginian blood; for though
they were quiet at present, yet as soon as Caesar should appear, without
doubt they would conspire together, and betray the Romans. Therefore, if
he expected they should join with him, he must drive out of the town or
destroy all the Uticans, that he might receive them into a place clear
both of enemies and barbarians. This Cato thought utterly cruel and
barbarous; but he mildly answered, he would consult the three hundred.
Then he returned to the city, where he found the men, not framing
excuses, or dissembling out of reverence to him, but openly declaring
that no one should compel them to make war against Caesar; which, they
said, they were neither able nor willing to do. And some there were who
muttered words about retaining the senators till Caesar’s coming; but
Cato seemed not to hear this, as indeed he had the excuse of being a
little deaf. At the same time came one to him, and told him the horse
were going away. And now, fearing lest the three hundred should take
some desperate resolution concerning the senators, he presently went out
with some of his friends, and seeing they were gone some way, he took
horse, and rode after them. They, when they saw him coming, were very
glad, and received him very kindly, entreating him to save himself with
them. At this time, it is said, Cato shed tears, while entreating them
on behalf of the senators, and stretching out his hands in supplication.
He turned some of their horses’ heads, and laid hold of the men by their
armor, till in fine he prevailed with them, out of compassion, to stay
only that one day, to procure a safe retreat for the senators. Having
thus persuaded them to go along with him, some he placed at the gates of
the town, and to others gave the charge of the citadel. The three
hundred began to fear they should suffer for their inconstancy, and sent
to Cato, entreating him by all means to come to them; but the senators
flocking about him, would not suffer him to go, and said they would not
trust their guardian and savior to the hands of perfidious traitors.
For there had never, perhaps, been a time when Cato’s virtue appeared
more manifestly; and every class of men in Utica could clearly see, with
sorrow and admiration, how entirely free was everything that he was
doing from any secret motives or any mixture of self-regard; he, namely,
who had long before resolved on his own death, was taking such extreme
pains, toil, and care, only for the sake of others, that when he had
secured their lives, he might put an end to his own. For it was easily
perceived, that he had determined to die, though he did not let it
appear.
Therefore, having pacified the senators, he complied with the request
of the three hundred, and went to them alone without any attendance.
They gave him many thanks, and entreated him to employ and trust them
for the future; and if they were not Catos, and could not aspire to his
greatness of mind, they begged he would pity their weakness; and told
him, they had determined to send to Caesar and entreat him, chiefly and
in the first place, for Cato, and if they could not prevail for him,
they would not accept of pardon for themselves, but as long as they had
breath, would fight in his defense. Cato commended their good
intentions, and advised them to send speedily, for their own safety, but
by no means to ask anything in his behalf; for those who are conquered,
entreat, and those who have done wrong, beg pardon; for himself, he did
not confess to any defeat in all his life, but rather, so far as he had
thought fit, he had got the victory, and had conquered Caesar in all
points of justice and honesty. It was Caesar that ought to be looked
upon as one surprised and vanquished; for he was now convicted and found
guilty of those designs against his country, which he had so long
practiced and so constantly denied. When he had thus spoken, he went out
of the assembly, and being informed that Caesar was coming with his
whole army, “Ah,” said he, “he expects to find us brave men.” Then he
went to the senators, and urged them to make no delay, but hasten to be
gone, while the horsemen were yet in the city. So ordering all the gates
to be shut, except one towards the sea, he assigned their several ships
to those that were to depart, and gave money and provision to those that
wanted; all which he did with great order and exactness, taking care to
suppress all tumults, and that no wrong should be done to the people.
Marcus Octavius, coming with two legions, now encamped near Utica,
and sent to Cato, to arrange about the chief command. Cato returned him
no answer; but said to his friends, “Can we wonder all has gone ill with
us, when our love of office survives even in our very ruin?” In the
meantime, word was brought him, that the horse were going away, and were
beginning to spoil and plunder the citizens. Cato ran to them, and from
the first he met, snatched what they had taken; the rest threw down all
they had gotten, and went away silent, and ashamed of what they had
done. Then he called together all the people of Utica, and requested
them upon the behalf of the three hundred, not to exasperate Caesar
against them, but all to seek their common safety together with them.
After that, he went again to the port, to see those who were about to
embark; and there he embraced and dismissed those of his friends and
acquaintance whom he had persuaded to go. As for his son, he did not
counsel him to be gone, nor did he think fit to persuade him to forsake
his father. But there was one Statyllius, a young man, in the flower of
his age, of a brave spirit, and very desirous to imitate the constancy
of Cato. Cato entreated him to go away, as he was a noted enemy to
Caesar, but without success. Then Cato looked at Apollonides, the stoic
philosopher, and Demetrius, the peripatetic; “It belongs to you,” said
he, “to cool the fever of this young man’s spirit, and to make him know
what is good for him.” And thus, in setting his friends upon their way,
and in dispatching the business of any that applied to him, he spent
that night, and the greatest part of the next day.
Lucius Caesar, a kinsman of Caesar’s, being appointed to go deputy
for the three hundred, came to Cato, and desired he would assist him to
prepare a persuasive speech for them; “And as to you yourself,” said he,
“it will be an honor for me to kiss the hands and fall at the knees of
Caesar, in your behalf.” But Cato would by no means permit him to do any
such thing; “For as to myself,” said he, “if I would be preserved by
Caesar’s favor, I should myself go to him; but I would not be beholden
to a tyrant, for his acts of tyranny. For it is but usurpation in him to
save, as their rightful lord, the lives of men over whom he has no title
to reign. But if you please, let us consider what you had best say for
the three hundred.” And when they had continued some time together, as
Lucius was going away, Cato recommended to him his son, and the rest of
his friends; and taking him by the hand, bade him farewell.
Then he retired to his house again, and called together his son and
his friends, to whom he conversed on various subjects; among the rest,
he forbade his son to engage himself in the affairs of state. For to act
therein as became him, was now impossible; and to do otherwise, would be
dishonorable. Toward evening he went into his bath. As he was bathing,
he remembered Statyllius, and called out aloud, “Apollonides, have you
tamed the high spirit of Statyllius, and is he gone without bidding us
farewell?” “No,” said Apollonides, “I have said much to him, but to
little purpose; he is still resolute and unalterable, and declares he is
determined to follow your example.” At this, it is said, Cato smiled,
and answered, “That will soon be tried.”
After he had bathed, he went to supper, with a great deal of company;
at which he sat up, as he had always used to do ever since the battle of
Pharsalia; for since that time he never lay down, but when he went to
sleep. There supped with him all his own friends and the magistrates of
Utica.
After supper, the wine produced a great deal of lively and agreeable
discourse, and a whole series of philosophical questions was discussed.
At length they came to the strange dogmas of the stoics, called their
Paradoxes; and to this in particular, That the good man only is free,
and that all wicked men are slaves. The peripatetic, as was to be
expected, opposing this, Cato fell upon him very warmly; and somewhat
raising his voice, he argued the matter at great length, and urged the
point with such vehemence, that it was apparent to everybody, he was
resolved to put an end to his life, and set himself at liberty. And so,
when he had done speaking, there was a great silence, and evident
dejection. Cato, therefore, to divert them from any suspicion of his
design, turned the conversation, and began again to talk of matters of
present interest and expectation, showing great concern for those that
were at sea, as also for the others, who, traveling by land, were to
pass through a dry and barbarous desert.
When the company was broke up, he walked with his friends, as he used
to do after supper, gave the necessary orders to the officers of the
watch, and going into his chamber, he embraced his son and every one of
his friends with more than usual warmth, which again renewed their
suspicion of his design. Then laying himself down, he took into his hand
Plato’s dialogue concerning the soul. Having read more than half the
book, he looked up, and missing his sword, which his son had taken away
while he was at supper, he called his servant, and asked, who had taken
away his sword. The servant making no answer, he fell to reading again;
and a little after, not seeming importunate, or hasty for it, but as if
he would only know what was become of it, he bade it be brought. But
having waited some time, when he had read through the book, and still
nobody brought the sword, he called up all his servants, and in a louder
tone demanded his sword. To one of them he gave such a blow in the
mouth, that he hurt his own hand; and now grew more angry, exclaiming
that he was betrayed and delivered naked to the enemy by his son and his
servants. Then his son, with the rest of his friends, came running, into
the room, and falling at his feet, began to lament and beseech him. But
Cato raising up himself, and looking fiercely, “When,” said he, “and how
did I become deranged, and out of my senses, that thus no one tries to
persuade me by reason, or show me what is better, if I am supposed to be
ill-advised? Must I be disarmed, and hindered from using my own reason?
And you, young man, why do not you bind your father’s hands behind him,
that when Caesar comes, he may find me unable to defend myself? To
dispatch myself I want no sword; I need but hold my breath awhile, or
strike my head against the wall.”
When he had thus spoken, his son went weeping out of the chamber, and
with him all the rest, except Demetrius and Apollollides, to whom, being
left alone with him, he began to speak more calmly. “And you,” said he,
“do you also think to keep a man of my age alive by force, and to sit
here and silently watch me? Or do you bring me some reasons to prove,
that it will not be base and unworthy for Cato, when he can find his
safety no other way, to seek it from his enemy? If so, adduce your
arguments, and show cause why we should now unlearn what we formerly
were taught, in order that rejecting all the convictions in which we
lived, we may now by Caesar’s help grow wiser, and be yet more obliged
to him, than for life only. Not that I have determined aught concerning
myself, but I would have it in my power to perform what I shall think
fit to resolve; and I shall not fail to take you as my advisers, in
holding counsel, as I shall do, with the doctrines which your philosophy
teaches; in the meantime, do not trouble yourselves; but go tell my son,
that he should not compel his father to what he cannot persuade him to.”
They made him no answer, but went weeping out of the chamber. Then the
sword being brought in by a little boy, Cato took it, drew it out, and
looked at it; and when he saw the point was good, “Now,” said he, “I am
master of myself;” and laying down the sword, he took his book again,
which, it is related, he read twice over. After this he slept so
soundly, that he was heard to snore by those that were without.
About midnight, he called up two of his freedmen, Cleanthes, his
physician, and Butas, whom he chiefly employed in public business. Him
he sent to the port, to see if all his friends had sailed; to the
physician he gave his hand to be dressed, as it was swollen with the
blow he had struck one of his servants. At this they all rejoiced,
hoping that now he designed to live.
Butas, after a while, returned, and brought word they were all gone
except Crassus, who had stayed about some business, but was just ready
to depart; he said, also, that the wind was high, and the sea very
rough. Cato, on hearing this, sighed, out of compassion to those who
were at sea, and sent Butas again, to see if any of them should happen
to return for anything they wanted, and to acquaint him therewith.
Now the birds began to sing, and he again fell into a little slumber.
At length Butas came back, and told him, all was quiet in the port. Then
Cato, laying himself down, as if he would sleep out the rest of the
night, bade him shut the door after him. But as soon as Butas was gone
out, he took his sword, and stabbed it into his breast; yet not being
able to use his hand so well, on account of the swelling, he did not
immediately die of the wound; but struggling, fell off the bed, and
throwing down a little mathematical table that stood by, made such a
noise, that the servants, hearing it, cried out. And immediately his son
and all his friends came into the chamber, where seeing him lie
weltering in his blood, great part of his bowels out of his body, but
himself still alive and able to look at them, they all stood in horror.
The physician went to him, and would have put in his bowels, which were
not pierced, and sewed up the wound; but Cato, recovering himself, and
understanding the intention, thrust away the physician, plucked out his
own bowels, and tearing open the wound, immediately expired.
In less time than one would think his own family could have known
this accident, all the three hundred were at the door. And a little
after, the people of Utica flocked thither, crying out with one voice,
he was their benefactor and their savior, the only free and only
undefeated man. At the very same time, they had news that Caesar was
coming; yet neither fear of the present danger, nor desire to flatter
the conqueror, nor the commotions and discord among themselves, could
divert them from doing honor to Cato. For they sumptuously set out his
body, made him a magnificent funeral, and buried him by the seaside,
where now stands his statue, holding a sword. And only when this had
been done, they returned to consider of preserving themselves and their
city.
Caesar had been informed that Cato stayed at Utica, and did not seek
to fly; that he had sent away the rest of the Romans, but himself, with
his son and a few of his friends, continued there very unconcernedly, so
that he could not imagine what might be his design. But having a great
consideration for the man, he hastened thither with his army. When he
heard of his death, it is related he said these words, “Cato, I grudge
you your death, as you have grudged me the preservation of your life.”
And, indeed, if Cato would have suffered himself to owe his life to
Caesar, he would not so much have impaired his own honor, as augmented
the other’s glory. What would have been done, of course we cannot know,
but from Caesar’s usual clemency, we may guess what was most likely.
Cato was forty-eight years old when he died. His son suffered no
injury from Caesar; but, it is said, he grew idle, and was thought to be
dissipated among women. In Cappadocia, he stayed at the house of
Marphadates, one of the royal family there, who had a very handsome
wife; and continuing his visit longer than was suitable, he made himself
the subject of various epigrams; such as, for example,
Tomorrow, (being the thirtieth day),
Cato, ‘t is thought, will go away;
Porcius and Marphadates, friends so true,
One Soul, they say, suffices for the two,
that being the name of the woman, and so again,
To Cato’s greatness every one confesses,
A royal Soul he certainly possesses.
But all these stains were entirely wiped off by the bravery of his
death. For in the battle of Philippi, where he fought for his country’s
liberty against Caesar and Antony, when the ranks were breaking, he,
scorning to fly, or to escape unknown, called out to the enemy, showed
himself to them in the front, and encouraged those of his party who
stayed; and at length fell, and left his enemies full of admiration of
his valor.
Nor was the daughter of Cato inferior to the rest of her family, for
sober-living and greatness of spirit. She was married to Brutus, who
killed Caesar; was acquainted with the conspiracy, and ended her life as
became one of her birth and virtue. All which is related in the life of
Brutus.
Statyllius, who said he would imitate Cato, was at that time hindered
by the philosophers, when he would have put an end to his life. He
afterward followed Brutus, to whom he was very faithful and very
serviceable, and died in the field of Philippi.
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