Polybius — Histories, Books 5–12

Contents — 72 sections

1. Book 5, Part 1
2. Book 5, Part 2
3. Book 5, Part 3
4. Book 5, Part 4
5. Book 5, Part 5
6. Book 5, Part 6
7. Book 5, Part 7
8. Book 5, Part 8
9. Book 5, Part 9
10. Book 6, Part 1
11. Book 6, Part 2
12. Book 6, Part 3
13. Book 6, Part 4
14. Book 6, Part 5
15. Book 6, Part 6
16. Book 6, Part 7
17. Book 6, Part 8
18. Book 6, Part 9
19. Book 7, Part 1
20. Book 7, Part 2
21. Book 7, Part 3
22. Book 7, Part 4
23. Book 7, Part 5
24. Book 7, Part 6
25. Book 7, Part 7
26. Book 7, Part 8
27. Book 7, Part 9
28. Book 8, Part 1
29. Book 8, Part 2
30. Book 8, Part 3
31. Book 8, Part 4
32. Book 8, Part 5
33. Book 8, Part 6
34. Book 8, Part 7
35. Book 8, Part 8
36. Book 8, Part 9
37. Book 9, Part 1
38. Book 9, Part 2
39. Book 9, Part 3
40. Book 9, Part 4
41. Book 9, Part 5
42. Book 9, Part 6
43. Book 9, Part 7
44. Book 9, Part 8
45. Book 9, Part 9
46. Book 10, Part 1
47. Book 10, Part 2
48. Book 10, Part 3
49. Book 10, Part 4
50. Book 10, Part 5
51. Book 10, Part 6
52. Book 10, Part 7
53. Book 10, Part 8
54. Book 10, Part 9
55. Book 11, Part 1
56. Book 11, Part 2
57. Book 11, Part 3
58. Book 11, Part 4
59. Book 11, Part 5
60. Book 11, Part 6
61. Book 11, Part 7
62. Book 11, Part 8
63. Book 11, Part 9
64. Book 12, Part 1
65. Book 12, Part 2
66. Book 12, Part 3
67. Book 12, Part 4
68. Book 12, Part 5
69. Book 12, Part 6
70. Book 12, Part 7
71. Book 12, Part 8
72. Book 12, Part 9

Book 5, Part 1

THE year of office as Strategus of the younger Aratus had now come to an end with the rising of the Pleiades; for that was the arrangement of time then observed by the Achaeans. Accordingly he laid down his office and was succeeded in the command of the Achaeans by Eperatus; Dorimachus being still Strategus of the Aetolians.

It was at the beginning of this summer that Hannibal entered upon open war with Rome; started from New Carthage; and crossing the Iber, definitely began his expedition and march into Italy; while the Romans despatched Tiberius Sempronius to Libya with an army, and Publius Cornelius to Iberia.

This year, too, Antiochus and Ptolemy, abandoning diplomacy, and the support of their mutual claims upon Coele-Syria by negotiation, began actual war with each other.

As for Philip, being in need of corn and money for his army, he summoned the Achaeans to a general assembly by means of their magistrates. When the assembly had met, according to the federal law, at Aegium, the king saw that Aratus and his son were indisposed to act for him, because of the intrigues against them in the matter of the election, which had been carried on by Apelles; and that Eperatus was naturally inefficient, and an object of general contempt. These facts convinced the king of the folly of Apelles and Leontius, and he once more decided to stand by Aratus. He therefore persuaded the magistrates to transfer the assembly to Sicyon; and there inviting both the elder and younger Aratus to an interview, he laid the blame of all that had happened upon Apelles, and urged them to maintain their original policy. Receiving a ready consent from them, he then entered the Achaean assembly, and being energetically supported by these two statesmen, carried all the measures that he desired. For the Achaeans past a vote decreeing that five hundred talents should be paid to the king at once for his last campaign; that three months’ pay should be given to his army, and ten thousand medimni of corn: and that, for the future, so long as the king should remain in the Peloponnese as their ally in the war, he should receive seventeen talents a month from the Achaeans.

Having passed this decree, the Achaeans dispersed to their various cities. And now the king’s forces mustered again from their winter quarters; and after deliberations with his friends, Philip decided to transfer the war to the sea. For he had become convinced that it was only by so doing that he would himself be able to surprise the enemy at all points at once, and would best deprive them of the opportunity of coming to each others’ relief; as they were widely scattered, and each would be in alarm for their own safety, because the approach of an enemy by sea is so silent and rapid. For he was at war with three separate nations,—Aetolians, Lacedaemonians, and Eleans.

Having arrived at this decision, he ordered the ships of the Achaeans as well as his own to muster at Lechaeum; and there he made continual experiments in practising the soldiers of the phalanx to the use of the oar. The Macedonians answered to his instructions with ready enthusiasm; for they are in fact the most gallant soldiers on the field of battle, the promptest to undertake service at sea if need be, and the most laborious workers at digging trenches, making palisades, and all such engineering work, in the world: just such as Hesiod describes the Aeacidae to be Joying in war as in a feast. The king, then, and the main body of the Macedonian army, remained in Corinth, busied with these practisings and preparations for taking the sea. But Apelles, being neither able to retain an ascendency over Philip, nor to submit to the loss of influence which resulted from this disregard, entered into a conspiracy with Leontius and Megaleas, by which it was agreed that these two men should stay on the spot and damage the king’s service by deliberate neglect; while he went to Chalcis, and contrived that no supplies should be brought the king from thence for the promotion of his designs. Having made this arrangement and mischievous stipulation with these two men, Apelles set out for Chalcis, having found some false pretexts to satisfy the king as to his departure. And while protracting his stay there, he carried out his sworn agreement with such determination, that, as all men obeyed him because of this former credit, the king was at last reduced by want of money to pawn some of the silverplate used at his own table, to carry on his affairs. However, when the ships were all collected, and the Macedonian soldiers already well trained to the oar; the king, giving out rations of corn and pay to the army, put to sea, and arrived at Patrae on the second day, with six thousand Macedonians and twelve hundred mercenaries.

Just at that time the Aetolian Strategus Dorimachus sent Agelaus and Scopas with five hundred Neo-Cretans into Elis; while the Eleans, in fear of Philip’s attempting the siege of Cyllene, were collecting mercenaries, preparing their own citizens, and carefully strengthening the defences of Cyllene. When Philip saw what was going on, he stationed a force at Dyme, consisting of the Achaean-mercenaries, some of the Cretans serving with him, and some of the Gallic horse, together with two thousand picked Achaean infantry. These he left there as a reserve, as well as an advance guard to prevent the danger of an attack from Elis; while he himself, having first written to the Acarnanians and Scerdilaidas, that each of their towns should man such vessels as they had and meet him at Cephallenia, put to sea from Patrae at the time arranged, and arrived off Pronni in Cephallenia. But when he saw that this fortress was difficult to besiege, and its position a contracted one, he coasted past it with his fleet and came to anchor at Palus. Finding that the country there was full of corn and capable of supporting an army, he disembarked his troops and encamped close to the city: and having beached his ships close together, secured them with a trench and palisade, and sent out his Macedonian soldiers to forage. He himself made a personal inspection of the town, to see how he could bring his siege-works and artillery to bear upon the wall. He wished to be able to use the place as a rendezvous for his allies; but he was also desirous of taking it: first, because he would thereby deprive the Aetolians of their most useful support,—for it was by means of Cephallenian ships that they made their descents upon the Peloponnese, and ravaged the sea-boards of Epirus and Acarnania,—and, secondly, that he might secure for himself and his allies a convenient base of operations against the enemy’s territory. For Cephallenia lies exactly opposite the Corinthian Gulf, in the direction of the Sicilian Sea, and commands the northwestern district of the Peloponnese, and especially Elis; as well as the south-western parts of Epirus, Aetolia, and Acarnania.

The excellent position, therefore, of the island, both as a rendezvous for the allies and as a base of attack against the hostile, or of defence for the friendly, territory, made the king very anxious to get it into his power. His survey of the town showed him that it was entirely defended by the sea and steep hills, except for a short distance in the direction of Zacynthus, where the ground was flat; and he accordingly resolved to erect his works and concentrate his attack at that spot.

While the king was engaged in these operations fifty galleys arrived from Scerdilaidas, who had been prevented from sending more by the plots and civil broils throughout Illyria, caused by the despots of the various cities. There arrived also the appointed contingents of allies from Epirus, Acarnania, and even Messenia; for the Messenians had ceased to excuse themselves from taking part in the war ever since the capture of Phigalia.

Having now made his arrangements for the siege, and having got his catapults and ballistae in position to annoy the defenders on the walls, the king harangued his Macedonian troops, and, bringing his siege-machines up to the walls, began under their protection to sink mines. The Macedonians worked with such enthusiastic eagerness that in a short time two hundred feet of the wall were undermined and underpinned: and the king then approached the walls and invited the citizens to come to terms. Upon their refusal, he set fire to the props, and thus brought down the whole part of the wall that rested upon them simultaneously. Into this breach he first sent his peltasts under the command of Leontius, divided into cohorts, and with orders to force their way over the ruin. But Leontius, in fulfilment of his compact with Apelles, three times running prevented the soldiers, even after they had carried the breach, from effecting the capture of the town. He had corrupted beforehand the most important officers of the several cohorts; and he himself deliberately affected fear, and shrunk from every service of danger; and finally they were ejected from the town with considerable loss, although they could have mastered the enemy with ease. When the king saw that the officers were behaving with cowardice, and that a considerable number of the Macedonian soldiers were wounded, he abandoned the siege, and deliberated with his friends on the next step to be taken.

Meanwhile Lycurgus had invaded Messenia; and Dorimachus had started for Thessaly with half the Aetolian army,—both with the idea that they would thus draw off Philip from the siege of Palus. Presently ambassadors arrived at the court to make representations on these subjects from Acarnania and Messenia: the former urging Philip to prevent Dorimachus’s invasion of Macedonia by himself invading Aetolia, and traversing and plundering the whole country while there was no one to resist him; the latter begged him to come to their assistance, representing that in the existing state of the Etesian winds the passage from Cephallenia to Messenia could be effected in a single day, whereby, so Gorgus of Messenia and his colleagues argued, a sudden and effective attack would be made upon Lycurgus. In pursuance of his policy Leontius eagerly supported Gorgus, seeing that by this means Philip would absolutely waste the summer. For it was easy enough to sail to Messenia; but to sail back again, while the Etesian winds prevailed, was impossible. It was plain therefore that Philip would get shut up in Messenia with his army, and remain inactive for what remained of the summer; while the Aetolians would traverse Thessaly and Epirus and plunder them at their pleasure. Such was the insidious nature of the advice given by Gorgus and Leontius. But Aratus, who was present, advocated an exactly opposite policy, urging the king to sail to Aetolia and devote himself to that part of the campaign: for as the Aetolians had gone on an expedition across the frontier under Dorimachus, it was a most excellent opportunity for invading and plundering Aetolia. The king had begun to entertain distrust of Leontius since his exhibition of cowardice in the siege; and had detected his dishonesty in the course of the discussions held about Palus: he therefore decided to act in the present instance in accordance with the opinion of Aratus. Accordingly he wrote to the Achaean Strategus Eperatus, bidding him take the Achaean levies, and go to the aid of the Messenians; while he himself put to sea from Cephallenia, and arrived at night after a two days’ voyage at Leucas: and having managed by proper contrivances to get his ships through the channel or Dioryctus, he sailed up the Ambracian Gulf, which, as I have already stated, stretches from the Sicilian Sea a long distance into the interior of Aetolia. Having made the whole length of this gulf, and anchored a short time before daybreak at Limnaea, he ordered his men to get their breakfast, and leaving the greater part of their baggage behind them, to make themselves ready in light equipment for a march; while he himself collected the guides, and made careful inquiries of them about the country and neighbouring towns.

Before they started, Aristophanes the Acarnanian Strategus arrived with the full levy of his people. For having in former times suffered many severe injuries at the hands of the Aetolians, they were now inspired with a fierce determination to be revenged upon them and damage them in every possible way: they gladly therefore seized this opportunity of getting the help of the Macedonians; and the men who now appeared in arms were not confined to those forced by law to serve, but were in some cases past the military age. The Epirotes were quite as eager to join, and for the same motives; but owing to the wide extent of their country, and the suddenness of the Macedonian arrival, they had not been able to muster their forces in time. As to the Aetolians, Dorimachus had taken half their army with him, as I have said, while the the other half he had left at home; thinking that it would be an adequate reserve to defend the towns and district against unforeseen contingencies. The king, leaving a sufficient guard for his baggage, started from Limnaea in the evening, and after a march of sixty stades pitched his camp: but, having dined and given his men a short rest, he started again; and marching right through the night, arrived just as the day was breaking at the river Achelous, between the towns of Stratus and Conope, being anxious that his entrance into the district of Thermus should be sudden and unexpected.

Leontius saw that it was likely that the king would attain his object, and the Aetolians be unable to resist him, for the double reason of the speed and unexpectedness of the Macedonian attack, and of his having gone to Thermus; for the Aetolians would never suppose him likely to venture to expose himself so rashly, seeing the strongly fortified nature of the country, and would therefore be sure to be caught off their guard and wholly unprepared for the danger. Clinging still to his purpose, therefore, he advised the king to encamp on the Achelous, and rest his army after their night’s march; being anxious to give the Aetolians a short respite to make preparations for their defence. But Aratus, seeing clearly that the opportunity for action was fleeting, and that Leontius was plainly trying to hinder their success, conjured Philip not to let slip the opportunity by delaying.

The king was now thoroughly annoyed with Leontius: and accepting the advice of Aratus, continued his march without interruption; and, after crossing the Achelous, advanced rapidly upon Thermus, plundering and devastating the country as he went, and marching so as to keep Stratus, Agrinium, and Thestia on his left, Conope, Lysimachia, Trichonium, and Phytaeum on his right. Arrived at the town of Metapa, which is on the borders of the Trichonian Lake, and close to the narrow pass along it, about sixty stades from Thermus, he found it abandoned by the Aetolians, and occupied it with a detachment of five hundred men, with a view of its serving as a fortress to secure both ends of the pass: for the whole shore of the lake is mountainous and rugged, closely fringed with forest, and therefore affording but a narrow and difficult path. He now arranged his order of march, putting the mercenaries in the van, next them the Illyrians, and then the peltasts and the men of the phalanx, and thus advanced through the pass; his rear protected by the Cretans: while the Thracians and light-armed troops took a different line of country, parallel to his own, and kept up with him on his right: his left being secured by the lake for nearly thirty stades.

At the end of this distance he arrived at the village of Pamphia; and having, as in the case of Panapa, secured it by a guard, he continued his advance towards Thermus: the road now being not only steep and exceedingly rough, but with deep precipices also on either side, so as to make the path in places very dangerous and narrow; and the whole ascent being nearly thirty stades. But having accomplished this also in a short time, thanks to the energy with which the Macedonians conducted the march, he arrived late in the day at Thermus. There he pitched a camp, and allowed his men to go off plundering the neighbouring villages and scouring the plain of Thermus, as well as to sack the dwelling-houses in Thermus itself, which were full, not only of corn and such like provisions, but of all the most valuable property which the Aetolians possessed. For as the annual fair and most famous games, as well as the elections, were held there, everybody kept their most costly possessions in store at Thermus, to enable them to entertain their friends, and to celebrate the festivals with proper magnificence. But besides this occasion for the employment of their property, they expected to find the most complete security for it there, because no enemy had ever yet ventured to penetrate to that place; while its natural strength was so great as to serve as an acropolis to the whole of Aetolia. The place therefore having been in the enjoyment of peace from time immemorial, not only were the buildings immediately round the temple filled with a great variety of property, but the homesteads on the outskirts also. For that night the army bivouacked on the spot laden with booty of every description; but the next morning they selected the most valuable and portable part of it, and making the rest into a heap in front of their tents, set fire to it. So also in regard to the dedicated arms which were hanging up in the porticoes,—those of them which were valuable they took down and carried off, some they exchanged for their own, while the rest they collected together and burnt. The number of these was more than fifteen thousand.

Up to this point everything was right and fair by the laws of war; but I do not know how to characterise their next proceedings. For remembering what the Aetolians had done at Dium and Dodona, they burnt the colonnades, and destroyed what were left of the dedicated offerings, some of which were of costly material, and had been elaborated with great skill and expense. And they were not content with destroying the roofs of these buildings with fire, they levelled them to their foundations; and threw down all the statues, which numbered no less than two thousand; and many of them they broke to pieces, sparing only those that were inscribed with the names or figures of gods. Such they did abstain from injuring. On the walls also they wrote the celebrated line composed by Samus, the son of Chrysogonus, a foster-brother of the king, whose genius was then beginning to manifest itself. The line was this— Seest thou the path the bolt divine has sped? And in fact the king and his staff were fully convinced that, in thus acting, they were obeying the dictates of right and justice, by retaliating upon the Aetolians with the same impious outrages as they had themselves committed at Dium. But I am clearly of an opposite opinion. And the readiest argument, to prove the correctness of my view, may be drawn from the history of this same royal family of Macedonia.

For when Antigonus, by his victory in a pitched battle over Cleomenes the King of the Lacedaemonians, had become master of Sparta, and had it absolutely in his own power to treat the town and its citizens as he chose, he was so far from doing any injury to those who had thus fallen into his hands, that he did not return to his own country until he had bestowed upon the Lacedaemonians, collectively and individually, some benefits of the utmost importance. The consequence was that he was honoured at the time with the title of Benefactor, and after his death with that of Preserver; and not only among the Lacedaemonians, but among the Greeks generally, has obtained undying honour and glory.

Take again the case of Philip, the founder of the family splendour, and the first of the race to establish the greatness of the kingdom. The success which he obtained, after his victory over the Athenians at Chaeronea, was not due so much to his superiority in arms, as to his justice and humanity. His victory in the field gave him the mastery only over those immediately engaged against him; while his equity and moderation secured his hold upon the entire Athenian people and their city. For he did not allow his measures to be dictated by vindictive passion; but laid aside his arms and warlike measures, as soon as he found himself in a position to display the mildness of his temper and the uprightness of his motives. With this view he dismissed his Athenian prisoners without ransom, and took measures for the burial of those who had fallen, and, by the agency of Antipater, caused their bones to be conveyed home; and presented most of those whom he released with suits of clothes. And thus, at small expense, his prudence gained him a most important advantage. The pride of the Athenians was not proof against such magnanimity; and they became his zealous supporters, instead of antagonists, in all his schemes.

Again in the case of Alexander the Great. He was so enraged with the Thebans that he sold all the inhabitants of the town into slavery, and levelled the city itself with the ground; yet in making its capture he was careful not to outrage religion, and took the utmost precautions against even involuntary damage being done to the temples, or any part of their sacred enclosures. Once more, when he crossed into Asia, to avenge on the Persians the impious outrages which they had inflicted on the Greeks, he did his best to exact the full penalty from men, but refrained from injuring places dedicated to the gods; though it was in precisely such that the injuries of the Persians in Greece had been most conspicuous. These were the precedents which Philip should have called to mind on this occasion; and so have shown himself the successor and heir of these men,—not so much of their power, as of their principles and magnanimity. But throughout his life he was exceedingly anxious to establish his relationship to Alexander and Philip, and yet took not the least pains to imitate them. The result was that, as he advanced in years, as his conduct differed from theirs, so his general reputation came to be different also.

The present affair was an instance of this. He imagined that he was doing nothing wrong in giving the rein to his anger, and retaliating upon the impious acts of the Aetolians by similar impieties, and curing ill by ill; and while he was always reproaching Scopas and Dorimachus with depravity and abandoned wickedness, on the grounds of their acts of impiety at Dodona and Dium, he imagined that, while emulating their crimes, he would leave quite a different impression of his character in the minds of those to whom he spoke. But the fact is, that whereas the taking and demolishing an enemy’s forts, harbours, cities, men, ships and crops, and other such things, by which our enemy is weakened, and our own interests and tactics supported, are necessary acts according to the laws and rights of war; to deface temples, statues, and such like erections in pure wantonness, and without any prospect of strengthening oneself or weakening the enemy, must be regarded as an act of blind passion and insanity. For the purpose with which good men wage war is not the destruction and annihilation of the wrongdoers, but the reformation and alteration of the wrongful acts. Nor is it their object to involve the innocent in the destruction of the guilty, but rather to see that those who are held to be guilty should share in the preservation and elevation of the guiltless. It is the act of a tyrant to inflict injury, and so to maintain his power over unwilling subjects by terror,—hated, and hating those under him: but it is the glory of a king to secure, by doing good to all, that he should rule over willing subjects, whose love he has earned by humanity and beneficence.

But the best way of appreciating the gravity of Philip’s mistake is to put before our eyes the idea which the Aetolians would probably have conceived of him, had he acted in an opposite way, and destroyed neither colonnades nor statutes, nor done injury to any of the sacred offerings. For my part I think it would have been one of the greatest goodness and humanity. For they would have had on their consciences their own acts at Dium and Dodona; and would have seen unmistakably that, whereas Philip was absolutely master of the situation, and could do what he chose, and would have been held fully justified as far as their deserts went in taking the severest measures, yet deliberately, from mere gentleness and magnanimity, he refused to copy their conduct in any respect.

Book 5, Part 2

Clearly these considerations would most probably have led them to condemn themselves, and to view Philip with respect and admiration for his kingly and high minded qualities, shown by his respect for religion and by the moderation of his anger against themselves. For in truth to conquer one’s enemies in integrity and equity is not of less, but of greater, practical advantage than victories in the field. In the one case the defeated party yields under compulsion; in the other with cheerful assent. In the one case the victor effects his reformation at the cost of great losses; in the other he recalls the erring to better courses without any damage to himself. But above all, in the one case the chief credit of the victory belongs to the soldiers, in the other it falls wholly and solely to the part of the leaders.

Perhaps, however, one ought not to lay all the blame for what was done on that occasion on Philip, taking his age into consideration; but chiefly on his friends, who were in attendance upon him and co-operating with him, among whom were Aratus and Demetrius of Pharos. In regard to them it would not be difficult to assert, even without being there, from which of the two a counsel of this sort proceeded. For apart from the general principles animating the whole course of his life, in which nothing savouring of rashness and want of judgment can be alleged of Aratus, while the exact contrary may be said of Demetrius, we have an undisputed instance of the principles actuating both the one and the other in analogous circumstances, on which I shall speak in its proper place.

To return then to Philip. Taking with him as much booty living and dead as he could, he started from Thermus, returning by the same road as that by which he had come; putting the booty and heavy-armed infantry in the van, and reserving the Acarnanians and mercenaries to bring up the rear. He was in great haste to get through the difficult passes, because he expected that the Aetolians, relying on the security of their strongholds, would harass his rear. And this in fact promptly took place: for a body of Aetolians, that had collected to the number of nearly three thousand for the defence of the country, under the command of Alexander of Trichonium, hovered about, concealing themselves in certain secret hiding-places, and not venturing to approach as long as Philip was on the high ground; but as soon as he got his rear-guard in motion they promptly threw themselves into Thermus and began harassing the hindermost of the enemy’s column. The rear being thus thrown into confusion, the attacks and charges of the Aetolians became more and more furious, encouraged by the nature of the ground. But Philip had foreseen this danger, and had provided for it, by stationing his Illyrians and his best peltasts under cover of a certain hill on the descent. These men suddenly fell upon the advanced bodies of the enemy as they were charging; whereupon the rest of the Aetolian army fled in headlong haste over a wild and trackless country, with a loss of a hundred and thirty killed, and about the same number taken prisoners. This success relieved his rear; which, after burning Pamphium, accomplished the passage of the narrow gorge with rapidity and safety, and effected a junction with the Macedonians near Matape, at which place Philip had pitched a camp and was waiting for his rear-guard to come up. Next day, after levelling Metape to the ground, he advanced to the city called Acrae; next day to Conope, ravaging the country as he passed, and there encamped for the night. On the next he marched along the Achelous as far as Stratus; there he crossed the river, and, having halted his men out of range, endeavoured to tempt the garrison outside the walls; for he had been informed that two thousand Aetolian infantry and about four hundred horse, with five hundred Cretans, had collected into Stratus. But when no one ventured out, he renewed his march, and ordered his van to advance towards Limnaea and the ships.

But no sooner had his rear passed the town than, first, a small body of Aetolian cavalry sallied out and began harassing the hindmost men; and then, the whole of the Cretans and some Aetolian troops having joined their cavalry, the conflict became more severe, and the rear of Philip’s army were forced to face about and engage the enemy. At first the conflict was undecided; but on Philip’s mercenaries being supported by the arrival of the Illyrians, the Aetolian cavalry and mercenaries gave way and fled in disorder. The royal troops pursued most of them to the entrance of the gates, or up to the walls, and killed about a hundred of them. After this skirmish the garrison remained inactive, and the rear of the royal army reached the camp and the ships in safety.

Philip pitched his camp early in the day, and proceeded to make a thank offering to the gods for the successful issue of his undertaking; and to invite the officers to a banquet, at which it was his intention to entertain them all. His view was that he had ventured upon a dangerous country, and such as no one had ever ventured to enter with an army before; while he had not only entered it with an army, but had returned in safety, after accomplishing all that he had intended. But while he was thus intent on entertaining his officers in great elation of mind, Megaleas and Leontius were nursing feelings of great annoyance at the success of the king. They had arranged with Apelles to hamper all his plans, but had been unable to do so; and now saw everything turning out exactly contrary to their views.

Still they came to the banquet, where they from the first excited the suspicions of the king and the rest of the company, by showing less joy at the events than the others present. But as the drinking went on, and grew less and less moderate, being forced to do just as the others did, they soon showed themselves in their true colours. For as soon as the company broke up, losing control over themselves under the influence of wine, they roamed about looking for Aratus; and having fallen in with him on his way home, they first attacked him with abusive language, and then threw stones at him; and a number of people coming to the assistance of both parties, there was a noise and disturbance in the camp. But the king hearing the noise sent some officers to ascertain the cause, and to put an end to the disturbance. On their coming upon the scene, Aratus stated what had occurred, called those present to witness the truth of his words, and retired to his own tent; but Leontius by some unexplained means slipped away in the crowd. When informed of what had taken place, the king sent for Megaleas and Crinon and rebuked them sharply: and when they not only expressed no submission, but actually retorted with a declaration that they would never desist until they had paid Aratus out, the king, enraged at their words, at once required them to give security for the payment of a fine of twenty talents, and ordered them to be placed under arrest.

Next morning, too, he sent for Aratus and bade him have no fears, for that he would see that the business was properly settled. When Leontius learned what had happened to Megaleas, he came to the king’s tent with some peltasts, believing that, owing to his youth, he should overawe the king, and quickly induce him to repent of his purpose. Coming into the royal presence he demanded who had ventured to lay hands on Megaleas, and lead him to confinement? But when the king answered with firmness that he had given the order, Leontius was dismayed; and, with an exclamation of indignant sorrow, departed in high wrath. Immediately after getting the fleet across the gulf, and anchoring at Leucas, the king first gave orders to the officers appointed to distribute the spoils to carry out that business with all despatch; and then summoned his friends to council, and tried the case of Megaleas. In his speech as accuser Aratus went over the crimes of Leontius and his party from beginning to end; detailed the massacre in Argos perpetrated by them after the departure of Antigonus; their arrangement made with Apelles; and finally their contrivance to prevent success at Palus. Of all these accusations he gave distinct proof, and brought forward witnesses: and Megaleas and Crinon being entirely unable to refute any of them, were unanimously condemned by the king’s friends. Crinon remained under arrest, but Leontius went bail for the payment of the Megaleas’s fine. Thus the intrigue of Apelles and Leontius turned out quite contrary to their original hopes: for they had expected, by terrifying Aratus and isolating Philip, to do whatever seemed to suit their interests; whereas the result had been exactly the reverse.

About the same time Lycurgus returned from Messenia without having accomplished anything of importance. Afterwards he started again and seized Tegea. The inhabitants having retreated into the citadel, he determined to besiege it; but finding himself unable to make any impression upon it he returned once more to Sparta.

The Eleans after over-running Dymaea, gained an easy victory over some cavalry that had come out to resist them, by decoying them into an ambush. They killed a considerable number of the Gallic mercenaries, and among the natives whom they took prisoners were Polymedes of Aegium, and Agesipolis, and Diocles of Dyme.

Dorimachus had made his expedition originally, as I have already mentioned, under the conviction that he would be able to devastate Thessaly without danger to himself, and would force Philip to raise the siege of Palus. But when he found Chrysogonus and Petraeus ready in Thessaly to engage him, he did not venture to descend into the plain, but kept close upon the skirts of the mountains; and when news reached him of the Macedonian invasion of Aetolia, he abandoned his attempt upon Thessaly, and hurried home to resist the invaders, whom he found however already departed from Aetolia: and so was too late for the campaign at all points.

Meanwhile the king set sail from Leucas; and after ravaging the territory of Oeanthe as he coasted along, arrived with his whole fleet at Corinth, and dropping anchor in the harbour of Lechaeum, disembarked his troops, and sent his letter-bearers to the allied cities in the Peloponnese, naming a day on which he wished all to be at Tegea by bed-time.

Then, without making any stay in Corinth, he gave the Macedonians marching orders; and came at the end of a two days’ march by way of Argos to Tegea. There he took on the Achaean troops that had assembled, and advanced by the mountain road, being very desirous to effect an entrance into the territory of the Lacedaemonians before they became aware of it. Thus after a circuitous route through an uninhabited district he came out upon the hills facing the town, and continued his advance right upon Amyclae, keeping the Menelaïum on his right. The Lacedaemonians were dismayed and terrified at seeing from the town the army passing along the hills, and wondered what was happening. For they were still in a state of excitement at the news of Philip which had arrived,—his destruction of Thermus, and his whole campaign in Aetolia; and there was even some talk among them of sending Lycurgus to the assistance of the Aetolians. But no one had so much as thought of danger coming so quickly to their own gates from such a distance, especially as the youth of the king still gave room for a certain feeling of contempt. The event therefore being totally contrary to their expectations, they were naturally in a state of great dismay. For the courage and energy beyond his years, with which Philip acted, reduced all his enemies to a state of the utmost difficulty and terror. For setting out, as I have shown, from the centre of Aetolia, and crossing the Ambracian gulf by night, he passed over to Leucas; and after a two days’ halt there, on the third he renewed his voyage before daybreak, and after a two days’ sail, during which he ravaged the sea-board of the Aetolians, he dropped anchor in Lechaeum; thence, after seven days’ continuous march, he arrived on the heights above Sparta in the neighbourhood of the Menelaïum,—a feat which most of those even who saw it done could scarcely believe.

While the Lacedaemonians were thus thoroughly terrified at the unexpected danger, and at a loss what to do to meet it, Philip encamped on the first day at Amyclae: a place in Laconia about twenty stades from Lacedaemon, exceedingly rich in forest and corn, and containing a temple of Apollo, which is about the most splendid of all the temples in Laconia, situated in that quarter of the city which slopes down towards the sea. Next day the king descended to a place called the Camp of Pyrrhus, wasting the country as he went. After devastating the neighbouring districts for the two following days, he encamped near Carnium; thence he started for Asine, and after some fruitless assaults upon it, he started again, and thenceforth devoted himself to plundering all the country bordering on the Cretan Sea as far as Taenarum. Then, once more changing the direction of his march, he advanced to Gythium, the naval arsenal of Sparta, which possesses a safe harbour, and is about thirty stades from the city. Then leaving this on the right, he pitched his camp in the territory of Helos, which of all the districts of Laconia is the most extensive and most beautiful. Thence he sent out foraging parties and wasted the country with fire and sword, and destroyed the crops in it: pushing his devastation as far as Acriae and Leucae, and even to the district of Boeae.

On the receipt of the despatch from Philip commanding the levy, the Messenians were no less forward than the other allies to undertake it. They showed indeed great zeal in making the expedition, sending cut the flower of their troops, two thousand infantry and two hundred cavalry. Owing, however, to their distance from the seat of war, they arrived at Tegea after Philip had left, and at first were at a loss what to do; but being very anxious not to appear lukewarm in the campaign, because of the suspicions which had attached to them before, they pressed forward through Argolis into Laconia, with a view of effecting a junction with Philip; and having reached a fort called Glympes, which is situated on the frontiers of Argolis and Laconia, they encamped there in an unskilful and careless manner: for they neither entrenched themselves with ditch nor rampart, nor selected an advantageous spot; but trusting to the friendly disposition of the natives, bivouacked there unsuspiciously outside the walls of the fortress. But on news being brought to Lycurgus of the arrival of the Messenians, he took his mercenaries and some Lacedaemonians with him, and reaching the place before daybreak, boldly attacked the camp. Ill advised as the proceedings of the Messenians had been, and especially in advancing from Tegea with inadequate numbers and without the direction of experts, in the actual hour of danger, when the enemy was upon them, they did all that circumstances admitted of to secure their safety. For as soon as they saw the enemy appearing they abandoned everything and took refuge within the fort. Accordingly, though Lycurgus captured most of the horses and the baggage, he did not take a single prisoner, and only succeeded in killing eight of the cavalry. After this reverse, the Messenians returned home through Argolis: but elated with success Lycurgus went to Sparta, and set about preparations for war; and took secret counsel with his friends to prevent Philip from getting safe out of the country without an engagement. Meanwhile the king had started from the district of Helos, and was on his return march, wasting the country as he came; and on the fourth day, about noon, arrived once more with his whole army at Amyclae.

Leaving directions with his officers and friends as to the coming engagement, Lycurgus himself left Sparta and occupied the ground near the Menelaïum, with as many as two thousand men. He agreed with the officers in the town that they should watch carefully, in order that, whenever he raised the signal, they might lead out their troops from the town at several points at once, and draw them up facing the Eurotas, at the spot where it is nearest the town. Such were the measures and designs of Lycurgus and the Lacedaemonians.

But lest ignorance of the locality should render my story unintelligible and vague, I must describe its natural features and general position: following my practice throughout this work of drawing out the analogies and likenesses between places which are unknown and those already known and described. For seeing that in war, whether by sea or land, it is the difference of position which generally is the cause of failure; and since I wish all to know, not so much what happened, as how it happened, I must not pass over local description in detailing events of any sort, least of all in such as relate to war: and I must not shrink from using as landmarks, at one time harbours and seas and islands, at another temples, mountains, or local names; or, finally, variations in the aspect of the heaven, these being of the most universal application throughout the world. For it is thus, and thus only, that it is possible, as I have said, to bring my readers to a conception of an unknown scene.

These then are the features of the country in question. Sparta, as a whole, is in the shape of a circle; and is situated on level ground, broken at certain points by irregularities and hills. The river Eurotas flows past it on the east, and for the greater part of the year is too large to be forded; and the hills on which the Menelaïum stands are on the other side of the river, to the south-east of the town, rugged and difficult of access and exceedingly lofty; they exactly command the space between the town and the Eurotas, which flows at the very foot of the hill, the whole valley being at this point no more than a stade and a half wide. Through this Philip was obliged to pass on his return march, with the city, and the Lacedaemonians ready and drawn up for battle, on his left hand, and on his right the river, and the division of Lycurgus posted upon the hills. In addition to these arrangements the Lacedaemonians had had recourse to the following device: They had dammed up the river above the town, and turned the stream upon the space between the town and the hills; with the result that the ground became so wet that men could not keep their feet, to say nothing of horses. The only course, therefore, left to the king was to lead his men close under the skirts of the hills, thus presenting to the attack of the enemy a long line of march, in which it was difficult for one part to relieve another.

Philip perceived these difficulties, and after consultation with his friends decided that the matter of most urgent necessity was to dislodge the division of Lycurgus, first of all, from the position near the Menelaïum. He took therefore his mercenaries, peltasts, and Illyrians, and advanced across the river in the direction of the hills. Perceiving Philip’s design, Lycurgus began getting his men ready, and exhorted them to face the battle, and at the same time displayed the signal to the forces in the town: whereupon those whose duty it was immediately led out the troops from the town, as had been arranged, and drew them up outside the wall, with the cavalry on their right wing.

When he had got within distance of Lycurgus, Philip at first ordered the mercenaries to charge alone: and, accordingly, their superiority in arms and position contributed not a little to give the Lacedaemonians the upper hand at the beginning of the engagement. But when Philip supported his men by sending his reserve of peltasts on to the field, and caused the Illyrians to charge the enemy on the flanks, the king’s mercenaries were encouraged by the appearance of these reserves to renew the battle with much more vigour than ever; while Lycurgus’s men, terrified at the approach of the heavy-armed soldiers, gave way and fled, leaving a hundred killed and rather more prisoners, while the rest escaped into the town. Lycurgus himself, with a few followers going by a deserted and pathless route, made his way into the town under cover of night. Philip secured the hills by means of the Illyrians; and, accompanied by his light-armed troops and peltasts, rejoined his main forces. Just at the same time Aratus, leading the phalanx from Amyclae, had come close to the town. So the king, after re-crossing the Eurotas, halted with his light-armed peltasts and cavalry until the heavy-armed got safely through the narrow part of the road at the foot of the hills. Then the troops in the city ventured to attack the covering force of cavalry. There was a serious engagement, in which the peltasts fought with conspicuous valour; and the success of Philip being now beyond dispute, he chased the Lacedaemonians to their very gates, and then, having got his army safely across the Eurotas he brought up the rear of his phalanx.

But it was now getting late: and being obliged to encamp, he availed himself for that purpose of a place at the very mouth of the pass, his officers having chanced already to have selected that very place; than which it would be impossible to find one more advantageous for making an invasion of Laconia by way of Sparta itself. For it is at the very commencement of this pass, just where a man coming from Tegea, or, indeed, from any point in the interior, approaches Sparta; being about two stades from the town and right upon the river. The side of it which looks towards the town and river is entirely covered by a steep, lofty, and entirely inaccessible rock; while the top of this rock is a table-land of good soil and well supplied with water, and very conveniently situated for the exit and entrance of troops. A general, therefore, who was encamped there, and who had command of the height overhanging it, would evidently be in a place of safety as regards the neighbouring town, and in a most advantageous situation as commanding the entrance and exit of the narrow pass. Having accordingly encamped himself on this spot in safety, next day Philip sent forward his baggage; but drew out his army on the table-land in full view of the citizens, and remained thus for a short time. Then he wheeled to the left and marched in the direction of Tegea; and when he reached the site of the battle of Antigonus and Cleomenes, he encamped there. Next day, having made an inspection of the ground and sacrificed to the gods on both the eminences, Olympus and Evas, he advanced with his rear-guard strengthened. On arriving at Tegea he caused all the booty to be sold; and then, marching through Argos, arrived with his whole force at Corinth. There ambassadors appeared from Rhodes and Chios to negotiate a suspension of hostilities; to whom the king gave audience, and feigning that he was, and always had been, quite ready to come to terms with the Aetolians, sent them away to negotiate with the latter also; while he himself went down to Lechaeum, and made preparations for an embarkation, as he had an important undertaking to complete in Phocis.

Leontius, Megaleas, and Ptolemy, being still persuaded that they could frighten Philip, and thus neutralise their former failures, took this opportunity of tampering with the peltasts, and what the Macedonians call the Agema, by suggesting to them that they were risking their all, and getting none of their just rights, nor receiving the booty which, according to custom, properly fell to their share. By these words they incited the young men to collect together, and attempt to plunder the tents of the most prominent of the king’s friends, and to pull down the doors, and break through the roof of the royal headquarters.

Book 5, Part 3

The whole city being thereby in a state of confusion and uproar, the king heard of it and immediately came hastily running to the town from Lechaeum; and having summoned the Macedonians to the theatre he addressed them in terms of mingled exhortation and rebuke for what had happened. A scene of great uproar and confusion followed: and while some advised him to arrest and call to account the guilty, others to come to terms and declare an indemnity, for the moment the king dissembled his feelings, and pretended to be satisfied; and so with some words of exhortation addressed to all, retired: and though he knew quite well who were the ringleaders in the disturbance, he made a politic pretence of not doing so.

After this outbreak the king’s schemes in Phocis met with certain impediments which prevented their present execution. Meanwhile Leontius, despairing of success by his own efforts, had recourse to Apelles, urging him by frequent messages to come from Chalcis, and setting forth his own difficulties and the awkwardness of his position owing to his quarrel with the king. Now Apelles had been acting in Chalcis with an unwarrantable assumption of authority. He gave out that the king was still a mere boy, and for the most part under his control, and without independent power over anything; the management of affairs and the supreme authority in the kingdom he asserted to belong to himself. Accordingly, the magistrates and commissioners of Macedonia and Thessaly reported to him; and the cities in Greece in their decrees and votes of honours and rewards made brief reference to the king, while Apelles was all in all to them. Philip had been kept informed of this, and had for some time past been feeling annoyed and offended at it,—Aratus being at his side, and using skilful means to further his own views; still he kept his own counsel, and did not let any one see what he intended to do, or what he had in his mind. In ignorance, therefore, of his own position, and persuaded that, if he could only come into Philip’s presence, he would manage everything as he chose, Apelles set out from Chalcis to the assistance of Leontius. On his arrival at Corinth, Leontius, Ptolemy and Megaleas, being commanders of the peltasts and the other chief divisions of the army, took great pains to incite the young men to go to meet him. He entered the town, therefore, with great pomp, owing to the number of officers and soldiers who went to meet him, and proceeded straight to the royal quarters. But when he would have entered, according to his former custom, one of the ushers prevented him, saying that the king was engaged. Troubled at this unusual repulse, and hesitating for a long while what to do, Apelles at last turned round and retired. Thereupon all those who were escorting him began at once openly to fall off from him and disperse, so that at last he entered his own lodging, with his children, absolutely alone. So true it is all the world over that a moment exalts and abases us; but most especially is this true of courtiers. They indeed are exactly like counters on a board, which, according to the pleasure of the calculator, are one moment worth a farthing, the next a talent. Even so courtiers at the king’s nod are one moment at the summit of prosperity, at another the objects of pity. When Megaleas saw that the help he had looked for from Apelles was failing him, he was exceedingly frightened, and made preparations for flight. Apelles meanwhile was admitted to the king’s banquets and honours of that sort, but had no share in his council or daily social employments; and when, some days afterwards, the king resumed his voyage from Lechaeum, to complete his designs in Phocis, he took Apelles with him.

The expedition to Phocis proving a failure, the king was retiring from Elatea; and while this was going on, Megaleas removed to Athens, leaving Leontius behind him as his security for his twenty talents fine. The Athenian Strategi however refused to admit him, and he therefore resumed his journey and went to Thebes. Meanwhile the king put to sea from the coast of Cirrha and sailed with his guards to the harbour of Sicyon, whence he went up to the city and, excusing himself to the magistrates, took up his quarters with Aratus, and spent the whole of his time with him, ordering Apelles to sail back to Corinth. But upon news being brought him of the proceedings of Megaleas, he despatched the peltasts, whose regular commander was Leontius, in the charge of Taurion to Triphylia, on the pretext of some service of pressing need; and, when they had departed, he gave orders to arrest Leontius to answer his bail. When the peltasts heard what had happened from a messenger sent to them by Leontius, they despatched ambassadors to the king, begging him that, if he had arrested Leontius on any other score, not to have him tried on the charges alleged against him without their presence: for otherwise they should consider themselves treated with signal contempt, and to be one and all involved in the condemnation. Such was the freedom of speech towards their king which the Macedonians always enjoyed. They added, that if the arrest was on account of his bail for Megaleas, they would themselves pay the money by a common subscription. The king however was so enraged, that he put Leontius to death sooner than he had intended, owing to the zeal displayed by the peltasts.

Presently the ambassadors of Rhodes and Chios returned from Aetolia. They had agreed to a truce of thirty days, and asserted that the Aetolians were ready to make peace: they had also arranged for a stated day on which they claimed that Philip should meet them at Rhium; undertaking that the Aetolians would be ready to do anything on condition of making peace. Philip accepted the truce and wrote letters to the allies, bidding them send assessors and commissioners to discuss the terms with the Aetolians; while he himself sailed from Lechaeum and arrived on the second day at Patrae. Just then certain letters were sent to him from Phocis, which Megaleas had written to the Aetolians, exhorting them not to be frightened, but to persist in the war, because Philip was in extremities through a lack of provisions. Besides this the letters contained some offensive and bitter abuse of the king. As soon as he had read these, the king feeling no doubt that Apelles was the ringleader of the mischief, placed him under a guard and despatched him in all haste to Corinth, with his son and favourite boy; while he sent Alexander to Thebes to arrest Megaleas, with orders to bring him before the magistrates to answer to his bail. When Alexander had fulfilled his commission, Megaleas, not daring to await the issue, committed suicide: and about the same time Apelles, his son and favourite boy, ended their lives also. Such was the end of these men, thoroughly deserved in every way, and especially for their outrageous conduct to Aratus.

Now the Aetolians were at first very anxious for the ratification of a peace, because they found the war burdensome, and because things had not gone as they expected. For, looking to his tender years and lack of experience, they had expected to have a mere child to deal with in Philip; but had found him a full-grown man both in his designs and his manner of executing them: while they had themselves made a display of imbecility and childishness alike in the general conduct, and the particular actions, of the campaign. But as soon as they heard of the outbreak of the disturbance among the peltasts, and of the deaths of Apelles and Leontius, hoping that there was a serious and formidable disaffection at the court, they procrastinated until they had outstayed the day appointed for the meeting at Rhium. But Philip was delighted to seize the pretext: for he felt confident of success in the war, and had already resolved to avoid coming to terms. He therefore at once exhorted such of the allies as had come to meet him to make preparations, not for the peace, but for war; and putting to sea again sailed back to Corinth. He then dismissed his Macedonian soldiers to go home through Thessaly for the winter: while he himself putting to sea from Cenchreae, and coasting along Attica, sailed through the Euripus to Demetrias, and there before a jury of Macedonians had Ptolemy tried and put to death, who was the last survivor of the conspiracy of Leontius.

It was in this season that Hannibal, having succeeded in entering Italy, was lying encamped in presence of the Roman army in the valley of the Padus. Antiochus, after subduing the greater part of Coele-Syria, had once more dismissed his army into winter quarters. The Spartan king Lycurgus fled to Aetolia in fear of the Ephors: for acting on a false charge that he was meditating a coup d’état, they had collected the young men and come to his house at night. But getting previous intimation of what was impending, he had quitted the town accompanied by the members of his household.

When the next winter came, Philip having departed to Macedonia, and the Achaean Strategus Eperatus having incurred the contempt of the Achaean soldiers and the complete disregard of the mercenaries, no one would obey his orders, and no preparation was made for the defence of the country. This was observed by Pyrrhias, who had been sent by the Aetolians to command the Eleans. He had under him a force of thirteen hundred Aetolians, and the mercenaries hired by the Eleans, as well as a thousand Elean infantry and two hundred Elean cavalry, amounting in all to three thousand: and he now began committing frequent raids, not only upon the territories of Dyme and Pharae, but upon that of Patrae also. Finally he pitched his camp on what is called the Panachaean Mountain, which commands the town of Patrae, and began wasting the whole district towards Rhium and Aegium. The result was that the cities, being exposed to much suffering, and unable to obtain any assistance, began to make difficulties about paying their contribution to the league; and the soldiers finding their pay always in arrear and never paid at the right time acted in the same way about going to the relief of the towns. Both parties thus mutually retaliating on each other, affairs went from bad to worse, and at last the foreign contingent broke up altogether.And all this was the result of the incompetence of the chief magistrate. The time for the next election finding Achaean affairs in this state, Eperatus laid down his office, and just at the beginning of summer Aratus the elder was elected Strategus.

Such was the position of affairs in Europe. We have now arrived at a proper juncture, both of events and of time, to transfer our narrative to the history of Asia. I will therefore resume my story of the transactions which occurred there during the same Olympiad.

I will first endeavour, in accordance with my original plan, to give an account of the war between Antiochus and Ptolemy for the possession of Coele-Syria. Though I am fully aware that at the period, at which I have stopped in my Greek history, this war was all but decided and concluded, I have yet deliberately chosen this particular break and division in my narrative; believing that I shall effectually provide against the possibility of mistakes on the part of my readers in regard to dates, if I indicate in the course of my narrative the years in this Olympiad in which the events in the several parts of the world, as well as in Greece, began and ended. For I think nothing more essential to the clearness of my history of this Olympiad than to avoid confusing the several narratives. Our object should be to distinguish and keep them separate as much as possible, until we come to the next Olympiad, and begin setting down the contemporary events in the several countries under each year. For since I have undertaken to write, not a particular, but a universal history, and have ventured upon a plan on a greater scale, as I have already shown, than any of my predecessors, it will be necessary also for me to take greater care than they, as to my method of treatment and arrangement; so as to secure clearness, both in the details, and in the general view adopted in my history. I will accordingly go back a short way in the history of the kingdoms of Antiochus and Ptolemy, and try to fix upon a starting-point for my narrative which shall be accepted and recognised by all: for this is a matter of the first importance.

For the old saying, Well begun is half done, was meant by its inventors to urge the importance of taking the greater pains to make a good beginning than anything else. And though some may consider this an exaggeration, in my opinion it comes short of the truth; for one might say with confidence, not that the beginning was half the business, but rather that it was near being the whole. For how can one make a good beginning without having first grasped in thought the complete plan, or without knowing where, with what object, and with what purpose he is undertaking the business? Or how can a man sum up a series of events satisfactorily without a reference to their origin, and without showing his point of departure, or why and how he has arrived at the particular crisis at which he finds himself? Therefore both historian and reader alike should be exceedingly careful to mark the beginnings of events, with a conviction that their influence does not stop half-way, but is paramount to the end. And this is what I shall endeavour to do.

I am aware, however, that a similar profession has been made by many other historians of an intention to write a universal history, and of undertaking a work on a larger scale than their predecessors. About these writers, putting out of the question Ephorus, the first and only man who has really attempted a universal history, I will not mention any name or say more about them than this,—that several of my contemporaries, while professing to write a universal history have imagined that they could tell the story of the war of Rome and Carthage in three or four pages. Yet every one knows that events more numerous or important were never accomplished in Iberia, Libya, Sicily, and Italy than in that war; and that the Hannibalian war was the most famous and lasting of any that has taken place except the Sicilian. So momentous was it, that all the rest of the world were compelled to watch it in terrified expectation of what would follow from its final catastrophe. Yet some of these writers, without even giving as many details of it as those who, after the manner of the vulgar, inscribe rude records of events on house walls, pretend to have embraced the whole of Greek and foreign history. The truth of the matter is, that it is a very easy matter to profess to undertake works of the greatest importance; but by no means so simple a matter in practice to attain to any excellence. The former is open to every one with the requisite audacity: the latter is rare, and is given to few. So much for those who use pompous language about themselves and their historical works. I will now return to my narrative.

Immediately after his father’s death, Ptolemy Philopator put his brother Magas and his partisans to death, and took possession of the throne of Egypt. He thought that he had now freed himself by this act from domestic danger; and that by the deaths of Antigonus and Seleucus, and their being respectively succeeded by mere children like Antiochus and Philip, fortune had released him from danger abroad. He therefore felt secure of his position and began conducting his reign as though it were a perpetual festival. He would attend to no business, and would hardly grant an interview to the officials about the court, or at the head of the administrative departments in Egypt. Even his agents abroad found him entirely careless and indifferent; though his predecessors, far from taking less interest in foreign affairs, had generally given them precedence over those of Egypt itself. For being masters of Coele-Syria and Cyprus, they maintained a threatening attitude towards the kings of Syria, both by land and sea; and were also in a commanding position in regard to the princes of Asia, as well as the islands, through their possession of the most splendid cities, strongholds, and harbours all along the seacoast from Pamphylia to the Hellespont and the district round Lysimachia. Moreover they were favourably placed for an attack upon Thrace and Macedonia from their possession of Aenus, Maroneia, and more distant cities still. And having thus stretched forth their hands to remote regions, and long ago strengthened their position by a ring of princedoms, these kings had never been anxious about their rule in Egypt; and had naturally, therefore, given great attention to foreign politics. But when Philopator, absorbed in unworthy intrigues, and senseless and continuous drunkenness, treated these several branches of government with equal indifference, it was naturally not long before more than one was found to lay plots against his life as well as his power: of whom the first was Cleomenes, the Spartan.

As long as Euergetes was alive, with whom he had agreed to make an alliance and confederacy, Cleomenes took no steps. But upon that monarch’s death, seeing that the time was slipping away, and that the peculiar position of affairs in Greece seemed almost to cry aloud for Cleomenes,—for Antigonus was dead, the Achaeans involved in war, and the Lacedaemonians were at one with the Aetolians in hostility to the Achaeans and Macedonians, which was the policy originally adopted by Cleomenes,—then, indeed, he was actually compelled to use some expedition, and to bestir himself to secure his departure from Alexandria. First therefore, in interviews with the king, he urged him to send him out with the needful amount of supplies and troops; but not being listened to in this request, he next begged him earnestly to let him go alone with his own servants; for he affirmed that the state of affairs was such as to show him sufficient opportunities for recovering his ancestral throne. The king, however, for the reasons I have mentioned, taking absolutely no interest in such matters, nor exercising any foresight whatever, continued with extraordinary folly and blindness to neglect the petitions of Cleomenes. But the party of Sosibius, the leading statesman at the time, took counsel together, and agreed on the following course of action in regard to him. They decided not to send him out with a fleet and supplies; for, owing to the death of Antigonus, they took little account of foreign affairs, and thought money spent on such things would be thrown away. Besides, they were afraid that since Antigonus was dead, and no one was left who could balance him, Cleomenes might, if he got Greece into his power quickly and without trouble, prove a serious and formidable rival to themselves; especially as he had had a clear view of Egyptian affairs, had learnt to despise the king; and had discovered that the kingdom had many parts loosely attached, and widely removed from the centre, and presenting many facilities for revolutionary movements: for not a few of their ships were at Samos, and a considerable force of soldiers at Ephesus. These considerations induced them to reject the idea of sending Cleomenes out with supplies; for they thought it by no means conducive to their interests to carelessly let a man go, who was certain to be their opponent and enemy. The other proposal was to keep him there against his will; but this they all rejected at once without discussion, on the principle that the lion and the flock could not safely share the same stall. Sosibius himself took the lead in regarding this idea with aversion, and his reason was this.

While engaged in effecting the destruction of Magas and Berenice, his anxiety at the possible failure of his attempt, especially through the courageous character of Berenice, had forced him to flatter the courtiers, and give them all hopes of advantage in case his intrigue succeeded. It was at this juncture that, observing Cleomenes to stand in need of the king’s help, and to be possessed of a clear understanding and a genuine grasp of the situation, he admitted him to a knowledge of his design, holding out to him hopes of great advantage. And when Cleomenes saw that Sosibius was in a state of great anxiety, and above all afraid of the foreign soldiers and mercenaries, he bade him not be alarmed; and undertook that the foreign soldiers should do him no harm, but should rather be of assistance to him. And on Sosibius expressing surprise rather than conviction at this promise, he said, Don’t you see that there are three thousand foreign soldiers here from the Peloponnese, and a thousand from Crete? I have only to nod to these men, and every man of them will at once do what I want. With these all ready to hand, whom do you fear? Surely not mere Syrians and Carians. Sosibius was much pleased at the remark at the time, and doubly encouraged in his intrigue against Berenice; but ever afterwards, when observing the indifference of the king, he repeated it to himself, and put before his eyes the boldness of Cleomenes, and the goodwill of the foreign contingent towards him.

These feelings now moved him to advise the king and his friends above all things to arrest and incarcerate Cleomenes: and to carry out this policy he availed himself of the following circumstance, which happened conveniently for him. There was a certain Messenian called Nicagoras, an ancestral guest-friend of the Lacedaemonian king Archidamus. They had not previously had much intercourse; but when Archidamus fled from Sparta, for fear of Cleomenes, and came to Messenia, not only did Archidamus show great kindness in receiving him under his roof and furnishing him with other necessaries, but from the close association that followed a very warm friendship and intimacy sprang up between them: and accordingly when Cleomenes subsequently gave Archidamus some expectation of being restored to his city, and composing their quarrels, Nicagoras devoted himself to conducting the negotiation and settling the terms of their compact. These being ratified, Archelaus returned to Sparta relying on the treaty made by the agency of Nicagoras. But as soon as he met him, Cleomenes assassinated Archidamus, sparing however Nicagoras and his companions. To the outside world Nicagoras pretended to be under an obligation to Cleomenes for saving his life; but in heart he was exceedingly incensed at what had happened, because he had the discredit of having been the cause of the king’s death. Now it happened that this same Nicagoras had, a short time before the events of which we are speaking, come to Alexandria with a cargo of horses. Just as he was disembarking he came upon Cleomenes, Panterus, and Hippitas walking together along the quay. When Cleomenes saw him, he came up and welcomed him warmly, and asked him on what business he was come. Upon his replying that he had brought a cargo of horses, You had better, said he, have brought a cargo of catamites and sakbut girls; for that is what the present king is fond of. Nicagoras laughed, and said nothing at the time: but some days afterwards, when he had, in the course of his horse-sales, become more intimate with Sosibius, he did Cleomenes the ill turn of repeating his recent sarcasm; and seeing that Sosibius heard it with satisfaction, he related to him the whole story of his grievance against Cleomenes.

Finding then that he was hostile in feeling to Cleomenes, Sosibius persuaded Nicagoras, partly by presents given on the spot and partly by promises for the future, to write a letter accusing Cleomenes, and leave it sealed; that as soon as he had sailed, as he would do in a few days, his servant might bring it to him as though sent by Nicagoras. Nicagoras performed his part in the plot; and after he had sailed, the letter was brought by the servant to Sosibius, who at once took the servant and the letter to the king. The servant stated that Nicagoras had left the letter with orders to deliver it to Sosibius; and the letter declared that it was the intention of Cleomenes, if he failed to secure his despatch from the country with suitable escort and provisions, to stir up a rebellion against the king. Sosibius at once seized the opportunity of urging on the king and his friends to take prompt precautions against Cleomenes and to put him in ward. This was at once done, and a very large house was assigned to him in which he lived under guard, differing from other prisoners only in the superior size of his prison. Finding himself in this distressing plight, and with fear of worse for the future, Cleomenes determined to make the most desperate attempts for freedom: not so much because he felt confident of success, —for he had none of the elements of success in such an enterprise on his side,—but rather because he was eager to die nobly, and endure nothing unworthy of the gallantry which he had previously displayed. He must, I think, as is usually the case with men of high courage, have recalled and reflected upon as his model those words of the hero:— Yea, let me die,—but not a coward’s death, Nor all inglorious: let me do one deed, That children yet unborn may hear and mark!

He therefore waited for the time at which the king left Alexandria for Canopus, and then spread a report among his guards that he was going to be released by the king; and on this pretext entertained his own attendants at a banquet, and sent out some flesh of the sacrificial victims, some garlands, and some wine to his guards. the latter indulged in these good things unsuspiciously, and became completely drunk; whereupon Cleomenes walked out about noon, accompanied by his friends and servants armed with daggers, without being noticed by his guard. As the party advanced they met Ptolemy in the street, who had been left by the king in charge of the city; and overawing his attendants by the audacity of his proceeding, dragged Ptolemy himself from his chariot and put him in a place of security, while they loudly called upon the crowds of citizens to assert their freedom. But every one was unprepared for the movement, and therefore no one obeyed their summons or joined them; and they accordingly turned their steps to the citadel, with the intention of bursting open the doors and obtaining the help of the prisoners confined there. But the commanders of the citadel were on the alert, and learning what was going to take place had secured the entrance gate: having therefore failed in this design they killed themselves like brave men and Spartans.

Such was the end of Cleomenes: a man of brilliant social qualities, with a natural aptitude for affairs, and, in a word, endued with all the qualifications of a general and a king.

Shortly after the catastrophe of Cleomenes, the governor of Coele-Syria, who was an Aetolian by birth, resolved to hold treasonable parley with Antiochus and put the cities of that province into his hands. He was induced to take this step partly by the contempt with which Ptolemy’s shameful debauchery and general conduct had inspired him; and partly by distrust of the king’s ministers, which he had learned to entertain in the course of the recent attempt of Antiochus upon Coele-Syria: for in that campaign he had rendered signal service to Ptolemy, and yet, far from receiving any thanks for it, he had been summoned to Alexandria and barely escaped losing his life. The advances which he now made to Antiochus were gladly received, and the affair was soon in the course of being rapidly completed.

But I must make my readers acquainted with the position of the royal family of Syria as I have already done with that of Egypt; and in order to do so, I will go back to the succession of Antiochus to the throne, and give a summary of events from that point to the beginning of the war of which I am to speak.

Antiochus was the younger son of Seleucus Callinicus; and on the death of his father, and the succession in right of seniority of his brother Seleucus to the throne, he at first removed to upper Asia and lived there. But Seleucus having been treacherously assassinated after crossing Mount Taurus with his army, as I have already related, he succeeded to the throne himself; and made Achaeus governor of Asia on this side Taurus, Molon and his brother Alexander guardians of his dominions in upper Asia,—Molon acting as Satrap of Media, his brother of Persia.

Book 5, Part 4

These two brothers despising the king for his youth, and hoping that Achaeus would join in their treason, but most of all because they dreaded the cruel character and malign influence of Hermeias, who was at that time the chief minister of the entire kingdom, formed the design of revolting themselves and causing the upper Satrapies to revolt also.

This Hermeias was a Carian and had obtained his power by the appointment of the king’s brother Seleucus, who had entrusted it to him when he was setting out on his expedition to the Taurus. Invested with this authority he at once began to display jealousy of all those about the court who were in any way prominent; and being cruel by nature he inflicted punishment on some for acts of ignorance, on which he always managed to place the worst interpretation; while against others he brought trumped-up and lying charges, and then acted towards them the part of an inflexible and harsh judge. But his chief end and object was to secure the destruction of Epigenes who had brought home the forces which had accompanied Seleucus; because he saw that he was a man of eloquence and practical ability, and highly acceptable to the army. With this design he was ever on the watch to lay hold of some handle or pretext against him. Accordingly when a council was summoned on the subject of Molon’s revolt, and when the king bade each councillor deliver his opinion on the measures to be taken against the rebels, Epigenes spoke first and urged that there ought to be no delay, but the matter should be taken in hand at once; and that, first and foremost, the king should go in person to the district, and be ready to seize the right moments for action. For the actual presence of the king, and his appearance at the head of an army before the eyes of the common people, would prevent the party of Molon from venturing upon revolutionary measures at all; or if they had the audacity to do so, and persisted in their design, they would be quickly arrested by the populace and handed over into the king’s power.

While Epigenes was still speaking in this strain, Hermeias, in a burst of rage, exclaimed, That Epigenes had long been secretly plotting treason against the king; but that now he had happily shown his real sentiments by the advice which he had given, proving how eager he was to expose the king’s person to the rebels with an insignificant guard. For the present he was content with making this insinuation as fuel for a future outburst of slander, and without further reference to Epigenes, after what was rather an ill-timed ebullition of temper than serious hostility, he delivered his own opinion; which, from his fear of the danger and his inexperience in war, was against undertaking the expedition against Molon personally, but was warmly in favour of an attack upon Ptolemy; because he was of opinion that this latter war would involve no danger, owing to that monarch’s cowardly character. For the present he overawed the rest of the council into agreement with him: and he thereupon sent Xenon and Theodotus Hemiolius with an army against Molon; while he employed himself in continually inciting Antiochus to undertake the expedition into Coele-Syria: thinking that it was only by involving the young king in war on every side that he could escape punishment for his past misdeeds, and avoid being deprived of his position of authority; for the king would have need of his services when he found himself surrounded by struggles and dangers. With this object in view, he finally hit on the device of forging a letter, which he presented to the king as having been sent by Achaeus. In it Achaeus was made to state that Ptolemy had urged him to assert his right to the government: and promised to supply him with ships and money for all his attempts, if he would only take the crown, and come forward in the sight of all the world as a claimant of the sovereign power; which he already possessed, in fact, though he grudged himself the title, and rejected the crown which fortune gave him.

This letter successfully imposed on the king, who became ready and eager to go on the expedition against Coele-Syria.

While this was going on, Antiochus happened to be at Seleucia, on the Zeugma, when the Navarchus Diognetus arrived from Cappadocia, on the Euxine, bringing Laodice, the daughter of king Mithridates, an unmarried girl, destined to be the king’s wife. This Mithridates boasted of being a descendant of one of the seven Persians who killed the Magus, and he had maintained the sovereignty handed down from his ancestors, as it had been originally given to them by Darius along the shore of the Euxine. Having gone to meet the princess with all due pomp and splendour, Antiochus immediately celebrated his nuptials with royal magnificence. The marriage having been completed, he went to Antioch; and after proclaiming Laodice queen, devoted himself thenceforth to making preparation for the war.

Meanwhile Molon had prepared the people of his own Satrapy to go all lengths, partly by holding out to them hopes of advantages to be gained, and partly by working on the fears of their chief men, by means of forged letters purporting to be from the king, and couched in threatening terms. He had also a ready coadjutor in his brother Alexander; and had secured the co-operation of the neighbouring Satrapies, by winning the goodwill of their leading men with bribes. It was, therefore, at the head of a large force that he took the field against the royal generals. Terrified at his approach Xenon and Theodotus retired into the cities; and Molon, having secured the territory of Apollonia, had now a superabundance of supplies.

But, indeed, even before that he was a formidable enemy owing to the importance of his province. For the whole of the royal horses out at grass are entrusted to the Medes; and they have an incalculable quantity of corn and cattle. Of the natural strength and extent of the district it would be impossible to speak highly enough. For Media lies nearly in the centre of Asia and in its size, and in the height of its steppes compares favourably with every other district of Asia. And again it overlooks some of the most warlike and powerful tribes. On the east lie the plains of the desert which intervenes between Persia and Parthia; and, moreover, it borders on and commands the Caspian Gates, and touches the mountains of the Tapyri, which are not far from the Hyrcanian Sea. On the south it slopes down to Mesopotamia and the territory of Apollonia. It is protected from Persia by the barrier of Mount Zagrus, which has an ascent of a hundred stades, and containing in its range many separate peaks and defiles is subdivided by deep valleys, and at certain points by cañons, inhabited by Cosseans, Corbrenians, Carchi, and several other barbarous tribes who have the reputation of being excellent warriors. Again on the west it is coterminous with the tribe called Satrapeii, who are not far from the tribes which extend as far as the Euxine. Its northern frontier is fringed by Elymaeans, Aniaracae, Cadusii, and Matiani, and overlooks that part of the Pontus which adjoins the Maeotis. Media itself is subdivided by several mountain chains running from east to west, between which are plains thickly studded with cities and villages.

Being masters, then, of a territory of proportions worthy of a kingdom, his great power had made Molon from the first a formidable enemy: but when the royal generals appeared to have abandoned the country to him, and his own forces were elated at the successful issue of their first hopes, the terror which he inspired became absolute, and he was believed by the Asiatics to be irresistible. Taking advantage of this, he first of all resolved to cross the Tigris and lay siege to Seleucia; but when his passage across the river was stopped by Zeuxis seizing the river boats, he retired to the camp at Ctesiphon, and set about preparing winter quarters for his army.

When King Antiochus heard of Molon’s advance and the retreat of his own generals, he was once more for giving up the expedition against Ptolemy, and going in person on the campaign against Molon, and not letting slip the proper time for action. But Hermeias persisted in his original plan, and despatched the Achaean Xenoetas against Molon, in command of an army, with full powers; asserting that against rebels it was fitting that generals should have the command; but that the king ought to confine himself to directing plans and conducting national wars against monarchs. Having therefore the young king entirely in his power, owing to his age, he set out; and having mustered the army at Apameia he started thence and arrived at Laodiceia. Advancing from that time with his whole army, the king crossed the desert and entered the cañon called Marsyas, which lies between the skirts of Libanus and Anti-Libanus, and is contracted into a narrow gorge by those two mountains. Just where the valley is narrowest it is divided by marshes and lakes, from which the scented reed is cut.

On one side of the entrance to this pass lies a place called Brochi, on the other Gerrha, which leave but a narrow space between them. After a march of several days through this canon, and subduing the towns that lay along it, Antiochus arrived at Gerrha. Finding that Theodotus the Aetolian had already occupied Gerrha and Brochi, and had secured the narrow road by the lakes with ditches and palisades and a proper disposition of guards, the king at first tried to carry the pass by force; but after sustaining more loss than he inflicted, and finding that Theodotus remained still stanch, he gave up the attempt. In the midst of these difficulties news was brought that Xenoetas had suffered a total defeat and that Molon was in possession of all the upper country: he therefore abandoned his foreign expedition and started to relieve his own dominions.

The fact was that when the general Xenoetas had been despatched with absolute powers, as I have before stated, his unexpected elevation caused him to treat his friends with haughtiness and his enemies with overweening temerity. His first move however was sufficiently prudent. He marched to Seleucia, and after sending for Diogenes the governor of Susiana, and Pythiades the commander in the Persian Gulf, he led out his forces and encamped with the river Tigris protecting his front. But there he was visited by many men from Molon’s camp, who swam across the river and assured him that, if he would only cross the Tigris, the whole of Molon’s army would declare for him; for the common soldiers were jealous of Molon and warmly disposed towards the king. Xenoetas was encouraged by these statements to attempt the passage of the Tigris. He made a feint of bridging the river at a spot where it is divided by an island; but as he was getting nothing ready for such an operation, Molon took no notice of his pretended move; while he was really occupied in collecting boats and getting them ready with every possible care. Then having selected the most courageous men, horse and foot, from his entire army, he left Zeuxis and Pythiades in charge of his camp, and marched up stream at night about eighty stades above Molon’s camp; and having got his force safely over in boats, encamped them before daybreak in an excellent position, nearly surrounded by the river, and covered where there was no river by marshes and swamps.

When Molon learnt what had taken place, he sent his cavalry, under the idea that they would easily stop those who were actually crossing, and ride down those who had already crossed. But as soon as they got near Xenoetas’s force, their ignorance of the ground proved fatal to them without any enemy to attack them; for they got immersed by their own weight, and sinking in the lakes were all rendered useless, while many of them actually lost their lives. Xenoetas, however, feeling sure that if he only approached, Molon’s forces would all desert to him, advanced along the bank of the river and pitched a camp close to the enemy. Thereupon Molon, either as a stratagem, or because he really felt some doubt of the fidelity of his men, and was afraid that some of Xenoetas’s expectations might be fulfilled, left his baggage in his camp and started under cover of night in the direction of Media. Xenoetas, imagining that Molon had fled in terror at his approach, and because he distrusted the fidelity of his own troops, first attacked and took the enemy’s camp, and then sent for his own cavalry and their baggage from the camp of Zeuxis. He next summoned the soldiers to a meeting, and told them that they should feel encouraged and hopeful now that Molon had fled. With this preface, he ordered them all to attend to their bodily wants and refresh themselves; as he intended without delay to go in pursuit of the enemy early next morning.

But the soldiers, filled with confidence, and enriched with every kind of provisions, eagerly turned to feasting and wine and the demoralisation which always accompanies such excesses. But Molon, after marching a considerable distance, caused his army to get their dinner, and then wheeling round reappeared at the camp. He found all the enemy scattered about and drunk, and attacked their palisade just before daybreak. Dismayed by this unexpected danger, and unable to awake his men from their drunken slumber, Xenoetas and his staff rushed furiously upon the enemy and were killed. Of the sleeping soldiers most were killed in their beds, while the rest threw themselves into the river and endeavoured to cross to the opposite camp. The greater part however even of these perished; for in the blind hurry and confusion which prevailed, and in the universal panic and dismay, seeing the camp on the other side divided by so narrow a space, they all forgot the violence of the stream, and the difficulty of crossing it, in their eagerness to reach a place of safety. In wild excitement therefore, and with a blind instinct of self-preservation, they not only hurled themselves into the river, but threw their beasts of burden in also, with their packs, as though they thought that the river by some providential instinct would take their part and convey them safely to the opposite camp. The result was that the stream presented a truly pitiable and extraordinary spectacle,—horses, beasts of burden, arms, corpses, and every kind of baggage being carried down the current along with the swimmers.

Having secured the camp of Xenoetas, Molon crossed the river in perfect safety and without any resistance, as Zeuxis also now fled at his approach; took possession of the latter’s camp, and then advanced with his whole army to Seleucia; carried it at the first assault, Zeuxis and Diomedon the governor of the place both abandoning it and flying; and advancing from this place reduced the upper Satrapies to submission without a blow. That of Babylon fell next, and then the Satrapy which lay along the Persian Gulf. This brought him to Susa, which he also carried without a blow; though his assaults upon the citadel proved unavailing, because Diogenes the general had thrown himself into it before he could get there. He therefore abandoned the idea of carrying it by storm, and leaving a detachment to lay siege to it, hurried back with his main army to Seleucia on the Tigris. There he took great pains to refresh his army, and after addressing his men in encouraging terms he started once more to complete his designs, and occupied Parapotamia as far as the city Europus, and Mesopotamia as far as Dura.

When news of these events was brought to Antiochus, as I have said before, he gave up all idea of the Coele-Syrian campaign, and turned all his attention to this war. Another meeting of his council was thereupon summoned: and on the king ordering the members of it to deliver their opinions as to the tactics to be employed against Molon, the first to speak on the business was again Epigenes: who said that his advice should have been followed all along, and measures have been promptly taken before the enemy had obtained such important successes: still even at this late hour they ought to take it in hand resolutely. Thereupon Hermeias broke out again into an unreasonable and violent fit of anger and began to heap abuse upon Epigenes; and while belauding himself in a fulsome manner, brought accusations against Epigenes that were absurd as well as false. He ended by adjuring the king not to be diverted from his purpose without better reason, nor to abandon his hopes in Coele-Syria. This advice was ill-received by the majority of the council, and displeasing to Antiochus himself; and, accordingly, as the king showed great anxiety to reconcile the two men, Hermeias was at length induced to put an end to his invectives. The council decided by a majority that the course recommended by Epigenes was the most practical and advantageous, and a resolution was come to that the king should go on the campaign against Molon, and devote his attention to that. Thereupon Hermeias promptly made a hypocritical pretence of having changed his mind: and remarking that it was the duty of all to acquiesce loyally in the decision, made a great show of readiness and activity in pushing on the preparations.

The forces, however, having been mustered at Apameia, upon a kind of mutiny arising among the common soldiers, on account of some arrears of pay, Hermeias, observing the king to be in a state of anxiety, and to be alarmed at the disturbance at so critical a moment, offered to discharge all arrears, if the king would only consent to Epigenes not accompanying the expedition; on the ground that nothing could be properly managed in the army when such angry feelings, and such party spirit, had been excited. The proposal was very displeasing to the king, who was exceedingly anxious that Epigenes should accompany him on the campaign, owing to his experience in the field; but he was bound so completely hand and foot, and entangled by the craft of Hermeias, his skilful finance, constant watchfulness, and designing flattery, that he was not his own master; and accordingly he yielded to the necessity of the moment and consented to his demand. When Epigenes thereupon retired, as he was bidden, the members of the council were too much afraid of incurring displeasure to remonstrate; while the army generally, by a revulsion of feeling, turned with gratitude to the man to whom they owed the settlement of their claims for pay. The Cyrrhestae were the only ones that stood out: and they broke out into open mutiny, and for some time occasioned much trouble; but, being at last conquered by one of the king’s generals, most of them were killed, and the rest submitted to the king’s mercy. Hermeias having thus secured the allegiance of his friends by fear, and of the troops by being of service to them, started on the expedition in company with the king; while in regard to Epigenes he elaborated the following plot, with the assistance of Alexis, the commander of the citadel of Apameia. He wrote a letter purporting to have been sent from Molon to Epigenes, and persuaded one of the latter’s servants, by holding out the hope of great rewards, to take it to the house of Epigenes, and mix it with his other papers. Immediately after this had been done, Alexis came to the house and asked Epigenes whether he had not received certain letters from Molon; and, upon his denial, demanded in menacing terms to be allowed to search. Having entered, he quickly discovered the letter, which he availed himself of as a pretext for putting Epigenes to death on the spot. By this means the king was persuaded to believe that Epigenes had justly forfeited his life; and though the courtiers had their suspicions, they were afraid to say anything.

When Antiochus had reached the Euphrates, and had taken over the force stationed there, he once more started on his march and got as far as Antioch, in Mygdonia, about mid-winter, and there remained until the worst of the winter should be over. Thence after a stay of forty days he advanced to Libba. Molon was now in the neighbourhood of Babylon: and Antiochus consulted his council as to the route to be pursued, the tactics to be adopted, and the source from which provisions could best be obtained for his army on the march in their expedition against Molon. The proposal of Hermeias was to march along the Tigris, with this river, and the Lycus and Caprus, on their flank. Zeuxis, having the fate of Epigenes before his eyes, was in a state of painful doubt whether to speak his real opinion or no; but as the mistake involved in the advice of Hermeias was flagrant, he at last mustered courage to advise that the Tigris should be crossed; alleging as a reason the general difficulty of the road along the river: especially from the fact that, after a considerable march, the last six days of which would be through a desert, they would reach what was called the King’s Dyke, which it would be impossible to cross if they found it invested by the enemy; while a retirement by a second march through the wilderness would be manifestly dangerous, especially as their provisions would be sure to be running short. On the other hand he showed that if they crossed the Tigris it was evident the Apolloniates would repent of their treason and join the king; for even as it was they had submitted to Molon, not from choice, but under compulsion and terror; and the fertility of their soil promised abundance of provisions for the troops. But his most weighty argument was that by their thus acting Molon would be cut off from a return to Media, and from drawing supplies from that country, and would thereby be compelled to risk a general action: or, if he refused to do so, his troops would promptly fix their hopes upon the king.

The suggestion of Zeuxis being approved, the army was immediately arranged in three divisions, and got across with the baggage at three points in the river. Thence they marched in the direction of Dura, where they quickly caused the siege of the citadel to be raised, which was being invested at the time by some of Molon’s officers; and thence, after a march of eight successive days, they crossed the mountain called Oreicum and arrived at Apollonia.

Meanwhile Molon had heard of the king’s arrival, and not feeling confidence in the inhabitants of Susiana and Babylonia, because he had conquered them so recently and by surprise, fearing also to be cut off from a retreat to Media, he determined to throw a bridge over the Tigris and get his army across; being eager if it were possible to secure the mountain district of Apollonia, because he had great confidence in his corps of slingers called Cyrtii. He carried out his resolution, and was pushing forward in an unbroken series of forced marches. Thus it came about that, just as he was entering the district of Apollonia, the king at the head of his whole army was marching out. The advanced guard of skirmishers of the two armies fell in with each other on some high ground, and at first engaged and made trial of each other’s strength; but upon the main armies on either side coming on to the ground, they separated. For the present both retired to their respective entrenchments, and encamped at a distance of forty stades from each other. When night had fallen, Molon reflected that there was some risk and disadvantage in a battle by broad daylight and in the open field between rebels and their sovereign, and he determined therefore to attack Antiochus by night. Selecting the best and most vigorous of his soldiers, he made a considerable detour, with the object of making his attack from higher ground. But having learnt during his march that ten young men had deserted in a body to the king, he gave up his design, and facing right about returned in haste to his own entrenchment where he arrived about daybreak. His arrival caused a panic in the army; for the troops in the camp, startled out of their sleep by the arrival of the returning men, were very near rushing out of the lines.

But while Molon was doing his best to calm the panic, the king, fully prepared for the engagement, was marching his whole army out of their lines at daybreak. On his right wing he stationed his lancers under the command of Ardys, a man of proved ability in the field; next to them the Cretan allies, and next the Gallic Rhigosages. Next these he placed the foreign contingent and mercenary soldiers from Greece, and next to them he stationed his phalanx: the left wing he assigned to the cavalry called the Companions. His elephants, which were ten in number, he placed at intervals in front of the line. His reserves of infantry and cavalry he divided between the two wings, with orders to outflank the enemy as soon as the battle had begun. He then went along the line and addressed a few words of exhortation to the men suitable to the occasion; and put Hermeias and Zeuxis in command of the left wing, taking that of the right himself.

On the other side, owing to the panic caused by his rash movement of the previous night, Molon was unable to get his men out of camp, or into position without difficulty and confusion. He did however divide his cavalry between his two wings, guessing what the disposition of the enemy would be; and stationed the scutati and Gauls, and in short all his heavy-armed men in the space between the two bodies of cavalry. His archers, slingers, and all such kind of troops he placed on the outer flank of the cavalry on either wing; while his scythed chariots he placed at intervals in front of his line. He gave his brother Neolaus command of the left wing, taking that of the right himself.

Book 5, Part 5

When the two armies advanced to the battle, Molon’s right wing remained faithful to him, and vigorously engaged the division of Zeuxis; but the left wing no sooner came within sight of the king than it deserted to the enemy: the result of which was that Molon’s army was thrown into consternation, while the king’s troops were inspired with redoubled confidence. When Molon comprehended what had taken place, and found himself surrounded on every side, reflecting on the tortures which would be inflicted upon him if he were taken alive, he put an end to his own life. So too all who had taken part in the plot fled severally to their own homes, and terminated their lives in the same way. Neolaus escaped from the field and found his way into Persis, to the house of Molon’s brother Alexander; and there first killed his mother and Molon’s children and afterwards himself, having previously persuaded Alexander to do the same to himself. After plundering the enemy’s camp, the king ordered the body of Molon to be impaled on the most conspicuous spot in Media: which the men appointed to the work immediately did; for they took it to Callonitis and impaled it close to the pass over Mount Zagrus. The king, after plundering the enemy’s camp, rebuked the rebel army in a long speech; and finally receiving them back into favour by holding out his right hand to them, appointed certain officers to lead them back to Media and settle the affairs of that district; while he himself went down to Seleucia and made arrangements for the government of the Satrapies round it, treating all with equal clemency and prudence. But Hermeias acted with his usual harshness: he got up charges against the people of Seleucia, and imposed a fine of a thousand talents upon the city; drove their magistrates, called Adeiganes, into exile; and put many Seleucians to death with various tortures, by mutilation, the sword and the rack. With great difficulty, sometimes by dissuading Hermeias, and sometimes by interposing his own authority, the king did at length put an end to these severities; and, exacting only a fine of a hundred and fifty talents from the citizens for the error they had committed, restored the city to a state of order. This being done, he left Diogenes in command of Media, and Apollodorus of Susiana; and sent Tychon, his chief military secretary, to command the district along the Persian Gulf.

Thus was the rebellion of Molon and the rising in the upper Satrapies suppressed and quieted.

Elated by his success, and wishing to strike awe and terror into the minds of the princes of the barbarians who were near, or conterminous with his own Satrapies, that they might never venture to aid by supplies or arms those who revolted from him, he determined to march against them. And first of all against Artabazanes, who appeared to be the most formidable and able of all the princes, and who ruled over a tribe called the Satrapeii, and others on their borders. But Hermeias was at that time afraid of an expedition farther up country, owing to its danger; and was always yearning for the expedition against Ptolemy in accordance with his original plan. When news, however, came that a son had been born to the king, thinking that Antiochus might possibly fall by the hands of the barbarians in upper Asia, or give him opportunities of putting him out of the way, he consented to the expedition; believing that, if he could only effect the death of Antiochus, he would be guardian to his son and so sole master of the whole kingdom. This having been decided, the army crossed Mount Zagrus and entered the territory of Artabazanes, which borders on Media, and is separated from it by an intervening chain of mountains. Part of it overlooks the Pontus, near the valley of the Phasis; and it extends to the Hyrcanian Sea. Its inhabitants are numerous and warlike and especially strong in horsemen; while the district produces within itself all other things necessary for war. The dynasty has lasted from the time of the Persians, having been overlooked at the period of Alexander’s conquests. But now in great alarm at the king’s approach, and at his own infirmities, for he was an extremely old man, Artabazanes yielded to the force of circumstances, and made a treaty with Antiochus on his own terms.

It was after the settlement of this treaty that Apollophanes, the physician, who was regarded with great affection by the king, observing that Hermeias was getting beyond all bounds in his high place, began to be anxious for the king’s safety, and still more suspicious and uneasy for his own. He took an opportunity, therefore, of conveying a suggestion to the king, that he had better not be too careless or unsuspicious of the audacious character of Hermeias; nor let things go on until he found himself involved in a disaster like that of his brother. The danger, he said, is not at all remote. And he begged him to be on his guard, and take prompt measures for the safety of himself and his friends. Antiochus owned to him that he disliked and feared Hermeias; and thanked him for the care of his person, which had emboldened him to speak to him on the subject. This conversation encouraged Apollophanes by convincing him that he had not been mistaken about the feelings and opinions of the king; and Antiochus begged him not to confine his assistance to words, but to take some practical steps to secure the safety of himself and his friends. Upon Apollophanes replying that he was ready to do anything in the world, they concerted the following plan. On the pretext of the king being afflicted with an attack of vertigo, it was given out that the daily attendance of courtiers and officials was to be discontinued for a few days: the king and his physician thus getting the opportunity of conferring with such of his friends as he chose, who came on the pretext of visiting him. In the course of these visits suitable persons for carrying out the design were prepared and instructed; and every one readily responding to the proposal, from hatred of Hermeias, they proceeded to complete it. The physicians having prescribed walks at daybreak for Antiochus on account of the coolness, Hermeias came to the place assigned for the walk, and with him those of the king’s friends who were privy to the design; while the rest were much too late on account of the time of the king’s coming out being very different from what it had usually been. Thus they got Hermeias gradually a considerable distance from the camp, until they came to a certain lonely spot, and then, on the king’s going a little off the road, on the pretence of a necessary purpose, they stabbed him to death. Such was the end of Hermeias, whose punishment was by no means equal to his crimes. Thus freed from much fear and embarrassment, the king set out on his march home amidst universal manifestations from the people of the country in favour of his measures and policy; but nothing was more emphatically applauded in the course of his progress than the removal of Hermeias. In Apameia, at the same time, the women stoned the wife of Hermeias to death, and the boys his sons.

When he had reached home and had dismissed his troops into winter quarters, Antiochus sent a message to Achaeus, protesting against his assumption of the diadem and royal title, and warning him that he was aware of his dealings with Ptolemy, and of his restless intrigues generally. For while the king was engaged on his expedition against Artabazanes, Achaeus, being persuaded that Antiochus would fall, or that, if he did not fall, would be so far off, that it would be possible for him to invade Syria before his return, and with the assistance of the Cyrrhestae, who were in revolt against the king, seize the kingdom, started from Lydia with his whole army; and on arriving at Laodiceia, in Phrygia, assumed the diadem, and had the audacity for the first time to adopt the title of king, and to send royal despatches to the cities, the exile Garsyeris being his chief adviser in this measure. But as he advanced farther and farther, and was now almost at Lycaonia, a mutiny broke out among his forces, arising from the dissatisfaction of the men at the idea of being led against their natural king. When Achaeus found that this disturbed state of feeling existed among them, he desisted from his enterprise; and wishing to make his men believe that he had never had any intention of invading Syria, he directed his march into Pisidia, and plundered the country. By thus securing large booty for his army he conciliated its affection and confidence, and then returned to his own Satrapy.

Every detail of these transactions was known to the king: who, while sending frequent threatening messages to Achaeus, was now concentrating all his efforts on the preparations for the war against Ptolemy. Having accordingly mustered his forces at Apameia just before spring, he summoned his friends to advise with him as to the invasion of Coele-Syria. After many suggestions had been made in respect to this undertaking, touching the nature of the country, the military preparation required, and the assistance to be rendered by the fleet,—Apollophanes of Seleucia, whom I mentioned before, put an abrupt end to all these suggestions by remarking that it was folly to desire Coele-Syria and to march against that, while they allowed Seleucia to be held by Ptolemy, which was the capital, and so to speak, the very inner shrine of the king’s realm. Besides the disgrace to the kingdom which its occupation by the Egyptian monarchs involved, it was a position of the greatest practical importance, as a most admirable base of operations. Occupied by the enemy it was of the utmost hindrance to all the king’s designs; for in whatever direction he might have it in his mind to move his forces, his own country, owing to the fear of danger from this place, would need as much care and precaution as the preparations against his foreign enemies. Once taken, on the other hand, not only would it perfectly secure the safety of the home district, but was also capable of rendering effective aid to the king’s other designs and undertakings, whether by land or sea, owing to its commanding situation. His words carried conviction to the minds of all, and it was resolved that the capture of the town should be their first step. For Seleucia was still held by a garrison for the Egyptian kings; and had been so since the time of Ptolemy Euergetes, who took it when he invaded Syria to revenge the murder of Berenice.

In consequence of this decision, orders were sent to Diognetus the commander of the fleet to sail towards Seleucia: while Antiochus himself started from Apameia with his army, and encamped near the Hippodrome, about five stades from the town. He also despatched Theodotus Hemiolius with an adequate force against Coele-Syria, with orders to occupy the passes and to keep the road open for him.

The situation of Seleucia and the natural features of the surrounding country are of this kind. The city stands on the sea coast between Cilicia and Phoenicia; and has close to it a very great mountain called Coryphaeus, which on the west is washed by the last waves of the sea which lies between Cyprus and Phoenicia; while its eastern slopes overlook the territories of Antioch and Seleucia. It is on the southern skirt of this mountain that the town of Seleucia lies, separated from it by a deep and difficult ravine. The town extends down to the sea in a straggling line broken by irregularities of the soil, and is surrounded on most parts by cliffs and precipitous rocks. On the side facing the sea, where the ground is level, stand the market-places, and the lower town strongly walled. Similarly the whole of the main town has been fortified by walls of a costly construction, and splendidly decorated with temples and other elaborate buildings. There is only one approach to it on the seaward side, which is an artificial ascent cut in the form of a stair, interrupted by frequently occurring drops and awkward places. Not far from the town is the mouth of the river Orontes, which rises in the district of Libanus and Anti-Libanus, and after traversing the plain of Amyca reaches Antioch; through which it flows, and carrying off by the force of its current all the sewage of that town, finally discharges itself into this sea not far from Seleucia.

Antiochus first tried sending messages to the magistrates of Seleucia, offering money and other rewards on condition of having the city surrendered without fighting. And though he failed to persuade the chief authorities, he corrupted some of the subordinate commanders; and relying on them, he made preparations to assault the town on the sea-ward side with the men of his fleet, and on the land side with his soldiers. He divided his forces therefore into three parts, and addressed suitable words of exhortation to them, causing a herald to proclaim a promise to men and officers alike of great gifts and crowns that should be bestowed for gallantry in action. To the division under Zeuxis he entrusted the attack upon the gate leading to Antioch; to Hermogenes that upon the walls near the temple of Castor and Pollux; and to Ardys and Diognetus the assault upon the docks and the lower town: in accordance with his understanding with his partisans in the town, whereby it had been agreed that, if he could carry the lower town by assault, the city also should then be put into his hands. When the signal was given, a vigorous and determined assault was begun simultaneously at all these points: though that made by Ardys and Diognetus was by far the most daring; for the other points did not admit of any assault at all by means of scaling ladders, nor could be carried except by the men climbing up on their hands and knees; while at the docks and lower town it was possible to apply scaling ladders and fix them firmly and safely against the walls. The naval contingent therefore having fixed their ladders on the docks, and the division of Ardys theirs upon the lower town, a violent effort was made to carry the walls: and the garrison of the upper town being prevented from coming to the assistance of these places, because the city was being assaulted at every other point at the same time, Ardys was not long before he captured the lower town. No sooner had this fallen, than the subordinate officers who had been corrupted hurried to the commander-in-chief Leontius, and urged that he ought to send ambassadors to Antiochus, and make terms with him, before the city was taken by storm. Knowing nothing about the treason of these officers, but alarmed by their consternation, Leontius sent commissioners to the king to make terms for the safety of all within the city.

The king accepted the proposal and agreed to grant safety to all in the town who were free, amounting to six thousand souls. And when he took over the town, he not only spared the free, but also recalled those of the inhabitants who had been exiled; and restored to them their citizenship and property; while he secured the harbour and citadel with garrisons.

While still engaged in this business, he received a letter from Theodotus offering to put Coele-Syria into his hands, and inviting him to come thither with all speed. This letter caused him great embarrassment and doubt as to what he ought to do, and how best to take advantage of the offer. This Theodotus was an Aetolian who, as I have already narrated, had rendered important services to Ptolemy’s kingdom: for which, far from being reckoned deserving of gratitude, he had been in imminent danger of his life, just about the time of the expedition of Antiochus against Molon. Thereupon conceiving a contempt for Ptolemy, and a distrust of his courtiers, he seized upon Ptolemais with his own hands, and upon Tyre by the agency of Panaetolus, and made haste to invite Antiochus. Postponing therefore his expedition against Achaeus, and regarding everything else as of secondary importance, Antiochus started with his army by the same route as he had come. After passing the canon called Marsyas, he encamped near Gerrha, close to the lake which lies between the two mountains. Hearing there that Ptolemy’s general Nicolaus was besieging Theodotus in Ptolemais, he left his heavy-armed troops behind with orders to their leaders to besiege Brochi,—the stronghold which commands the road along the lake,—and led his light-armed troops forward himself, with the intention of raising the siege of Ptolemais. But Nicolaus had already got intelligence of the king’s approach; and had accordingly retired from Ptolemais himself, and sent forward Diogoras the Cretan and Dorymenes the Aetolian to occupy the passes at Berytus. The king therefore attacked these men, and having easily routed them took up a position near the pass.

There he awaited the coming up of the remainder of his forces, and, after addressing them in words befitting the occasion, continued his advance with his entire army, full of courage and with high hopes of success. When Theodotus and Panaetolus met him with their partisans he received them graciously, and took over from them Tyre and Ptolemais, and the war material which those cities contained. Part of this consisted of forty vessels, of which twenty were decked and splendidly equipped, and none with less than four banks of oars; the other twenty were made up of triremes, biremes, and cutters. These he handed over to the care of the Navarch Diognetus; and being informed that Ptolemy had come out against him, and had reached Memphis, and that all his forces were collected at Pelusium, and were opening the sluices, and filling up the wells of drinking water, he abandoned the idea of attacking Pelusium; but making a progress through the several cities, endeavoured to win them over by force or persuasion to his authority. Some of the less-fortified cities were overawed at his approach and made no difficulty about submitting, but others trusting to their fortifications or the strength of their situations held out; and to these he was forced to lay regular siege and so wasted a considerable time.

Though treated with such flagrant perfidy, the character of Ptolemy was so feeble, and his neglect of all military preparations had been so great, that the idea of protecting his rights with the sword, which was his most obvious duty, never occurred to him.

Agathocles and Sosibius, however, the leading ministers in the kingdom at that time, took counsel together and did the best they could with the means at their disposal, in view of the existing crisis. They resolved to devote themselves to the preparations for war; and, meanwhile, by embassies to try to retard the advance of Antiochus: pretending to confirm him in the opinion he originally entertained about Ptolemy, namely, that he would not venture to fight, but would trust to negotiations, and the interposition of common friends, to induce him to evacuate Coele-Syria. Having determined upon this policy, Agathocles and Sosibius, to whom the whole business was entrusted, lost no time in sending their ambassadors to Antiochus: and at the same time they sent messages to Rhodes, Byzantium, and Cyzicus, not omitting the Aetolians, inviting them to send commissioners to discuss the terms of a treaty. The commissioners duly arrived, and by occupying the time with going backwards and forwards between the two kings, abundantly secured to these statesmen the two things which they wanted,—delay, and time to make their preparations for war. They fixed their residence at Memphis and there carried on these negotiations continuously. Nor were they less attentive to the ambassadors from Antiochus, whom they received with every mark of courtesy and kindness. But meanwhile they were calling up and collecting at Alexandria the mercenaries whom they had on service in towns outside Egypt; were despatching men to recruit foreign soldiers; and were collecting provisions both for the troops they already possessed, and for those that were coming in. No less active were they in every other department of the military preparations. They took turns in going on rapid and frequent visits to Alexandria, to see that the supplies should in no point be inadequate to the undertaking before them. The manufacture of arms, the selection of men, and their division into companies, they committed to the care of Echecrates of Thessaly and Phoxidas of Melita. With these they associated Eurylochus of Magnesia, and Socrates of Boeotia, who were also joined by Cnopias of Allaria. By the greatest good fortune they had got hold of these officers, who, while serving with Demetrius and Antigonus, had acquired some experience of real war and actual service in the field. Accordingly they took command of the assembled troops, and made the best of them by giving them the training of soldiers.

Their first measure was to divide them according to their country and age, and to assign to each division its appropriate arms, taking no account of what they had borne before. Next they broke up their battalions and muster-rolls, which had been formed on the basis of their old system of pay, and formed them into companies adapted to the immediate purpose. Having effected this they began to drill the men; habituating them severally not only to obey the words of command, but also to the proper management of their weapons. They also frequently summoned general meetings at headquarters, and delivered speeches to the men. The most useful in this respect were Andromachus of Aspendus and Polycrates of Argos; because they had recently crossed from Greece, and were still thoroughly imbued with the Greek spirit, and the military ideas prevalent in the several states. Moreover, they were illustrious on the score of their private wealth, as well as on that of their respective countries; to which advantages Polycrates added those of an ancient family, and of the reputation obtained by his father Mnasiades as an athlete. By private and public exhortations these officers inspired their men with a zeal and enthusiasm for the struggle which awaited them.

All these officers, too, had commands in the army suited to their particular accomplishments. Eurylochus of magnesia commanded about three thousand men of what were called in the royal armies the Agema, or Guard; Socrates of Boeotia had two thousand light-armed troops under him; while the Achaean Phoxidas, and Ptolemy the son of Thraseas, and Andromachus of Aspendus were associated in the duty of drilling the phalanx and the mercenary Greek soldiers on the same ground,—Andromachus and Ptolemy commanding the phalanx, Phoxidas the mercenaries; of which the numbers were respectively twenty-five thousand and eight thousand. The cavalry, again, attached to the court, amounting to seven hundred, as well as that which was obtained from Lybia or enlisted in the country, were being trained by Polycrates, and were under his personal command: amounting in all to about three thousand men. In the actual campaign the most effective service was performed by Echecrates of Thessaly, by whom the Greek cavalry, which, with the whole body of mercenary cavalry, amounted to two thousand men, was splendidly trained. No one took more pains with the men under his command than Cnopias of Allaria. He commanded all the Cretans, who numbered three thousand, and among them a thousand Neo-Cretans, over whom he had set Philo of Cnossus. They also armed three thousand Libyans in the Macedonian fashion, who were commanded by Ammonius of Barce. The Egyptians themselves supplied twenty thousand soldiers to the phalanx, and were under the command of Sosibius. A body of Thracians and Gauls was also enrolled, four thousand being taken from settlers in the country and their descendants, while two thousand had been recently enlisted and brought over: and these were under the command of Dionysius of Thrace. Such in its numbers, and in the variety of the elements of which it was composed, was the force which was being got ready for Ptolemy.

Meanwhile Antiochus had been engaged in the siege of Dura: but the strength of the place and the support given it by Nicolaus prevented him from effecting anything; and as the winter was closing in, he agreed with the ambassadors of Ptolemy to a suspension of hostilities for four months, and promised that he would discuss the whole question at issue in a friendly spirit. But he was as far as possible from being sincere in this negotiation: his real object was to avoid being detained any length of time from his own country, and to be able to place his troops in winter quarters in Seleucia; because Achaeus was now notoriously plotting against him, and without disguise co-operating with Ptolemy. So having come to this agreement, Antiochus dismissed the ambassadors with injunctions to acquaint him as soon as possible with the decision of Ptolemy, and to meet him at Seleucia. He then placed the necessary guards in the various strongholds, committed to Theodotus the command-in-chief over them all, and returned home. On his arrival at Seleucia he distributed his forces into their winter quarters; and from that time forth took no pains to keep the mass of his army under discipline, being persuaded that the business would not call for any more fighting; because he was already master of some portions of Coele-Syria and Phoenicia, and expected to secure the rest by voluntary submission or by diplomacy: for Ptolemy, he believed, would not venture upon a general engagement. This opinion was shared also by the ambassadors: because Sosibius fixing his residence at Memphis conducted his negotiations with them in a friendly manner; while he prevented those who went back wards and forwards to Antiochus from ever becoming eyewitnesses of the preparations that were being carried on at Alexandria. Nay, even by the time that the ambassadors arrived, Sosibius was already prepared for every eventuality.

Meanwhile Antiochus was extremely anxious to have as much the advantage over the government of Alexandria in diplomatic argument as he had in arms. Accordingly when the ambassadors arrived at Seleucia, and both parties began, in accordance with the instructions of Sosibius, to discuss the clauses of the proposed arrangement in detail, the king made very light of the loss recently sustained by Ptolemy, and the injury which had been manifestly inflicted upon him by the existing occupation of Coele-Syria; and in the pleadings on this subject he refused to look upon this transaction in the light of an injury at all, alleging that the places belonged to him of right. He asserted that the original occupation of the country by Antigonus the One-eyed, and the royal authority exercised over it by Seleucus, constituted an absolutely decisive and equitable claim, in virtue of which Coele-Syria belonged of right to himself and not to Ptolemy; for Ptolemy I. went to war with Antigonus with the view of annexing this country, not to his own government, but to that of Seleucus. But, above all, he pressed the convention entered into by the three kings, Cassander, Lysimachus, and Seleucus, when, after having conquered Antigonus, they deliberated in common upon the arrangements to be made, and decided that the whole of Syria should belong to Seleucus. The commissioners of Ptolemy endeavoured to establish the opposite case. They magnified the existing injury, and dilated on its hardship; asserting that the treason of Theodotus and the invasion of Antiochus amounted to a breach of treaty-rights. They alleged the possession of these places in the reign of Ptolemy, son of Lagus; and tried to show that Ptolemy had joined Seleucus in the war on the understanding that he was to invest Seleucus with the government of the whole of Asia, but was to take Coele-Syria and Phoenicia for himself.

Such were the arguments brought forward by the two contracting parties in the course of the embassies and counterembassies and conferences. There was no prospect, however, of arriving at any result, because the controversy was conducted, not by the principals, but by the common friends of both; and there was no one to intervene authoritatively to check and control the caprice of the party which they might decide to be in the wrong. But what caused the most insuperable difficulty was the matter of Achaeus. For Ptolemy was eager that the terms of the treaty should include him: while Antiochus would not allow the subject to be so much as mentioned; and was indignant that Ptolemy should venture to protect rebels, or bring such a point into the discussion at all.

The approach of spring found both sides weary of negotiations, and with no prospect of coming to a conclusion. Antiochus therefore began collecting his forces, with a view of making an invasion by land and sea, and completing his conquest of Coele-Syria. On his part Ptolemy gave the supreme management of the war to Nicolaus, sent abundant provisions to Gaza, and despatched land and sea forces. The arrival of these reinforcements gave Nicolaus courage to enter upon the war: the commander of the navy promptly co-operating with him in carrying out all his orders. This admiral was Perigenes, whom Ptolemy sent out in command of the fleet, consisting of thirty fully-decked ships and more than four thousand ships of burden. Nicolaus was by birth an Aetolian, and was the boldest and most experienced officer in the service of Ptolemy. With one division of his army he hastened to seize the pass at Platanus; with the rest, which he personally commanded, he occupied the environs of Porphyrion; and there prepared to resist the invasion of the king: the fleet being also anchored close to him.

Meanwhile Antiochus had advanced as far as Marathus. On his way he had received a deputation of Aradians, asking for an alliance; and had not only granted their request, but had put an end to a quarrel which they had amongst themselves, by reconciling those of them who lived on the island with those who lived on the mainland. Starting from Marathus he entered the enemy’s country near the promontory called Theoprosopon, and advanced to Berytus, having seized Botrys on his way, and burnt Trieres and Calamus. From Berytus he sent forward Nicarchus and Theodotus with orders to secure the difficult passes near the river Lycus; while he himself set his army in motion and encamped near the river Damuras: Diognetus, the commander of his navy, coasting along parallel with him all the while. Thence once more, taking with him the divisions commanded by Theodotus and Nicarchus, which were the light troops of the army, he set out to reconnoitre the pass occupied already by Nicolaus. After thoroughly surveying the nature of the ground, he retired to his camp for that day. But on the next, leaving his heavy-armed troops in the charge of Nicarchus, he set out with the rest of his forces to execute his design.

Book 5, Part 6

At this point there is but a small and narrow space between the foot of Libanus and the sea; and even that is intersected by a steep and rugged spur, leaving only a narrow and difficult passage along the very water’s edge. On this pass Nicolaus had taken up his position; and having occupied some of the points by means of his large numbers, and secured others by artificial works, he felt certain that he would be able to prevent Antiochus from effecting an entrance. But the king divided his army into three parts, of which he entrusted one to Theodotus with orders to close with the enemy and force their way along the skirts of Libanus; the second to Menedemus with urgent orders to attempt the centre of the spur; while the third he put under the command of Diocles, the military governor of Parapotamia, and ordered them to keep close to the sea. He himself with his guard occupied a central position, intending to superintend the whole action and give help where it was wanted. At the same time Diognetus and Perigenes made preparations for a sea-fight, coming as close as possible to the shore, and endeavouring to make the battles at sea and on land present the appearance of a single contest. A general advance having begun by sea and land, at the same signal and word of command, the battle on the sea was undecided, because the number of vessels on either side and their equipment were about equal: but on land the troops of Nicolaus got the best of it at first, from the advantage of their position. But when Theodotus routed the men on the mountain skirts, and then charged from the higher ground, Nicolaus’s men all turned and fled precipitately. In this flight two thousand of them fell, and as many were taken prisoners: the rest retreated towards Sidon. Though he now had the better prospect of the two in the sea-fight; yet, when he saw the defeat of the army on land, Perigenes turned his prows and made good his retreat to the same place.

Thereupon Antiochus got his army on the march, and, arriving at Sidon, encamped under its wall. He did not however venture to attempt the town, because of the vast stores it contained and the number of its ordinary inhabitants, as well as of the refugees who had collected there. He therefore broke up his camp again, and continued his march towards Philoteria: ordering Diognetus his navarch to sail back with his ships to Tyre. Now Philoteria is situated right upon the shores of the lake into which the river Jordan discharges itself, and from which it issues out again into the plains surrounding Scythopolis. The surrender of these two cities to him encouraged him to prosecute his further designs; because the country subject to them was easily able to supply his whole army with provisions, and everything necessary for the campaign in abundance. Having therefore secured them by garrisons, he crossed the mountain chain and arrived at Atabyrium, which is situated upon a rounded hill, the ascent of which is more than fifteen stades long. But on this occasion he managed to take it by an ambuscade and stratagem. He induced the men of the town to come out to a skirmish, and enticed their leading columns to a considerable distance; then his troops suddenly turned from their pretended flight, and those who were concealed rising from their ambush, he attacked and killed a large number of the enemy; and finally, by pursuing close upon their heels, and thus creating a panic in the town before he reached it, he carried it as he had done others by assault. At this juncture Ceraeas, one of Ptolemy’s At this juncture Ceraeas, one of Ptolemy’s officers, deserted to Antiochus, whose distinguished reception caused great excitement in the minds of many other of the enemy’s officers. At any rate, not long afterwards, Hippolochus of Thessaly joined Antiochus with four hundred cavalry of Ptolemy’s army. Having therefore secured Atabyrium also with a garrison, Antiochus started once more and took over Pella, Camus, and Gephrus.

This unbroken stream of success caused the inhabitants of the neighbouring Arabia to rouse each other up to take action; and they unanimously joined Antiochus.With the additional encouragement and supplies which they afforded he continued his advance; and, arriving in the district of Galatis, made himself master of Abila, and the relieving force which had thrown itself into that town, under the command of Nicias, a friend and kinsman of Menneas. Gadara was the only town now left, which is thought to be the strongest of any in those parts. He therefore encamped under its walls and, bringing siegeworks to bear upon it, quickly terrified it into submission. Then hearing that a strong force of the enemy were concentrated at Rabbatamana in Arabia, and were pillaging and overrunning the territory of those Arabians who had joined him, he threw everything else aside and started thither; and pitched his camp at the foot of the high ground on which that city stands. After going round and reconnoitring the hill, and finding that it admitted of being ascended only at two points, he led his army to them and set up his siege artillery at these points. He put one set of siege-works under the care of Nicarchus, the other under that of Theodotus: while he superintended both equally, and observed the zeal shown by the two respectively. Great exertions were accordingly made by each, and a continual rivalry kept up as to which should be the first to make a breach in the wall opposite their works: and the result was that both breaches were made with unexpected rapidity; whereupon they kept making assaults night and day, and trying every means to force an entrance, without an hour’s intermission. But though they kept up these attempts continuously, they failed to make any impression; until a prisoner showed them the underground passage through which the besieged were accustomed to descend to fetch water. They broke into this and stopped it up with timber and stones and everything of that sort; and when this was done, the garrison surrendered for want of water. Having thus got possession of Rabbatamana, Antiochus left Nicarchus with an adequate garrison in command of it; and sent the two deserters from Ptolemy, Hippolochus and Ceraeas, with five thousand infantry, to Samaria: with orders to take the government of the district and protect all who submitted to him.He then started with his army for Ptolemais, where he was resolved to winter.

In the course of this same summer, the Pednelissians, being besieged and reduced to great straits by the Selgians, sent messages to Achaeus asking for help: and upon receiving a ready assent, continued to sustain the siege with great spirit in reliance upon this hope of relief. Achaeus selected Garsyeris to conduct the expedition; and sent him out in all haste, with six thousand infantry and five hundred horse, to relieve the Pednelissians. But when they heard of the approach of the army of relief, the Selgians occupied the pass called the Stair with the main body of their own army; and put a garrison at the entrance into Saperda: breaking up and spoiling all the paths and tracks leading to it. After entering Milyades and encamping under the walls of Cretopolis, perceiving that a farther advance was made impossible by the occupation of these positions by the enemy, Garsyeris hit upon the following ruse. He broke up his camp, and began his return march, as though he had abandoned all thoughts of relieving Pednelissus, owing to the enemy’s occupation of these positions. The Selgians were readily persuaded that he had really abandoned the relief of Pednelissus, and departed, some to the besieging camp and others home to Selge, as it was now close upon harvest-time. Thereupon Garsyeris faced about, and, marching with great speed, arrived at the pass over the mountain; and finding it unguarded, secured it by a garrison, under the command of Phayllus; while he himself with his main army went to Perga: and thence sent embassies to the other states in Pisidia and Pamphylia, pointing out that the power of the Selgians was A standing menace, and urging all to ally themselves with Achaeus and join in relieving Pednelissus.

Meanwhile the Selgians had sent out a general in command of a force which they hoped would terrify Phallyus by their superior knowledge of the country, and expel him from his strong position. But when, far from attaining their object, they lost large numbers of men in their attacks upon him; though they abandoned the hope of accomplishing this, they yet persisted with increased ardour in the siege of Pednelissus. Garsyeris was now reinforced by eight thousand hoplites from the Etennes, who inhabit the highlands of Pisidia above Side, and half that number from Aspendus. The people of Side itself, partly from a wish to curry favour with Antiochus, but chiefly from hatred to the Aspendians, refused to take part in the relief of Pednelissus. With these reinforcements, as well as his own army, Garsyeris advanced towards Pednelissus, feeling certain that he would be able to raise the siege at the first attack: but when the Selgians showed no sign of alarm, he entrenched himself at a moderate distance from them. The Pednelissians were now becoming hard pressed from want of provisions; and Garsyeris, being anxious to do all he could, got ready two thousand men, giving each a medimnus of wheat, and despatched them under cover of night into Pednelissus. But the Selgians getting intelligence of what was going on, and, coming out to intercept them, most of those who were carrying in the corn were killed, and the Selgians got possession of the wheat. Elated with this success, they now essayed to storm the camp of Garsyeris as well as the city. An adventurous daring in the presence of the enemy is indeed characteristic of the Selgians: and on this occasion they left a barely sufficient number to guard their camp; and, surrounding the enemy’s entrenchment with the rest, assaulted it at several points at once. Finding himself unexpectedly attacked on every side, and portions of his palisade being already torn down, Garsyeris, appreciating the gravity of the danger, and feeling that there was but little chance of averting total destruction, sent out some cavalry at a point which the enemy had left unguarded. These the Selgians imagined to be flying in a panic and for fear of what was coming: and therefore, instead of attending to them, they treated them with utter contempt. When these horsemen, however, had ridden round, so as to get on the rear of the enemy, they charged and fought with great fierceness. This raised the spirits of Garsyeris’s infantry, though they had already given way: and they therefore faced round, and once more offered resistance to the troops that were storming their camp. The Selgians, accordingly, being now attacked on front and rear at once, broke and fled. At the same time the Pednelissians sallied out and attacked the troops left in charge of the Selgian camp, and drove them out. The pursuit lasted to so great a distance that no less than ten thousand of the Selgian army fell: of the survivors all who were allies fled to their own cities; while the Selgians themselves escaped over the highlands into their native land.

Garsyeris immediately started in pursuit of the fugitives, being in haste to get over the narrow pass, and approach Selge, before they could make a stand, and form any plan for meeting his approach. Thus he came to Selge with his army. But the inhabitants, having no longer any hopes in their allies, after the disaster which had affected them all alike, and themselves dispirited at the misfortune which had befallen them, became exceedingly anxious for the safety of themselves and their country. They accordingly determined in public assembly to send one of their citizens on an embassy to Gassyeris; and selected for the purpose Logbasis, who had been for a long time on terms of intimacy and friendship with the Antiochus that lost his life in Thrace. Laodice, also, who became afterwards the wife of Achaeus, having been committed to his care, he had brought this young lady up as his daughter, and had treated her with conspicuous kindness. The Selgians therefore thought that his character made him eminently fitted for an ambassador in the circumstances, and accordingly sent him on the mission. He, however, obtained a private interview with Garsyeris, and was so far from carrying out the purpose for which he came, by properly supporting the interests of his country, that on the contrary he strongly urged Garsyeris to send with all speed for Achaeus, and undertook to put the city into their hands. Garsyeris, of course, grasped eagerly at the chance offered to him and sent messengers to induce Achaeus to come, and to inform him of the position of affairs. Meanwhile he concluded an armistice with the Selgians, and protracted the negotiations for a treaty by continually bringing forward objections and scruples on points of detail, in order to give time for the arrival of Achaeus, and for Logbasis to conduct his negotiations and mature his plot.

While this was going on frequent meetings for discussion took place between the camp and the town, and it became quite an ordinary thing for the soldiers to go into the town to purchase corn. This is a state of things which has on many occasions proved fatal. And it appears to me that of all animals the most easily deceived is man, though he has the credit of being the most cunning. For consider how many entrenched camps and fortresses, how many and what great cities have been betrayed by this kind of trick! And yet in spite of such frequent and conspicuous examples of the many people to whom it has happened, somehow or another we are always new to such deceit, and fall into the trap with the inexperience of youth. The reason is that we do not keep ready for reference in our minds the disasters of those who have made mistakes before us in this or that particular. But while preparing with great labour and cost stores of corn and money, and a provision of walls and weapons to meet unforeseen eventualities, that which is the easiest of all and the most serviceable in the hour of danger—that we all neglect; although we might obtain this experience from history and research, which in themselves add a dignity to leisure and a charm to existence.

Achaeus then duly arrived at the time expected: and after conference with him, the Selgians had great hopes of experiencing some signal kindness at his hands. But in the interval Logbasis had little by little collected in his house some of the soldiers who came into the town from the camp; and now advised the citizens not to let slip the opportunity, but to act with the display of Achaeus’s kindly disposition towards them before their eyes; and to put the finishing stroke to the treaty, after holding a general assembly of the whole community to discuss the situation. An assembly was at once convened, to which even those on guard were all summoned to assist in bringing the treaty to completion; and the citizens began deliberating on the state of affairs.

Meanwhile Logbasis, who had agreed with the enemy to take that opportunity, began getting ready those who had congregated at his house, and prepared and armed himself and his sons also for the fight. And now Achaeus with half the hostile force was advancing towards the city itself; while Garsyeris with the remainder was marching towards the Cesbedium as it is called, or temple of Zeus, which stands in a position commanding the city and presenting very much the appearance of a citadel. But a goatherd, having by chance observed what was going on, brought the news to the assembly; thereupon some of the citizens made a hurried rush to the Cesbedium, others to their posts on the wall, and the majority in great anger to the house of Logbasis. His treasonable practice being thus detected, some of them climbed upon the roof, others forced their way in by the front door, and murdered Logbasis and his sons and all the other men which they found there at the same time. Then they caused a proclamation to be made promising freedom to all slaves who would join them: and dividing themselves into three companies, they hastened to defend all the points of vantage. When he saw that the Cesbedium was already occupied, Garsyeris abandoned his enterprise; but Achaeus held on his way until he came right up to the gates: whereupon the Selgians sallied out, killed seven hundred, and forced the rest to give up the attempt. Upon this conclusion of their enterprise, Achaeus and Garsyeris retired to the camp. But the Selgians fearing treason among themselves, and alarmed at the presence of a hostile camp, sent out some of their elders in the guise of suppliants, and concluded a peace, on condition of paying four hundred talents on the spot and restoring the Pednelissians whom they had taken prisoners, and paying a further sum of three hundred talents at a fixed date. Thus did the Selgians by their own valour save their country, which they had been in danger of losing through the infamous treason of Logbasis; and thus neither disgraced their freedom, nor their relationship to the Lacedaemonians.

But after reducing Milyas, and the greater part of Pamphylia, Achaeus took his departure, and arriving at Sardis kept up a continuous warfare with Attalus, and began threatening Prusias, and making himself an object of terror and alarm to all the inhabitants on this side Taurus.

But while Achaeus was engaged on his expedition against Selge, Attalus with the Aegosagae from Gaul was going through all the cities in Aeolis, and the neighbourhood, which had before this been terrified into joining Achaeus; but most of which now voluntarily and even gratefully gave in their adherence to him, though there were some few which waited to be forced. Now the cities which transferred their allegiance to him in the first instance were Cyme, Smyrna, and Phocaea; after them Aegae and Temnus submitted, in terror at his approach; and thereupon he was waited upon by ambassadors from Teos and Colophon with offers to surrender themselves and their cities. He received them also upon the same terms as they had enjoyed before, taking hostages; but he treated the ambassadors from Smyrna with special kindness, because they had been the most constant in their loyalty of all. Continuing his march without interruption, he crossed the Lycus and arrived at the hamlets of Mysia, and thence came to Carseae. Overawing the inhabitants of this town, as well as the garrison of the Two Walls, he got them surrendered to him by Themistocles, who had been, as it happened, left by Achaeus in command of this district. Starting thence, and wasting the plain of Apia, he crossed Mount Pelecas and encamped near the river Megistus.

While he was here an eclipse of the moon occurred: and the Gauls who had all along been much discontented at the hardships of the march,—which was rendered the more painful for them by the fact of their being accompanied by their wives and children, who followed the host in waggons,— now regarded the eclipse as an evil augury, and refused to go on. But King Attalus, who got no effective service out of them, and saw that they straggled during the march and encamped by themselves, and wholly declined to obey orders and despised all authority, was in great doubt as to what to do. He was anxious less they should desert to Achaeus, and join in an attack upon himself: and was at the same time uneasy at the scandal to which he would give rise, if he caused his soldiers to surround and kill all these men, who were believed to have crossed into Asia in reliance on his honour. He therefore seized the occasion of their refusal to proceed, to promise them that he would see that they were taken back to the place where they had crossed into Asia; would assign them suitable lands for a settlement; and would afterwards do them any service they asked for, if it was within his power and consistent with justice.

Accordingly Attalus led the Aegosagae back to the Helles pont; and after negotiations with the people of Lampsacus, Ilium, and Alexandria, conducted in a friendly spirit because they had preserved their loyalty to him, he returned with his army to Pergamum.

At the beginning of the following spring, having all preparations for war completed, Antiochus and Ptolemy determined to bring their claims to Coele-Syria to the decision of a battle. Ptolemy accordingly set out from Alexandria with seventy thousand infantry, five thousand cavalry, and seventy-three elephants. Being informed of his approach, Antiochus drew his forces together. These consisted of Daae, Carmani, and Cilicians, equipped as light-armed troops to the number of about five thousand, under the charge and command of Byttacus the Macedonian. Under Theodotus, the Aetolian, who had deserted from Ptolemy, were ten thousand picked men from the whole kingdom, armed in the Macedonian fashion, most of whom had silver shields. The number of the phalanx was twenty thousand, and they were led by Nicarchus and Theodotus Hemiolius. In addition to these there were Agrianes and Persians, who were either bowmen or slingers, to the number of two thousand. With them were a thousand Thracians, under the command of Menedemus of Alabanda. There was also a mixed force of Medes, Cissians, Cadusians, and Carmanians, amounting to five thousand men, who were assigned to the chief command of Aspasianus the Mede. Certain Arabians also and men of neighbouring tribes, to the number of ten thousand, were commanded by Zabdibelus. The mercenaries from Greece amounting to five thousand were led by Hippolochus of Thessaly. Antiochus had also fifteen hundred Cretans who came with Eurylochus, and a thousand Neo-Cretans commanded by Zelys of Gortyna; with whom were five hundred javelin-men of Lydia, and a thousand Cardaces who came with Lysimachus the Gaul. The entire number of his horse was six thousand; four thousand were commanded by the king’s nephew Antipater, the rest by Themison: so that the whole number of Antiochus’s force was sixty-two thousand infantry, six thousand cavalry, and one hundred and two elephants.

Having marched to Pelusium Ptolemy made his first halt in that town: and having been there joined by the stragglers, and having given out their rations of corn to his men, he got the army in motion, and led them by a line of march which goes through the waterless region skirting Mount Casius and the Marshes. On the fifth day’s march he reached his destination, and pitched his camp a distance of fifty stades from Rhaphia, which is the first city of Coele-Syria towards Egypt.

While Ptolemy was effecting this movement Antiochus arrived with his army at Gaza, where he was joined by some reinforcements, and once more commenced his advance, proceeding at a leisurely pace. He passed Rhaphia and encamped about ten stades from the enemy. For a while the two armies preserved this distance, and remained encamped opposite each other. But after some few days, wishing to remove to more advantageous ground and to inspire confidence in his troops, Antiochus pushed forward his camp so much nearer Ptolemy, that the palisades of the two camps were not more than five stades from each other; and while in this position, there were frequent struggles at the watering-places and on forays, as well as infantry and cavalry skirmishes in the space between the camps.

In the course of these proceedings Theodotus conceived and put into execution an enterprise, very characteristic of an Aetolian, but undoubtedly requiring great personal courage. Having formerly lived at Ptolemy’s court he knew the king’s tastes and habits. Accordingly, accompanied by two others, he entered the enemy’s camp just before daybreak; where, owing to the dim light, he could not be recognised by his face, while his dress and other accoutrements did not render him noticeable, owing to the variety of costume prevailing among themselves. He had marked the position of the king’s tent during the preceding days, for the skirmishes took place quite close; and he now walked boldly up to it, and passed through all the outer ring of attendants without being observed: but when he came to the tent in which the king was accustomed to transact business and dine, though he searched it in every conceivable way, he failed to find the king; for Ptolemy slept in another tent, separate from the public and official tent. He however wounded two men who were sleeping there, and killed Andreas, the king’s physician; and then returned safely to his own camp, without meeting with any molestation, except just as he was passing over the vallum of the enemy’s camp. As far as daring went, he had fulfilled his purpose: but he had failed in prudence by not taking the precaution to ascertain where Ptolemy was accustomed to sleep.

After being encamped opposite each other for five days, the two kings resolved to bring matters to the decision of battle. And upon Ptolemy beginning to move his army outside its camp, Antiochus hastened to do the same. Both formed their front of their phalanx and men armed in the Macedonian manner. But Ptolemy’s two wings were formed as follows:—Polycrates, with the cavalry under his command, occupied the left, and between him and the phalanx were Cretans standing close by the horsemen; next them came the royal guard; then the peltasts under Socrates, adjoining the Libyans armed in Macedonian fashion. On the right wing was Echecrates of Thessaly, with his division of cavalry; on his left were stationed Gauls and Thracians; next them Phoxidas and the Greek mercenaries, extending to the Egyptian phalanx. Of the elephants forty were on the left wing, where Ptolemy was to be in person during the battle; the other thirty-three had been stationed in front of the right wing opposite the mercenary cavalry.

Antiochus also placed sixty of his elephants commanded by his foster-brother Philip in front of his right wing, on which he was to be present personally, to fight opposite Ptolemy. Behind these he stationed the two thousand cavalry commanded by Antipater, and two thousand more at right angles to them. In line with the cavalry he placed the Cretans, and next them the Greek mercenaries; with the latter he mixed two thousand of these armed in the Macedonian fashion under the command of the Macedonian Byttacus. At the extreme point of the left wing he placed two thousand cavalry under the command of Themison; by their side Cardacian and Lydian javelin-men; next them the light-armed division of three thousand, commanded by Menedemus; then the Cissians, Medes, and Carmanians; and by their side the Arabians and neighbouring peoples who continued the line up to the phalanx. The remainder of the elephants he placed in front of his left wing under the command of Myiscus, one of the boys about the court.

The two armies having been drawn up in the order I have described; the kings went along their respective lines, and addressed words of encouragement and exhortation to their officers and friends. But as they both rested their strongest hopes on their phalanx, they showed their greatest earnestness and addressed their strongest exhortations to them; which were re-echoed in Ptolemy’s case by Andromachus and Sosibius and the king’s sister Arsinoe; in the case of Antiochus by Theodotus and Nicarchus: these officers being the commanders of the phalanx in the two armies respectively. The substance of what was said on both sides was the same: for neither monarch had any glorious or famous achievement of his own to quote to those whom he was addressing, seeing that they had but recently succeeded to their crowns; but they endeavoured to inspire the men of the phalanx with spirit and boldness, by reminding them of the glory of their ancestors, and the great deeds performed by them. But they chiefly dwelt upon the hopes of advancement which the men might expect at their hands in the future; and they called upon and exhorted the leaders and the whole body of men, who were about to be engaged, to maintain the fight with a manly and courageous spirit. So with these or similar words, delivered by their own lips or by interpreters, they rode along their lines.

Ptolemy, accompanied by his sister, having arrived at the left wing of his army, and Antiochus with the royal guard at the right: they gave the signal for the battle, and opened the fight by a charge of elephants. Only some few of Ptolemy’s elephants came to close quarters with the foe: seated on these the soldiers in the howdahs maintained a brilliant fight, lunging at and striking each other with crossed pikes. But the elephants themselves fought still more brilliantly, using all their strength in the encounter, and pushing against each other, forehead to forehead.

Book 5, Part 7

The way in which elephants fight is this: they get their tusks entangled and jammed, and then push against one another with all their might, trying to make each other yield ground until one of them proving superior in strength has pushed aside the other’s trunk; and when once he can get a side blow at his enemy, he pierces him with his tusks as a bull would with his horns. Now, most of Ptolemy’s animals, as is the way with Libyan elephants, were afraid to face the fight: for they cannot stand the smell or the trumpeting of the Indian elephants, but are frightened at their size and strength, I suppose, and run away from them at once without waiting to come near them. This is exactly what happened on this occasion: and upon their being thrown into confusion and being driven back upon their own lines, Ptolemy’s guard gave way before the rush of the animals; while Antiochus, wheeling his men so as to avoid the elephants, charged the division of cavalry under Polycrates. At the same time the Greek mercenaries stationed near the phalanx, and behind the elephants, charged Ptolemy’s peltasts and made them give ground, the elephants having already thrown their ranks also into confusion. Thus Ptolemy’s whole left wing began to give way before the enemy.

Echecrates the commander of the right wing waited at first to see the result of the struggle between the other wings of the two armies: but when he saw the dust coming his way, and that the elephants opposite his division were afraid even to approach the hostile elephants at all, he ordered Phoxidas to charge the part of the enemy opposite him with his Greek mercenaries; while he made a flank movement with the cavalry and the division behind the elephants; and so getting out of the line of the hostile elephants’ attack, charged the enemy’s cavalry on the rear or the flank and quickly drove them from their ground. Phoxidas and his men were similarly successful: for they charged the Arabians and Medes and forced them into precipitate flight. Thus Antiochus’s right wing gained a victory, while his left was defeated. The phalanxes, left without the support of either wing, remained intact in the centre of the plain, in a state of alternate hope and fear for the result. Meanwhile Antiochus was assisting in gaining the victory on his right wing; while Ptolemy, who had retired behind his phalanx, now came forward in the centre, and showing himself in the view of both armies struck terror in the hearts of the enemy, but inspired great spirit and enthusiasm in his own men; and Andromachus and Sosibius at once ordered them to lower their sarissae and charge. The picked Syrian troops stood their ground only for a short time, and the division of Nicarchus quickly broke and fled. Antiochus presuming, in his youthful inexperience, from the success of his own division, that he would be equally victorious all along the line, was pressing on the pursuit; but upon one of the older officers at length giving him warning, and pointing out that the cloud of dust raised by the phalanx was moving towards their own camp, he understood too late what was happening; and endeavoured to gallop back with the squadron of royal cavalry on to the field. But finding his whole line in full retreat he was forced to retire to Rhaphia: comforting himself with the belief that, as far as he was personally concerned, he had won a victory, but had been defeated in the whole battle by the want of spirit and courage shown by the rest.

Having secured the final victory by his phalanx, and killed large numbers of the enemy in the pursuit by means of his cavalry and mercenaries on his right wing, Ptolemy retired to his own camp and there spent the night. But next day, after picking up and burying his own dead, and stripping the bodies of the enemy, he advanced towards Rhaphia. Antiochus had wished, immediately after the retreat of his army, to make a camp outside the city; and there rally such of his men as had fled in compact bodies: but finding that the greater number had retreated into the town, he was compelled to enter it himself also. Next morning, however, before daybreak, he led out the relics of his army and made the best of his way to Gaza. There he pitched a camp: and having sent an embassy to obtain leave to pick up his dead, he obtained a truce for performing their obsequies. His loss amounted to nearly ten thousand infantry and three hundred cavalry killed, and four thousand taken prisoners. Three elephants were killed on the field, and two died afterwards of their wounds. On Ptolemy’s side the losses were fifteen hundred infantry killed and seven hundred cavalry: sixteen of his elephants were killed, and most of the others captured.

Such was the result of the battle of Rhaphia between kings Ptolemy and Antiochus for the possession of Coele-Syria.

After picking up his dead Antiochus retired with his army to his own country: while Ptolemy took over Rhaphia and the other towns without difficulty, all the states vying with each other as to which should be first to renew their allegiance and come over to him. And perhaps it is the way of the world everywhere to accommodate one’s self to circumstances at such times; but it is eminently true of the race inhabiting that country, that they have a natural turn and inclination to worship success. Moreover it was all the more natural in this case, owing to the existing disposition of the people in favour of the Alexandrian kings; for the inhabitants of Coele-Syria are somehow always more loyally disposed to this family than to any other. Accordingly they now stopped short of no extravagance of adulation, honouring Ptolemy with crowns, sacrifices, and every possible compliment of the kind.

Meanwhile Antiochus, on arriving at the city which bears his own name, immediately despatched an embassy to Ptolemy, consisting of Antipater, his nephew, and Theodotus Hemiolius, to treat of a peace, in great alarm lest the enemy should advance upon him. For his defeat had inspired him with distrust of his own forces, and he was afraid that Achaeus would seize the opportunity to attack him. It did not occur to Ptolemy to take any of these circumstances into account: but being thoroughly satisfied with his unexpected success, and generally at his unlooked for acquisition of Coele-Syria, he was by no means indisposed to peace; but even more inclined to it than he ought to have been: influenced in that direction by the habitual effeminacy and corruption of his manner of life. Accordingly, when Antipater and his colleague arrived, after some little bluster and vituperation of Antiochus for what had taken place, he agreed to a truce for a year. He sent Sosibius back with the ambassadors to ratify the treaty: while he himself, after remaining three months in Syria and Phoenicia, and settling the towns, left Andromachus of Aspendus as governor of this district, and started with his sister and friends for Alexandria: having brought the war to a conclusion in a way that surprised his subjects, when they contrasted it with the principles on which he spent he rest of his life. Antiochus after exchanging ratifications of the treaty with Sosibius, employed himself in making preparations for attacking Achaeus, as he had originally begun doing. Such was the political situation in Asia.

About the same period the earthquake occurred at Rhodes, which overthrew the great Colossus and the larger part of the walls and dockyards. But the adroit policy of the Rhodians converted this misfortune into an opportunity; and under their skilful management, instead of adding to their embarrassments, it became the means of restoring their prosperity. So decisive in human affairs, public or private, is the difference between incapacity and good sense, between idle indifference and a close attention to business. Good fortune only damages the one, while disaster is but a means of recovery to the other. This was illustrated by the manner in which the Rhodians turned the misfortune that befell them to account. They enhanced its magnitude and importance by the prominence which they gave it, and the serious tone in which they spoke of it, as well by the mouth of their ambassadors as in the intercourse of private life; and they created thus such an effect upon other states, and especially upon the feelings of the kings, that they were not only overwhelmed with presents, but made the donors feel actually obliged for their acceptance of them. Hiero and Gelo, for instance, presented them with seventy-five talents of silver, part at once, and the rest at a very short interval, as a contribution towards the expenses of the gymnasium; gave them for religious purposes some silver cauldrons and their stands, and some water vessels; and in addition to this ten talents for their sacrifices, and ten more to attract new citizens: their intention being that the whole present should amount to a hundred talents. Not only so, but they gave immunity from customs to Rhodian merchants coming to their ports; and presented them besides with fifty catapults of three cubits length. In spite too of these large gifts, they regarded themselves as under an obligation to the Rhodians; and accordingly erected statues in the Deigma or Mart of Rhodes, representing the community of Rhodes crowned by that of Syracuse.

Then too Ptolemy offered them three hundred talents of silver; a million medimni of corn; ship timber for ten quinqueremes and ten triremes, consisting of forty thousand cubits of squared pine planking; a thousand talents of bronze coinage; three thousand talents of tow; three thousand pieces of sail cloth; three thousand talents for the repair of the Colossus; a hundred master builders with three hundred and fifty workmen, and fourteen talents yearly to pay their wages. Besides this he gave twelve thousand medimni of corn for their public games and sacrifices, and twenty thousand medimni for victualling ten triremes. The greater part of these goods was delivered at once, as well as a third of the whole of the money named. In a similar spirit Antigonus offered ten thousand timbers, varying from sixteen to eight cubits in length, to be used as purlins; five thousand rafters seven cubits long; three thousand talents of iron; a thousand talents of pitch; a thousand amphorae of the same unboiled; and a hundred talents of silver besides. His queen, Chryseis, also gave a hundred thousand medimni of corn, and three thousand talents of lead. Again Seleucus, father of Antiochus, besides granting freedom from imports to Rhodians sailing to his dominions, and besides giving ten quinqueremes fully equipped, and two hundred thousand medimni of corn; gave also ten thousand cubits of timber, and a thousand talents of resin and hair.

Nor were Prusias and Mithridates far behind these in liberality; nor the princes Lysanias, Olympichus, and Lymnaeas, who were at that time in power in different parts of Asia; and as for states that, according to their several abilities contributed to their assistance, it would be difficult to reckon their number. In fact, though when we regard the time which it took the city to recover its populousness, and the state of desolation from which it started, we cannot fail to be struck at the rapidity and the extent of its improvement in regard both to private and public wealth; yet when we contemplate the natural advantages of its site, and the contributions from outside which served to raise its fortunes to their original height, this feeling must give way to a conviction that the advance was somewhat less than might have been expected.

My object in giving these details is twofold. I wished to exhibit the brilliant conduct of their public affairs by the Rhodians, for indeed they deserve both to be commended and imitated: and I wished also to point out the insignificance of the gifts bestowed by the kings of our own day, and received by nations and states; that these monarchs may not imagine that by the expenditure of four or five talents they are doing anything so very great, or expect to receive at the hands of the Greeks the honour enjoyed by former kings; and that states when they see before their eyes the magnitude of the presents formerly bestowed, may not, nowadays, in return for insignificant and paltry benefactions, blindly bestow their most ample and splendid honours; but may use that discrimination in apportioning their favours to desert, in which Greeks excel the rest of the world.

Just at the beginning of this summer, while Agetas was Strategus of the Aetolians, and when Aratus had just become Strategus of the Achaean league,—at which point we broke off in our history of the Social war,—Lycurgus of Sparta returned home from Aetolia. The Ephors had discovered that the charge on which he had been banished was false; and had accordingly sent for him back, and recalled him from exile. He at once began making an arrangement with Pyrrhias the Aetolian, who happened at the time to be commander in Elis, for an invasion of Messenia. Now, when Aratas came into office, he found the mercenary army of the league in a state of complete demoralisation, and the cities very slack to pay the tax for their support, owing to the bad and spiritless manner in which his predecessor Eperatus had managed the affairs of the league. He, however, exhorted the members of the league to reform, and obtained a decree dealing with this matter; and then threw himself with energy into the preparations for the war. The decree passed by the Achaeans ordered the maintenance of eight thousand mercenary infantry and five hundred horse, together with three thousand Achaean infantry and three hundred horse, enrolled in the usual way; and that of these latter five hundred foot and fifty horse were to be brazen-shield men from Megalopolis, and the same number of Argives. It ordered also that three ships should be manned to cruise off Acte and in the Argolic gulf, and three off Patrae and Dyme, and in the sea there.

While Aratus was engaged in these transactions, and in completing these preparations, Lycurgus and Pyrrhias, after an interchange of messages to secure their making their expedition at the same time, marched into Messenia. The Achaean Strategus, aware of their design, came with the mercenaries and some of the picked Achaeans to Megalopolis, with the view of supporting the Messenians. After setting out, Lycurgus got possession of Calamae, a stronghold in Messenia, by treachery; and pressed hurriedly forward to effect a junction with the Aetolians. But Pyrrhias had started from Elis with a wholly inadequate force, and, having been easily stopped at the pass into Messenia by the Cyparissians, had turned back. Lycurgus therefore being unable to effect his junction with Pyrrhias, and not being strong enough by himself, after assaulting Andania for a short time, returned back to Sparta without having effected anything.

When the plot of the enemy had thus gone to pieces; Aratus, with a provident regard for the future, arranged with Taurion to provide fifty horse and five hundred foot, and with the Messenians to send an equal number; with the view of using these men to protect the territories of Messenia, Megalopolis, Tegea, and Argos,—for these districts, being on the frontier of Laconia, have to bear the brunt of Lacedaemonian invasion for the rest of the Peloponnese; while with the Achaean levies and mercenaries he planned to guard the parts of Achaia which lay towards Elis and Aetolia.

After adjusting these matters, he settled in accordance with the decree of the league the intestine disputes at Megalopolis. For it happened that the people of this town having been recently deprived of their country by Cleomenes, and, to use a common expression, shaken to their foundations, were in absolute want of many things, and ill-provided with all: for they persisted in maintaining their usual scale of living, while their means both public and private were entirely crippled. The consequence was that the town was filled with disputes, jealousies, and mutual hatred; which is ever the case, both with states and individuals, when means fall short of desires. The first controversy was about the walling of the town,—one party maintaining that the limits of the city should be contracted to a size admitting of being completely walled and guarded at a time of danger; for that in the late occasion it was its size and unguarded state which had caused their disaster. In addition to this it was maintained by this party that the landowners should contribute the third part of their land to provide for the enrolment of new citizens. The other party rejected the notion of contracting the limits of the city and would not consent to contribute a third part of their lands. But the most serious controversy of all was in regard to the laws draughted for them by Prytanis, an eminent Peripatetic philosopher, whom Antigonus Doson appointed to draw them up a constitution. In this distracted state of politics, Aratus intervened with all the earnestness he could command, and succeeded in pacifying the heated feelings of the citizens. The terms on which the controversies were settled were engraved on a column, and set up near the altar of Vesta in the Homarium.

After arranging this settlement, Aratus broke up his camp; and going on himself to the congress of the Achaeans, handed over the mercenaries to Lycus of Pharae, as the Sub-Strategus of the league. But the Eleans, being dissatisfied with Pyrrhias, once more induced the Aetolians to send them Euripidas; who, waiting until the Achaeans were engaged in their congress, took sixty horse and two thousand foot, and started on a raid. Having passed through the territory of Pharae, he overran the country up to the territory of Aegium; and after securing and driving off a considerable booty, he began a retreat towards Leontium. But Lycus, learning what had happened, went in all haste to protect the country; and falling in with the enemy, he attacked them at once and killed four hundred and took two hundred prisoners, among whom were the following men of rank: Physsias, Antanor, Clearchus, Androlochus, Euanoridas, Aristogeiton, Nicasippus, and Aspasius. The arms and baggage fell entirely into his hands. About the same time the Navarch of the league having gone on an expedition to Molycria, returned with nearly a hundred captives. Returning once more to Aetolia he sailed to Chalceia and captured two war ships, with their crews, which put out to resist him; and took also a long boat with its men on the Aetolian Rhium. There being thus an influx of booty both by sea and land at the same period, and a considerable amount of money and provisions being obtained from this, the soldiers felt confident of getting their pay, and the cities of the league were sanguine of not being likely to be hard pressed by their contributions.

While these events were taking place Scerdilaidas, thinking that he was not being treated fairly, because some of the payments agreed upon in his treaty with Philip were in arrear, sent out fifteen galleys, treacherously pretending that their object was to receive and convoy the money. These galleys sailed to Leucas, where they were received by all as friendly, owing to their former alliance: but the only mischief they had time to do was to make a treacherous attack on the Corinthian Agathinus and Cassander, who had come there on board Taurion’s ships, and were lying at anchor close to them with four vessels. These they captured with their vessels and sent to Scerdilaidas; and then putting out to sea from Leucas, and sailing towards Malea, they plundered and captured the merchants whom they met.

Harvest time was now approaching: and as Taurion paid little attention to the protection of the cities I mentioned above; Aratus in person, at the head of some picked Achaean troops, protected the getting in of the harvest round Argos: while Euripidas at the head of a force of Aetolians set out on a raid, with the object of ravaging the territory of Tritaea. But when Lycus and Demodocus, the Hipparch of the league, heard of the expedition of the Aetolians from Elis, they collected the people of Dymae, Patrae and Pharae, and joining the mercenaries to these forces made an incursion upon Elis. Arrived at a place called Phyxium, they allowed their light-armed troops and their horse to plunder the country, but kept their hoplites concealed near this place: and when the Eleans had sallied out in full force to attack the foraging parties, and were pursuing them as they retreated, the hoplites with Lycus rose from their hiding-place and charged them as they rushed heedlessly on. The Eleans did not stand against the attack, but fled at the mere appearance of the hoplites: who killed two hundred of them and took eighty prisoners, and carried off with them in safety all the booty that had been driven in from the country. At the same time the Navarch of the league made numerous descents upon Calydonia and the territory of Naupactus; and not only overran the country, but twice annihilated the force sent out to resist him. Among others he took Cleonicus of Naupactus prisoner: who owing to this being a proxenus of the Achaeans was not sold on the spot, and after some little time was set free without ransom.

About the same time Agetas, the Strategus of the Aetolian league, proclaimed a general levy of Aetolians, and went a foraging expedition into the territory of the Acarnanians. He marched through all Epirus, plundering as he went without let or hindrance; after doing which he returned home, and dismissed the Aetolian levy to their own cities. But the Acarnanians, upon making a retaliatory invasion of the territory of Stratus, were seized with a panic: and returned with disgrace, though without loss; because the people of Stratus did not venture to pursue them, believing that their retreat was a ruse to cover an ambuscade.

An instance of counter treachery occurred also at Phanoteus. Alexander who had been appointed governor of Phocis by Philip, entered into a plot against the Aetolians, through the agency of a certain Jason, who had been appointed by himself to command the city of Phanoteus. This man sent a message to Agetas, the Strategus of the Aetolian league, agreeing to hand over to him the citadel of Phanoteus; and he confirmed his offer by a regularly sworn treaty. On the appointed day Agetas came with his Aetolian levy to Phanoteus under cover of night; and concealing the rest at some little distance, he selected a hundred of the most active men and sent them towards the citadel. Jason had Alexander all ready with his soldiers, but duly received the Aetolians as he had sworn into the citadel. Immediately Alexander and his men threw themselves into the citadel also: the Aetolian hundred picked soldiers were made prisoners; and when daylight showed Agetas what had taken place, he drew off his troops,—baffled by a ruse very like what he had on many occasions practised himself.

About this same period King Philip captured Bylazora, the largest town of Paeonia, and very favourably situated for commanding the pass from Dardania to Macedonia: so that by this achievement he was all but entirely freed from any fear of the Dardani, it being no longer easy for them to invade Macedonia, as long as this city gave Philip the command of the pass. Having secured this place, he despatched Chrysogonus with all speed to summon the upper Macedonians to arms; while he himself, taking on the men of Bottia and Amphaxitis, arrived at Edessa Waiting there until he was joined by the Macedonians under Chrysogonus, he started with his whole army, and on the sixth day’s march arrived at Larisa; and thence by a rapid night march he came before daybreak to Meliteia, and placing scaling ladders against the walls, attempted to take the town by escalade.The suddenness and unexpectedness of the attack so dismayed the people of Meliteia, that he would easily have taken the town; but he was baffled by the fact of the ladders proving to be fat too short.

This is the kind of mistake which above all others reflects discredit on the commanders. For what can be more culpable than to arrive at a town which they mean to carry, in an entirely unprovided state, without having taken the precaution of measuring walls, cliffs, and the like, by which they intend to effect their entrance? Or again, while satisfying themselves as to these measurements, to entrust the construction of ladders and all such machinery, which, though taking little time to make, have to stand the test of a very critical service, without consideration, and to incompetent persons,—is not this deserving of censure? For in such actions it is not a question of succeeding or failing without ill consequences; but failure is followed by positive damage in manifold respects: danger to the bravest of the men at the actual time, and still greater danger during their retreat, when they have once incurred the contempt of the enemy. The examples of such disasters are numerous; for you will find that of those who have failed in such attempts, many more have perished, or have been reduced to the last extremity of danger, than have come off scatheless. Moreover, no one can deny that they arouse distrust and hatred against themselves for the future, and give all men warning to be on their guard. For it is not only the persons attacked, but all who know what has happened, who are thereby bidden to look out for themselves and be on the watch. Wherefore it is never right for men in places of trust to conduct such enterprises inconsiderately. The method also of taking such measurements, and constructing machines of this kind, is easy and liable to no mistakes, if they are taken in hand scientifically.

Book 5, Part 8

For the present, however, I must resume the thread of my narrative; but I shall take another fitting opportunity in the course of my work to speak of these matters, and will endeavour to show how mistakes may best be avoided in such undertakings.

Thus baffled in his attempt upon Meliteia, Philip encamped upon the bank of the Enipeus, and collected from Larisa and the other cities the siege train which he had caused to be constructed during the winter. For the chief object of his campaign was the capture of the city called Phthiotid Thebes. Now this city lies no long way from the sea, about thirty stades from Larisa, and is conveniently situated in regard both to Magnesia and Thessaly; but especially as commanding the district of Demetrias in Magnesia, and of Pharsalus and Pherae in Thessaly. From it, at that very time, much damage was being inflicted upon the Demetrians, Pharsalians, and Larisaeans; as the Aetolians were in occupation of it, and made continual predatory expeditions, often as far as to the plain of Amyrus. Philip did not regard the matter as at all of small importance, but was exceedingly bent on taking the town. Having therefore got together a hundred and fifty catapults, and twenty-five stone-throwing balistae, he sat down before Thebes. He distributed his forces between three points in the vicinity of the city; one was encamped near Scopium; a second near a place called Heliotropium; and the third on the hill overhanging the town. The spaces between these camps he fortified by a trench and double palisade, and further secured them by towers of wood, at intervals of a hundred feet, with an adequate guard. When these works were finished, he collected all his siege train together and began to move his engines towards the citadel.

For the first three days the king was unable to make any progress in bringing his machines against the town, owing to the gallant and even desperate defence which the garrison opposed to him. But when the continual skirmishing, and the volleys of missiles, had began to tell upon the defenders, and some of them were killed and others disabled by wounds; the defence becoming a little slacker, the Macedonians began sinking mines, and at last after nine days’ work reached the walls. They then carried on the work by relays, so as never to leave it off day or night: and thus in three days had undermined and underpinned two hundred feet of the wall. The props, however, proved too weak to support the weight, and gave way; so that the wall fell without the Macedonians having the trouble of setting fire to them. When they had worked energetically at clearing the debris, and had made every preparation for entering by the breach, and were just on the point of carrying it, the Thebans in a panic surrendered the town. The security which this achievement of Philip’s gave to Magnesia and Thessaly deprived the Aetolians of a rich field for plunder; and demonstrated to his army that he had been justified in putting Leontius to death, for his deliberate treachery in the previous siege of Palae. Having thus become master of Thebes he sold its existing inhabitants into slavery, and drafting in some Macedonian settlers changed its name to Philippopolis.

Just as the king had finished the settlement of Thebes, ambassadors once more came from Chios, Rhodes, Byzantium, and King Ptolemy to negotiate terms of peace. He answered them in much the same terms as he had the former, that he was not averse to peace; and bade them go and find out what the feelings of the Aetolians were. Meanwhile he himself cared little about making peace, but continued steadily to prosecute his designs.

Accordingly, when he heard that the galleys of Scerdilaidas were committing acts of piracy off Malea, and treating all merchants as open enemies, and had treacherously seized some of his own vessels which were at anchor at Leucas, he fitted out twelve decked ships, eight open vessels, and thirty light craft called hemioliae, and sailed through the Euripus in hot haste to come up with the Illyrians; exceedingly excited about his plans for carrying on the war against the Aetolians, as he knew nothing as yet of what had happened in Italy. For the defeat of the Romans by Hannibal in Etruria took place while Philip was besieging Thebes, but the report of that occurrence had not yet reached Greece. Philip arrived too late to capture the galleys: and therefore, dropping anchor at Cenchreae, he sent away his decked ships, with orders to sail round Malea in the direction of Aegium and Patrae; but having caused the rest of his vessels to be dragged across the Isthmus, he ordered them to anchor at Lechaeum; while he went in haste with his friends to Argos to attend the Nemean festival. Just as he was engaged in watching the gymnastic contest, a courier arrived from Macedonia with news of the Romans having been defeated in a great battle, and of Hannibal being in possession of the open country. Philip showed the letter to no one at the moment, except to Demetrius of Pharos, enjoining him not to say a word. The latter seized the occasion to advise Philip to throw over the war against the Aetolians as soon as possible; and to concentrate his efforts upon Illyria, and an expedition into Italy. For Greece, said he, is already entirely obedient to you, and will remain so: the Achaeans from genuine affection; the Aetolians from the with terror which their disasters in the present war have inspired them. Italy, and your crossing into it, is the first step in the acquirement of universal empire, to which no one has a better claim than yourself. And now is the moment to act when the Romans have suffered a reverse.

By using such arguments he found no difficulty in firing Philip’s ambition: as was natural, I think, considering that he was but a youthful monarch, who had as yet been successful in all his undertakings, and was in any case of a singularly daring character; and considering too that he was sprung from a family which above all families has somehow a tendency to aim at universal monarchy.

At the moment then, as I said, Philip communicated the news conveyed by the letter to Demetrius alone; and afterwards summoning a council of his friends consulted them on the subject of making peace with the Aetolians. And when even Aratus professed no disinclination to the measure, on the ground that they would be making peace as conquerors, the king without waiting for the ambassadors, who were officially engaged in negotiating its terms, sent Cleonicus of Naupactus at once to Aetolia, whom he found still awaiting the meeting of the Achaean league after his captivity; while he himself, taking his ships and land force from Corinth, came with it to Aegium. Thence he advanced as far as Lasion and took the Tower in Perippia, and pretended, in order to avoid appearing too eager for the conclusion of the war, that he was meditating an invasion of Elis. By this time Cleonicus had been backwards and forwards two or three times; and as the Aetolians begged that he would meet them personally in conference, he assented; and abandoning all warlike measures, he sent couriers to the allied cities, bidding their commissioners to sit in the conference with him and take part in the discussion of the terms of peace: and then crossed over with his army and encamped near Panormus, which is a harbour of the Peloponnese, and lies exactly opposite Naupactus. There he waited for the commissioners from the allies, and employed the time required for their assembling in sailing to Zacynthus, and settling on his own authority the affairs of the island; and having done so he sailed back to Panormus.

The commissioners having now assembled, Philip sent Aratus and Taurion, and some others who had come with them, to the Aetolians. They found them in full assembly at Naupactus; and after a short conference with them, and satisfying themselves as to their inclination for peace, they sailed back to Philip to inform him of the state of the case. But the Aetolians, being very eager to bring the war to a conclusion, sent ambassadors with them to Philip urging him to visit them with his army, that by a personal conference the business might be brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Moved by these representations, the king sailed across with his army to what is called the Hollows of Naupactus, about twenty stades from the town. Having pitched a camp there, and having caused both it and his ships to be surrounded by a palisade, he waited for the time fixed for the interview. The Aetolians came en masse without arms; and keeping at a distance of two stades from Philip’s camp, interchanged messages and discussions on the subjects in question. The negotiation was begun by the king sending all the commissioners of the allies, with instructions to offer the Aetolians peace, on the condition of both parties retaining what they then held. This preliminary the Aetolians readily agreed to; and then there began a continuous interchange of messages between the two, most of which I shall omit as containing no point of interest: but I shall record the speech made by Agelaus of Naupactus in the first conference before the king and the assembled allies. It was this.

The best thing of all is that the Greeks should not go to war with each other at all, but give the gods hearty thanks if by all speaking with one voice, and joining hands like people crossing a stream, they may be able to repel the attacks of barbarians and save themselves and their cities. But if this is altogether impossible, in the present juncture at least we ought to be unanimous and on our guard, when we see the bloated armaments and the vast proportions assumed by the war in the west. For even now it is evident to any one who pays even a moderate attention to public affairs, that whether the Carthaginians conquer the Romans, or the Romans the Carthaginians, it is in every way improbable that the victors will remain contented with the empire of Sicily and Italy. They will move forward: and will extend their forces and their designs farther than we could wish. Wherefore, I beseech you all to be on your guard against the danger of the crisis, and above all you, O King. You will do this, if you abandon the policy of weakening the Greeks, and thus rendering them an easy prey to the invader; and consult on the contrary for their good as you would for your own person, and have a care for all parts of Greece alike, as part and parcel of your own domains. If you act in this spirit, the Greeks will be your warm friends and faithful coadjutors in all your undertakings; while foreigners will be less ready to form designs against you, seeing with dismay the firm loyalty of the Greeks. If you are eager for action, turn your eyes to the west, and let your thoughts dwell upon the wars in Italy. Wait with coolness the turn of events there, and seize the opportunity to strike for universal dominion. Nor is the present crisis unfavourable for such a hope. But I intreat of you to postpone your controversies and wars with the Greeks to a time of greater tranquillity; and make it your supreme aim to retain the power of making peace or war with them at your own will. For if once you allow the clouds now gathering in the west to settle upon Greece, I fear exceedingly that the power of making peace or war, and in a word all these games which we are now playing against each other, will be so completely knocked out of the hands of us all, that we shall be praying heaven to grant us only this power of making war or peace with each other at our own will and pleasure, and of settling our own disputes.

This speech of Agelaus greatly influenced the allies in favour of peace; and Philip more than any one: as the arguments employed chimed in with the wishes which the advice of Demetrius had already roused in him. Both parties therefore came to terms on the details of the treaty; and after ratifying it, separated to their several cities, taking peace with them instead of war.

These events all fell in the third year of the 140th Olympiad. I mean the battle of the Romans in Etruria, that of Antiochus for Coele-Syria, and lastly the treaty between Philip and the Aetolians.

This then was the first point of time, and the first instance of a deliberation, which may be said to have regarded the affairs of Greece, Italy, and Libya as a connected whole: for neither Philip nor the leading statesmen of the Greek cities made war or peace any longer with each other with a view to Greek affairs, but were already all fixing their eyes upon Italy. Nor was it long before the islanders and inhabitants of Asia were affected in the same way; for those who were displeased with Philip, or who had quarrels with Attalus, no longer turned to Antiochus or Ptolemy, to the south or the east, but from this time forth fixed their eyes on the west, some sending embassies to Carthage, others to Rome. The Romans similarly began sending legates to Greece, alarmed at the daring character of Philip, and afraid that he might join in the attack upon them in their present critical position. Having thus fulfilled my original promise of showing when, how, and why Greek politics became involved in those of Italy and Libya, I shall now bring my account of Greek affairs down to the date of the battle of Cannae, to which I have already brought the history of Italy, and will end this book at that point.

Directly the Achaeans had put an end to the war, they elected Timoxenus Strategus for the next year and departed to take up once more their regular ways and habits. Along with the Achaeans the other Peloponnesian communities also set to work to repair the losses they had sustained; recommenced the cultivation of the land; and re-established their national sacrifices, games, and other religious observances peculiar to their several states. For these things had all but sunk into oblivion in most of the states through the persistent continuance of the late wars. It has ever somehow been the case that the Peloponnesians, who of all men are the most inclined to a peaceful and civilised way of life, have hitherto enjoyed it less than any other nation in the world; but have been rather as Euripides says still worn with toil and war’s unrest. But to me it seems clear that they bring this upon themselves in the natural course of events: for their universal desire of supremacy, and their obstinate love of freedom, involve them in perpetual wars with each other, all alike being resolutely set upon occupying the first place. The Athenians on the contrary had by this time freed themselves from fear of Macedonia, and considered that they had now permanently secured their independence. They accordingly adopted Eurycleidas and Micion as their representatives, and took no part whatever in the politics of the rest of Greece; but following the lead and instigation of these statesmen, they laid themselves out to flatter all the kings, and Ptolemy most of all; nor was there any kind of decree or proclamation too fulsome for their digestion: any consideration of dignity being little regarded, under the guidance of these vain and frivolous leaders.

Ptolemy however immediately after these events became involved in a war with his Egyptian subjects. For in arming them for his campaign against Antiochus he had taken a step which, while it served his immediate purpose sufficiently well, proved eventually disastrous. Elated with their victory at Rhaphia they refused any longer to receive orders from the king; but looked out for a leader to represent them, on the ground that they were quite able to maintain their independence. And this they succeeded in doing before very long.

Antiochus spent the winter in extensive preparations for war; and when the next summer came, he crossed Mount Taurus and after making a treaty of alliance with King Attalus entered upon the war against Achaeus.

At the time the Aetolians were delighted at the settlement of peace with the Achaean league, because the war had not answered to their wishes; and they accordingly elected Agelaus of Naupactus as their Strategus, because he was believed to have contributed more largely than any one to the success of the negotiations. But this was scarcely arranged before they began to be discontented, and to find fault with Agelaus for having cut off all their opportunities of plundering abroad, and all their hopes of gain for the future, since the peace was not made with certain definite states, but with all Greeks. But this statesman patiently endured these unreasonable reproaches and succeeded in checking the popular impulse. The Aetolians therefore were forced to acquiesce in an inactivity quite alien to their nature.

King Philip having returned, after the completion of the treaty of peace, to Macedonia by sea, found that Scerdilaidas on the same pretext of money owed to him, on which he had treacherously seized the vessels at Leucas, had now plundered a town in Pelagonia called Pissaeum; had won over by promises some cities of the Dassaretae, namely, Phibotides, Antipatria, Chrysondym, and Geston; and had overrun much of the district of Macedonia bordering on these places. He therefore at once started with his army in great haste to recover the revolted cities, and determined to proclaim open war with Scerdilaidas; for he thought it a matter of the most vital importance to bring Illyria into a state of good order, with a view to the success of all his projects, and above all of his passage into Italy. For Demetrius was so assiduous in keeping hot these hopes and projects in the king’s mind, that Philip even dreamed of them in his sleep, and thought of nothing else but this Italian expedition. The motive of Demetrius in so acting was not a consideration for Philip, for he certainly did not rank higher than third in the calculations of Demetrius. A stronger motive than that was his hatred of Rome: but the strongest of all was the consideration of his own prospects. For he had made up his mind that it was only in this way that he could ever recover his principality in Pharos. Be that as it may, Philip went on his expedition and recovered the cities I have named, and took besides Creonium and Gerus in Dassaretis; Enchelanae, Cerax, Sation, Boei, round the Lychnidian Lake; Bantia in the district of the Calicoeni; and Orgyssus in that of the Pisantini. After completing these operations he dismissed his troops to their winter quarters.

This was the winter in which Hannibal, after plundering the fairest districts of Italy, intended to place his winter quarters near Gerunium in Daunia. And it was then that at Rome Caius Terentius and Lucius Aemilius entered upon their Consulship.

In the course of the winter, Philip, taking into consideration that he would want ships to carry out his designs, and men for rowing, not for fighting,—for he could never have even entertained a hope of fighting the Romans at sea,—but rather for the transport of soldiers, and to enable him to cross with greater speed to any point to which he might desire to go, and so surprise the enemy by a sudden appearance, and thinking that the Illyrian build was the best for the sort of ships he wanted, determined to have a hundred galleys built; which hardly any Macedonian king had ever done before. Having had these fitted out, he collected his forces at the beginning of the summer; and, after a brief training of the Macedonians in rowing them, put to sea. It was just at the time that just at the time that Antiochus crossed Mount Taurus when Philip, after sailing through the Euripus and rounding Cape Malea, came to Cephallenia and Leucas, where he dropped anchor, and awaited anxiously the movements of the Roman fleet. Being informed that it was at anchor off Lilybaeum, he mustered up courage to put to sea, and steered for Apollonia.

As he neared the mouth of the Aous, which flows past Apollonia, a panic fell upon his fleet such as happens to land forces. Certain galleys on the rear of the fleet being anchored at an island called Sason, which lies at the entrance to the Ionian Sea, came by night to Philip with a report that some men who had lately come from the Sicilian Strait had been anchored with them at Sason, who reported that they left some Roman quinqueremes at Rhegium, which were bound for Apollonia to support Scerdilaidas. Thinking this fleet must be all but upon him, Philip, in great alarm, promptly ordered his ships to weigh anchor and sail back the way they came. They started and got out to sea in great disorder, and reached Cephallenia, after sailing two nights and days without intermission. Having now partially recovered his courage, Philip remained there, covering his flight under the pretext of having returned for some operations in the Peloponnese. It turned out that it was a false alarm altogether. The truth was that Scerdilaidas, hearing in the course of the winter that Philip was having a number of galleys built, and expecting him to come to attack him by sea, had sent messages to Rome stating the facts and imploring help; and the Romans had detached a squadron of ten ships from the fleet at Lilybaeum, which were what had been seen at Rhegium. But if Philip had not fled from them in such inconsiderate alarm, he would have had the best opportunity possible of attaining his objects in Illyria; because the thoughts and resources of Rome were absorbed in the war with Hannibal and the battle of Cannae, and it may fairly be presumed that he would have captured the ten Roman ships. As it was, he was utterly upset by the news and returned to Macedonia, without loss indeed, but with considerable dishonour.

During this period Prusias also did a thing which deserves to be recorded. The Gauls, whom King Attalus had brought over from Europe to assist him against Achaeus on account of their reputation for courage, had separated from that monarch on account of the jealous suspicions of which I have before spoken, and were plundering the cities on the Hellespont with gross licentiousness and violence, and finally went so far as actually to besiege Ilium. In these circumstances the inhabitants of the Alexandria in the Troad acted with commendable spirit. They sent Themistes with four thousand men and forced the Gauls to raise the siege of Ilium, and drove them entirely out of the Troad, by cutting off their supplies and frustrating all their designs. Thereupon the Gauls seized Arisba, in the territory of Abydos, and thenceforth devoted themselves to forming designs and committing acts of hostility against the cities built in that district. Against them Prusias led out an army; and in a pitched battle put the men to the sword on the field, and slew nearly all their women and children in the camp, leaving the baggage to be plundered by his soldiers. This achievement of Prusias delivered the cities on the Hellespont from great fear and danger, and was a signal warning for future generations against barbarians from Europe being over-ready to cross into Asia.

Book 5, Part 9

Such was the state of affairs in Greece and Asia. Meanwhile the greater part of Italy had joined the Carthaginians after the battle of Cannae, as I have shown before. I will interrupt my narrative at this point, after having detailed the events in Asia and Greece, embraced by the 140th Olympiad. In my next book after a brief recapitulation of this narrative, I shall fulfil the promise made at the beginning of my work by recurring to the discussion of the Roman constitution.

Book 6, Part 1

I AM aware that some will be at a loss to account for my interrupting the course of my narrative for the sake of entering upon the following disquisition on the Roman constitution. But I think that I have already in many passages made it fully evident that this particular branch of my work was one of the necessities imposed on me by the nature of my original design; and I pointed this out with special clearness in the preface which explained the scope of my history. I there stated that the feature of my work which was at once the best in itself, and the most instructive to the students of it, was that it would enable them to know and fully realise in what manner, and under what kind of constitution, it came about that nearly the whole world fell under the power of Rome in somewhat less than fifty-three years,—an event certainly without precedent. This being my settled purpose, I could see no more fitting period than the present for making a pause, and examining the truth of the remarks about to be made on this constitution. In private life if you wish to satisfy yourself as to the badness or goodness of particular persons, you would not, if you wish to get a genuine test, examine their conduct at a time of uneventful repose, but in the hour of brilliant success or conspicuous reverse. For the true test of a perfect man is the power of bearing with spirit and dignity violent changes of fortune. An examination of a constitution should be conducted in the same way: and therefore being unable to find in our day a more rapid or more signal change than that which has happened to Rome, I reserved my disquistion on its constitution for this place. . . .

What is really educational and beneficial to students of history is the clear view of the causes of events, and the consequent power of choosing the better policy in a particular case. Now in every practical undertaking by a state we must regard as the most powerful agent for success or failure the form of its constitution; for from this as from a fountain-head all conceptions and plans of action not only proceed, but attain their consummation.

Of the Greek republics, which have again and again risen to greatness and fallen into insignificance, it is not difficult to speak, whether we recount their past history or venture an opinion on their future. For to report what is already known is an easy task, nor is it hard to guess what is to come from our knowledge of what has been. But in regard to the Romans it is neither an easy matter to describe their present state, owing to the complexity of their constitution; nor to speak with confidence of their future, from our inadequate acquaintance with their peculiar institutions in the past whether affecting their public or their private life. It will require then no ordinary attention and study to get a clear and comprehensive conception of the distinctive features of this constitution.

Now, it is undoubtedly the case that most of those who profess to give us authoritative instruction on this subject distinguish three kinds of constitutions, which they designate kingship, aristocracy, democracy. But in my opinion the question might fairly be put to them, whether they name these as being the only ones, or as the best. In either case I think they are wrong. For it is plain that we must regard as the best constitution that which partakes of all these three elements. And this is no mere assertion, but has been proved by the example of Lycurgus, who was the first to construct a constitution—that of Sparta—on this principle. Nor can we admit that these are the only forms: for we have had before now examples of absolute and tyrannical forms of government, which, while differing as widely as possible from kingship, yet appear to have some points of resemblance to it; on which account all absolute rulers falsely assume and use, as far as they can, the title of king. Again there have been many instances of oligarchical governments having in appearance some analogy to aristocracies, which are, if I may say so, as different from them as it is possible to be. The same also holds good about democracy.

I will illustrate the truth of what I say. We cannot hold every absolute government to be a kingship, but only that which is accepted voluntarily, and is directed by an appeal to reason rather than to fear and force. Nor again is every oligarchy to be regarded as an aristocracy; the latter exists only where the power is wielded by the justest and wisest men selected on their merits. Similarly, it is not enough to constitute a democracy that the whole crowd of citizens should have the right to do whatever they wish or propose. But where reverence to the gods, succour of parents, respect to elders, obedience to laws, are traditional and habitual, in such communities, if the will of the majority prevail, we may speak of the form of government as a democracy. So then we enumerate six forms of government,—the three commonly spoken of which I have just mentioned, and three more allied forms, I mean despotism, oligarchy and mob-rule. The first of these arises without artificial aid and in the natural order of events. Next to this, and produced from it by the aid of art and adjustment, comes kingship; which degenerating into the evil form allied to it, by which I mean tyranny, both are once more destroyed and aristocracy produced. Again the latter being in the course of nature perverted to oligarchy, and the people passionately avenging the unjust acts of their rulers, democracy comes into existence; which again by its violence and contempt of law becomes sheer mob-rule. No clearer proof of the truth of what I say could be obtained than by a careful observation of the natural origin, genesis, and decadence of these several forms of government. For it is only by seeing distinctly how each of them is produced that a distinct view can also be obtained of its growth, zenith, and decadence, and the time, circumstance, and place in which each of these may be expected to recur. This method I have assumed to be especially applicable to the Roman constitution, because its origin and growth have from the first followed natural causes.

Now the natural laws which regulate the merging of one form of government into another are perhaps discussed with greater accuracy by Plato and some other philosophers. But their treatment, from its intricacy and exhaustiveness, is only within the capacity of a few. I will therefore endeavour to give a summary of the subject, just so far as I suppose it to fall within the scope of a practical history and the intelligence of ordinary people. For if my exposition appear in any way inadequate, owing to the general terms in which it is expressed, the details contained in what is immediately to follow will amply atone for what is left for the present unsolved.

What is the origin then of a constitution, and whence is it produced? Suppose that from floods, pestilences, failure of crops, or some such causes the race of man is reduced almost to extinction. Such things we are told have happened, and it is reasonable to think will happen again. Suppose accordingly all knowledge of social habits and arts to have been lost. Suppose that from the survivors, as from seeds, the race of man to have again multiplied. In that case I presume they would, like the animals, herd together; for it is but reasonable to suppose that bodily weakness would induce them to seek those of their own kind to herd with. And in that case too, as with the animals, he who was superior to the rest in strength of body or courage of soul would lead and rule them. For what we see happen in the case of animals that are without the faculty of reason, such as bulls, goats, and cocks,—among whom there can be no dispute that the strongest take the lead, —that we must regard as in the truest sense the teaching of nature. Originally then it is probable that the condition of life among men was this,—herding together like animals and following the strongest and bravest as leaders. The limit of this authority would be physical strength, and the name we should give it would be despotism. But as soon as the idea of family ties and social relation has arisen amongst such agglomerations of men, then is born also the idea of kingship, and then for the first time mankind conceives the notion of goodness and justice and their reverse.

The way in which such conceptions originate and come into existence is this. The intercourse of the sexes is an instinct of nature, and the result is the birth of children. Now, if any one of these children who have been brought up, when arrived at maturity, is ungrateful and makes no return to those by whom he was nurtured, but on the contrary presumes to injure them by word and deed, it is plain that he will probably offend and annoy such as are present, and have seen the care and trouble bestowed by the parents on the nurture and bringing up of their children. For seeing that men differ from the other animals in being the only creatures possessed of reasoning powers, it is clear that such a difference of conduct is not likely to escape their observation; but that they will remark it when it occurs, and express their displeasure on the spot: because they will have an eye to the future, and will reason on the likelihood of the same occurring to each of themselves. Again, if a man has been rescued or helped in an hour of danger, and, instead of showing gratitude to his preserver, seeks to do him harm, it is clearly probable that the rest will be displeased and offended with him, when they know it: sympathising with their neighbour and imagining themselves in his case. Hence arises a notion in every breast of the meaning and theory of duty, which is in fact the beginning and end of justice. Similarly, again, when any one man stands out as the champion of all in a time of danger, and braves with firm courage the onslaught of the most powerful wild beasts, it is probable that such a man would meet with marks of favour and pre-eminence from the common people; while he who acted in a contrary way would fall under their contempt and dislike. From this, once more, it is reasonable to suppose that there would arise in the minds of the multitude a theory of the disgraceful and the honourable, and of the difference between them; and that one should be sought and imitated for its advantages, the other shunned. When, therefore, the leading and most powerful man among his people ever encourages such persons in accordance with the popular sentiment, and thereby assumes in the eyes of his subject the appearance of being the distributor to each man according to his deserts, they no longer obey him and support his rule from fear of violence, but rather from conviction of its utility, however old he may be, rallying round him with one heart and soul, and fighting against all who form designs against his government. In this way he becomes a king instead of a despot by imperceptible degrees, reason having ousted brute courage and bodily strength from their supremacy.

This then is the natural process of formation among mankind of the notion of goodness and justice, and their opposites; and this is the origin and genesis of genuine kingship: for people do not only keep up the government of such men personally, but for their descendants also for many generations; from the conviction that those who are born from and educated by men of this kind will have principles also like theirs. But if they subsequently become displeased with their descendants, they do not any longer decide their choice of rulers and kings by their physical strength or brute courage; but by the differences of their intellectual and reasoning faculties, from practical experience of the decisive importance of such a distinction. In old times, then, those who were once thus selected, and obtained this office, grew old in their royal functions, making magnificent strongholds and surrounding them with walls and extending their frontiers, partly for the security of their subjects, and partly to provide them with abundance of the necessaries of life; and while engaged in these works they were exempt from all vituperation or jealousy; because they did not make their distinctive dress, food, or drink, at all conspicuous, but lived very much like the rest, and joined in the everyday employments of the common people. But when their royal power became hereditary in their family, and they found every necessary for security ready to their hands, as well as more than was necessary for their personal support, then they gave the rein to their appetites; imagined that rulers must needs wear different clothes from those of subjects; have different and elaborate luxuries of the table; and must even seek sensual indulgence, however unlawful the source, without fear of denial. These things having given rise in the one case to jealousy and offence, in the other to outburst of hatred and passionate resentment, the kingship became a tyranny: the first step in disintegration was taken; and plots began to be formed against the government, which did not now proceed from the worst men but from the noblest, most high-minded, and most courageous, because these are the men who can least submit to the tyrannical acts of their rulers.

But as soon as the people got leaders, they cooperated with them against the dynasty for the reasons I have mentioned; and then kingship and despotism were alike entirely abolished, and aristocracy once more began to revive and start afresh. For in their immediate gratitude to those who had deposed the despots, the people employed them as leaders, and entrusted their interests to them; who, looking upon this charge at first as a great privilege, made the public advantage their chief concern, and conducted all kinds of business, public or private, with diligence and caution. But when the sons of these men received the same position of authority from their fathers,—having had no experience of misfortunes, and none at all of civil equality and freedom of speech, but having been bred up from the first under the shadow of their fathers’ authority and lofty position,—some of them gave themselves up with passion to avarice and unscrupulous love of money, others to drinking and the boundless debaucheries which accompanies it, and others to the violation of women or the forcible appropriation of boys; and so they turned an aristocracy into an oligarchy. But it was not long before they roused in the minds of the people the same feelings as before; and their fall therefore was very like the disaster which befell the tyrants.

Book 6, Part 2

For no sooner had the knowledge of the jealousy and hatred existing in the citizens against them emboldened some one to oppose the government by word or deed, than he was sure to find the whole people ready and prepared to take his side. Having then got rid of these rulers by assassination or exile, they do not venture to set up a king again, being still in terror of the injustice to which this led before; nor dare they intrust the common interests again to more than one, considering the recent example of their misconduct: and therefore, as the only sound hope left them is that which depends upon themselves, they are driven to take refuge in that; and so changed the constitution from an oligarchy to a democracy, and took upon themselves the superintendence and charge of the state. And as long as any survive who have had experience of oligarchical supremacy and domination, they regard their present constitution as a blessing, and hold equality and freedom as of the utmost value. But as soon as a new generation has arisen, and the democracy has descended to their children’s children, long association weakens their value for equality and freedom, and some seek to become more powerful than the ordinary citizens; and the most liable to this temptation are the rich. So when they begin to be fond of office, and find themselves unable to obtain it by their own unassisted efforts and their own merits, they ruin their estates, while enticing and corrupting the common people in every possible way. By which means when, in their senseless mania for reputation, they have made the populace ready and greedy to receive bribes, the virtue of democracy is destroyed, and it is transformed into a government of violence and the strong hand. For the mob, habituated to feed at the expense of others, and to have its hopes of a livelihood in the property of its neighbours, as soon as it has got a leader sufficiently ambitious and daring, being excluded by poverty from the sweets of civil honours, produces a reign of mere violence. Then come tumultuous assemblies, massacres, banishments, redivisions of land; until, after losing all trace of civilisation, it has once more found a master and a despot.

This is the regular cycle of constitutional revolutions, and the natural order in which constitutions change, are transformed, and return again to their original stage. If a man have a clear grasp of these principles he may perhaps make a mistake as to the dates at which this or that will happen to a particular constitution; but he will rarely be entirely mistaken as to the stage of growth or decay at which it has arrived, or as to the point at which it will undergo some revolutionary change. However, it is in the case of the Roman constitution that this method of inquiry will most fully teach us its formation, its growth, and zenith, as well as the changes awaiting it in the future; for this, if any constitution ever did, owed, as I said just now, its original foundation and growth to natural causes, and to natural causes will owe its decay. My subsequent narrative will be the best illustration of what I say.

For the present I will make a brief reference to the legislation of Lycurgus: for such a discussion is not at all alien to my subject. That statesman was fully aware that all those changes which I have enumerated come about by an undeviating law of nature; and reflected that every form of government that was unmixed, and rested on one species of power, was unstable; because it was swiftly perverted into that particular form of evil peculiar to it and inherent in its nature. For just as rust is the natural dissolvent of iron, wood-worms and grubs to timber, by which they are destroyed without any external injury, but by that which is engendered in themselves; so in each constitution there is naturally engendered a particular vice inseparable from it: in kingship it is absolutism; in aristocracy it is oligarchy; in democracy lawless ferocity and violence; and to these vicious states all these forms of government are, as I have lately shown, inevitably transformed. Lycurgus, I say, saw all this, and accordingly combined together all the excellences and distinctive features of the best constitutions, that no part should become unduly predominant, and be perverted into its kindred vice; and that, each power being checked by the others, no one part should turn the scale or decisively out-balance the others; but that, by being accurately adjusted and in exact equilibrium, the whole might remain long steady like a ship sailing close to the wind. The royal power was prevented from growing insolent by fear of the people, which had also assigned to it an adequate share in the constitution. The people in their turn were restrained from a bold contempt of the kings by fear of the Gerusia: the members of which, being selected on grounds of merit, were certain to throw their influence on the side of justice in every question that arose; and thus the party placed at a disadvantage by its conservative tendency was always strengthened and supported by the weight and influence of the Gerusia. The result of this combination has been that the Lacedaemonians retained their freedom for the longest period of any people with which we are acquainted.

Lycurgus however established his constitution without the discipline of adversity, because he was able to foresee by the light of reason the course which events naturally take and the source from which they come. But though the Romans have arrived at the same result in framing their commonwealth, they have not done so by means of abstract reasoning, but through many struggles and difficulties, and by continually adopting reforms from knowledge gained in disaster. The result has been a constitution like that of Lycurgus, and the best of any existing in my time. . . .

I have given an account of the constitution of Lycurgus, I will now endeavour to describe that of Rome at the period of their disastrous defeat at Cannae.

I am fully conscious that to those who actually live under this constitution I shall appear to give an inadequate account of it by the omission of certain details. Knowing accurately every portion of it from personal experience, and from having been bred up in its customs and laws from childhood, they will not be struck so much by the accuracy of the description, as annoyed by its omissions; nor will they believe that the historian has purposely omitted unimportant distinctions, but will attribute his silence upon the origin of existing institutions or other important facts to ignorance. What is told they depreciate as insignificant or beside the purpose; what is omitted they desiderate as vital to the question: their object being to appear to know more than the writers. But a good critic should not judge a writer by what he leaves unsaid, but from what he says: if he detects mis-statement in the latter, he may then feel certain that ignorance accounts for the former; but if what he says is accurate, his omissions ought to be attributed to deliberate judgment and not to ignorance. So much for those whose criticisms are prompted by personal ambition rather than by justice. . . .

Another requisite for obtaining a judicious approval for an historical disquisition, is that it should be germane to the matter in hand; if this is not observed, though its style may be excellent and its matter irreproachable, it will seem out of place, and disgust rather than please. . . .

As for the Roman constitution, it had three elements, each of them possessing sovereign powers: and their respective share of power in the whole state had been regulated with such a scrupulous regard to equality and equilibrium, that no one could say for certain, not even a native, whether the constitution as a whole were an aristocracy or democracy or despotism. And no wonder: for if we confine our observation to the power of the Consuls we should be inclined to regard it as despotic; if on that of the Senate, as aristocratic; and if finally one looks at the power possessed by the people it would seem a clear case of a democracy. What the exact powers of these several parts were, and still, with slight modifications, are, I will now state.

The Consuls, before leading out the legions, remain in Rome and are supreme masters of the administration. All other magistrates, except the Tribunes, are under them and take their orders. They introduce foreign ambassadors to the Senate; bring matters requiring deliberation before it; and see to the execution of its decrees. If, again, there are any matters of state which require the authorisation of the people, it is their business to see to them, to summon the popular meetings, to bring the proposals before them, and to carry out the decrees of the majority. In the preparations for war also, and in a word in the entire administration of a campaign, they have all but absolute power. It is competent to them to impose on the allies such levies as they think good, to appoint the Military Tribunes, to make up the roll for soldiers and select those that are suitable. Besides they have absolute power of inflicting punishment on all who are under their command while on active service: and they have authority to expend as much of the public money as they choose, being accompanied by a quaestor who is entirely at their orders. A survey of these powers would in fact justify our describing the constitution as despotic,—a clear case of royal government. Nor will it affect the truth of my description, if any of the institutions I have described are changed in our time, or in that of our posterity: and the same remarks apply to what follows.

The Senate has first of all the control of the treasury, and regulates the receipts and disbursements alike. For the Quaestors cannot issue any public money for the various departments of the state without a decree of the Senate, except for the service of the Consuls. The Senate controls also what is by far the largest and most important expenditure, that, namely, which is made by the censors every lustrum for the repair or construction of public buildings; this money cannot be obtained by the censors except by the grant of the Senate. Similarly all crimes committed in Italy requiring a public investigation, such as treason, conspiracy, poisoning, or wilful murder, are in the hands of the Senate. Besides, if any individual or state among the Italian allies requires a controversy to be settled, a penalty to be assessed, help or protection to be afforded,—all this is the province of the Senate. Or again, outside Italy, if it is necessary to send an embassy to reconcile warring communities, or to remind them of their duty, or sometimes to impose requisitions upon them, or to receive their submission, or finally to proclaim war against them,—this too is the business of the Senate. In like manner the reception to be given to foreign ambassadors in Rome, and the answers to be returned to them, are decided by the Senate. With such business the people have nothing to do. Consequently, if one were staying at Rome when the Consuls were not in town, one would imagine the constitution to be a complete aristocracy: and this has been the idea entertained by many Greeks, and by many kings as well, from the fact that nearly all the business they had with Rome was settled by the Senate.

Book 6, Part 3

After this one would naturally be inclined to ask what part is left for the people in the constitution, when the Senate has these various functions, especially the control of the receipts and expenditure of the exchequer; and when the Consuls, again, have absolute power over the details of military preparation, and an absolute authority in the field? There is, however, a part left the people, and it is a most important one. For the people is the sole fountain of honour and of punishment; and it is by these two things and these alone that dynasties and constitutions and, in a word, human society are held together: for where the distinction between them is not sharply drawn both in theory and practice, there no undertaking can be properly administered,—as indeed we might expect when good and bad are held in exactly the same honour. The people then are the only court to decide matters of life and death; and even in-cases where the penalty is money, if the sum to be assessed is sufficiently serious, and especially when the accused have held the higher magistracies. And in regard to this arrangement there is one point deserving especial commendation and record. Men who are on trial for their lives at Rome, while sentence is in process of being voted,—if even only one of the tribes whose votes are needed to ratify the sentence has not voted,—have the privilege at Rome of openly departing and condemning themselves to a voluntary exile. Such men are safe at Naples or Praeneste or at Tibur, and at other towns with which this arrangement has been duly ratified on oath.

Again, it is the people who bestow offices on the deserving, which are the most honourable rewards of virtue. It has also the absolute power of passing or repealing laws; and, most important of all, it is the people who deliberate on the question of peace or war. And when provisional terms are made for alliance, suspension of hostilities, or treaties, it is the people who ratify them or the reverse.

These considerations again would lead one to say that the chief power in the state was the people’s, and that the constitution was a democracy.

Such, then, is the distribution of power between the several parts of the state. I must now show how each of these several parts can, when they choose, oppose or support each other.

The Consul, then, when he has started on an expedition with the powers I have described, is to all appearance absolute in the administration of the business in hand; still be has need of the support both of people and Senate, and, without them, is quite unable to bring the matter to a successful conclusion. For it is plain that he must have supplies sent to his legions from time to time; but without a decree of the Senate they can be supplied neither with corn, nor clothes, nor pay, so that all the plans of a commander must be futile, if the Senate is resolved either to shrink from danger or hamper his plans. And again, whether a Consul shall bring any undertaking to a conclusion or no depends entirely upon the Senate: for it has absolute authority at the end of a year to send another Consul to supersede him, or to continue the existing one in his command. Again, even to the successes of the generals the Senate has the power to add distinction and glory, and on the other hand to obscure their merits and lower their credit, For these high achievements are brought in tangible form before the eyes of the citizens by what are called triumphs. But these triumphs the commanders cannot celebrate with proper pomp, or in some cases celebrate at all, unless the Senate concurs and grants the necessary money. As for the people, the Consuls are pre-eminently obliged to court their favour, however distant from home may be the field of their operations; for it is the people, as I have said before, that ratifies, or refuses to ratify, terms of peace and treaties; but most of all because when laying down their office they have to give an account of their administration before it. Therefore in no case is it safe for the Consuls to neglect either the Senate or the goodwill of the people.

As for the Senate, which possesses the immense power I have described, in the first place it is obliged in public affairs to take the multitude into account, and respect the wishes of the people; and it cannot put into execution the penalty for offences against the republic, which are punishable with death, unless the people first ratify its decrees. Similarly even in matters which directly affect the senators,— for instance, in the case of a law diminishing the Senate’s traditional authority, or depriving senators of certain dignities and offices, or even actually cutting down their property,— even in such cases the people have the sole power of passing or rejecting the law. But most important of all is the fact that, if the Tribunes interpose their veto, the Senate not only are unable to pass a decree, but cannot even hold a meeting at all, whether formal or informal. Now, the Tribunes are always bound to carry out the decree of the people, and above all things to have regard to their wishes: therefore, for all these reasons the Senate stands in awe of the multitude, and cannot neglect the feelings of the people.

In like manner the people on its part is far from being independent of the Senate, and is bound to take its wishes into account both collectively and individually. For contracts, too numerous to count, are given out by the censors in all parts of Italy for the repairs or construction of public buildings; there is also the collection of revenue from many rivers, harbours, gardens, mines, and land—everything, in a word, that comes under the control of the Roman government: and in all these the people at large are engaged; so that there is scarcely a man, so to speak, who is not interested either as a contractor or as being employed in the works. For some. purchase the contracts from the censors for themselves; and others go partners with them; while others again go security for these contractors, or actually pledge their property to the treasury for them. Now over all these transactions the Senate has absolute control. It can grant an extension of time; and in case of unforeseen accident can relieve the contractors from a portion of their obligation, or release them from it altogether, if they are absolutely unable to fulfil it. And there are many details in which the Senate can inflict great hardships, or, on the other hand, grant great indulgences to the contractors: for in every case the appeal is to it. But the most important point of all is that the judges are taken from its members in the majority of trials, whether public or private, in which the charges are heavy. Consequently, all citizens are much at its mercy; and being alarmed at the uncertainty as to when they may need its aid, are cautious about resisting or actively opposing its will. And for a similar reason men do not rashly resist the wishes of the Consuls, because one and all may become subject to their absolute authority on a campaign.

The result of this power of the several estates for mutual help or harm is a union sufficiently firm for all emergencies, and a constitution than which it is impossible to find a better. For whenever any danger from without compels them to unite and work together, the strength which is developed by the State is so extraordinary, that everything required is unfailingly carried out by the eager rivalry shown by all classes to devote their whole minds to the need of the hour, and to secure that any determination come to should not fail for want of promptitude; while each individual works, privately and publicly alike, for the accomplishment of the business in hand. Accordingly, the peculiar constitution of the State makes it irresistible, and certain of obtaining whatever it determines to attempt. Nay, even when these external alarms are past, and the people are enjoying their good fortune and the fruits of their victories, and, as usually happens, growing corrupted by flattery and idleness, show a tendency to violence and arrogance,—it is in these circumstances, more than ever, that the constitution is seen to possess within itself the power of correcting abuses. For when any one of the three classes becomes puffed up, and manifests an inclination to be contentious and unduly encroaching, the mutual interdependency of all the three, and the possibility of the pretensions of any one being checked and thwarted by the others, must plainly check this tendency: and so the proper equilibrium is maintained by the impulsiveness of the one part being checked by its fear of the other. . . .

After electing the Consuls they proceed to elect military tribunes,—fourteen from those who had five years’, and ten from those who had ten years’, service. All citizens must serve ten years in the cavalry or twenty years in the infantry before the forty-sixth year of their age, except those rated below four hundred asses. The latter are employed in the navy; but if any great public necessity arises they are obliged to serve as infantry also for twenty campaigns: and no one can hold an office in the state until he has completed ten years of military service. . . .

When the Consuls are about to enrol the army they give public notice of the day on which all Roman citizens of military age must appear. This is done every year. When the day has arrived, and the citizens fit for service are come to Rome and have assembled on the Capitoline, the fourteen junior tribunes divide themselves, in the order in which they were appointed by the people or by the Imperators, into four divisions, because the primary division of the forces thus raised is into four legions. The four tribunes first appointed are assigned to the legion called the 1st; the next three to the 2d; the next four to the 3d; and the three last to the 4th. Of the ten senior tribunes, the two first are assigned to the 1st legion; the next three to the 2d; the two next to the 3d; and the three last to the 4th.

Book 6, Part 4

This division and assignment of the tribunes having been settled in such a way that all four legions have an equal number of officers, the tribunes of the several legions take up a separate position and draw lots for the tribes one by one; and summon the tribe on whom it from time to time falls. From this tribe they select four young men as nearly like each other in age and physical strength as possible. These four are brought forward, and the tribunes of the first legion picks out one of them, those of the second another, those of the third another, and the fourth has to take the last. When the next four are selected the tribunes of the second legion have the first choice, and those of the first the last. With the next four the tribunes of the third legion have the first choice, those of the second the last; and so on in regular rotation: of which the result is that each legion gets men of much the same standard. But when they have selected the number prescribed,—which is four thousand two hundred infantry for each legion, or at times of special danger five thousand,—they next used to pass men for the cavalry, in old times after the four thousand two hundred infantry; but now they do it before them, the selection having been made by the censor on the basis of wealth; and they enrol three hundred for each legion.

The roll having been completed in this manner, the tribunes belonging to the several legions muster their men; and selecting one of the whole body that they think most suitable for the purpose, they cause him to take an oath that he will obey his officers and do their orders to the best of his ability. And all the others come up and take the oath separately, merely affirming that they will do the same as the first man.

At the same time the Consuls send orders to the magistrates of the allied cities in Italy, from which they determine that allied troops are to serve: declaring the number required, and the day and place at which the men selected must appear. The cities then enrol their troops with much the same ceremonies as to selection and administration of the oath, and appoint a commander and a paymaster.

The Military Tribunes at Rome, after the administering of the oath to their men, and giving out the day and place at which they are to appear without arms, for the present dismiss them. When they arrive on the appointed day, they first select the youngest and poorest to form the Velites, the next to them the Hastati, while those who are in the prime of life they select as Principes, and the oldest of all as Triarii. For in the Roman army these divisions, distinct not only as to their ages and nomenclature, but also as to the manner in which they are armed, exist in each legion. The division is made in such proportions that the senior men, called Triarii, should number six hundred, the Principes twelve hundred, the Hastati twelve hundred, and that all the rest as the youngest should be reckoned among the Velites. And if the whole number of the legion is more than four thousand, they vary the numbers of these divisions proportionally, except those of the Triarii, which is always the same.

The youngest soldiers or Velites are ordered to carry a sword, spears, and target (parma). The target is strongly made, and large enough to protect the man; being round, with a diameter of three feet. Each man also wears a headpiece without a crest (galea); which he sometimes covers with a piece of wolfs skin or something of that kind, for the sake both of protection and identification; that the officers of his company may be able to observe whether he shows courage or the reverse on confronting dangers. The spear of the velites has a wooden haft of about two cubits, and about a finger’s breadth in thickness; its head is a span long, hammered fine, and sharpened to such an extent that it becomes bent the first time it strikes, and cannot be used by the enemy to hurl back; otherwise the weapon would be available for both sides alike.

The second rank, the Hastati, are ordered to have the complete panoply. This to a Roman means, first, a large shield (scutum), the surface of which is curved outwards, its breadth two and a half feet, its length four feet,—though there is also an extra sized shield in which these measures are increased by a palm’s breadth. It consists of two layers of wood fastened together with bull’s-hide glue; the outer surface of which is first covered with canvas, then with calf’s skin, on the upper and lower edges it is bound with iron to resist the downward strokes of the sword, and the wear of resting upon the ground. Upon it also is fixed an iron boss (umbo), to resist the more formidable blows of stones and pikes, and of heavy missiles generally. With the shield they also carry a sword (gladius) hanging down by their right thigh, which is called a Spanish sword. It has an excellent point, and can deal a formidable blow with either edge, because its blade is stout and unbending. In addition to these they have two pila, a brass helmet, and greaves (ocreae). Some of the pila are thick, some fine. Of the thicker, some are round with the diameter of a palm’s length, others are a palm square. The fine pila are like moderate sized hunting spears, and they are carried along with the former sort. The wooden haft of them all is about three cubits long; and the iron head fixed to each half is barbed, and of the same length as the haft. They take extraordinary pains to attach the head to the haft firmly; they make the fastening of the one to the other so secure for use by binding it half way up the wood, and riveting it with a series of clasps, that the iron breaks sooner than this fastening comes loose, although its thickness at the socket and where it is fastened to the wood is a finger and a half’s breadth. Besides these each man is decorated with a plume of feathers, with three purple or black feathers standing upright, about a cubit long. The effect of these being placed on the helmet, combined with the rest of the armour, is to give the man the appearance of being twice his real height, and to give him a noble aspect calculated to strike terror into the enemy. The common soldiers also receive a brass plate, a span square, which they put upon their breast and call a breastpiece (pectorale), and so complete their panoply. Those who are rated above a hundred thousand asses, instead of these breastpieces wear, with the rest of their armour, coats of mail (loricae). The Principes and Triarii are armed in the same way as the Hastati, except that instead of pila they carry long spears (hastae).

The Principes, Hastati, and Triarii, each elect ten centurions according to merit, and then a second ten each. All these sixty have the title of centurion alike, of whom the first man chosen is a member of the council of war. And they in their turn select a rear-rank officer each who is called optio. Next, in conjunction with the centurions, they divide the several orders (omitting the Velites) into ten companies each, and appoint to each company two centurions and two optiones; the Velites are divided equally among all the companies; these companies are called orders (ordines) or maniples (manipuli), or vexilla, and their officers are called centurions or ordinum ductores. Each maniple selects two of their strongest and best born men as standard-bearers (vexillarii). And that each maniple should have two commanding officers is only reasonable; for it being impossible to know what a commander may be doing or what may happen to him, and necessities of war admitting of no parleying, they are anxious that the maniple may never be without a leader and commander. When the two centurions are both on the field, the first elected commands the right of the maniple, the second the left: if both are not there, the one who is commands the whole. And they wish the centurions not to be so much bold and adventurous, as men with a faculty for command, steady, and of a profound rather than a showy spirit; not prone to engage wantonly or be unnecessarily forward in giving battle; but such as in the face of superior numbers and overwhelming pressure will die in defence of their post.

Similarly they divide the cavalry into ten squadrons (turmae), and from each they select three officers (decuriones), who each select a subaltern (optio). The decurio first elected commands the squadron, the other two have the rank of decuriones: a name indeed which applies to all alike. If the first decurio is not on the field, the second takes command of the squadron. The armour of the cavalry is very like that in Greece. In old times they did not wear the lorica, but fought in their tunics (campestria); the result of which was that they were prompt and nimble at dismounting and mounting again with despatch, but were in great danger at close quarters from the unprotected state of their bodies. And their lances too were useless in two ways: first because they were thin, and prevented their taking a good aim; and before they could get the head fixed in the enemy, the lances were so shaken by the mere motion of the horse that they generally broke. Secondly, because, having no spike at the butt end of their lance, they only had one stroke, namely that with the spear-head; and if the lance broke, what was left in their hands was entirely useless. Again they used to have shields of bull’s hide, just like those round cakes, with a knob in the middle which are used at sacrifices, which were useless at close quarters because they were flexible rather than firm; and, when their leather shrunk and rotted from the rain, unserviceable as they were before, they then became entirely so. Wherefore, as experience showed them the uselessness of these, they lost no time in changing to the Greek fashion of arms: the advantages of which were, first, that men were able to deliver the first stroke of their lance-head with a good aim and effect, because the shaft from the nature of its construction was steady and not quivering; and, secondly, that they were able, by reversing the lance, to use the spike at the buttend for a steady and effective blow. And the same may be said about the Greek shields: for, whether used to ward off a blow or to thrust against the enemy, they neither give nor bend. When the Romans learnt these facts about the Greek arms they were not long in copying them; for no nation has ever surpassed them in readiness to adopt new fashions from other people, and to imitate what they see is better in others than themselves.

Having made this distribution of their men and given orders for their being armed, as I have described, the military tribunes dismiss them to their homes. But when the day has arrived on which they were all bound by their oath to appear at the place named by the Consuls (for each Consul generally appoints a separate place for his own legions, each having assigned to him two legions and a moiety of the allies), all whose names were placed on the roll appear without fail: no excuse being accepted in the case of those who have taken the oath, except a prohibitory omen or absolute impossibility. The allies muster along with the citizens, and are distributed and managed by the officers appointed by the Consuls, who have the title of Praefecti sociis and are twelve in number. These officers select for the Consuls from the whole infantry and cavalry of the allies such as are most fitted for actual service, and these are called extraordinarii (which in Greek is ἐπίλεκτοι). The whole number of the infantry of the socii generally equals that of the legions, but the cavalry is treble that of the citizens. Of these they select a third of the cavalry, and a fifth of the infantry to serve as extraordinarii. The rest they divide into two parts, one of which is called the right, the other the left wing (alae).

These arrangements made, the military tribunes take over the citizens and allies and proceed to form a camp. Now the principle on which they construct their camps, no matter when or where, is the same; I think therefore that it will be in place here to try and make my readers understand, as far as words can do so, the Roman tactics in regard to the march (agmen), the camp (castrorum metatio), and the line of battle (acies). I cannot imagine any one so indifferent to things noble and, great, as to refuse to take some little extra trouble to understand things like these; for if he has once heard them, he will be acquainted with one of those things genuinely worth observation and knowledge.

Book 6, Part 5

Their method of laying out a camp is as follows. The place for the camp having been selected, the spot in it best calculated to give a view of the whole, and most convenient for issuing orders, is appropriated for the general’s tent (Praetorium).

Having placed a standard on the spot on which they intend to put the Praetorium, they measure off a square round this standard; in such a way that each of its sides is a hundred feet from the standard, and the area of the square is four plethra. Along one side of this square—whichever aspect appears most convenient for watering and foraging—the legions are stationed as follows. I have said that there were six Tribuni in each legion, and that each Consul had two legions,—it follows that there are twelve Tribuni in a Consular army. Well, they pitch the tents of these Tribuni all in one straight line, parallel to the side of the square selected, at a distance of fifty feet from it (there is a place too selected for the horses, beasts of burden, and other baggage of the Tribuni); these tents face the outer side of the camp and away from the square described above,—a direction which will henceforth be called the front by me. The tents of the Tribuni stand at equal distances from each other, so that they extend along the whole breadth of the space occupied by the legions.

From the line described by the front of these tents they measure another distance of a hundred feet towards the front. At that distance another parallel straight line is drawn, and it is from this last that they begin arranging the quarters of the legions, which they do as follows:—they bisect the last mentioned straight line, and from that point draw another straight line at right angles to it; along this line, on either side of it facing each other, the cavalry of the two legions are quartered with a space of fifty feet between them, which space is exactly bisected by the line last mentioned. The manner of encamping the infantry is similar to that of the cavalry. The whole area of each space occupied by the maniples and squadrons is a square, and faces the via; the length facing the via is one hundred feet, and they generally try to make the depth the same, except in the case of the socii; and when they are employing legions of an extra number, they increase the length and depth of these squares proportionally.

The spaces assigned to the cavalry are opposite the space between the two groups of tents belonging to the Tribuni of the two legions, at right angles to the line along which they stand, like a cross-road; and indeed the whole arrangement of the viae is like a system of cross-roads, running on either side of the blocks of tents, those of the cavalry on one side and those of the infantry on the other. The spaces assigned to the cavalry and the Triarii in each legion are back to back, with no via between them, but touching each other, looking opposite ways; and the depth of the spaces assigned to the Triarii is only half that assigned to other maniples, because their numbers are generally only half; but though the number of the men is different, the length of the space is always the same owing to the lesser depth. Next, parallel with these spaces, at a distance of fifty feet, they place the Principes facing the Triarii; and as they face the space between themselves and the Triarii, we have two more roads formed at right angles to the hundred-foot area in front of the tents of the Tribunes, and running down from it to the outer agger of the camp on the side opposite to that of the Principia, which we agreed to call the front of the camp. Behind the spaces for the Triarii and looking in the opposite direction, and touching each other, are the spaces for the Hastati. These several branches of the service (Triarii, Principes, Hastati), being each divided into ten maniples, the cross-roads between the blocks are all the same length and terminate in the front agger of the camp; towards which they cause the last maniples in the rows to face.

Beyond the Hastati they again leave a space of fifty feet, and there, beginning from the same base (the Principia), and going in a parallel direction, and to the same distance as the other blocks, they place the cavalry of the allies facing the Hastati. Now the number of the allies, as I have stated above, is equal to that of the legions in regard to the infantry, though it falls below that if we omit the extraordinarii; but that of the cavalry is double, when the third part is deducted for service among the extraordinarii. Therefore in marking out the camp the spaces assigned to the latter are made proportionally deeper, so that their length remains the same as those occupied by the legions. Thus five viae are formed: and back to back with these cavalry are the spaces for the infantry of the allies, the depth being proportionally increased according to their numbers; and these maniples face the outer sides of the camp and the agger. In each maniple the first tent at either end is occupied by the centurions. Between the fifth and sixth squadrons of cavalry, and the fifth and sixth maniple of infantry, there is a space of fifty left, so that another road is made across the camp at right angles to the others and parallel to the tents of the Tribuni, and this they call the Via Quintana, as it runs along the fifth squadrons and maniples.

The space behind the tents of the Tribuni is thus used. On one side of the square of the Praetorium is the market, on the other the office of the Quaestor and the supplies which he has charge of. Then behind the last tent of the Tribuni on either side, arranged at right angles to those tents, are the quarters of the cavalry picked out of the extraordinarii, as well as of some of those who are serving as volunteers from personal friendship to the Consuls. All these are arranged parallel to the side aggers, facing on the one side the Quaestorium, on the other the market-place. And, generally speaking, it falls to the lot of these men not only to be near the Consul in the camp, but to be wholly employed about the persons of the Consul and the Quaestor on the march and all other occasions. Back to back with these again, facing the agger, are placed the infantry who serve in the same way as these cavalry.

Beyond these there is another empty space or road left, one hundred feet broad, parallel to the tents of the Tribuni, skirting the market-place, Praetorium, and Quaestorium, from agger to agger. On the further side of this road the rest of the equites extraordinarii are placed facing the market-place and Quaestorium: and between the quarters of these cavalry of the two legions a passage is left of fifty feet, exactly opposite and at right angles to the square of the Praetorium, leading to the rearward agger.

Back to back with the equites extraordinarii are the infantry of the same, facing the agger at the rear of the whole camp. And the space left empty on either side of these, facing the agger on each side of the camp, is given up to foreigners and such allies as chance to come to the camp.

The result of these arrangements is that the whole camp is a square, with streets and other constructions regularly planned like a town. Between the line of the tents and the agger there is an empty space of two hundred feet on every side of the square, which is turned to a great variety of uses. To begin with, it is exceedingly convenient for the marching in and out of the legions. For each division descends into this space by the via which passes its own quarters, and so avoids crowding and hustling each other, as they would if they were all collected on one road. Again, all cattle brought into the camp, as well as booty of all sorts taken from the enemy, are deposited in this space and securely guarded during the night-watches. But the most important use of this space is that, in night assaults, it secures the tents from the danger of being set on fire, and keeps the soldiers out of the range of the enemy’s missiles; or, if a few of them do carry so far, they are spent and cannot penetrate the tents.

The number then of foot-soldiers and cavalry being given (at the rate, that is to say, of four thousand or of five thousand for each legion), and the length, depth, and number of the maniples being likewise known, as well as the breadth of the passages and roads, it becomes possible to calculate the area occupied by the camp and the length of the aggers. If on any occasion the number of allies, either those originally enrolled or those who joined subsequently, exceeds their due proportion, the difficulty is provided for in this way. To the overplus of allies who joined subsequent to the enrolment of the army are assigned the spaces on either side of the Praetorium, the market-place and Quaestorium being proportionally contracted. For the extra numbers of allies who joined originally an extra line of tents (forming thus another via) is put up parallel with the other tents of the socii, facing the agger on either side of the camp. But if all four legions and both Consuls are in the same camp, all we have to do is to imagine a second army, arranged back to back to the one already placed, in exactly the same spaces as the former, but side by side with it at the part where the picked men from the extraordinarii are stationed facing the rearward agger. In this case the shape of the camp becomes an oblong, the area double, and the length of the entire agger half as much again. This is the arrangement when both Consuls are within the same agger; but if they occupy two separate camps, the above arrangements hold good, except that the market-place is placed half way between the two camps.

Book 6, Part 6

The camp having thus been laid out, the Tribuni next administer an oath to all in it separately, whether free or slave, that they will steal nothing within the agger, and in case they find anything will bring it to the Tribuni. They next select for their several duties the maniples of the Principes and Hastati in each legion. Two are told off to guard the space in front of the quarters of the Tribuni. For in this space, which is called the Principia, most of the Romans in the camp transact all the business of the day; and are therefore very particular about its being kept well watered and properly swept. Of the other eighteen maniples, three are assigned to each of the six Tribuni, that being the respective numbers in each legion; and of these three maniples each takes its turn of duty in waiting upon the Tribune. The services they render him are such as these: they pitch his tent for him when a place is selected for encampment, and level the ground all round it; and if any extra precaution is required for the protection of his baggage, it is their duty to see to it. They also supply him with two relays of guards. A guard consists of four men, two of whom act as sentries in front of his tent, and two on the rear of it near the horses. Seeing that each Tribune has three maniples, and each maniple has a hundred men, without counting Triarii and Velites who are not liable for this service, the duty is a light one, coming round to each maniple only once in three days; while by this arrangement ample provision is made for the convenience as well as the dignity of the Tribuni. The maniples of Triarii are exempted from this personal service to the Tribuni, but they each supply a watch of four men to the squadron of cavalry nearest them. These watches have to keep a general look out; but their chief duty is to keep an eye upon the horses, to prevent their hurting themselves by getting entangled in their tethers, and so becoming unfit for use; or from getting loose, and making a confusion and disturbance in the camp by running against other horses. Finally, all the maniples take turns to mount guard for a day each at the Consul’s tent, to protect him from plots, and maintain the dignity of his office.

As to the construction of the foss and vallum, two sides fall to the lot of the socii, each division taking that side along which it is quartered; the other two are left to the Romans, one to each legion. Each side is divided into portions according to the number of maniples, and the centurions stand by and superintend the work of each maniple; while two of the Tribunes superintend the construction of the whole side and see that it is adequate. In the same way the Tribunes superintend all other operations in the camp. They divide themselves in twos, and each pair is on duty for two months out of six; they draw lots for their turns, and the pair on whom the lot falls takes the superintendence of all active operations. The prefects of the socii divide their duty in the same way. At daybreak the officers of the cavalry and the centurions muster at the tents of the Tribunes, while the Tribunes go to that of the Consul. He gives the necessary orders to the Tribunes, they to the cavalry officers and centurions, and these last pass them on to the rank and file as occasion may demand.

To secure the passing round of the watchword for the night the following course is followed. One man is selected from the tenth maniple, which, in the case both of cavalry and infantry, is quartered at the ends of the road between the tents; this man is relieved from guard-duty and appears each day about sunset at the tent of the Tribune on duty, takes the tessera or wooden tablet on which the watchword is inscribed, and returns to his own maniple and delivers the wooden tablet and watchword in the presence of witnesses to the chief officer of the maniple next his own; he in the same way to the officer of the next, and so on, until it arrives at the first maniple stationed next the Tribunes. These men are obliged to deliver the tablet (tessera) to the Tribunes before dark. If they are all handed in, the Tribune knows that the watchword has been delivered to all, and has passed through all the ranks back to his hands: but if any one is missing, he at once investigates the matter; for he knows by the marks on the tablets from which division of the army the tablet has not appeared; and the man who is discovered to be responsible for its non-appearance is visited with condign punishment.

Next as to the keeping guard at night. The Consul’s tent is guarded by the maniple on duty: those of the Tribuni and praefects of the cavalry by the pickets formed as described above from the several maniples. And in the same way each maniple and squadron posts guards of their own men. The other pickets are posted by the Consul. Generally speaking there are three pickets at the Quaestorium, and two at the tent of each of the legati or members of council. The vallum is lined by the velites, who are on guard all along it from day to day. That is their special duty; while they also guard all the entrances to the camp, telling off ten sentinels to take their turn at each of them. Of the men told off for duty at the several stationes, the man who in each maniple is to take the first watch is brought by the rear-rank man of his company to the Tribune at eventide. The latter hands over to them severally small wooden tablets (tesserae), one for each watch, inscribed with small marks; on receiving which they go off to the places indicated.

The duty of going the rounds is intrusted to the cavalry. The first Praefect of cavalry in each legion, early in the morning, orders one of his rear-rank men to give notice before breakfast to four young men of his squadron who are to go the rounds. At evening this same man’s duty is to give notice to the Praefect of the next squadron that it is his turn to provide for going the rounds until next morning. This officer thereupon takes measures similar to the preceding one until the next day; and so on throughout the cavalry squadrons. The four men thus selected by the rear-rank men from the first squadron, after drawing lots for the watch they are to take, proceed to the tent of the Tribune on duty, and receive from him a writing stating the order and the number of the watches they are to visit. The four then take up their quarters for the night alongside of the first maniple of Triarii; for it is the duty of the centurion of this maniple to see that a bugle is blown at the beginning of every watch. When the time has arrived, the man to whose lot the first watch has fallen goes his rounds, taking some of his friends as witnesses. He walks through the posts assigned, which are not only those along the vallum and gates, but also the pickets set by the several maniples and squadrons. If he find the men of the first watch awake he takes from them their tessera; but if he find any one of them asleep or absent from his post, he calls those with him to witness the fact and passes on. The same process is repeated by those who go the rounds during the other watches. The charge of seeing that the bugle is blown at the beginning of each watch, so that the right man might visit the right pickets, is as I have said, laid upon the centurions of the first maniple of Triarii, each one taking the duty for a day.

Each of these men who have gone the rounds (tessarii) at daybreak conveys the tesserae to the Tribune on duty. If the whole number are given in they are dismissed without question; but if any of them brings a number less than that of the pickets, an investigation is made by means of the mark on the tessera, as to which picket he has omitted. Upon this being ascertained the centurion is summoned; he brings the men who were on duty, and they are confronted with the patrol. If the fault is with the men on guard, the patrol clears himself by producing the witnesses whom he took with him; for he cannot do so without. If nothing of that sort happened, the blame recoils upon the patrol.

Then the Tribunes at once hold a court-martial, and the man who is found guilty is punished by the fustuarium; the nature of which is this. The Tribune takes a cudgel and merely touches the condemned man; whereupon all the soldiers fall upon him with cudgels and stones. Generally speaking men thus punished are killed on the spot; but if by any chance, after running the gauntlet, they manage to escape from the camp, they have no hope of ultimately surviving even so. They may not return to their own country, nor would any one venture to receive such an one into his house. Therefore those who have once fallen into this misfortune are utterly and finally ruined. The same fate awaits the praefect of the squadron, as well as his rear-rank man, if they fail to give the necessary order at the proper time, the latter to the patrols, and the former to the praefect of the next squadron. The result of the severity and inevitableness of this punishment is that in the Roman army the night watches are faultlessly kept. The common soldiers are amenable to the Tribunes; the Tribunes to the Consuls. The Tribune is competent to punish a soldier by inflicting a fine, distraining his goods, or ordering him to be flogged; so too the praefects in the case of the socii. The punishment of the fustuarium is assigned also to any one committing theft in the camp, or bearing false witness: as also to any one who in full manhood is detected in shameful immorality: or to any one who has been thrice punished for the same offence. All these things are punished as crimes. But such as the following are reckoned as cowardly and dishonourable in a soldier: —for a man to make a false report to the Tribunes of his valour in order to get reward; or for men who have been told off to an ambuscade to quit the place assigned them from fear; and also for a man to throw away any of his arms from fear, on the actual field of battle. Consequently it sometimes happens that men confront certain death at their stations, because, from their fear of the punishment awaiting them at home, they refuse to quit their post: while others, who have lost shield or spear or any other arm on the field, throw themselves upon the foe, in hopes of recovering what they have lost, or of escaping by death from certain disgrace and the insults of their relations.

But if it ever happens that a number of men are involved in these same acts: if, for instance, some entire maniples have quitted their ground in the presence of the enemy, it is deemed impossible to subject all to thefustuarium or to military execution; but a solution of the difficulty has been found at once adequate to the maintenance of discipline and calculated to strike terror. The Tribune assembles the legion, calls the defaulters to the front, and, after administering a sharp rebuke, selects five or eight or twenty out of them by lot, so that those selected should be about a tenth of those who have been guilty of the act of cowardice. These selected are punished with thefustuarium without mercy; the rest are put on rations of barley instead of wheat, and are ordered to take up their quarters outside the vallum and the protection of the camp. As all are equally in danger of having the lot fall on them, and as all alike who escape that, are made a conspicuous example of by having their rations of barley, the best possible means are thus taken to inspire fear for the future, and to correct the mischief which has actually occurred.

A very excellent plan also is adopted for inducing young soldiers to brave danger. When an engagement has taken place and any of them have showed conspicuous gallantry, the Consul summons an assembly of the legion, puts forward those whom he considers to have distinguished themselves in any way, and first compliments each of them individually on his gallantry, and mentions any other distinction he may have earned in the course of his life, and then presents them with gifts: to the man who has wounded an enemy, a spear; to the man who has killed one and stripped his armour, a cup, if he be in the infantry, horse-trappings if in the cavalry: though originally the only present made was a spear. This does not take place in the event of their having wounded or stripped any of the enemy in a set engagement or the storming of a town; but in skirmishes or other occasions of that sort, in which, without there being any positive necessity for them to expose themselves singly to danger, they have done so voluntarily and deliberately. In the capture of a town those who are first to mount the walls are presented with a gold crown. So too those who have covered and saved any citizens or allies are distinguished by the Consul with certain presents; and those whom they have preserved present them voluntarily with a crown, or if not, they are compelled to do so by the Tribunes. The man thus preserved, too, reverences his preserver throughout his life as a father, and is bound to act towards him as a father in every respect. By such incentives those who stay at home are stirred up to a noble rivalry and emulation in confronting danger, no less than those who actually hear and see what takes place. For the recipients of such rewards not only enjoy great glory among their comrades in the army, and an immediate reputation at home, but after their return they are marked men in all solemn festivals; for they alone, who have been thus distinguished by the Consuls for bravery, are allowed to wear robes of honour on those occasions: and moreover they place the spoils they have taken in the most conspicuous places in their houses, as visible tokens and proofs of their valour. No wonder that a people, whose rewards and punishments are allotted with such care and received with such feelings, should be brilliantly successful in war.

The pay of the foot soldier is 5 1/3 asses a day; of the centurion 10 2/3; of the cavalry 16. The infantry receive a ration of wheat equal to about 2/3 of an Attic medimnus a month, and the cavalry 7 medimni of barley, and 2 of wheat; of the allies the infantry receive the same, the cavalry 1 1/3 medimnus of wheat, and 5 of barley. This is a free gift to the allies; but in the cases of the Romans, the Quaestor stops out of their pay the price of their corn and clothes, or any additional arms they may require at a fixed rate.

Book 6, Part 7

The following is their manner of moving camp. At the first bugle the men all strike their tents and collect their baggage; but no soldier may strike his tent, or set it up either, till the same is done to that of the Tribuni and the Consul. At the second bugle they load the beasts of burden with their baggage: at the third the first maniples must advance and set the whole camp in motion. Generally speaking, the men appointed to make this start are the extraordinarii: next comes the right wing of the socii; and behind them their beasts of burden. These are followed by the first legion with its own baggage immediately on its rear; then comes the second legion, followed by its own beasts of burden, and the baggage of those socii who have to bring up the rear of the march, that is to say, the left wing of the socii. The cavalry sometimes ride on the rear of their respective divisions, sometimes on either side of the beasts of burden, to keep them together and secure them. If an attack is expected on the rear, the extraordinarii themselves occupy the rear instead of the van. Of the two legions and wings each takes the lead in the march on alternate days, that by this interchange of position all may have an equal share in the advantage of being first at the water and forage. The order of march, however, is different at times of unusual danger, if they have open ground enough. For in that case they advance in three parallel columns, consisting of the Hastati, Principes, and Triarii: the beasts of burden belonging to the maniples in the van are placed in front of all, those belonging to the second behind the leading maniples, and those belonging to the third behind the second maniples, thus having the baggage and the maniples in alternate lines. With this order of march, on an alarm being given, the columns face to the right or left according to the quarter on which the enemy appears, and get clear of the baggage. So that in a short space of time, and by one movement, the whole of the hoplites are in line of battle—except that sometimes it is necessary to half-wheel the Hastati also—and the baggage and the rest of the army are in their proper place for safety, namely, in the rear of the line of combatants.

When the army on the march is approaching the place of encampment, a Tribune, and those of the centurions who have been from time to time selected for that duty, are sent forward to survey the place of encampment. Having done this they proceed first of all to fix upon the place for the Consul’s tent (as I have described above), and to determine on which side of the Praetorium to quarter the legions. Having decided these points they measure out the Praetorium, then they draw the straight line along which the tents of the Tribunes are to be pitched, and then the line parallel to this, beyond which the quarters of the legions are to begin. In the same way they draw the lines on the other sides of the Praetorium in accordance with the plan which I have already detailed at length. This does not take long, nor is the marking out of the camp a matter of difficulty, because the dimensions are all regularly laid down, and are in accordance with precedent. Then they fix one flag in the ground where the Consul’s tent is to stand, and another on the base of the square containing it, and a third on the line of the Tribunes’ tents; the two latter are scarlet, that which marks the Consul’s tent is white; the lines on the other sides of the Praetorium are marked sometimes with plain spears and sometimes by flags of other colours. After this they lay out the viae between the quarters, fixing spears at each via. Consequently when the legions in the course of their march have come near enough to get a clear view of the place of encampment, they can all make out exactly the whole plan of it, taking as their base the Consul’s flag and calculating from that. Moreover as each soldier knows precisely on which via, and at what point of it, his quarters are to be, because all occupy the same position in the camp wherever it may be, it is exactly like a legion entering its own city; when breaking off at the gates each man makes straight for his own residence without hesitation, because he knows the direction and the quarter of the town in which home lies. It is precisely the same in a Roman camp.

It is because the first object of the Romans in the matter of encampment is facility, that they seem to me to differ diametrically from Greek military men in this respect. Greeks, in choosing a place for a camp, think primarily of security from the natural strength of the position: first, because they are averse from the toil of digging a foss, and, secondly, because they think that no artificial defences are comparable to those afforded by the nature of the ground. Accordingly, they not only have to vary the whole configuration of the camp to suit the nature of the ground, but to change the arrangement of details in all kinds of irregular ways; so that neither soldier nor company has a fixed place in it. The Romans, on the other hand, prefer to undergo the fatigue of digging, and of the other labours of circumvallation, for the sake of the facility in arrangement, and to secure a plan of encampment which shall be one and the same and familiar to all.

Such are the most important facts in regard to the legions and the method of encamping them. . . .

Nearly all historians have recorded as constitutions of eminent excellence those of Lacedaemonia, Crete, Mantinea, and Carthage. Some have also mentioned those of Athens and Thebes. The former I may allow to pass; but I am convinced that little need be said of the Athenian and Theban constitutions: their growth was abnormal, the period of their zenith brief, and the changes they experienced unusually violent. Their glory was a sudden and fortuitous flash, so to speak; and while they still thought themselves prosperous, and likely to remain so, they found themselves involved in circumstances completely the reverse. The Thebans got their reputation for valour among the Greeks, by taking advantage of the senseless policy of the Lacedaemonians, and the hatred of the allies towards them, owing to the valour of one, or at most two, men who were wise enough to appreciate the situation. Since fortune quickly made it evident that it was not the peculiarity of their constitution, but the valour of their leaders, which gave the Thebans their success. For the great power of Thebes notoriously took its rise, attained its zenith, and fell to the ground with the lives of Epaminondas and Pelopidas. We must therefore conclude that it was not its constitution, but its men, that caused the high fortune which it then enjoyed.

A somewhat similar remark applies to the Athenian constitution also. For though it perhaps had more frequent interludes of excellence, yet its highest perfection was attained during the brilliant career of Themistocles; and having reached that point it quickly declined, owing to its essential instability. For the Athenian demus is always in the position of a ship without a commander. In such a ship, if fear of the enemy, or the occurrence of a storm induce the crew to be of one mind and to obey the helmsman, everything goes well; but if they recover from this fear, and begin to treat their officers with contempt, and to quarrel with each other because they are no longer all of one mind,—one party wishing to continue the voyage, and the other urging the steersman to bring the ship to anchor; some letting out the sheets, and others hauling them in, and ordering the sails to be furled,—their discord and quarrels make a sorry show to lookers on; and the position of affairs is full of risk to those on board engaged on the same voyage: and the result has often been that, after escaping the dangers of the widest seas, and the most violent storms, they wreck their ship in harbour and close to shore. And this is what has often happened to the Athenian constitution. For, after repelling, on various occasions, the greatest and most formidable dangers by the valour of its people and their leaders, there have been times when, in periods of secure tranquillity, it has gratuitously and recklessly encountered disaster. Therefore I need say no more about either it, or the Theban constitution: in both of which a mob manages everything on its own unfettered impulse—a mob in the one city distinguished for headlong outbursts of fiery temper, in the other trained in long habits of violence and ferocity.

Passing to the Cretan polity there are two points which deserve our consideration. The first is how such writers as Ephorus, Xenophon, Callisthenes and Plato—who are the most learned of the ancients—could assert that it was like that of Sparta; and secondly how they came to assert that it was at all admirable. I can agree with neither assertion; and I will explain why I say so. And first as to its dissimilarity with the Spartan constitution. The peculiar merit of the latter is said to be its land laws, by which no one possesses more than another, but all citizens have an equal share in the public land. The next distinctive feature regards the possession of money: for as it is utterly discredited among them, the jealous competition which arises from inequality of wealth is entirely removed from the city. A third peculiarity of the Lacedaemonian polity is that, of the officials by whose hands and with whose advice the whole government is conducted, the kings hold an hereditary office, while the members of the Gerusia are elected for life.

Among the Cretans the exact reverse of all these arrangements obtains. The laws allow them to possess as much land as they can get with no limitation whatever. Money is so highly valued among them, that its possession is not only thought to be necessary but in the highest degree creditable. And in fact greed and avarice are so native to the soil in Crete, that they are the only people in the world among whom no stigma attaches to any sort of gain whatever. Again all their offices are annual and on a democratical footing. I have therefore often felt at a loss to account for these writers speaking of the two constitutions, which are radically different, as though they were closely united and allied. But, besides overlooking these important differences, these writers have gone out of their way to comment at length on the legislation of Lycurgus: He was the only legislator, they say, who saw the important points. For there being two things on which the safety of a commonwealth depends,—courage in the face of the enemy and concord at home,—by abolishing covetousness, he with it removed all motive for civil broil and contest: whence it has been brought about that the Lacedaemonians are the best governed and most united people in Greece. Yet while giving utterance to these sentiments, and though they see that, in contrast to this, the Cretans by their ingrained avarice are engaged in countless public and private seditions, murders and civil wars, they yet regard these facts as not affecting their contention, but are bold enough to speak of the two constitutions as alike. Ephorus, indeed, putting aside names, employs expressions so precisely the same, when discoursing on the two constitutions, that, unless one noticed the proper names, there would be no means whatever of distinguishing which of the two he was describing.

In what the difference between them consists I have already stated. I will now address myself to showing that the Cretan constitution deserves neither praise nor imitation.

To my mind, then, there are two things fundamental to every state, in virtue of which its powers and constitution become desirable or objectionable. These are customs and laws. Of these the desirable are those which make men’s private lives holy and pure, and the public character of the state civilised and just. The objectionable are those whose effect is the reverse. As, then, when we see good customs and good laws prevailing among certain people, we confidently assume that, in consequence of them, the men and their civil constitution will be good also, so when we see private life full of covetousness, and public policy of injustice, plainly we have reason for asserting their laws, particular customs, and general constitution to be bad. Now, with few exceptions, you could find no habits prevailing in private life more steeped in treachery than those in Crete, and no public policy more inequitable. Holding, then, the Cretan constitution to be neither like the Spartan, nor worthy of choice or imitation, I reject it from the comparison which I have instituted.

Book 6, Part 8

Nor again would it be fair to introduce the Republic of Plato, which is also spoken of in high terms by some philosophers. For just as we refuse admission to the athletic contests to those actors or athletes who have not acquired a recognised position or trained for them, so we ought not to admit this Platonic constitution to the contest for the prize of merit unless it can first point to some genuine and practical achievement. Up to this time the notion of bringing it into comparison with the constitutions of Sparta, Rome, and Carthage would be like putting up a statue to compare with living and breathing men. Even if such a statue were faultless in point of art, the comparison of the lifeless with the living would naturally leave an impression of imperfection and incongruity upon the minds of the spectators.

I shall therefore omit these, and proceed with my description of the Laconian constitution. Now it seems to me that for securing unity among the citizens, for safe-guarding the Laconian territory, and preserving the liberty of Sparta inviolate, the legislation and provisions of Lycurgus were so excellent, that I am forced to regard his wisdom as something superhuman. For the equality of landed possessions, the simplicity in their food, and the practice of taking it in common, which he established, were well calculated to secure morality in private life and to prevent civil broils in the State; as also their training in the endurance of labours and dangers to make men brave and noble minded: but when both these virtues, courage and high morality, are combined in one soul or in one state, vice will not readily spring from such a soil, nor will such men easily be overcome by their enemies. By constructing his constitution therefore in this spirit, and of these elements, he secured two blessings to the Spartans,—safety for their territory, and a lasting freedom for themselves long after he was gone. He appears however to have made no one provision whatever, particular or general, for the acquisition of the territory of their neighbours; or for the assertion of their supremacy; or, in a word, for any policy of aggrandisement at all. What he had still to do was to impose such a necessity, or create such a spirit among the citizens, that, as he had succeeded in making their individual lives independent and simple, the public character of the state should also become independent and moral. But the actual fact is, that, though he made them the most disinterested and sober-minded men in the world, as far as their own ways of life and their national institutions were concerned, he left them in regard to the rest of Greece ambitious, eager for supremacy, and encroaching in the highest degree.

For in the first place is it not notorious that they were nearly the first Greeks to cast a covetous eye upon the territory of their neighbours, and that accordingly they waged a war of subjugation on the Messenians? In the next place is it not related in all histories that in their dogged obstinacy they bound themselves with an oath never to desist from the siege of Messene until they had taken it? And lastly it is known to all that in their efforts for supremacy in Greece they submitted to do the bidding of those whom they had once conquered in war. For when the Persians invaded Greece, they conquered them, as champions of the liberty of the Greeks; yet when the invaders had retired and fled, they betrayed the cities of Greece into their hands by the peace of Antalcidas, for the sake of getting money to secure their supremacy over the Greeks. It was then that the defect in their constitution was rendered apparent. For as long as their ambition was confined to governing their immediate neighbours, or even the Peloponnesians only, they were content with the resources and supplies provided by Laconia itself, having all material of war ready to hand, and being able without much expenditure of time to return home or convey provisions with them. But directly they took in hand to despatch naval expeditions, or to go on campaigns by land outside the Peloponnese, it was evident that neither their iron currency, nor their use of crops for payment in kind, would be able to supply them with what they lacked if they abided by the legislation of Lycurgus; for such undertakings required money universally current, and goods from foreign countries. Thus they were compelled to wait humbly at Persian doors, impose tribute on the islanders, and exact contributions from all the Greeks: knowing that, if they abided by the laws of Lycurgus, it was impossible to advance any claims upon any outside power at all, much less upon the supremacy in Greece.

My object, then, in this digression is to make it manifest by actual facts that, for guarding their own country with absolute safety, and for preserving their own freedom, the legislation of Lycurgus was entirely sufficient; and for those who are content with these objects we must concede that there neither exists, nor ever has existed, a constitution and civil order preferable to that of Sparta. But if any one is seeking aggrandisement, and believes that to be a leader and ruler and despot of numerous subjects, and to have all looking and turning to him, is a finer thing than that,—in this point of view we must acknowledge that the Spartan constitution is deficient, and that of Rome superior and better constituted for obtaining power. And this has been proved by actual facts. For when the Lacedaemonians strove to possess themselves of the supremacy in Greece, it was not long before they brought their own freedom itself into danger. Whereas the Romans, after obtaining supreme power over the Italians themselves, soon brought the whole world under their rule,—in which achievement the abundance and availability of their supplies largely contributed to their success.

Now the Carthaginian constitution seems to me originally to have been well contrived in these most distinctively important particulars. For they had kings, and the Gerusia had the powers of an aristocracy, and the multitude were supreme in such things as affected them; and on the whole the adjustment of its several parts was very like that of Rome and Sparta. But about the period of its entering on the Hannibalian war the political state of Carthage was on the decline, that of Rome improving. For whereas there is in every body, or polity, or business a natural stage of growth, zenith, and decay; and whereas everything in them is at its best at the zenith; we may thereby judge of the difference between these two constitutions as they existed at that period. For exactly so far as the strength and prosperity of Carthage preceded that of Rome in point of time, by so much was Carthage then past its prime, while Rome was exactly at its zenith, as far as its political constitution was concerned. In Carthage therefore the influence of the people in the policy of the state had already risen to be supreme, while at Rome the Senate was at the height of its power: and so, as in the one measures were deliberated upon by the many, in the other by the best men, the policy of the Romans in all public undertakings proved the stronger; on which account, though they met with capital disasters, by force of prudent counsels they finally conquered the Carthaginians in the war.

If we look however at separate details, for instance at the provisions for carrying on a war, we shall find that whereas for a naval expedition the Carthaginians are the better trained and prepared,—as it is only natural with a people with whom it has been hereditary for many generations to practise this craft, and to follow the seaman’s trade above all nations in the world,—yet, in regard to military service on land, the Romans train themselves to a much higher pitch than the Carthaginians. The former bestow their whole attention upon this department: whereas the Carthaginians wholly neglect their infantry, though they do take some slight interest in the cavalry. The reason of this is that they employ foreign mercenaries, the Romans native and citizen levies. It is in this point that the latter polity is preferable to the former. They have their hopes of freedom ever resting on the courage of mercenary troops: the Romans on the valour of their own citizens and the aid of their allies. The result is that even if the Romans have suffered a defeat at first, they renew the war with undiminished forces, which the Carthaginians cannot do. For, as the Romans are fighting for country and children, it is impossible for them to relax the fury of their struggle; but they persist with obstinate resolution until they have overcome their enemies. What has happened in regard to their navy is an instance in point. In skill the Romans are much behind the Carthaginians, as I have already said; yet the upshot of the whole naval war has been a decided triumph for the Romans, owing to the valour of their men. For although nautical science contributes largely to success in sea-fights, still it is the courage of the marines that turns the scale most decisively in favour of victory. The fact is that Italians as a nation are by nature superior to Phoenicians and Libyans both in physical strength and courage; but still their habits also do much to inspire the youth with enthusiasm for such exploits. One example will be sufficient of the pains taken by the Roman state to turn out men ready to endure anything to win a reputation in their country for valour.

Whenever one of their illustrious men dies, in the course of his funeral, the body with all its paraphernalia is carried into the forum to the Rostra, as a raised platform there is called, and sometimes is propped upright upon it so as to be conspicuous, or, more rarely, is laid upon it. Then with all the people standing round, his son, if he has left one of full age and he is there, or, failing him, one of his relations, mounts the Rostra and delivers a speech concerning the virtues of the deceased, and the successful exploits performed by him in his lifetime. By these means the people are reminded of what has been done, and made to see it with their own eyes,—not only such as were engaged in the actual transactions but those also who were not;— and their sympathies are so deeply moved, that the loss appears not to be confined to the actual mourners, but to be a public one affecting the whole people. After the burial and all the usual ceremonies have been performed, they place the likeness of the deceased in the most conspicuous spot in his house, surmounted by a wooden canopy or shrine. This likeness consists of a mask made to represent the deceased with extraordinary fidelity both in shape and colour. These likenesses they display at public sacrifices adorned with much care. And when any illustrious member of the family dies, they carry these masks to the funeral, putting them on men whom they thought as like the originals as possible in height and other personal peculiarities. And these substitutes assume clothes according to the rank of the person represented: if he was a consul or praetor, a toga with purple stripes; if a censor, whole purple if he had also celebrated a triumph or performed any exploit of that kind, a toga embroidered with gold. These representatives also ride themselves in chariots, while the fasces and axes, and all the other customary insignia of the particular offices, lead the way, according to the dignity of the rank in the state enjoyed by the deceased in his lifetime; and on arriving at the Rostra they all take their seats on ivory chairs in their order. There could not easily be a more inspiring spectacle than this for a young man of noble ambitions and virtuous aspirations. For can we conceive any one to be unmoved at the sight of all the likenesses collected together of the men who have earned glory, all as it were living and breathing? Or what could be a more glorious spectacle?

Besides the speaker over the body about to be buried, after having finished the panegyric of this particular person, starts upon the others whose representatives are present, beginning with the most ancient, and recounts the successes and achievements of each. By this means the glorious memory of brave men is continually renewed; the fame of those who have performed any noble deed is never allowed to die; and the renown of those who have done good service to their country becomes a matter of common knowledge to the multitude, and part of the heritage of posterity. But the chief benefit of the ceremony is that it inspires young men to shrink from no exertion for the general welfare, in the hope of obtaining the glory which awaits the brave. And what I say is confirmed by this fact. Many Romans have volunteered to decide a whole battle by single combat; not a few have deliberately accepted certain death, some in time of war to secure the safety of the rest, some in time of peace to preserve the safety of the commonwealth. There have also been instances of men in office putting their own sons to death, in defiance of every custom and law, because they rated the interests of their country higher than those of natural ties even with their nearest and dearest. There are many stories of this kind, related of many men in Roman history; but one will be enough for our present purpose; and I will give the name as an instance to prove the truth of my words.

The story goes that Horatius Cocles, while fighting with two enemies at the head of the bridge over the Tiber, which is the entrance to the city on the north, seeing a large body of men advancing to support his enemies, and fearing that they would force their way into the city, turned round, and shouted to those behind him to hasten back to the other side and break down the bridge. They obeyed him: and whilst they were breaking the bridge, he remained at his post receiving numerous wounds, and checked the progress of the enemy: his opponents being panic stricken, not so much by his strength as by the audacity with which he held his ground. When the bridge had been broken down, the attack of the enemy was stopped; and Cocles then threw himself into the river with his armour on and deliberately sacrificed his life, because he valued the safety of his country and his own future reputation more highly than his present life, and the years of existence that remained to him. Such is the enthusiasm and emulation for noble deeds that are engendered among the Romans by their customs.

Again the Roman customs and principles regarding money transactions are better than those of the Carthaginians. In the view of the latter nothing is disgraceful that makes for gain; with the former nothing is more disgraceful than to receive bribes and to make profit by improper means. For they regard wealth obtained from unlawful transactions to be as much a subject of reproach, as a fair profit from the most unquestioned source is of commendation. A proof of the fact is this. The Carthaginians obtain office by open bribery, but among the Romans the penalty for it is death. With such a radical difference, therefore, between the rewards offered to virtue among the two peoples, it is natural that the ways adopted for obtaining them should be different also.

Book 6, Part 9

But the most important difference for the better which the Roman commonwealth appears to me to display is in their religious beliefs. For I conceive that what in other nations is looked upon as a reproach, I mean a scrupulous fear of the gods, is the very thing which keeps the Roman commonwealth together. To such an extraordinary height is this carried among them, both in private and public business, that nothing could exceed it. Many people might think this unaccountable; but in my opinion their object is to use it as a check upon the common people. If it were possible to form a state wholly of philosophers, such a custom would perhaps be unnecessary. But seeing that every multitude is fickle, and full of lawless desires, unreasoning anger, and violent passion, the only resource is to keep them in check by mysterious terrors and scenic effects of this sort. Wherefore, to my mind, the ancients were not acting without purpose or at random, when they brought in among the vulgar those opinions about the gods, and the belief in the punishments in Hades: much rather do I think that men nowadays are acting rashly and foolishly in rejecting them. This is the reason why, apart from anything else, Greek statesmen, if entrusted with a single talent, though protected by ten checking-clerks, as many seals, and twice as many witnesses, yet cannot be induced to keep faith: whereas among the Romans, in their magistracies and embassies, men have the handling of a great amount of money, and yet from pure respect to their oath keep their faith intact. And, again, in other nations it is a rare thing to find a man who keeps his hands out of the public purse, and is entirely pure in such matters: but among the Romans it is a rare thing to detect a man in the act of committing such a crime. . . .

That to all things, then, which exist there is ordained decay and change I think requires no further arguments to show: for the inexorable course of nature is sufficient to convince us of it.

But in all polities we observe two sources of decay existing from natural causes, the one external, the other internal and self-produced. The external admits of no certain or fixed definition, but the internal follows a definite order. What kind of polity, then, comes naturally first, and what second, I have already stated in such a way, that those who are capable of taking in the whole drift of my argument can henceforth draw their own conclusions as to the future of the Roman polity. For it is quite clear, in my opinion. When a commonwealth, after warding off many great dangers, has arrived at a high pitch of prosperity and undisputed power, it is evident that, by the lengthened continuance of great wealth within it, the manner of life of its citizens will become more extravagant; and that the rivalry for office, and in other spheres of activity, will become fiercer than it ought to be. And as this state of things goes on more and more, the desire of office and the shame of losing reputation, as well as the ostentation and extravagance of living, will prove the beginning of a deterioration. And of this change the people will be credited with being the authors, when they become convinced that they are being cheated by some from avarice, and are puffed up with flattery by others from love of office. For when that comes about, in their passionate resentment and acting under the dictates of anger, they will refuse to obey any longer, or to be content with having equal powers with their leaders, but will demand to have all or far the greatest themselves. And when that comes to pass the constitution will receive a new name, which sounds better than any other in the world, liberty or democracy; but, in fact, it will become that worst of all governments, mob-rule.

With this description of the formation, growth, zenith, and present state of the Roman polity, and having discussed also its difference, for better and worse, from other polities, I will now at length bring my essay on it to an end.

Resuming my history from the point at which I started on this digression I will briefly refer to one transaction, that I may give a practical illustration of the perfection and power of the Roman polity at that period, as though I were producing one of his works as a specimen of the skill of a good artist.

When Hannibal, after conquering the Romans in the battle at Cannae, got possession of the eight thousand who were guarding the Roman camp, he made them all prisoners of war, and granted them permission to send messages to their relations that they might be ransomed and return home. They accordingly selected ten of their chief men, whom Hannibal allowed to depart after binding them with an oath to return. But one of them, just as he had got outside the palisade of the camp, saying that he had forgotten something, went back; and, having got what he had left behind, once more set out, under the belief that by means of this return he had kept his promise and discharged his oath. Upon the arrival of the envoys at Rome, imploring and beseeching the Senate not to grudge the captured troops their return home, but to allow them to rejoin their friends by paying three minae each for them,—for these were the terms, they said, granted by Hannibal,—and declaring that the men deserved redemption, for they had neither played the coward in the field, nor done anything unworthy of Rome, but had been left behind to guard the camp; and that, when all the rest had perished, they had yielded to absolute necessity in surrendering to Hannibal: though the Romans had been severely defeated in the battles, and though they were at the time deprived of, roughly speaking, all their allies, they neither yielded so far to misfortune as to disregard what was becoming to themselves, nor omitted to take into account any necessary consideration. They saw through Hannibal’s purpose in thus acting,—which was at once to get a large supply of money, and at the same time to take away all enthusiasm from the troops opposed to him, by showing that even the conquered had a hope of getting safe home again. Therefore the Senate, far from acceding to the request, refused all pity even to their own relations, and disregarded the services to be expected from these men in the future: and thus frustrated Hannibal’s calculations, and the hopes which he had founded on these prisoners, by refusing to ransom them; and at the same time established the rule for their own men, that they must either conquer or die on the field, as there was no other hope of safety for them if they were beaten. With this answer they dismissed the nine envoys who returned of their own accord; but the tenth who had put the cunning trick in practice for discharging himself of his oath they put in chains and delivered to the enemy. So that Hannibal was not so much rejoiced at his victory in the battle, as struck with astonishment at the unshaken firmness and lofty spirit displayed in the resolutions of these senators.

Book 7, Part 1

THE people of Capua, in Campania, becoming wealthy through the fertility of their soil, degenerated into luxury and extravagance surpassing even the common report about Croton and Sybaris. Being then unable to support their burden of prosperity they called in Hannibal; and were accordingly treated with great severity by Rome. But the people of Petelia maintained their loyalty to Rome and held out so obstinately, when besieged by Hannibal, that after having eaten all the leather in the town, and the bark of all the trees in it, and having stood the siege for eleven months, as no one came to their relief, they surrendered with the entire approval of the Romans. . . . But Capua by its influence drew over the other cities to the Carthaginians. . . .

After the plot against Hieronymus, King of Syracuse, Thraso having departed, Zoippus and Andranodorus persuaded Hieronymus to lose no time in sending ambassadors to Hannibal. He accordingly selected Polycleitus of Cyrene and Philodemus of Argos for the purpose, and sent them into Italy, with a commission to discuss the subject of an alliance with the Carthaginians; and at the same time he sent his brothers to Alexandria. Hannibal received Polycleitus and Philodemus with warmth; held out great prospects to the young king; and sent the ambassadors back without delay, accompanied by the commander of his triremes, a Carthaginian also named Hannibal, and the Syracusan Hippocrates and his younger brother Epicydes. These men had been for some time serving in Hannibal’s army, being domiciled at Carthage, owing to their grandfather having been banished from Syracuse because he was believed to have assassinated Agatharchus, one of the sons of Agathocles. On the arrival of these commissioners at Syracuse, Polycleitus and his colleague reported the result of their embassy, and the Carthaginian delivered the message given by Hannibal: whereupon the king without hesitation expressed his willingness to make a treaty with the Carthaginians; and, begging the Hannibal who had come to him to go with all speed to Carthage, promised that he also would send commissioners from his own court, to settle matters with the Carthaginians.

Meanwhile intelligence of this transaction had reached the Roman praetor at Lilybaeum, who immediately despatched legates to Hieronymus, to renew the treaty which had been made with his ancestors. Being thoroughly annoyed with this embassy, Hieronymus said that He was sorry for the Romans that they had come to such utter and shameful grief in the battles in Italy at the hands of the Carthaginians. The legates were overpowered by the rudeness of the answer: still they proceeded to ask him, Who said such things about them? Whereupon the king pointed to the Carthaginian envoys who were there, and said, You had better convict them, if they have really been telling me lies? The Roman legates answered that it was not their habit to take the word of enemies: and advised him to do nothing in violation of the existing treaty; for that would be at once equitable and the best thing for himself. To this the king answered that he would take time to consider of it, and tell them his decision another time; but he proceeded to ask them, How it came about that before his grandfather’s death a squadron of fifty Roman ships had sailed as far as Pachynus and then gone back again. The fact was that a short time ago the Romans had heard that Hiero was dead; and being much alarmed lest people in Syracuse, despising the youth of the grandson whom he left, should stir up a revolution, they had made this cruise with the intention of being ready there to assist his youthful weakness, and to help in maintaining his authority; but being informed that his grandfather was still alive, they sailed back again. When the ambassadors had stated these facts, the young king answered again, Then please to allow me too now, O Romans, to maintain my authority by sailing back to see what I can get from Carthage. The Roman legates perceiving the warmth with which the king was engaging in his policy, said nothing at the time; but returned and informed the praetor who had sent them of what had been said. From that time forward, therefore, the Romans kept a careful watch upon him as an enemy.

Hieronymus on his part selected Agatharchus, Onesimus, and Hipposthenes to send with Hannibal to Carthage, with instructions to make an alliance on the following terms: The Carthaginians to assist him with land and sea forces, in expelling the Romans from Sicily, and then divide the island with him; so as to have the river Himera, which divides Sicily almost exactly in half, as the boundary between the two provinces. The commissioners arrived in Carthage: and finding, on coming to a conference, that the Carthaginians were prepared to meet them in every point, they completed the arrangement. Meanwhile Hippocrates got the young Hieronymus entirely into his hands: and at first fired his imagination by telling him of Hannibal’s marches and pitched battles in Italy; and afterwards by repeating to him that no one had a better right to the government of all Siceliots than he; in the first place as the son of Nereis daughter of Pyrrhus, the only man whom all Siceliots alike had accepted deliberately and with full assent as their leader and king; and in the second place in virtue of his grandfather Hiero’s sovereign rights. At last he and his brother so won upon the young man by their conversation, that he would attend to no one else at all: partly from the natural feebleness of his character, but still more from the ambitious feelings which they had excited in him. And therefore, just when Agatharchus and his colleagues were completing the business on which they had been sent in Carthage, he sent fresh ambassadors, saying that all Sicily belonged to him; and demanding that the Carthaginians should help him to recover Sicily: while he promised that he would assist the Carthaginians in their Italian campaign. Though the Carthaginians now saw perfectly well the whole extent of the young man’s fickleness and infatuation: yet thinking it to be in manifold ways to their interests not to let Sicilian affairs out of their hands, they assented to his demands; and having already prepared ships and men, they set about arranging for the transport of their forces into Sicily.

Book 7, Part 2

When they heard of this, the Romans sent legates to him again, protesting against his violation of the treaty made with his forefathers. Hieronymus thereupon summoned a meeting of his council and consulted them as to what he was to do. The native members of it kept silent, because they feared the folly of their ruler. Aristomachus of Corinth, Damippus of Sparta, Autonous of Thessaly advised that he should abide by the treaty with Rome. Andranodorus alone urged that he should not let the opportunity slip; and affirmed that the present was the only chance of establishing his rule over Sicily. After the delivery of this speech, the king asked Hippocrates and his brother what they thought, and upon their answering, The same as Andranodorus, the deliberation was concluded in that sense. Thus, then, war with Rome had been decided upon: but while the king was anxious to be thought to have given an adroit answer to the ambassadors, he committed himself to such an utter absurdity as to make it certain that he would not only fail to conciliate the Romans, but would inevitably offend them violently. For he said that he would abide by the treaty, firstly, if the Romans would repay all the gold they had received from his grandfather Hiero; and secondly, if they would return the corn and other presents which they had received from him from the first day of their intercourse with him; and thirdly, if they would acknowledge all Sicily east of the Himera to be Syracusan territory. At these propositions of course the ambassadors and council separated; and from that time forth Hieronymus began pushing on his preparations for war with energy: collected and armed his forces, and got ready the other necessary provisions. . . .

The city of Leontini taken as a whole faces north, and is divided in half by a valley of level ground, in which are the state buildings, the courthouses, and market-place. Along each side of this valley run hills with steep banks all the way; the flat tops of which, reached after crossing their brows, are covered with houses and temples. The city has two gates, one on the southern extremity of this valley leading to Syracuse, the other at the northern leading on to the Leontine plains, and the arable district. Close under the westernmost of the steep cliffs runs a river called Lissus; parallel to which are built continuous rows of houses, in great numbers, close under the cliff, between which and the river runs the road I have mentioned. . . .

Some of the historians who have described the fall of Hieronymus have written at great length and in terms of mysterious solemnity. They tell us of prodigies preceding his coming to the throne, and of the misfortunes of Syracuse. They describe in dramatic language the cruelty of his character and the impiety of his actions; and crown all with the sudden and terrible nature of the circumstances attending his fall. One would think from their description that neither Phalaris, nor Apollodorus, nor any other tyrant was ever fiercer than he. Yet he was a mere boy when he succeeded to power, and only lived thirteen months after. In this space of time it is possible that one or two men may have been put to the rack, or certain of his friends, or other Syracusan citizens, put to death; but it is improbable that his tyranny could have been extravagantly wicked, or his impiety outrageous. It must be confessed that he was reckless and unscrupulous in disposition; still we cannot compare him with either of the tyrants I have named. The fact is that those who write the histories of particular episodes, having undertaken limited and narrow themes, appear to me to be compelled from poverty of matter to exaggerate insignificant incidents, and to speak at inordinate length on subjects that scarcely deserve to be recorded at all. There are some, too, who fall into a similar mistake from mere want of judgment. With how much more reason might the space employed on these descriptions,—which they use merely to fill up and spin out their books,—have been devoted to Hiero and Gelo, without mentioning Hieronymus at all! It would have given greater pleasure to readers and more instruction to students.

For, in the first place, Hiero gained the sovereignty of Syracuse and her allies by his own unaided abilities without inheriting wealth, or reputation, or any other advantage of fortune. And, in the second place, was established king of Syracuse without putting to death, banishing, or harassing any one of the citizens,—which is the most astonishing circumstance of all. And what is quite as surprising as the innocence of his acquisition of power is the fact that it did not change his character. For during a reign of fifty-four years he preserved peace for the country, maintained his own power free from all hostile plots, and entirely escaped the envy which generally follows greatness; for though he tried on several occasions to lay down his power, he was prevented by the common remonstrances of the citizens. And having shown himself most beneficent to the Greeks, and most anxious to earn their good opinion, he left behind him not merely a great personal reputation but also a universal feeling of goodwill towards the Syracusans. Again, though he passed his life in the midst of the greatest wealth, luxury, and abundance, he survived for more than ninety years, in full possession of his senses and with all parts of his body unimpaired; which, to my mind, is a decisive proof of a well-spent life. . . .

Book 7, Part 3

Gelo, his son, in a life of more than fifty years regarded it as the most honourable object of ambition to obey his father, and to regard neither wealth, nor sovereign power, nor anything else as of higher value than love and loyalty to his parents. . . .

This is a sworn treaty made between Hannibal, Mago, Barmocarus, and such members of the Carthaginian Gerusia as were present, and all Carthaginians serving in his army, on the one part; and Xenophanes, son of Cleomachus of Athens, sent to us by King Philip, as his ambassador, on behalf of himself, the Macedonians, and their allies, on the other part.

The oath is taken in the presence of Zeus, Here, and Apollo: of the god of the Carthaginians, Hercules, and Iolaus: of Ares, Triton, Poseidon: of the gods that accompany the army, and of the sun, moon, and earth: of rivers, harbours, waters: of all the gods who rule Carthage: of all the gods who rule Macedonia and the rest of Greece: of all the gods of war that are witnesses to this oath.

Hannibal, general, and all the Carthaginian senators with him, and all Carthaginians serving in his army, subject to our mutual consent, proposes to make this sworn treaty of friendship and honourable good-will. Let us be friends, close allies, and brethren, on the conditions herein following:—

Book 7, Part 4

(1) Let the Carthaginians, as supreme, Hannibal their chief general and those serving with him, all members of the Carthaginian dominion living under the same laws, as well as the people of Utica, and the cities and tribes subject to Carthage, and their soldiers and allies, and all cities and tribes in Italy, Celt-land, and Liguria, with whom we have a compact of friendship, and with whomsoever in this country we may hereafter form such compact, be supported by King Philip and the Macedonians, and all other Greeks in alliance with them.

(2) On their parts also King Philip and the Macedonians, and such other Greeks as are his allies, shall be supported and protected by the Carthaginians now in this army, and by the people of Utica, and by all cities and tribes subject to Carthage, both soldiers and allies, and by all allied cities and tribes in Italy, Celt-land, and Liguria, and by all others in Italy as shall hereafter become allies of the Carthaginians.

(3) We will not make plots against, nor lie in ambush for, each other; but in all sincerity and good-will, without reserve or secret design, will be enemies to the enemies of the Carthaginians, saving and excepting those kings, cities, and ports with which we have sworn agreements and friendships.

(4) And we, too, will be enemies to the enemies of King Philip, saving and excepting those kings, cities, and tribes, with which we have sworn agreements and friendships.

Book 7, Part 5

(5) Ye shall be friends to us in the war in which we now are engaged against the Romans, till such time as the gods give us and you the victory: and ye shall assist us in all ways that be needful, and in whatsoever way we may mutually determine.

(6) And when the gods have given us victory in our war with the Romans and their allies, if Hannibal shall deem it right to make terms with the Romans, these terms shall include the same friendship with you, made on these conditions: (1) the Romans not to be allowed to make war on you; (2) not to have power over Corcyra, Apollonia, Epidamnum, Pharos, Dimale, Parthini, nor Atitania; (3) to restore to Demetrius of Pharos all those of his friends now in the dominion of Rome.

(7) If the Romans ever make war on you or on us we will aid each other in such war, according to the need of either.

(8) So also if any other nation whatever does so, always excepting kings, cities, and tribes, with whom we have sworn agreements and friendships.

Book 7, Part 6

(9) If we decide to take away from, or add to this sworn treaty, we will so take away, or add thereto, only as we both may agree. . . .

Democracy being established at Messene, and the men of rank having been banished, while those who had received allotments on their lands obtained the chief influence in the government, those of the old citizens who remained found it very hard to put up with the equality which these men had obtained. . . .

Gorgus of Messene, in wealth and extraction, was inferior to no one in the town; and had been a famous athlete in his time, far surpassing all rivals in that pursuit. In fact he was not behind any man of his day in physical beauty, or the general dignity of his manner of life, or the number of prizes he had won. Again, when he gave up athletics and devoted himself to politics and the service of his country, he gained no less reputation in this department than in his former pursuit. For he was removed from the Philistinism that usually characterises athletes, and was looked upon as in the highest degree an able and clear-headed politician. . . .

Philip, king of the Macedonians, being desirous of seizing the acropolis of Messene, told the leaders of the city that he wished to see it and to sacrifice to Zeus, and accordingly walked up thither with his attendants and joined in the sacrifice. When, according to custom, the entrails of the slaughtered victims were brought to him, he took them in his hands, and, turning round a little to one side, held them out to Aratus and asked him what he thought the sacrifices indicated? To quit the citadel or hold it? Thereupon Demetrius struck in on the spur of the moment by saying, If you have the heart of an augur,—to quit it as quick as you can: but if of a gallant and wise king, to keep it, lest if you quit it now you may never have so good an opportunity again: for it is by thus holding the two horns that you can alone keep the ox under your control. By the two horns he meant Ithome and the Acrocorinthus, and by the ox the Peloponnese. Thereupon Philip turned to Aratus and said, And do you give the same advice? Aratus not making any answer at once, he urged him to speak his real opinion. After some hesitation he said, If you can get possession of this place without treachery to the Messenians, I advise you to do so; but if, by the act of occupying this citadel with a guard, you shall ruin all the citadels, and the guard wherewith the allies were protected when they came into your hands from Antigonus (meaning by that, confidence), consider whether it is not better to take your men away and leave the confidence there, and with it guard the Messenians, and the other allies as well. As far as his own inclination was concerned, Philip was ready enough to commit an act of treachery, as his own subsequent conduct proved: but having been sharply rebuked a little while before by the younger Aratus for his destruction of human life; and seeing that, on the present occasion, the elder spoke with boldness and authority, and begged him not to neglect his advice, he gave in from sheer shame, and taking the latter by his right hand, said, Then let us go back the same way we came.

Book 7, Part 7

I wish here to stop in my narrative in order to speak briefly of the character of Philip, because this was the beginning of the change and deterioration in it. For I think that no more telling example can be proposed to practical statesmen who wish to correct their ideas by a study of history. For the splendour of his early career, and the brilliancy of his genius, have caused the dispositions for good and evil displayed by this king to be more conspicuous and widely known throughout Greece than is the case with any other man; as well as the contrast between the results accompanying the display of those opposite tendencies.

Now that, upon his accession to the throne, Thessaly, Macedonia, and in fact all parts of his own kingdom were more thoroughly loyal and well disposed to him, young as he was on his succeeding to the government of Macedonia, than they had ever been to any of his predecessors, may be without difficulty inferred from the following fact. Though he was with extreme frequency forced to leave Macedonia by the Aetolian and Lacedaemonian wars, not only was there no disturbance in these countries, but not a single one of the neighbouring barbarians ventured to touch Macedonia. It would be impossible, again, to speak in strong enough terms of the affection of Alexander, Chrysogonus, and his other friends towards him; or that of the Epirotes, Acarnanians, and all those on whom he had within a short time conferred great benefits. On the whole, if one may use a somewhat hyperbolical phrase, I think it has been said of Philip with very great propriety, that his beneficent policy had made him The darling of all Greece. And it is a conspicuous and striking proof of the advantage of lofty principle and strict integrity, that the Cretans, having at length come to an understanding with each other and made a national alliance, selected Philip to arbitrate between them; and that this settlement was completed without an appeal to arms and without danger,—a thing for which it would be difficult to find a precedent in similar circumstances. From the time of his exploits at Messene all this was utterly changed. And it was natural that it should be so. For his purposes being now entirely reversed, it inevitably followed that men’s opinions of him should be reversed also, as well as the success of his various undertakings. This actually was the case, as will become evident to attentive students from what I am now about to relate. . . .

Aratus seeing that Philip was now openly engaging in war with Rome, and entirely changed in his policy toward his allies, with difficulty diverted him from his intention by suggesting numerous difficulties and scruples.

I wish now to remind my readers of what, in my fifth Book, I put forward merely as a promise and unsupported statement, but which has now been confirmed by facts; in order that I may not leave any proposition of mine unproved or open to question. In the course of my history of the Aetolian war, where I had to relate the violent proceedings of Philip in destroying the colonnades and other sacred objects at Thermus; and added that, in consideration of his youth, the blame of these measures ought not to be referred to Philip so much as to his advisers; I then remarked that the life of Aratus sufficiently proved that he would not have committed such an act of wickedness, but that such principles exactly suited Demetrius of Pharos; and I promised to make this clear from what I was next to narrate. I thereby designedly postponed the demonstration of the truth of my assertion, till I had come to the period of which I have just been speaking; that, namely, in which with the presence of Demetrius, and in the absence of Aratus, who arrived a day too late, Philip made the first step in his career of crime; and, as though from the first taste of human blood and murder and treason to his allies, was changed not into a wolf from a man, as in the Arcadian fable mentioned by Plato, but from a king into a savage tyrant. But a still more decisive proof of the sentiments of these two men is furnished by the plot against the citadel of Messene, and may help us to make up our minds which of the two were responsible for the proceedings in the Aetolian war; and, when we are satisfied on that point, it will be easy to form a judgment on the differences of their principles.

Book 7, Part 8

For as in this instance, under the influence of Aratus, Philip refrained from actually breaking faith with the Messenians in regard to the citadel; and thus, to use a common expression, poured a little balm into the wide wound which his slaughters had caused: so in the Aetolian war, when under the influence of Demetrius, he sinned against the gods by destroying the objects consecrated to them, and against man by transgressing the laws of war; and entirely deserted his original principles, by showing himself an implacable and bitter foe to all who opposed him. The same remark applies to the Cretan business. As long as he employed Aratus as his chief director, not only without doing injustice to a single islander, but without even causing them any vexation, he kept the whole Cretan people under control; and led all the Greeks to regard him with favour, owing to the greatness of character which he displayed. So again, when under the guidance of Demetrius, he became the cause of the misfortunes I have described to the Messenians, he at once lost the good-will of the allies and his credit with the rest of Greece. Such a decisive influence for good or evil in the security of their government has the choice by youthful sovereigns of the friends who are to surround them; though it is a subject on which by some unaccountable carelessness they take not the smallest care. . . .

Round Sardis ceaseless and protracted skirmishes were taking place and fighting by night and day, both armies inventing every possible kind of plot and counterplot against each other: to describe which in detail would be as useless as it would be in the last degree wearisome. At last, when the siege had already entered upon its second year, Lagoras the Cretan came forward. He had had a considerable experience in war, and had learnt that as a rule cities fall into the hands of their enemies most easily from some neglect on the part of their inhabitants, when, trusting to the natural or artificial strength of their defences, they neglect to keep proper guard and become thoroughly careless. He had observed too, that in such fortified cities captures were effected at the points of greatest strength, which were believed to have been despaired of by the enemy. So in the present instance, when he saw that the prevailing notion of the strength of Sardis caused the whole army to despair of taking it by storm, and to believe that the one hope of getting it was by starving it out, he gave all the closer attention to the subject; and eagerly scanned every possible method of making an attempt to capture the town. Having observed therefore that a portion of the wall was unguarded, near a place called the Saw, which unites the citadel and city, he conceived the hope and idea of performing this exploit. He had discovered the carelessness of the men guarding this wall from the following circumstance. The place was extremely precipitous: and there was a deep gully below, into which dead bodies from the city, and the offal of horses and beasts of burden that died, were accustomed to be thrown; and in this place therefore there was always a great number of vultures and other birds collected. Having observed, then, that when these creatures were gorged, they always sat undisturbed upon the cliffs and the wall, he concluded that the wall must necessarily be left unguarded and deserted for the larger part of the day. Accordingly, under cover of night, he went to the spot and carefully examined the possibilities of approaching it and setting ladders; and finding that this was possible at one particular rock, he communicated the facts to the king.

Antiochus encouraged the attempt and urged Lagoras to carry it out. The latter promised to do his best, and desired the king to join with him Theodotus the Aetolian, and Dionysius the commander of his bodyguard, with orders to devote them to assist him in carrying out the intended interprise. The king at once granted his request, and these officers agreed to undertake it: and having held a consultation on the whole subject, they waited for a night on which there should be no moon just before daybreak. Such a night having arrived, on the day on which they intended to act, an hour before sunset, they selected from the whole army fifteen of the strongest and most courageous men to carry the ladders, and also to mount with them and share in the daring attempt. After these they selected thirty others, to remain in reserve at a certain distance; that, as soon as they had themselves climbed over the walls, and come to the nearest gate, the thirty might come up to it from the outside and try to knock off the hinges and fastenings, while they on the inside cut the cross bar and bolt pins. They also selected two thousand men to follow behind the thirty, who were to rush into the town with them and seize the area of the theatre, which was a favourable position to hold against those on the citadel, as well as those in the town. To prevent suspicion of the truth getting about, owing to the picking out of the men, the king gave out that the Aetolians were about to throw themselves into the town through a certain gully, and that it was necessary, in view of that information, to take energetic measures to prevent them.

When Lagoras and his party had made all their preparations, as soon as the moon set, they came stealthily to the foot of the cliffs with their scaling ladders, and ensconced themselves under a certain overhanging rock. When day broke, and the picket as usual broke up from that spot; and the king in the ordinary way told off some men to take their usual posts, and led the main body on to the hippodrome and drew them up; at first no one suspected what was going on. But when two ladders were fixed, and Dionysius led the way up one, and Lagoras up the other, there was excitement and a stir throughout the camp. For while the climbing party were not visible to the people in the town, or to Achaeus in the citadel, because of the beetling brow of the rock, their bold and adventurous ascent was in full view of the camp; which accordingly was divided in feeling between astonishment at the strangeness of the spectacle, and a nervous horror of what was going to happen next, all standing dumb with exulting wonder. Observing the excitement in the camp, and wishing to divert the attention both of his own men and of those in the city from what was going on, the king ordered an advance; and delivered an attack upon the gates on the other side of the town, called the Persian gates. Seeing from the citadel the unwonted stir in the camp, Achaeus was for some time at a loss to know what to do, being puzzled to account for it, and quite unable to see what was taking place. However he despatched a force to oppose the enemy at the gate; whose assistance was slow in arriving, because they had to descend from the citadel by a narrow and precipitous path. But Aribazus, the commandant of the town, went unsuspiciously to the gates on which he saw Antiochus advancing; and caused some of his men to mount the wall, and sent others out through the gate, with orders to hinder the approaching enemies, and come to close quarters with them.

Book 7, Part 9

Meanwhile Lagoras, Theodotus, Dionysius, and their men had climbed the rocks and had arrived at the gate nearest them; and some of them were engaged in fighting the troops sent from the citadel to oppose them, while others were cutting through the bars; and at the same time the party outside told off for that service were doing the same. The gates having thus been quickly forced open, the two thousand entered and occupied the area round the theatre. On this all the men from the walls, and from the Persian gate, to which Aribazus had already led a relieving force, rushed in hot haste to pass the word to attack the enemy within the gates. The result was that, the gate having been opened as they retreated, some of the king’s army rushed in along with the retiring garrison; and, when they had thus taken possession of the gate, they were followed by an unbroken stream of their comrades; some of whom poured through the gate, while others employed themselves in bursting open other gates in the vicinity. Aribazus and all the men in the city, after a brief struggle against the enemy who had thus got within the walls, fled with all speed to the citadel. After that, Theodotus and Lagoras and their party remained on the ground near the theatre, determining with great good sense and soldier-like prudence to form a reserve until the whole operation was completed; while the main body rushed in on every side and occupied the town. And now by dint of some putting all they met to the sword, others setting fire to the houses, others devoting themselves to plunder and taking booty, the destruction and sacking of the town was completed. Thus did Antiochus become master of Sardis. . . .

Book 8, Part 1

TIBERIUS a Roman Pro-consul fell into an ambuscade, and, after offering with his attendants a gallant resistance to the enemy, was killed.

Now in regard to such catastrophes, whether it is right to blame or pardon the sufferers is by no means a safe matter on which to pronounce an opinion; because it has happened to several men, who have been perfectly correct in all their actions, to fall into these misfortunes, equally with those who do not scruple to transgress principles of right confirmed by the consent of mankind. We should not however idly refrain from pronouncing an opinion: but should blame or condone this or that general, after a review of the necessities of the moment and the circumstances of the case. And my observation will be rendered evident by the following instances. Archidamus, king of the Lacedaemonians, alarmed at the love of power which he observed in Cleomenes, fled from Sparta; but being not long afterwards persuaded to return, put himself in the power of the latter. The consequence was that he lost his kingdom and his life together, and left a character not to be defended before posterity on the score of prudence; for while affairs remained in the same state, and the ambition and power of Cleomenes remained in exactly the same position, how could he expect to meet any other fate than he did, if he put himself in the hands of the very men from whom he had before barely escaped destruction by flight? Again Pelopidas of Thebes, though acquainted with the unprincipled character of the tyrant Alexander, and though he knew thoroughly well that every tyrant regards the leaders of liberty as his bitterest enemies, first took upon himself to persuade Epaminondas to stand forth as the champion of democracy, not only in Thebes, but in all Greece also; and then, being in Thessaly in arms, for the express purpose of destroying the absolute rule of Alexander, he yet twice ventured to undertake a mission to him. The consequence was that he fell into the hands of his enemies, did great damage to Thebes, and ruined the reputation he had acquired before; and all by putting a rash and ill advised confidence in the very last person in whom he ought to have done so. Very similar to these cases is that of the Roman Consul Gnaeus Cornelius who fell in the Sicilian war by imprudently putting himself in the power of the enemy. And many parallel cases might be quoted.

The conclusion, then, is that those who put themselves in the power of the enemy from want of proper precaution deserve blame; but those who use every practicable precaution not so: for to trust absolutely no one is to make all action impossible; but reasonable action, taken after receiving adequate security, cannot be censured. Adequate securities are oaths, children, wives, and, strongest of all, a blameless past. To be betrayed and entrapped by such a security as any of these is a slur, not on the deceived, but on the deceiver. The first object then should be to seek such securities as it is impossible for the recipient of the confidence to evade; but since such are rare, the next best thing will be to take every reasonable precaution one’s self: and then, if we meet with any disaster, we shall at least be acquitted of wrong conduct by the lookers on. And this has been the case with many before now: of which the most conspicuous example, and the one nearest to the times on which we are engaged, will be the fate of Achaeus. He omitted no possible precaution for securing his safety, but thought of everything that it was possible for human ingenuity to conceive: and yet he fell into the power of his enemies. In this instance his misfortune procured the pity and pardon of the outside world for the victim, and nothing but disparagement and loathing for the successful perpetrators. . . .

It appears to me not to be alien to my general purpose, and the plan which I originally laid down, to recall the attention of my readers to the magnitude of the events, and the persistency of purpose displayed by the two States of Rome and Carthage. For who could think it otherwise than remarkable that these two powers, while engaged in so serious a war for the possession of Italy, and one no less serious for that of Iberia; and being still both of them equally balanced between uncertain hopes and fears for the future of these wars, and confronted at the very time with battles equally formidable to either, should yet not be content with their existing undertakings: but should raise another controversy as to the possession of Sardinia and Sicily; and not content with merely hoping for all these things, should grasp at them with all the resources of their wealth and warlike forces? Indeed the more we examine into details the greater becomes our astonishment. The Romans had two complete armies under the two Consuls on active service in Italy; two in Iberia in which Gnaeus Cornelius commanded the land, Publius Cornelius the naval forces; and naturally the same was the case with the Carthaginians. But besides this, a Roman fleet was anchored off Greece, watching it and the movements of Philip, of which first Marcus Valerius, and afterward Publius Sulpicius was in command. Along with all these undertakings Appius with a hundred quinqueremes, and Marcus Claudius with an army, were threatening Sicily; while Hamilcar was doing the same on the side of the Carthaginians.

By means of these facts I presume that what I more than once asserted at the beginning of my work is now shown by actual experience to deserve unmixed credit. I mean my assertion, that it is impossible for historians of particular places to get a view of universal history. For how is it possible for a man who has only read a separate history of Sicilian or Spanish affairs to understand and grasp the greatness of the events? Or, what is still more important, in what manner and under what form of polity fortune brought to pass that most surprising of all revolutions that have happened in our time, I mean the reduction of all known parts of the world under one rule and governance, a thing unprecedented in the history of mankind. In what manner the Romans took Syracuse or Iberia may be possibly learned to a certain extent by means of such particular histories; but how they arrived at universal supremacy, and what opposition their grand designs met with in particular places, or what on the other hand contributed to their success, and at what epochs, this it is difficult to take in without the aid of universal history. Nor, again, is it easy to appreciate the greatness of their achievements except by the latter method. For the fact of the Romans having sought to gain Iberia, or at another time Sicily; or having gone on a campaign with military and naval forces, told by itself, would not be anything very wonderful. But if we learn that these were all done at once, and that many more undertakings were in course of accomplishment at the same time,—all at the cost of one government and commonwealth; and if we see what dangers and wars in their own territory were, at the very time, encumbering the men who had all these things on hand: thus, and only thus, will the astonishing nature of the events fully dawn upon us, and obtain the attention which they deserve. So much for those who suppose that by studying an episode they have become acquainted with universal history. . . .

When Epicydes and Hippocrates had occupied Syracuse, and had alienated the rest of the citizens with themselves from the friendship of Rome, the Romans who had already been informed of the murder of Hieronymus, tyrant of Syracuse, appointed Appius Claudius as Pro-praetor to command a land force, while Marcus Claudius Marcellus commanded the fleet. These officers took up a position not far from Syracuse, and determined to assault the town from the land at Hexapylus, and by sea at what was called Stoa Scytice in Achradina, where the wall has its foundation close down to the sea. Having prepared their wicker pent-houses, and darts, and other siege material, they felt confident that, with so many hands employed, they would in five days get their works in such an advanced state as to give them the advantage over the enemy. But in this they did not take into account the abilities of Archimedes; nor calculate on the truth that, in certain circumstances, the genius of one man is more effective than any numbers whatever. However they now learnt it by experience. The city was strong from the fact of its encircling wall lying along a chain of hills with overhanging brows, the ascent of which was no easy task, even with no one to hinder it, except at certain definite points. Taking advantage of this, Archimedes had constructed such defences both in the town, and at the places where an attack might be made by sea, that the garrison would have everything at hand which they might require at any moment, and be ready to meet without delay whatever the enemy might attempt against them.

The attack was begun by Appius bringing his penthouses, and scaling ladders, and attempting to fix the latter against that part of the wall which abuts on Hexapylus towards the east. At the same time Marcus Claudius Marcellus with sixty quinqueremes was making a descent upon Achradina. Each of these vessels were full of men armed with bows and slings and javelins, with which to dislodge those who fought on the battlements. As well as these vessels he had eight quinqueremes in pairs. Each pair had had their oars removed, one on the larboard and the other on the starboard side, and then had been lashed together on the sides thus left bare. On these double vessels, rowed by the outer oars of each of the pair, they brought up under the walls some engines called Sambucae, the construction of which was as follows:—A ladder was made four feet broad, and of a height to reach the top of the wall from the place where its foot had to rest; each side of the ladder was protected by a railing, and a covering or pent-house was added overhead. It was then placed so that its foot rested across the sides of the lashed-together vessels, which touched each other with its other extremity protruding a considerable way beyond the prows. On the tops of the masts pulleys were fixed with ropes: and when the engines were about to be used, men standing on the sterns of the vessels drew the ropes tied to the head of the ladder, while others standing on the prows assisted the raising of the machine and kept it steady with long poles. Having then brought the ships close in shore by using the outer oars of both vessels they tried to let the machine down upon the wall. At the head of the ladder was fixed a wooden stage secured on three sides by wicker-shields, upon which stood four men who fought and struggled with those who tried to prevent the Sambuca from being made to rest on the battlements. But when they have fixed it and so got above the level of the top of the wall, the four men unfasten the wicker-shields from either side of the stage, and walk out upon the battlements or towers as the case may be; they are followed by their comrades coming up by the Sambuca, since the ladder’s foot is safely secured with ropes and stands upon both the ships. This construction has got the name of Sambuca, or Harp, for the natural reason, that when it is raised the combination of the ship and ladder has very much the appearance of such an instrument.

Book 8, Part 2

With such contrivances and preparations were the Romans intending to assault the towers.But Archimedes had constructed catapults to suit every range; and as the ships sailing up were still at a considerable distance, he so wounded the enemy with stones and darts, from the tighter wound and longer engines, as to harass and perplex them to the last degree; and when these began to carry over their heads, he used smaller engines graduated according to the range required from time to time, and by this means caused so much confusion among them as to altogether check their advance and attack; and finally Marcellus was reduced in despair to bringing up his ships under cover of night. But when they had come close to land, and so too near to be hit by the catapults, they found that Archimedes had prepared another contrivance against the soldiers who fought from the decks. He had pierced the wall as high as a man’s stature with numerous loop-holes, which, on the outside, were about as big as the palm of the hand. Inside the wall he stationed archers and cross-bows, or scorpions, and by the volleys discharged through these he made the marines useless. By these means he not only baffled the enemy, whether at a distance or close at hand, but also killed the greater number of them. As often, too, as they tried to work their Sambucae, he had engines ready all along the walls, not visible at other times, but which suddenly reared themselves above the wall from inside, when the moment for their use had come, and stretched their beams far over the battlements, some of them carrying stones weighing as much as ten talents, and others great masses of lead. So whenever the Sambucae were approaching, these beams swung round on their pivot the required distance, and by means of a rope running through a pulley dropped the stone upon the Sambucae, with the result that it not only smashed the machine itself to pieces, but put the ship also and all on board into the most serious danger.

Other machines which he invented were directed against storming parties, who, advancing under the protection of penthouses, were secured by them from being hurt by missiles shot through the walls. Against these he either shot stones big enough to drive the marines from the prow; or let down an iron hand swung on a chain, by which the man who guided the crane, having fastened on some part of the prow where he could get a hold, pressed down the lever of the machine inside the wall; and when he had thus lifted the prow and made the vessel rest upright on its stern, he fastened the lever of his machine so that it could not be moved; and then suddenly slackened the hand and chain by means of a rope and pulley. The result was that many of the vessels heeled over and fell on their sides: some completely capsized; while the greater number, by their prows coming down suddenly from a height, dipped low in the sea, shipped a great quantity of water, and became a scene of the utmost confusion. Though reduced almost to despair by these baffling inventions of Archimedes, and though he saw that all his attempts were repulsed by the garrison with mockery on their part and loss to himself, Marcellus could not yet refrain from making a joke at his own expense, saying that Archimedes was using his ships to ladle out the sea-water, but that his harps not having been invited to the party were buffeted and turned out with disgrace. Such was the end of the attempt at storming Syracuse by sea.

Nor was Appius Claudius more successful. He, too, was compelled by similar difficulties to desist from the attempt; for while his men were still at a considerable distance from the wall, they began falling by the stones and shots from the engines and catapults. The volleys of missiles, indeed, were extraordinarily rapid and sharp, for their construction had been provided for by all the liberality of a Hiero, and had been planned and engineered by the skill of an Archimedes. Moreover, when they did at length get near the walls, they were prevented from making an assault by the unceasing fire through the loop-holes, which I mentioned before; or if they tried to carry the place under cover of pent-houses, they were killed by the stones and beams let down upon their heads. The garrison also did them no little damage with those hands at the end of their engines; for they used to lift the men, armour, and all, into the air, and then throw them down. At last Appius retired into the camp, and summoning the Tribunes to a council of war, decided to try every possible means of taking Syracuse except a storm. And this decision they carried out; for during the eight months of siege which followed, though there was no stratagem or measure of daring which they did not attempt, they never again ventured to attempt a storm. So true it is that one man and one intellect, properly qualified for the particular undertaking, is a host in itself and of extraordinary efficacy. In this instance, at any rate, we find the Romans confident that their forces by land and sea would enable them to become masters of the town, if only one old man could be got rid of; while as long as he remained there, they did not venture even to think of making the attempt, at least by any method which made it possible for Archimedes to oppose them. They believed, however, that their best chance of reducing the garrison was by a failure of provisions sufficient for so large a number as were within the town; they therefore relied upon this hope, and with their ships tried to cut off their supplies by sea, and with their army by land. But desiring that the time during which they were blockading Syracuse should not be entirely wasted, but that some addition should be made to their power in other parts of the country, the two commanders separated and divided the troops between them: Appius Claudius keeping two-thirds and continuing the blockade, while Marcus Marcellus with the remaining third went to attack the cities that sided with the Carthaginians. . . .

Upon arriving in Messenia Philip began devasting the country, like an open enemy, with more passion than reason; for while pursuing this continuous course of injurious actions, he expected, it appears to me, that the sufferers would feel no anger or hatred towards him. I was induced to speak of these proceedings in somewhat full detail in the present as well as in the last book, not alone by the same motives as those which I have assigned for other parts of my work, but also by the fact that of our historians, some have entirely omitted this Messenian episode; while others from love or fear of kings have maintained that, so far from the outrages committed by Philip in defiance of religion and law upon the Messenians being a subject of blame, his actions were on the contrary matters for praise and gratulation. But it is not only in regard to the Messenians that we may notice the historians of Philip acting thus; they have done much the same in other cases also. And the result is that their compositions have the appearance of a panegyric rather than of a history. I however hold that an historian ought neither to blame or praise kings untruly, as has often been done; but to make what we say consistent with what has been written before, and tally with the characters of the several persons in question. But it may be urged perhaps that this is easy to say, but very difficult to carry out; because situations and circumstances are so many and various, to which men have to give way in the course of their life, and which prevent them from speaking out their real opinions. This may excuse some, but not others.

I do not know any one who deserves more blame in this particular than Theopompus. In the beginning of his history of Philip he said that what chiefly induced him to undertake it was the fact that Europe had never produced such a man as Philip son of Amyntas; and then immediately afterwards, both in his preface and in the whole course of his history, he represents this king as so madly addicted to women, that he did all that in him lay to ruin his own family by this inordinate passion; as having behaved with the grossest unfairness and perfidy to his friends and allies; as having enslaved and treacherously seized a vast number of towns by force or fraud; and as having been besides so violently addicted to strong drink, that he was often seen by his friends drunk in open day. But if any one will take the trouble to read the opening passage of his forty-ninth book, he would be indeed astonished at this writer’s extravagance. Besides his other strange statements he has ventured to write as follows—for I here subjoin his actual words:—If there was any one in all Greece, or among the Barbarians, whose character was lascivious and shameless, he was invariably attracted to Philip’s court in Macedonia and got the title of the king’s companion. For it was Philip’s constant habit to reject those who lived respectably and were careful of their property; but to honour and promote those who were extravagant, and passed their lives in drinking and dicing. His influence accordingly tended not only to confirm them in these vices, but to make them proficients in every kind of rascality and lewdness. What vice or infamy did they not possess? What was there virtuous or of good report that they did not lack? Some of them, men as they were, were ever clean shaven and smooth-skinned; and even bearded men did not shrink from mutual defilement. They took about with them two or three slaves of their lust, while submitting to the same shameful service themselves. The men whom they called companions deserved a grosser name, and the title of soldier was but a cover to mercenary vice; for, though bloodthirsty by nature, they were lascivious by habit. In a word, to make a long story short, especially as I have such a mass of matter to deal with, I believe that the so-called friends and companions of Philip were more bestial in nature and character than the Centaurs who lived on Pelion, or the Laestrygones who inhabited the Leontine plain, or in fact any other monsters whatever.

Who would not disapprove of such bitterness and intemperance of language in an historian? It is not only because his words contradict his opening statement that he deserves stricture; but also because he has libelled the king and his friends; and still more because his falsehood is expressed in disgusting and unbecoming words. If he had been speaking of Sardanapalus, or one of his associates, he could hardly have ventured to use such foul language; and what that monarch’s principles and debauchery were in his lifetime we gather from the inscription on his tomb, which runs thus: The joys I had from love or wine Or dainty meats—those now are mine. But when speaking of Philip and his friends, a man ought to be on his guard, not so much of accusing them of effeminacy and want of courage, or still more of shameless immorality, but on the contrary lest he should prove unequal to express their praises in a manner worthy of their manliness, indefatigable energy, and the general virtue of their character. It is notorious that by their energy and boldness they raised the Macedonian Empire from a most insignificant monarchy to the first rank in reputation and extent. And, putting aside the achievements of Philip, what was accomplished by them after his death, under the rule of Alexander, has secured for them a reputation for valour with posterity universally acknowledged. For although a large share of the credit must perhaps be given to Alexander, as the presiding genius of the whole, though so young a man; yet no less is due to his coadjutors and friends, who won many wonderful victories over the enemy; endured numerous desperate labours, dangers and sufferings; and, though put into possession of the most ample wealth, and the most abundant means of gratifying all their desires, never lost their bodily vigour by these means, or contracted tastes for violence or debauchery. On the contrary, all those who were associated with Philip, and afterwards with Alexander, became truly royal in greatness of soul, temperance of life, and courage. Nor is it necessary to mention any names: but after Alexander’s death, in their mutual rivalries for the possession of various parts of nearly all the world, they filled a very large number of histories with the record of their glorious deeds. We may admit then that the bitter invective of the historian Timaeus against Agathocles, despot of Sicily, though it seems unmeasured, has yet some reason in it,—for it is directed against a personal enemy, a bad man, and a tyrant; but that of Theopompus is too scurrilous to be taken seriously.

For, after premising that he is going to write about a king most richly endowed by nature with virtue, he has raked up against him every shameful and atrocious charge that he could find. There are therefore but two alternatives: either this writer in the preface to his work has shown himself a liar and a flatterer; or in the body of that history a fool and utter simpleton, if he imagined that by senseless and improper invective he would either increase his own credit, or gain great acceptance for his laudatory expressions about Philip.

Book 8, Part 3

But the fact is that the general plan of this writer is one also which can meet with no one’s approval. For having undertaken to write a Greek History from the point at which Thucydides left off, when he got near the period of the battle of Leuctra, and the most splendid exploits of the Greeks, he threw aside Greece and its achievements in the middle of his story, and, changing his purpose, undertook to write the history of Philip. And yet it would have been far more telling and fair to have included the actions of Philip in the general history of Greece, than the history of Greece in that of Philip. For one cannot conceive any one, who had been preoccupied by the study of a royal government, hesitating, if he got the power and opportunity, to transfer his attention to the great name and splendid personality of a nation like Greece; but no one in his senses, after beginning with the latter, would have exchanged it for the showy biography of a tyrant. Now what could it have been that compelled Theopompus to overlook such inconsistencies? Nothing surely but this, that whereas the aim of his original history was honour, that of his history of Philip was expediency. As to this deviation from the right path however, which made him change the theme of his history, he might perhaps have had something to say, if any one had questioned him about it; but as to his abominable language about the king’s friends, I do not think that he could have said a word of defence, but must have owned to a serious breach of propriety. . . .

Though regarding the Messenians as open enemies, Philip was unable to inflict serious damage upon them, in spite of his setting to work to devastate their territory; but he was guilty of abominable conduct of the worst description to men who had been his most intimate friends. For on the elder Aratus showing disapproval of his proceedings at Messene, he caused him not long afterwards to be made away with by poison, through the agency of Taurion who had charge of his interests in the Peloponnese. The crime was not known at the time by other people; for the drug was not one of those which kill on the spot, but was a slow poison producing a morbid state of the body. Aratus himself however was fully aware of the cause of his illness; and showed that he was so by the following circumstance. Though he kept the secret from the rest of the world, he did not conceal it from one of his servants named Cepholon, with whom he was on terms of great affection. This man waited on him during his illness with great assiduity, and having one day pointed out some spittle on the wall which was stained with blood, Aratus remarked, that is the reward I have got for my friendship to Philip. Such a grand and noble thing is disinterested virtue, that the sufferer was more ashamed, than the inflicter of the injury, of having it known, that, after so many splendid services performed in the interests of Philip, he had got such a return as that for his loyalty.

In consequence of having been so often elected Strategus of the Achaean league, and of having performed so many splendid services for that people, Aratus after his death met with the honours he deserved, both in his own native city and from the league as a body. They voted him sacrifices and the honours of heroship, and in a word every thing calculated to perpetuate his memory; so that, if the departed have any consciousness, it is but reasonable to think that he feels pleasure at the gratitude of the Achaeans, and at the thought of the hardships and dangers he endured in his life. . . .

Philip had long had his thoughts fixed upon Lissus and its citadel; and, being anxious to become master of those places, he started with his army, and after two days’ march got through the pass and pitched his camp on the bank of the river Ardaxanus, not far from the town. He found on surveying the place that the fortifications of Lissus, both on the side of the sea and of the land, were exceedingly strong both by nature and art; and that the citadel, which was near it, from its extraordinary height and its other sources of strength, looked more than any one could hope to carry by storm. He therefore gave up all hope of the latter, but did not entirely despair of taking the town. He observed that there was a space between Lissus and the foot of the Acrolissus which was fairly well suited for making an attempt upon the town. He conceived the idea therefore of bringing on a skirmish in this space, and then employing a strategem suited to the circumstances of the case. Having given his men a day for rest; and having in the course of it addressed them in suitable words of exhortation; he hid the greater and most effective part of his light-armed troops during the night in some woody gulleys, close to this space on the land side; and next morning marched to the other side of the town next the sea, with his peltasts and the rest of his light-armed. Having thus marched round the town, and arrived at this spot, he made a show of intending to assault it at that point. Now as Philip’s advent had been no secret, a large body of men from the surrounding country of Illyria had flocked into Lissus; but feeling confidence in the strength of the citadel, they had assigned a very moderate number of men to garrison it.

As soon therefore as the Macedonians approached, they began pouring out of the town, confident in their numbers and in the strength of the places. The king stationed his peltasts on the level ground, and ordered the light-armed troops to advance towards the hills and energetically engage the enemy. These orders being obeyed, the fight remained doubtful for a time; but presently Philip’s men yielded to the inequality of the ground, and the superior number of the enemy, and gave way. Upon their retreating within the ranks of the peltasts, the sallying party advanced with feelings of contempt, and having descended to the same level as the peltasts joined battle with them. But the garrison of the citadel seeing Philip moving his divisions one after the other slowly to the rear, and believing that he was abandoning the field, allowed themselves to be insensibly decoyed out, in their confidence in the strength of their fortifications; and thus, leaving the citadel by degrees, kept pouring down by bye-ways into the lower plain, under the belief that they would have an opportunity of getting booty and completing the enemy’s discomfiture. Meanwhile the division, which had been lying concealed on the side of the mainland, rose without being observed, and advanced at a rapid pace. At their approach the peltasts also wheeled round and charged the enemy. On this the troops from Lissus were thrown into confusion, and, after a straggling retreat, got safely back into the town; while the garrison which had abandoned the citadel got cut off from it by the rising of the troops which had been lying in ambush. The result accordingly was that what seemed hopeless, namely the capture of the citadel, was effected at once and without any fighting; while Lissus did not fall until next day, and then only after desperate struggles, the Macedonians assaulting with vigour and even terrific fury. Thus Philip having, beyond all expectation, made himself master of these places, reduced by this exploit all the neighbouring populations to obedience; so much so that the greater number of the Illyrians voluntarily surrendered their cities to his protection; for it had come to be believed that, after the storming of such strongholds as these, no fortification and no provision for security could be of any avail against the might of Philip.

Bolis was by birth a Cretan, who had long enjoyed the honours of high military rank at King Ptolemy’s court, and the reputation of being second to none in natural ability, adventurous daring, and experience in war. By repeated arguments Sosibius secured this man’s fidelity; and when he felt sure of his zeal and affection he communicated the business in hand to him. He told him that he could not do the king a more acceptable service at the present crisis than by contriving some way of saving Achaeus. At the moment Bolis listened, and retired without saying more than that he would consider the suggestion. But after two or three days’ reflection, he came to Sosibius and said that he would undertake the business; remarking that, having spent some considerable time at Sardis, he knew its topography, and that Cambylus, the commander of the Cretan contingent of the army of Antiochus, was not only a fellow citizen of his but a kinsmen and friend. It chanced moreover that Cambylus and his men had in charge one of the outposts on the rear of the acropolis, where the nature of the ground did not admit of siege-works, but was guarded by the permanent cantonment of troops under Cambylus. Sosibius caught at the suggestion, convinced that, if Achaeus could be saved at all from his dangerous situation, it could be better accomplished by the agency of Bolis than of any one else; and, this conviction being backed by great zeal on the part of Bolis, the undertaking was pushed on with despatch. Sosibius at once supplied the money necessary for the attempt, and promised a large sum besides in case of its success; at the same time raising the hopes of Bolis to the utmost by dilating upon the favours he might look for from the king, as well as from the rescued prince himself.

Full of eagerness therefore for success, Bolis set sail without delay, taking with him a letter in cipher and other credentials addressed to Nicomachus at Rhodes, who was believed to entertain a fatherly affection and devotion for Achaeus, and also to Melancomas at Ephesus; for these were the men formerly employed by Achaeus in his negotiations with Ptolemy, and in all other foreign affairs.

Book 8, Part 4

Bolis went to Rhodes, and thence to Ephesus; communicated his purpose to Nicomachus and Melancomas; and found them ready to do what they were asked. He then despatched one of his staff, named Arianus, to Cambylus, with a message to the effect that he had been sent from Alexandria on a recruiting tour, and that he wished for an interview with Cambylus on some matters of importance; he thought it therefore necessary to have a time and place arranged for them to meet without the privity of a third person. Arianus quickly obtained an interview with Cambylus and delivered his message; nor was the latter at all unwilling to listen to the proposal. Having appointed a day, and a place known to both himself and Bolis, at which he would be after nightfall, he dismissed Arianus. Now Bolis had all the subtlety of a Cretan, and he accordingly weighed carefully in his own mind every possible line of action, and patiently examined every idea which presented itself to him. Finally he met Cambylus according to the arrangement made with Arianus, and delivered his letter. This was now made the subject of discussion between them in a truly Cretan spirit. They never took into consideration the means of saving the person in danger, or their obligations of honour to those who had entrusted them with the undertaking, but confined their discussions entirely to the question of their own safety and their own advantage. As they were both Cretans they were not long in coming to an unanimous agreement: which was, first of all, to divide the ten talents supplied by Sosibius between themselves in equal shares; and, secondly, to discover the whole affair to Antiochus, and to offer with his support to put Achaeus into his hands, on condition of receiving a sum of money and promises for the future, on a scale commensurate with the greatness of the undertaking. Having settled upon this plan of action: Cambylus undertook the negotiation with Antiochus, while to Bolis was assigned the duty of sending Arianus within the next few days to Achaeus, bearing letters in cipher from Nicomachus and Melancomas: he bade Cambylus however take upon himself to consider how Arianus was to make his way into the acropolis and return with safety. If, said Bolis, Achaeus consents to make the attempt, and sends an answer to Nicomachus and Melancomas, I will be ready to act and will communicate with you. Having thus arranged the parts which each was to take in the plot, they separated and set about their several tasks.

At the first opportunity Cambylus laid the proposal before the king. It was as acceptable to Antiochus as it was unexpected: in the first flush of his exultation he promised everything they asked; but presently feeling some distrust, he questioned Cambylus on every detail of their plan, and their means of carrying it out. Being eventually satisfied on these points, and believing that the undertaking was under the special favour of Providence, he repeatedly begged and prayed Cambylus to bring it to a conclusion. Bolis was equally successful with Nicomachus and Melancomas. They entertained no doubt of his sincerity, and joined him in the composition of letters to Achaeus,—composed in a cipher which they had been accustomed to use,—to prevent any one who got hold of the letter from making out its contents, exhorting him to trust Bolis and Cambylus. So Arianus, having by the aid of Cambylus made his way into the acropolis, delivered the letters to Achaeus; and having had personal acquaintance with the whole business from its commencement, he was able to give an account of every detail when questioned and cross-questioned again and again by Achaeus about Sosibius and Bolis, about Nicomachus and Melancomas, and most particularly about the part which Cambylus was taking in the affair. He could of course stand this cross-examination with some air of sincerity and candour, because, in point of fact, he was not acquainted with the most important part of the plan which Cambylus and Bolis had adopted. Achaeus was convinced by the answers returned by Arianus, and still more by the cipher of Nicomachus and Melancomas; gave his answer; and sent Arianus back with it without delay. This kind of communication was repeated more than once: and at last Achaeus entrusted himself without reserve to Nicomachus, there being absolutely no other hope of saving himself left remaining, and bade him send Bolis with Arianus on a certain moonless night, promising to place himself in their hands. The idea of Achaeus was, first of all, to escape his immediate danger; and then by a circuitous route to make his way into Syria. For he entertained very great hopes that, if he appeared suddenly and unexpectedly to the Syrians, while Antiochus was still lingering about Sardis, he would be able to stir up a great movement, and meet with a cordial reception from the people of Antioch, Coele-Syria, and Phoenicia.

With such expectations and calculations Achaeus was waiting for the appearance of Bolis.

Meanwhile Arianus had reached Melancomas, who, on reading the letter which he brought, immediately despatched Bolis with many words of exhortation and great promises of profit if he succeeded in his enterprise. Bolis sent Arianus in advance to signify his arrival to Cambylus, and went after nightfall to their usual place of meeting. There they spent a whole day together settling every detail of their plan of operations; and having done this they went into the camp under cover of night. The arrangement made between them was this. If it turned out that Achaeus came from the acropolis alone with Bolis and Arianus, or with only one attendant, he would give them no cause for anxiety at all, but would be easily captured by the ambuscade set for him. If, on the other hand, he should be accompanied by a considerable number, the business would be one of some difficulty to those on whose good faith he relied; especially as they were anxious to capture him alive, that being what would most gratify Antiochus. In that case, therefore, Arianus, while conducting Achaeus, was to go in front, because he knew the path by which he had on several occasions effected his entrance and return; Bolis was to bring up the rear, in order that, when they arrived at the spot where Cambylus was to have his ambuscade ready, he might lay hold on Achaeus, and prevent his getting away through wooded ground, in the confusion and darkness of the night, or throwing himself in his terror from some precipice; thus they would secure that he fell, as they intended, into his enemies’ hands alive.

These arrangements having been agreed upon, Bolis was taken by Cambylus on the very night of his arrival, without any one else, and introduced to Antiochus. The king was alone and received them graciously; he pledged himself to the performance of his promises, and urged them both again and again not to postpone any longer the performance of their purpose. Thereupon they returned for the present to their own camp; but towards morning Bolis, accompanied by Arianus, ascended to the acropolis, and entered it before daybreak.

Achaeus received them with warmth and cordiality, and questioned Bolis at great length on every detail. From the expression of his face, and his conversation, he judged Bolis to be a man of a character weighty enough for so serious an undertaking; but while at one time he exulted in the prospect of his release, at another, he grew painfully excited, and was torn with an agony of anxiety at the gravity of the issues at stake. But no one had a clearer head or greater experience in affairs than he; and in spite of the good opinion he had formed of him, he still determined that his safety should not depend entirely on the good faith of Bolis. He accordingly told him that it was impossible for him to leave the acropolis at the moment: but that he would send some two or three of his friends with him, and by the time that they had joined Melancomas he would be prepared to depart. So Achaeus did all he could for his security; but he did not know that he was trying to do what the proverb declares to be impossible—out-cretan a Cretan. For there was no trick likely to be tried that Bolis had not anticipated. However when the night came, in which Achaeus said that he would send his friends with them, he sent on Arianus and Bolis to the entrance of the acropolis, with instructions to wait there until those who were to go with them arrived. They did as he bade them. Achaeus then, at the very moment of his departure, communicated his plan to his wife Laodice; and she was so terrified at his sudden resolve, that he had to spend some time in entreating her to be calm, in soothing her feelings, and encouraging her by pointing out the hopes which he entertained. This done he started with four companions, whom he dressed in ordinary clothes, while he himself put on a mean and common dress and disguised his rank as much as possible. He selected one of his four companions to be always prepared to answer anything said by Arianus, and to ask any necessary question of him, and bade him say that the other four did not speak Greek.

The five then joined Arianus, and they all started together on their journey. Arianus went in front, as being acquainted with the way; while Bolis took up his position behind in accordance with the original plan, puzzled and annoyed at the way things were turning out. For, Cretan as he was, and ready to suspect every one he came near, he yet could not make out which of the five was Achaeus, or whether he was there at all. But the path was for the most part precipitous and difficult, and in some places there were abrupt descents which were slippery and dangerous; and whenever they came to one of these, some of the four gave Achaeus a hand down, and the others caught him at the bottom, for they could not entirely conceal their habitual respect for him; and Bolis was quick to detect, by observing this, which of them was Achaeus. When therefore they arrived at the spot at which it had been arranged that Cambylus was to be, Bolis gave the signal by a whistle, and the men sprang from their places of concealment and seized the other four, while Bolis himself caught hold of Achaeus, at the same time grasping his mantle, as his hands were inside it; for he was afraid that having a sword concealed about his person he would attempt to kill himself when he understood what was happening. Being thus quickly surrounded on every side, Achaeus fell into the hands of his enemies, and along with his four friends was taken straight off to Antiochus.

Book 8, Part 5

The king was in his tent in a state of extreme anxiety awaiting the result. He had dismissed his usual court, and, with the exception of two or three of the bodyguard, was alone and sleepless. But when Cambylus and his men entered, and placed Achaeus in chains on the ground, he fell into a state of speechless astonishment: and for a considerable time could not utter a word, and finally overcome by a feeling of pity burst into tears; caused, I have no doubt, by this exhibition of the capriciousness of Fortune, which defies precaution and calculation alike. For here was Achaeus, a son of Andromachus, the brother of Seleucus’s queen Laodice, and married to Laodice, a daughter of King Mithridates, and who had made himself master of all Asia this side of Taurus, and who at that very moment was believed by his own army, as well as by that of his enemy, to be safely ensconced in the strongest position in the world,—sitting chained upon the ground, in the hands of his enemies, before a single person knew of it except those who had effected the capture.

And, indeed, when at daybreak the king’s friends assembled as usual at his tent, and saw this strange spectacle, they too felt emotions very like those of the king; while extreme astonishment made them almost disbelieve the evidence of their senses. However the council met, and a long debate ensued as to what punishment they were to inflict upon Achaeus. Finally, it was resolved that his extremities should be cut off, his head severed from his body and sewn up in the skin of an ass, and his body impaled. When this sentence had been carried out, and the army learnt what had happened, there was such excitement in the ranks and such a rush of the soldiers to the spectacle, that Laodice on the acropolis, who alone knew that her husband had left it, guessed what had happened from the commotion and stir in the camp. And before long a herald arrived, told Laodice what had happened to Achaeus, and ordered her to resign the command and quit the acropolis. At first any answer was prevented by an outburst of sorrow and overpowering lamentation on the part of the occupants of the acropolis; not so much from affection towards Achaeus, as from the suddenness and utter unexpectedness of the catastrophe. But this was succeeded by a feeling of hesitation and dismay; and Antiochus, having got rid of Achaeus, never ceased putting pressure on the garrison of the acropolis, feeling confident that a means of taking it would be put into his hands by those who occupied it, and most probably by the rank and file of the garrison. And this is just what did finally happen: for the soldiers split up into factions, one joining Ariobazus, the other Laodice. This produced mutual distrust, and before long both parties surrendered themselves and the acropolis. Thus Achaeus, in spite of having taken every reasonable precaution, lost his life by the perfidy of those in whom he trusted. His fate may teach posterity two useful lessons,—not to put faith in any one lightly; and not to be over-confident in the hour of prosperity, knowing that, in human affairs, there is no accident which we may not expect. . . .

Cauarus, king of the Gauls in Thrace, was of a truly royal and high-minded disposition, and gave the merchants sailing into the Pontus great protection, and rendered the Byzantines important services in their wars with the Thracians and Bithynians. . . .

This king, so excellent in other respects, was corrupted by a flatterer named Sostratus, who was a Chalchedonian by birth. . . .

In the reign of Xerxes, prince of the city of Armosata, situated on the Fair Plain, between the Tigris and Euphrates, King Antiochus encamped under its walls and prepared to attack it. When he saw the king’s forces, Xerxes at first conveyed himself away; but feeling afterwards that, if his palace were seized by his enemies, his whole kingdom would be overthrown, he changed his mind, and sent a message to Antiochus declaring his wish for a conference. The most loyal of the friends of Antiochus were against letting the young prince go when they once got him into their hands, and advised Antiochus to take possession of the town, and hand over the principality to Mithridates, his own sister’s son. The king, however, would not listen to any of these suggestions; but sent for the young prince and accommodated their differences, forgiving him the larger part of the money which he allowed to be owing from his father under the head of tribute, and accepting a present payment from him of three hundred talents, a thousand horses, and a thousand mules with their trappings. He then settled the government of the city, and gave the prince his sister Antiochis as a wife. By these proceedings, in which he was thought to have acted with true royal magnanimity, he won the affection and support of all the inhabitants of that part of the country.

It was in the wantonness of excessive prosperity that the Tarentines invited Pyrrhus of Epirus; for democratic liberty that has enjoyed a long and unchecked career comes naturally to experience a satiety of its blessings, and then it looks out for a master; and when it has got one, it is not long before it hates him, because it is seen that the change is for the worse. This is just what happened to the Tarentines on that occasion. . . .

On this news being brought to Tarentum and Thurii there was great popular indignation. . . .

Book 8, Part 6

The conspirators left the town at first under the pretext of a foray, and got near Hannibal’s camp before daybreak. Then, while the rest crouched down on a certain wooded spot by the side of the road, Philemenus and Nicon went up to the camp. They were seized by the sentries and taken off to Hannibal, without saying a word as to where they came from or who they were, but simply stating that they wished for an interview with the general. Being taken without delay to Hannibal they said that they wished to speak with him privately. He assented with the utmost readiness; whereupon they explained to him their own position and that of their native city, charging the Romans with many various acts of oppression, that they might not seem to be entering on their present undertaking without good reason. For the present Hannibal dismissed them with thanks and a cordial acceptance of their proposed movement, and charging them to come back very soon and have another interview with him. This time, he added, when you get at a sufficient distance from the camp, take possession of the first cattle you find being driven out to pasture in the early morning, and go off boldly with them and their herdsmen; for I will take care that you are unmolested. His object in doing this was to give himself time to inquire into the tale of the young men; and also to confirm their credit with their fellow-citizens, by making it appear that their expedition had really been for the purpose of foraging. Nicon and his companions did as they were bidden, and left Hannibal in great exultation at having at last got an opportunity of completing his enterprise: while they themselves were made all the more eager to carry out their plot by having been able to accomplish their interview with Hannibal without danger, and by having found him warmly disposed to their undertaking, and by having besides gained the confidence of their own people by the considerable amount of booty which they had brought home. This they partly sold and partly used in splendid entertainments, and thus not only were believed in by the Tarentines, but excited a considerable number to emulate their exploit.

On their next expedition, which they conducted in the same way as the first, they interchanged pledges of fidelity with Hannibal on the following conditions: He was to set the Tarentines free; and the Carthaginians were neither to exact tribute of any sort from them, nor impose any burden upon them; but the houses and lodgings occupied by Romans should, on their taking possession of the town, be given up to the Carthaginians to plunder. They also arranged on a watch-word at which the sentries were to admit them without delay into the camp whenever they came. After making these arrangements, they got the opportunity of often having interviews with Hannibal: sometimes pretending to be going out of the town on a foray, and sometimes on a hunting expedition. Everything having thus been put in train, the greater part of the conspirators waited for the proper occasions for acting, while they assigned to Philemenus the part of leader of their hunting excursions; for, owing to his excessive taste for that amusement, he had the reputation of thinking hunting the most important thing in life. Accordingly they left it to him, first to win the favour of Gaius Livius the commander of the town by presents of game, and then that of the guards of the gate-tower which protected what were called the Temenid gates. Philemenus undertook the task: and partly by what he caught himself, and partly with what Hannibal supplied, always managed to bring in some game; which he divided between Livius and the guards of the gate, to induce them to be always ready to open the wicket to him. For he generally went and returned from his expeditions after nightfall, under the pretext of being afraid of the enemy, but really with a view of preparing for the plot. When Philemenus then had managed to make it a regular arranged thing with the picket at the gate, that the guards should have no hesitation; but that, whenever he came under the wall and whistled, they should open the wicket to him; he waited for a day on which the Roman commander of the town was engaged to be present at a large party, meeting early in the Musaeum, which is near the agora, and agreed with Hannibal to carry out their plot on that day.

For some time before this, Hannibal had given out that he was ill, to prevent the Romans wondering when they were told of his staying so long on the same ground; and he now made a greater pretence than ever of ill-health, and remained encamped three days’ march from Tarentum. But when the time was come, he got ready the most conspicuous for their speed and daring in his cavalry and infantry, to the number of about ten thousand, and gave orders that they should take provisions for four days. He started just before daybreak, and marched at full speed; having told off eighty Numidian horsemen to keep thirty stades ahead, and to scour the country on both sides of the road; so that no one might get a sight of the main body, but might either be taken prisoners by this advanced guard, or, if he escaped, might carry a report of it into the city as if it were merely a raid of Numidian horsemen. When the Numidians were about a hundred and twenty stades from the town, Hannibal halted his men for supper by the side of a river flowing through a deep gully, and offering excellent cover; and having summoned his officers, did not indeed tell them outright what the service was on which they were going, but simply exhorted them, first to show themselves brave men, as the prize awaiting them was the greatest they had ever had; and, secondly, that each should keep the men of his own company well together, and rebuke sharply all who left their own division on any pretext whatever; and, thirdly, to attend strictly to orders, and not attempt anything on their own account outside them. Dismissing the officers with these words, he got his troops on the march just after dark, being very anxious to reach the wall about midnight; having Philemenus to act as guide, and having got ready for him a wild-boar to enable him to sustain the part which he was to perform.

About sunset news was brought to Gaius Livius, who had been with his friends in the Musaeum since early in the day, just when the drinking was at its height, that the Numidians were scouring the country. He therefore took measures for that and nothing more, calling some of his officers and bidding them take half the cavalry, and sally out to stop the progress of the enemy, who were devasting the country: but this only made him still more unsuspicious of the whole extent of the movement. Nicon, Tragiscus, and their confederates collected together at nightfall in the town and waited for the return of Livius and his friends. As these last rose from table somewhat early, because the banquet had begun before the usual time, the greater number of the conspirators retired to a certain spot and there remained; but some of the younger men went to meet Gaius, imitating by their disorderly procession and mutual jests a company returning from a carouse. As Livius and his company were even more flustered with drink, as soon as they met laughter and joking were readily excited on both sides. Finally, they turned and conducted Gaius to his house; where he went to bed full of wine, as might be expected after a party beginning so early in the day, without any anxiety or trouble in his thoughts, but full of cheerfulness and idle content. Then Nicon and Tragiscus rejoined their companions, and, dividing themselves into three companies, took up their positions at the most favourable points in the marketplace, to keep themselves fully acquainted with everything reported from outside the walls, or that happened within the city itself. They posted some also close to the house of Livius: being well aware that, if any suspicion of what was coming arose, it would be to him that the news would be first brought, and that from him every measure taken would originate. So when the noise of the returning guests, and every disturbance of the sort, had subsided, and the great bulk of the citizens was asleep; and now the night was advancing, and nothing had happened to dash their hopes, they collected together and proceeded to perform their part of the undertaking.

The arrangements between these young men and Hannibal were these. Hannibal was to arrive at the town by the inland road and on the eastern side near the Temenid gates; and when there, was to light a fire on the tomb, which some called the tomb of Hyacinthus, and others of Apollo: Tragiscus and his confederates, when they saw this, were to light an answering fire from within the walls. This done, Hannibal was to put out his fire and advance slowly towards the gate. In pursuance of these arrangements, the young men marched through the inhabited part of town and came to the tombs. For the eastern quarter of Tarentum is full of monuments, because those who die there are to this day all buried within the walls, in obedience to an ancient oracle. For it is said that the god delivered this answer to the Tarentines, That it were better and more profitable for them if they made their dwelling with the majority; and they thought therefore that they would be living in accordance with the oracle if they kept the departed within the walls. That is why to this day they bury inside the gates.

The young men, then, having gone as far as the tomb of Pythionicus, waited to see what would happen. Presently Hannibal arrived and did as arranged: whereupon Nicon and Tragiscus with renewed courage displayed their beacon also; and, as soon as they saw the fire of the Carthaginians being put out, they ran to the gates as fast as they could go, wishing to get the picket at the gate tower killed before the Carthaginians arrived; as it had been agreed that they should advance leisurely and at a foot’s pace. Everything went smoothly: the guards were overpowered; and while some of the young men were engaged in killing them, others were cutting the bolts. The gates having been quickly thrown open, Hannibal arrived at the right moment, having so timed his march that he never had to stop on the way to the town at all.

Having thus effected their intended entrance, without danger or any disturbance whatever, and thinking that the most important part of their undertaking was accomplished, the Carthaginians now began advancing boldly along the street leading up from what is called the Batheia or Deep Road. They left the cavalry however outside the walls, numbering as many as two thousand, intending them to act as a reserve both in case of any appearance of the enemy from without, and of any of those unforeseen casualities which do occur in such operations. But when they had come to the immediate neighbourhood of the market-place, they halted, and waited to see how the attempt of Philemenus would turn out: being anxious as to the success of this part of their plan as well as the other. For at the same moment that he lighted his fire, and was on the point of starting for the gates, Hannibal had despatched Philemenus also, with his boar on a litter, and a thousand Libyans, to the next gate; wishing, in accordance with his original design, not to depend solely on one chance, but to have several. When Philemenus, then, arrived at the wall and gave his customary signal by whistling, the sentry immediately appeared coming down to open the wicket; and when Philemenus told him from outside to open quickly because they had a great weight to carry, as they were bringing a wild boar, he made haste to open the wicket, expecting that some of the game which Philemenus was conveying would come his way, as he had always had a share of what was brought in.

Book 8, Part 7

Thereupon Philemenus himself, being at the head of the litter, entered first; and with him another dressed like a shepherd, as though he were one of the country folk of those parts; and after him two others besides who were carrying the dead beast behind. But when the four had got inside the wicket, they struck and killed the man who opened it, as he was unsuspiciously examining and feeling the boar, and then let the men who were just behind them, and were in advance of the main body of Libyan horsemen, to the number of thirty, leisurely and quietly through. This having been accomplished without a hitch, some set about cutting the bolts, others were engaged in killing the picket on duty at the gate, and others in giving the signal to the Libyans still outside to come in. These having also effected their entrance in safety, they began making their way towards the market-place according to the arrangement. As soon as he was joined by this division also, in great delight at the successful progress of the operation, Hannibal proceeded to carry out the next step.

He told off two thousand of his Celts: and, having divided them into three companies, he assigned two of the young men who had managed the plot to each company; and sent with them also certain of his own officers, with orders to close up the several most convenient streets that led to the market-place. And when he had done this, he bade the young men of the town pick out and save those of their fellow-citizens whom they might chance to meet, by shouting out before they came up with them, That Tarentines should remain where they were, as they were in no danger; but he ordered both Carthaginian and Celtic officers to kill all the Romans they met.

So these companies separated and proceeded to carry out their orders. But when the entrance of the enemy became known to the Tarentines, the city began to be full of shouting and extraordinary confusion. As for Gaius, when the enemy’s entrance was announced to him, being fully aware that his drunkenness had incapacitated him, he rushed straight out of the house with his servants, and having come to the gate leading to the harbour, and the sentinel having opened the wicket for him, he got through that way; and having seized one of the boats lying at anchor there, went on board it with his servants and arrived safely at the citadel. Meanwhile Philemenus had provided himself with some Roman bugles, and some men who were able to blow them, from being used to do so; and they stood in the theatre and sounded a call to arms. The Romans promptly rallying in arms, as was their custom at this sound, and directing their steps towards the citadel, everything happened exactly as the Carthaginians intended; for as the Roman soldiers came into the streets, without any order and in scattered groups, some of them came upon the Carthaginians and others upon the Celts; and by their being in this way put to the sword in detail, a very considerable number of them perished.

But when day began to break, the Tarentines kept quietly in their houses, not yet being able to comprehend what was happening. For thanks to the bugle, and the absence of all outrage or plundering in the town, they thought that the movement arose from the Romans themselves. But the sight of many of the latter lying killed in the streets, and the spectacle of some Gauls openly stripping the Roman corpses, suggested a suspicion of the presence of the Carthaginians.

Presently when Hannibal had marched his forces into the market-place, and the Romans had retired into the citadel, as having been previously secured by them with a garrison, and it had become broad daylight, the Carthaginian general caused a proclamation to be made to the Tarentines to assemble in full number in the market-place; while the young conspirators went meanwhile round the town talking loudly about liberty, and bidding everybody not to be afraid, for the Carthaginians had come to save them. Such of the Tarentines as held to their loyalty to Rome, upon learning the state of the case, went off to the citadel; but the rest came to the meeting, in obedience to the proclamation, without their arms: and to them Hannibal addressed a cordial speech. The Tarentines heartily cheered everything he said from joy at their unexpected safety; and he dismissed the crowd with an injunction to each man, to go with all speed to his own house, and write over the door, A Tarentine’s; but if any one wrote the same word on a house where a Roman was living, he declared the penalty to be death. He then personally told off the best men he had for the service, and sent them to plunder the houses of the Romans; giving them as their instructions to consider all houses which had no inscription as belonging to the enemy: the rest of his men he kept drawn up as a reserve.

A vast quantity of miscellaneous property having been got together by this plundering, and a booty fully answering the expectations of the Carthaginians, they bivouacked for that night under arms. But the next day, after consulting with the Tarentines, Hannibal decided to cut off the city from the citadel by a wall, that the Tarentines might not any longer be under continual alarm from the Romans in possession of the citadel. His first measure was to throw up a palisade, parallel to the wall of the citadel and to the trench in front of it. But as he very well knew that the enemy would not allow this tamely, but would make a demonstration of their power in that direction, he got ready for the work a number of his best hands, thinking that the first thing necessary was to overawe the Romans and give confidence to the Tarentines. But as soon as the first palisade was begun, the Romans began a bold and determined attack; whereupon Hannibal, offering just enough resistance to induce the rest to come out, as soon as the greater part of them had crossed the trench, gave the word of command to his men and charged the enemy. A desperate struggle ensued; for the fight took place in a narrow space surrounded by walls; but at last the Romans were forced to turn and fly. Many of them fell in the actual fighting, but the larger number were forced over the edge of the trench and were killed by the fall over its steep bank.

For the present Hannibal, after completing the palisade unmolested, was content to remain quiet, as his plan had succeeded to his wish; for he had shut in the enemy and compelled them to remain inside their wall, in terror for the safety of the citadel as well as for their own; while he had raised the courage of the citizens of Tarentum to such an extent, that they now imagined themselves to be a match for the Romans, even without the Carthaginians. A little later he made at a short distance from the palisade, in the direction of the town, a trench parallel to the palisade and the wall of the citadel; and the earth dug out from it having been piled up on the other side along the edge nearest the town, he erected another palisade on the top, thus making a fortification no less secure than the wall itself. Once more, at a moderate distance, nearer the city, he commenced building a wall, starting from the street called Soteira up to that called Batheia; so that, even without a garrison, the Tarentines were adequately protected by the mere constructions themselves. Then leaving a sufficient garrison, and enough cavalry to serve on outpost duty for the protection of the wall, he encamped along the bank of the river which is called by some the Galaesus, but by most people the Eurotas, after the river which flows past Sparta. The Tarentines have many such derived names, both in town and country, from the acknowledged fact of their being a colony from Sparta and connected by blood with the Lacedaemonians. As the wall quickly approached completion, owing to the activity and zeal of the Tarentines, and the vigorous co-operation of the Carthaginians, Hannibal next conceived the idea of taking the citadel also.

Book 8, Part 8

But when he had already completed the preparation of the necessary engines for the assault, the Romans received some slight encouragement on a reinforcement throwing itself into the citadel by sea from Metapontium; and consequently they sallied out by night and attacked the works, and destroyed all Hannibal’s apparatus and engines. After this Hannibal abandoned the idea of a storm: but as the new wall was now completed, he summoned a meeting of the Tarentines and pointed out to them that the most imperative necessity, in view of the present state of things, was to get command of the sea. For as the citadel commanded the entrance to the harbour, the Tarentines could not use their ships nor sail out of it; while the Romans could get supplies conveyed to them by sea without danger: and as long as that was the case, it was impossible that the city should have any security for its freedom. Hannibal saw this clearly, and explained to the Tarentines that, if the enemy on the citadel were deprived of hope of succour by sea, they would at once give way, and abandon it of their own accord, without attempting to defend the place. The Tarentines were fully convinced by his words: but how it was to be brought about in the present state of affairs they could form no idea, unless a fleet should appear from Carthage; which at that time of the year was impossible. They therefore said that they could not understand what Hannibal was aiming at in these remarks to them. When he replied that it was plain that, even without the Carthaginians, they were all but in command of the sea, they were still more puzzled, and could not guess his meaning. The truth was that Hannibal had noticed that the broad street, which was at once within the wall separating the town from the citadel, and led from the harbour into the open sea, was well suited for the purpose; and he had conceived the idea of dragging the ships out of the harbour to the sea on the southern side of the town. Upon his disclosing his idea to the Tarentines, they not only expressed their agreement with the proposal, but the greatest admiration for himself; and made up their minds that there was nothing which his acuteness and daring could not accomplish. Trucks on wheels were quickly constructed: and it was scarcely sooner said than done, owing to the zeal of the people and the numbers who helped to work at it. In this way the Tarentines dragged their ships across into the open sea, and were enabled without danger to themselves to blockade the Romans on the citadel, having deprived them of their supplies from without. But Hannibal himself, leaving a garrison for the city, started with his army, and returned in a three day’s march to his original camp; and there remained without further movements for the rest of the winter. . . .

He counted the layers; for as the tower had been built of regular layers of stone, it was very easy to reckon the height of the battlements from the ground. . . .

Some days afterwards on information being given by a deserter that the Syracusans had been engaged in a public sacrifice to Artemis for the last three days; and that they were using very scanty food in the festival though plenty of wine, both Epicydes and certain Syracusans having given a large supply; Marcus Marcellus selected a part of the wall somewhat lower than the rest, and thinking it probable that the men were drunk, owing to the license of the hour, and the short supply of food with their wine, he determined to attempt an escalade. Two ladders of the proper height for the wall having been quickly made, he pressed on the undertaking. He spoke openly to those who were fit to make the ascent and to face the first and most conspicuous risk, holding out to them brilliant prospects of reward. He also picked out some men to give them necessary help and bring ladders, without telling them anything except to bid them be ready to obey orders. His directions having been accurately obeyed, at the proper time in the night he put the first men in motion, sending with them the men with the ladders together with a maniple and a tribune, and having first reminded them of the rewards awaiting them if they behaved with gallantry. After this he got his whole force ready to start; and despatching the vanguard by maniples at intervals, when a thousand had been massed in this way, after a short pause, he marched himself with the main body. The men carrying the ladders having succeeded in safely placing them against the wall, those who had been told off to make the ascent mounted at once without hesitation. Having accomplished this without being observed, and having got a firm footing on the top of the wall, the rest began to mount by the ladders also, not in any fixed order, but as best they could. At first as they made their way upon the wall they found no one to oppose them, for the guards of the several towers, owing to it being a time of public sacrifice, were either still drinking or were gone to sleep again in a state of drunkenness. Consequently of the first and second companies of guards, which they came upon, they killed the greater number before they knew that they were being attacked. And when they came near Hexapyli, they descended from the wall, and forced open the first postern they came to which was let into the wall, through which they admitted the general and the rest of the army. This is the way in which the Romans took Syracuse. . . .

None of the citizens knew what was happening because of the distance; for the town is a very large one. . . .

But the Romans were rendered very confident by their conquest of Epipolae. . . .

He gave orders that the infantry should take the beasts of burden along with the baggage tied upon them from the rear and range them in front of themselves. This produced a defence of greater security than any palisade. . . .

So entirely unable are the majority of mankind to submit to that lightest of all burdens—-silence. . . .

Book 8, Part 9

Anything in the future seems preferable to what exists in the present. . . .

Book 9, Part 1

SUCH are the most conspicuous transactions of this Olympiad, that is, of the four years which an Olympiad must be reckoned to contain; and I shall endeavour to include the history of them in two books.

I am quite aware that my history has an element of austerity in it, and is adapted to, and will be approved by only one class of readers, owing to the uniformity of its plan. Nearly all other historians, or at any rate most, attract a variety of readers by entering upon all the various branches of history. The curious reader is attracted by the genealogical style; the antiquarian by the discussion of colonisations, origins of cities, and ties of blood, such as is found in Ephorus; the student of polities by the story of tribes, cities, and dynasties. It is to this last branch of the subject that I have had a single eye, and have devoted my whole work; and accordingly have, as I said before, accommodated all my plans to one particular class of narrative. The result is that I have made my work by no means attractive reading to the majority. Why I thus neglected other departments of history, and deliberately resolved to confine myself to chronicling actions, I have already stated at length; however, there is no reason why I should not briefly remind my readers of it again in this place, for the sake of impressing it upon them.

Seeing that many writers have discussed in many varieties of style the question of genealogies, myths, and colonisations, as well as of the foundations of cities and the consanguinity of peoples, there was nothing left for a writer at this date but to copy the words of others and claim them as his own,—than which nothing could be more dishonourable; or, if he did not choose to do that, to absolutely waste his labour, being obliged to acknowledge that he is composing a history and bestowing thought on what has already been sufficiently set forth and transmitted to posterity by his predecessors. For these and sundry other reasons I abandoned such themes as these, and determined on writing a history of actions: first, because they are continually new and require a new narrative, —as of course one generation cannot give us the history of the next; and secondly, because such a narrative is of all others the most instructive. This it has always been: but it is eminently so now, because the arts and sciences have made such an advance in our day, that students are able to arrange every event as it happens according to fixed rules, as it were, of scientific classification. Therefore, as I did not aim so much at giving pleasure to my readers, as at profiting those who apply to such studies, I omitted all other themes and devoted myself wholly to this. But on these points, those who give a careful attention to my narrative will be the best witnesses to the truth of what I say. . . .

Entirely surrounding the position of Appius Claudius, Hannibal at first skirmished, and tried all he could to tempt him to come out and give him battle. But as no one attended to him, his attack became very like an attempt to storm the camp; for his cavalry charged in their squadrons, and with loud cries hurled their javelins inside the entrenchments, and the infantry attacked in their regular companies, and tried to pull down the palisading round the camp. But not even so could he move the Romans from their purpose: they employed their light-armed troops to repulse those who were actually attacking the palisade, but protecting themselves with their heavy shields against the javelins of the enemy, they remained drawn up near their standards without moving. Discomfited at being neither able to throw himself into Capua, nor induce the Romans to leave their camp, Hannibal retired to consult as to what was best to be done.

It is no wonder, in my opinion, that the Carthaginians were puzzled. I think any one who heard the facts would be the same. For who would not have received with incredulity the statement that the Romans, after losing so many battles to the Carthaginians, and though they did not venture to meet them on the field, could not nevertheless be induced to give up the contest or abandon the command of the country? Up to this time, moreover, they had contented themselves with hovering in his neighbourhood, keeping along the skirts of the mountains; but now they had taken up a position on the plains, and those the fairest in all Italy, and were besieging the strongest city in it; and that with an enemy attacking them, whom they could not endure even the thought of meeting face to face: while the Carthaginians, who beyond all dispute had won the battles, were sometimes in as great difficulties as the losers. I think the reason of the strategy adopted by the two sides respectively was, that they both had seen that Hannibal’s cavalry was the main cause of the Carthaginian victory and Roman defeat. Accordingly the plan of the losers after the battles, of following their enemies at a distance, was the natural one to adopt; for the country through which they went was such that the enemy’s cavalry would be unable to do them any damage. Similarly what now happened at Capua to either side was natural and inevitable.

For the Roman army did not venture to come out and give battle, from fear of the enemy’s horse, but remained resolutely within their entrenchment; well knowing that the cavalry, by which they had been worsted in the battles, could not hurt them there. While the Carthaginians, again, naturally could not remain any longer encamped with their cavalry, because all the pastures in the surrounding country had been utterly destroyed by the Romans with that very view; and it was impossible for animals to come from such a distance, carrying on their backs hay and barley for so large a body of cavalry, and so many beasts of burden; nor again did they venture, when encamped without their cavalry, to attack an enemy protected by a palisade and fosse, with whom a contest, even without these advantages in their favour, was likely to be a doubtful one if they had not got their cavalry. Besides this they were much alarmed about the new Consuls, lest they should come and encamp against them, and reduce them to serious straits by cutting off their supplies of provisions.

These considerations convinced Hannibal that it was impossible to raise the siege by an open attack, and he therefore changed his tactics. He imagined that if by a secret march he could suddenly appear in the neighbourhood of Rome, he might by the alarm which he would inspire in the inhabitants by his unexpected movement, perhaps do something worth while against the city itself; or, if he could not do that, would at least force Appius either to raise the siege of Capua, in order to hasten to the relief of his native town, or to divide the Roman forces; which would then be easier for him to conquer in detail.

With this purpose in his mind he sent a letter-carrier into Capua. This he did by persuading one of his Libyans to desert to the Roman camp, and thence to Capua. He took this trouble to secure the safe delivery of his letter, because he was very much afraid that the Capuans, if they saw him departing, would consider that he despaired of them, and would therefore give up hope and surrender to the Romans. He wrote therefore an explanation of his design, and sent the Libyan the day after, in order that the Capuans, being acquainted with the purpose of his departure, might go on courageously sustaining the siege.

When the news had arrived at Rome that Hannibal had encamped over against their lines, and was actually besieging their forces, there was a universal excitement and terror, from a feeling that the result of the impending battle would decide the whole war. Consequently, with one heart and soul, the citizens had all devoted themselves to sending out reinforcements and making preparations for this struggle. On their part, the Capuans were encouraged by the receipt of Hannibal’s letter, and by thus learning the object of the Carthaginian movement, to stand by their determination, and to await the issue of this new hope. At the end of the fifth day, therefore, after his arrival on the ground, Hannibal ordered his men to take their supper as usual, and leave their watch-fires burning; and started with such secrecy, that none of the enemy knew what was happening. He took the road through Samnium, and marched at a great pace and without stopping, his skirmishers always keeping before him to reconnoitre and occupy all the posts along the route: and while those in Rome had their thoughts still wholly occupied with Capua and the campaign there, he crossed the Anio without being observed; and having arrived at a distance of not more than forty stades from Rome, there pitched his camp.

On this being known at Rome, the utmost confusion and terror prevailed among the inhabitants,— this movement of Hannibal’s being as unexpected as it was sudden; for he had never been so close to the city before. At the same time their alarm was increased by the idea at once occurring to them, that he would not have ventured so near, if it were not that the armies at Capua were destroyed. Accordingly, the men at once went to line the walls, and the points of vantage in the defences of the town; while the women went round to the temples of the gods and implored their protection, sweeping the pavements of the temples with their hair: for this is their customary way of behaving when any serious danger comes upon their country. But just as Hannibal had encamped, and was intending to attempt the city itself next day, an extraordinary coincidence occurred which proved fortunate for the preservation of Rome.

Book 9, Part 2

For Gnaeus Fulvius and Publius Sulpicius, having already enrolled one consular army, had bound the men with the usual oath to appear at Rome armed on that very day; and were also engaged on that day in drawing out the lists and testing the men for the other army: whereby it so happened that a large number of men had been collected in Rome spontaneously in the very nick of time. These troops the Consuls boldly led outside the walls, and, entrenching themselves there, checked Hannibal’s intended movement. For the Carthaginians were at first eager to advance, and were not altogether without hope that they would be able to take Rome itself by assault. But when they saw the enemy drawn up in order, and learnt before long from a prisoner what had happened, they abandoned the idea of attacking the city, and began devasting the country-side instead, and setting fire to the houses. In these first raids they collected an innumerable amount of booty, for the field of plunder upon which they were entered was one into which no one had ever expected an enemy to set foot.

But presently, when the Consuls ventured to encamp within ten stades of him, Hannibal broke up his quarters before daylight. He did so for three reasons:—first, because he had collected an enormous booty; secondly, because he had given up all hope of taking Rome; and lastly, because he reckoned that the time had now come at which he expected, according to his original idea, that Appius would have learnt the danger threatening Rome, and would have raised the siege of Capua and come with his whole force to the relief of the city; or at any rate would hurry up with the greater part, leaving a detachment to carry on the siege. Publius had caused the bridges over the Anio to be broken down, and thus compelled Hannibal to get his army across by a ford; and he now attacked the Carthaginians as they were engaged in making the passage of the stream and caused them great distress. They were not able however to strike an important blow, owing to the number of Hannibal’s cavalry, and the activity of the Numidians in every part of the field. But before retiring to their camp they wrested the greater part of the booty from them, and killed about three hundred men; and then, being convinced that the Carthaginians were beating a hasty retreat in a panic, they followed in their rear, keeping along the line of hills. At first Hannibal continued to march at a rapid pace, being anxious to meet the force which he expected; but at the end of the fifth day, being informed that Appius had not left the siege of Capua, he halted; and waiting for the enemy to come up, made an attack upon his camp before daylight, killed a large number of them, and drove the rest out of their camp. But when day broke, and he saw the Romans in a strong position upon a steep hill, to which they had retired, he decided not to continue his attack upon them; but marching through Daunia and Bruttium he appeared at Rhegium, so unexpectedly, that he was within an ace of capturing the city, and did cut off all who were out in the country; and during this excursion captured a very large number of the Rhegini.

It seems to me that the courage and determination both of the Carthaginians and Romans at this crisis were truly remarkable; and merit quite as much admiration as the conduct of Epaminondas, which I will describe here for the sake of pointing the comparison.

He reached Tegea with the allies, and when he saw that the Lacedaemonians with their own forces in full were come to Mantinea, and that their allies had mustered together in the same city, with the intention of offering the Thebans battle; having given orders to his men to get their supper early, he led his army out immediately after nightfall, on the pretext of being anxious to seize certain posts with a view to the coming battle. But having impressed this idea upon the common soldiers, he led them along the road to Lacedaemon itself; and having arrived at the city about the third hour of his march, contrary to all expectation, and finding Sparta destitute of defenders, he forced his way right up to the market-place, and occupied the quarters of the town which slope down to the river. Then however a contretemps occurred: a deserter made his way into Mantinea and told Agesilaus what was going on. Assistance accordingly arrived just as the city was on the point of being taken; and Epaminondas was disappointed of his hope. But having caused his men to get their breakfast along the bank of the Eurotas, and recovered them from their fatigue, he started to march back again by the same road, calculating that, as the Lacedaemonians and their allies had come to the relief of Sparta, Mantinea would in its turn be left undefended: which turned out to be the case. So he exhorted the Thebans to exert themselves; and, after a rapid night march, arrived at Mantinea about mid-day, finding it entirely destitute of defenders.

But the Athenians, who were at that time zealously supporting the Lacedaemonians in their contest with the Thebans, had arrived in virtue of their treaty of alliance; and just as the Theban vanguard reached the temple of Poseidon, seven stades from the town, it happened that the Athenians showed themselves, by design, as if on the brow of the hill overhanging Mantinea. And when they saw them, the Mantineans who had been left behind at last ventured to man the wall and resist the attack of the Thebans. Therefore historians are justified in speaking with some dissatisfaction of these events, when they say that the leader did everything which a good general could, but that, while conquering his enemies, Epaminondas was conquered by Fortune.

Much the same remark applies to Hannibal. For who can refrain from regarding with respect and admiration a general capable of doing what he did? First he attempted by harassing the enemy with skirmishing attacks to raise the siege: having failed in this he made direct for Rome itself: baffled once more by a turn of fortune entirely independent of human calculation, he kept his pursuers in play, and waited till the moment was ripe to see whether the besiegers of Capua stirred: and finally, without relaxing in his determination, swept down upon his enemies to their destruction, and all but depopulated Rhegium. One would be inclined however to judge the Romans to be superior to the Lacedaemonians at this crisis. For the Lacedaemonians rushed off en masse at the first message and relieved Sparta, but, as far as they were concerned, lost Mantinea. The Romans guarded their own city without breaking up the siege of Capua: on the contrary, they remained unshaken and firm in their purpose, and in fact from that time pressed the Capuans with renewed spirit.

I have not said this for the sake of making a panegyric on either the Romans or Carthaginians, whose great qualities I have already remarked upon more than once: but for the sake of those who are in office among the one or the other people, or who are in future times to direct the affairs of any state whatever; that by the memory, or actual contemplation, of exploits such as these they may be inspired with emulation. For in an adventurous and hazardous policy it often turns out that audacity was the truest safety and the finest sagacity; and success or failure does not affect the credit and excellence of the original design, so long as the measures taken are the result of deliberate thought. . . .

When the Romans were besieging Tarentum, Bomilcar the admiral of the Carthaginian fleet came to its relief with a very large force; and being unable to afford efficient aid to those in the town, owing to the strict blockade maintained by the Romans, without meaning to do so he used up more than he brought; and so after having been constrained by entreaties and large promises to come, he was afterwards forced at the earnest supplication of the people to depart. . . .

A city is not really adorned by what is brought from without, but by the virtue of its own inhabitants. . . .

The Romans, then, decided to transfer these things to their own city and to leave nothing behind. Whether they were right in doing so, and consulted their true interests or the reverse, is a matter admitting of much discussion; but I think the balance of argument is in favour of believing it to have been wrong then, and wrong now. If such had been the works by which they had exalted their country, it is clear that there would have been some reason in transferring thither the things by which they had become great. But the fact was that, while leading lives of the greatest simplicity themselves, as far as possible removed from the luxury and extravagance which these things imply, they yet conquered the men who had always possessed them in the greatest abundance and of the finest quality. Could there have been a greater mistake than theirs? Surely it would be an incontestable error for a people to abandon the habits of the conquerors and adopt those of the conquered; and at the same time involve itself in that jealousy which is the most dangerous concomitant of excessive prosperity. For the looker-on never congratulates those who take what belongs to others, without a feeling of jealousy mingling with his pity for the losers. But suppose such prosperity to go on increasing, and a people to accumulate into its own hands all the possessions of the rest of the world, and moreover to invite in a way the plundered to share in the spectacle they present, in that case surely the mischief is doubled. For it is no longer a case of the spectators pitying their neighbours, but themselves, as they recall the ruin of their own country. Such a sight produces an outburst, not of jealousy merely, but of rage against the victors. For the reminder of their own disaster serves to enhance their hatred of the authors of it. To sweep the gold and silver, however, into their own coffers was perhaps reasonable; for it was impossible for them to aim at universal empire without crippling the means of the rest of the world, and securing the same kind of resources for themselves. But they might have left in their original sites things that had nothing to do with material wealth; and thus at the same time have avoided exciting jealousy, and raised the reputation of their country: adorning it, not with pictures and statues, but with dignity of character and greatness of soul. I have spoken thus much as a warning to those who take upon themselves to rule over others, that they may not imagine that, when they pillage cities, the misfortunes of others are an honour to their own country. The Romans, however, when they transferred these things to Rome, used such of them as belonged to individuals to increase the splendour of private establishments, and such as belonged to the state to adorn the city. . . .

Book 9, Part 3

The leaders of the Carthaginians, though they had conquered their enemies, could not control themselves: and having made up their minds that they had put an end to the Roman war, they began quarrelling with each other, finding continual subjects of dispute through the innate covetousness and ambition of the Phoenician character; among whom Hasdrubal, son of Gesco, pushed his authority to such a pitch of iniquity as to demand a large sum of money from Andobales, the most faithful of all their Iberian friends, who had some time before lost his chieftainship for the sake of the Carthaginians, and had but recently recovered it through his loyalty to them. When Andobales, trusting to his long fidelity to Carthage, refused this demand, Hasdrubal got up a false charge against him and compelled him to give up his daughters as hostages. . . .

The chances and accidents that attend military expeditions require great circumspection; and it is possible to provide for all of them with precision, provided that a man gives his mind to the conduct of his plan of campaign. Now that fewer operations in war are carried out openly and by mere force, than by stratagem and the skilful use of opportunity, any one that chooses may readily learn from the history of the past. And again that operations depending on the choice of opportunity oftener fail than succeed is easily proved from experience. Nor can there be any doubt that the greater part of such failures are due to the folly or carelessness of the leaders. It is time therefore to inquire into the rules of this art of strategy.

Such things as occur in campaigns without having been calculated upon in any way we must not speak of as operations, but as accidents or casualties. It is the conduct of a campaign in accordance with an exact plan that I am to set forth: omitting all such things as do not fall under a scientfic rule, and have no fixed design.

Every operation requires a time fixed for its commencement, a period and place for its execution, secrecy, definite signals, persons by whom and with whom it is to be executed, and a settled plan for conducting it. It is evident that the man who has rightly provided for each of these details will not fail in the ultimate result, while he who has neglected any single one of them will fail in the whole. Such is the order of nature, that one insignificant circumstance will suffice for failure, while for success rigid perfection of every detail is barely enough.

Leaders then should neglect no single point in conducting such expeditions.

Now the head and front of such precautions is silence; and not to allow either joy at the appearance of an unexpected hope, or fear, or familiarity, or natural affection, to induce a man to communicate his plans to any one unconcerned, but to impart it to those and those alone without whom it is impossible to complete his plan; and not even to them a moment sooner than necessary, but only when the exigencies of the particular service make it inevitable. It is necessary, moreover, not only to be silent with the tongue, but much more so in the mind. For it has happened to many generals before now, while preserving an inviolable silence, to betray their thoughts either by the expression of their countenances or by their actions.

The second requisite is to know accurately the conditions under which marches by day or night may be performed, and the distances to which they can extend; and not only marches on land, but also voyages by sea.

The third and most important is to have some knowledge of the seasons, and to be able to adapt the design to them.

Nor again is the selection of the ground for the operation to be regarded as unimportant, since it often happens that it is this which makes what seems impossible possible, and what seemed possible impossible.

Finally there must be no neglect of the subject of signals and counter signals; and the choice of persons by whom and with whom the operation is to be carried out.

Book 9, Part 4

Of these points some are learnt by experience, some from history, and others by the study of scientific strategy. It is a most excellent thing too that the general should have a personal knowledge both of the roads, and the locality which he has to reach, and its natural features; as well as of the persons by whom and with whom he is to act. If that is not possible, the next best thing is that he should make careful inquiries and not trust just any one: and men who undertake to act as guides to such places should always deposit security with those whom they are conducting.

These,—and other points like them, it is perhaps possible that leaders may learn sufficiently from the mere study of strategy, whether practical or in books. But scientific investigation requires scientific processes and demonstrations, especially in astronomy and geometry; the working out of which is not much to our present point, though their results are important, and may contribute largely to the success of such undertakings.

The most important operation in astronomy is the calculation of the lengths of the days and nights. If these had been uniform it would not have been a matter requiring any study, but the knowledge would have been common to all the world: since however they not only differ with each other but also with themselves, it is plainly necessary to be acquainted with the increase and diminution of both the one and the other. How can a man calculate a march, and the distance practicable in a day or in a night, if he is unacquainted with the variation of these periods of time? In fact nothing can be done up to time without this knowledge,—it is inevitable otherwise that a man should be sometimes too late and sometimes too soon. And these operations are the only ones in which being too soon is a worse fault than being too late. For the general who overstays the proper hour of action only misses his chance, since he can find out that he has done so before he arrives, and so get off safely: but he that anticipates the hour is detected when he comes up; and so not only misses his immediate aim, but runs a risk of ruining himself altogether.

In all human undertakings opportuneness is the most important thing, but especially in operations of war. Therefore a general must have at his fingers’ ends the season of the summer and winter solstice, the equinoxes, and the periods between them in which the days and nights increase and diminish. For it is by this knowledge alone that he can compute the distance that can be done whether by sea or land. Again, he must necessarily understand the subdivisions both of the day and the night, in order to know at what hour to order the reveille, or the march out; for the end cannot be attained unless the beginning be rightly taken. As for the periods of the day, they may be observed by the shadows or by the sun’s course, and the quarter of the heaven in which it has arrived, but it is difficult to do the same for the night, unless a man is familiar with the phenomenon of the twelve signs of the Zodiac, and their law and order: and this is easy to those who have studied astronomy. For since, though the nights are unequal in length, at least six of the signs of the Zodiac are nevertheless above the horizon every night, it is plain that in the same portions of every night equal portions of the twelve signs of the Zodiac rise. Now as it is known what portion of the sphere is occupied by the sun during the day, it is evident that when he has set the are subtended by the diameter of his are must rise. Therefore the length of the night is exactly commensurate with the portion of the Zodiac which appears above the horizon after sunset. And, given that we know the number and size of the signs of the Zodiac, the corresponding divisions of the night are also known. If however the nights be cloudy, the moon must be watched, since owing to its size its light as a general rule is always visible, at whatsoever point in the heaven it may be. The hour may be guessed sometimes by observing the time and place of its rising, or again of its setting, if you only have sufficient acquaintance with this phenomenon to be familiar with the daily variation of its rising. And the law which it too follows admits of being easily observed; for its revolution is limited by the period of one month, which serves as a model to which all subsequent revolutions conform.

And here one may mention with admiration that Homer represents Ulysses, that truest type of a leader of men, taking observations of the stars, not only to direct his voyages, but his operations on land also. For such accidents as baffle expectation, and are incapable of being accurately reckoned upon, are quite sufficient to bring us to great and frequent distress, for instance, downpours of rain and rise of torrents, excessive frosts and snows, misty and cloudy weather, and other things like these;—but if we also neglect to provide for those which can be foreseen, is it not likely that we shall have ourselves to thank for frequent failures? None of these means then must be neglected, if we wish to avoid those errors into which many others are said to have fallen, as well as the particular generals whom I am about to mention by way of examples.

When Aratus, the Strategus of the Achaean league, attempted to take Cynaetha by treachery, he arranged a day with those in the town who were co-operating with him, on which he was to arrive on the banks of the river which flows past Cynaetha, and to remain there quietly with his forces: while the party inside the town about midday, when they got an opportunity, were to send out one of their men quietly, wrapped in a cloak, and order him to take his stand upon a tomb agreed upon in front of the city; the rest were to attack the officers who were accustomed to guard the gate while taking their siesta. This being done, the Achaeans were to rise from their ambush and to make all haste to occupy the gate. These arrangements made, and the time having come, Aratus arrived; and having concealed himself down by the river, waited there for the signal. But about an hour before noon, a man, whose profession it was to keep a fine kind of sheep near the town, wishing to ask some business question of the shepherd, came out of the gate with his cloak on, and standing upon the same tomb looked round to find the shepherd. Whereupon Aratus, thinking that the signal had been given, hurried with all his men as fast as he could towards the gate. But the gate being hurriedly closed by the guard, owing to no preparations having yet been made by the party in the town, the result was that Aratus not only failed in his attempt but was the cause of the worst misfortunes to his partisans. For being thus detected they were dragged forward and put to death. What is one to say was the cause of this catastrophe? Surely that the general arranged only for a single signal, and being then quite young had no experience of the accuracy secured by double signals and counter-signals. On so small a point in war does the success or failure of an operation turn.

Again the Spartan Cleomenes, when proposing to take Megalopolis by a stratagem, arranged with the guards of that part of the wall near what is called the Cavern to come out with all their men in the third watch, the hour at which his partisans were on duty on the wall; but not having taken into consideration the fact that at the time of the rising of the Pleiads the nights are very short, he started his army from Sparta about sunset. The result was that he was not able to get there in time, but being overtaken by daybreak, made a rash and ill-considered attempt to carry the town, and was repulsed with considerable loss and the danger of a complete overthrow. Now if he had, in accordance with his arrangement, hit the proper time, and led in his men while his partisans were in command of the entrance, he would not have failed in his attempt.

Similarly, once more, King Philip, as I have already stated, when carrying on an intrigue in the city of Meliteia, made a mistake in two ways. The ladders which he brought were too short for their purpose, and he mistook the time. For having arranged to arrive about midnight, when every one was fast asleep, he started from Larissa and arrived in the territory of Meliteia too early, and was neither able to halt, for fear of his arrival being announced in the city, nor to get back again without being discovered. Being compelled therefore to continue his advance, he arrived at the city while the inhabitants were still awake. Consequently he could neither carry the wall by an escalade, because of the insufficient length of the ladders; nor enter by the gate, because it was too early for his partisans inside to help him. Finally, he did nothing but irritate the people of the town; and, after losing a considerable number of his own men, retired unsuccessful and covered with disgrace; having only given a warning to the rest of the world to distrust him and be on their guard against him.

Again Nicias, the general of the Athenians, had it in his power to have saved the army besieging Syracuse, and had selected the proper time of the night for escaping the observation of the enemy, and retiring to a place of safety. And then because the moon was eclipsed, regarding it superstitiously as of evil portent, he stopped the army from starting. Thanks to this it came about that, when he started the next day, the enemy had obtained information of his intention, and army and generals alike fell into the hands of the Syracusans. Yet if he had asked about this from men acquainted with such phenomena, he might not only have avoided missing his opportunity for such an absurd reason, but have also used the occurrence for his own benefit owing to the ignorance of the enemy. For the ignorance of their neighbours contributes more than anything else to the success of the instructed.

Such then are examples of the necessity of studying celestial phenomena. But as for securing the proper length of scaling ladders, the following is the method of making the calculation. Suppose the height of the wall to be given by one of the conspirators within, the measurement required for the ladders is evident; for example, if the height of the wall is ten feet or any other unit, the ladders must be full twelve; and the interval between the wall and the foot of the ladder must be half the length of the ladder, that the ladders may not break under the weight of those mounting if they are set farther away, nor be too steep to be safe if set nearer the perpendicular. But supposing it not to be possible to measure or get near the wall: the height of any object which rises perpendicularly on its base can be taken by those who choose to study mathematics.

Book 9, Part 5

Once more, therefore, those who wish to succeed in military projects and operations must have studied geometry, not with professional completeness, but far enough to have a comprehension of proportion and equations. For it is not only in such cases that these are necessary, but also for raising the scale of the divisions of a camp. For sometimes the problem is to change the entire form of the camp, and yet to keep the same proportion between all the parts included: at other times to keep the same shape in the parts, and to increase or diminish the whole area on which the camp stands, adding or subtracting from all proportionally. On which point I have already spoken in more elaborate detail in my Notes on Military Tactics. For I do not think that any one will reasonably object to me that I add a great burden to strategy, in urging on those who endeavour to acquire it the study of astronomy and geometry: for, while rather rejecting all that is superfluous in these studies, and brought in for show and talk, as well as all idea of enjoining their prosecution beyond the point of practical utility, I am most earnest and eager for so much as is barely necessary. For it would be strange if those who aim at the sciences of dancing and flute-playing should study the preparatory sciences of rhythms and music, (and the like might be said of the pursuits of the palaestra), from the belief that the final attainment of each of these sciences requires the assistance of the latter; while the students of strategy are to feel aggrieved if they find that they require subsidiary sciences up to a certain point. That would mean that men practising common and inferior arts are more diligent and energetic than those who resolve to excel in the best and most dignified subject; which no man of sense would admit. . . .

Most people calculate the area merely from the length of the circumference [of towns or camps]. Accordingly, when one says that the city of Megalopolis has a circuit of fifty stades, and that of Sparta forty-eight, but that Sparta is twice the size of Megalopolis, they look upon the assertion as incredible. And if one, by way of increasing the difficulty, were to say that a city or camp may have a circuit of forty stades and yet be double the size of one having a perimeter of a hundred, the statement would utterly puzzle them. The reason of this is that we do not remember the lessons in geometry taught us at school. I was led to make these remarks because it is not only common people, but actually some statesmen and military commanders, who have puzzled themselves sometimes by wondering whether it were possible that Sparta should be bigger, and that too by a great deal, than Megalopolis, while having a shorter circuit; and at other times by trying to conjecture the number of men by considering the mere length of a camp’s circuit. A similar mistake is also made in pronouncing as to the number of the inhabitants of cities. For most people imagine that cities in which the ground is broken and hilly contain more houses than a flat site. But the fact is not so; because houses are built at right angles not to sloping foundations but to the plains below, upon which the hills themselves are excrescences. And this admits of a proof within the intelligence of a child. For if one would imagine houses on slopes to be raised until they were of the same height; it is evident that the plane of the roofs of the houses thus united will be equal and parallel to the plane underlying the hills and foundations.

So much for those who aspire to be leaders and statesmen and are yet ignorant and puzzled about such facts as these. . . .

Those who do not enter upon undertakings with good will and zeal cannot be expected to give real help when the time comes to act. . . .

Such being the position of the Romans and Carthaginians, Fortune continually oscillating between the two, we may say with the poet

Pain hard by joy possessed the souls of each. . . .

There is profound truth in the observation which I have often made, that it is impossible to grasp or get a complete view of the fairest of all subjects of contemplation, the tendency of history as a whole, from writers of partial histories. . . .

Of all that befell the Romans and Carthaginians, good or bad, the cause was one man and one mind,—Hannibal. For it is notorious that he managed the Italian campaigns in person, and the Spanish by the agency of the elder of his brothers, Hasdrubal, and subsequently by that of Mago, the leaders who killed the two Roman generals in Spain about the same time. Again, he conducted the Sicilian campaign at first through Hippocrates and afterwards through Myttonus the Libyan. So also in Greece and Illyria: and, by brandishing before their faces the dangers arising from these latter places, he was enabled to distract the attention of the Romans, thanks to his understanding with Philip. So great and wonderful is the influence of a Man, and a mind duly fitted by original constitution for any undertaking within the reach of human powers.

But since the position of affairs has brought us to an inquiry into the genius of Hannibal, the occasion seems to me to demand that I should explain in regard to him the peculiarities of his character which have been especially the subject of controversy. Some regard him as having been extraordinarily cruel, some exceedingly grasping of money. But to speak the truth of him, or of any person engaged in public affairs, is not easy. Some maintain that men’s real natures are brought out by their circumstances, and that they are detected when in office, or as some say when in misfortunes, though they have up to that time completely maintained their secrecy. I, on the contrary, do not regard this as a sound dictum. For I think that men in these circumstances are compelled, not only occasionally but frequently, either by the suggestions of friends or the complexity of affairs, to speak and act contrary to their real principles.

And there are many proofs of this to be found in past history if any one will give the necessary attention. Is it not universally stated by the historians that Agathocles, tyrant of Sicily, after having the reputation of extreme cruelty in his original measures for the establishment of his dynasty, when he had once become convinced that his power over the Siceliots was firmly established, is considered to have become the most humane and mild of rulers? Again, was not Cleomenes of Sparta a most excellent king, a most cruel tyrant, and then again as a private individual most obliging and benevolent? And yet it is not reasonable to suppose the most opposite dispositions to exist in the same nature. They are compelled to change with the changes of circumstances: and so some rulers often display to the world a disposition as opposite as possible to their true nature. Therefore the natures of men not only are not brought out by such things, but on the contrary are rather obscured. The same effect is produced also not only in commanders, despots, and kings, but in states also, by the suggestions of friends. For instance, you will find the Athenians responsible for very few tyrannical acts, and of many kindly and noble ones, while Aristeides and Pericles were at the head of the state: but quite the reverse when Cleon and Chares were so. And when the Lacedaemonians were supreme in Greece, all the measures taken by King Cleombrotus were conceived in the interests of their allies, but those by Agesilaus not so. The characters of states therefore vary with the variations of their leaders. King Philip again, when Taurion and Demetrius were acting with him, was most impious in his conduct, but when Aratus or Chrysogonus, most humane.

Book 9, Part 6

The case of Hannibal seems to me to be on a par with these. His circumstances were so extraordinary and shifting, his closest friends so widely different, that it is exceedingly difficult to estimate his character from his proceedings in Italy. What those circumstances suggested to him may easily be understood from what I have already said, and what is immediately to follow; but it is not right to omit the suggestions made by his friends either, especially as this matter may be rendered sufficiently clear by one instance of the advice offered him. At the time that Hannibal was meditating the march from Iberia to Italy with his army, he was confronted with the extreme difficulty of providing food and securing provisions, both because the journey was thought to be of insuperable length, and because the barbarians that lived in the intervening country were so numerous and savage. It appears that at that time this difficulty frequently came on for discussion at the council; and that one of his friends, called Hannibal Monomachus, gave it as his opinion that there was one and only one way by which it was possible to get as far as Italy. Upon Hannibal bidding him speak out, he said that they must teach the army to eat human flesh, and make them accustomed to it. Hannibal could say nothing against the boldness and effectiveness of the idea, but was unable to persuade himself or his friends to entertain it. It is this man’s acts in Italy that they say were attributed to Hannibal, to maintain the accusation of cruelty, as well as such as were the result of circumstances.

Fond of money indeed he does seem to have been to a conspicuous degree, and to have had a friend of the same character—Mago, who commanded in Bruttium. That account I got from the Carthaginians themselves; for natives know best not only which way the wind lies, as the proverb has it, but the characters also of their fellow-countrymen. But I heard a still more detailed story from Massanissa, who maintained the charge of money-loving against all Carthaginians generally, but especially against Hannibal and Mago called the Samnite. Among other stories, he told me that these two men had arranged a most generous subdivision of operations between each other from their earliest youth; and though they had each taken a very large number of cities in Iberia and Italy by force or fraud, they had never taken part in the same operation together; but had always schemed against each other, more than against the enemy, in order to prevent the one being with the other at the taking of a city: that they might neither quarrel in consequence of things of this sort, nor have to divide the profit on the ground of their equality of rank.

The influence of friends then, and still more that of circumstances, in doing violence to and changing the natural character of Hannibal, is shown by what I have narrated and will be shown by what I have to narrate. For as soon as Capua fell into the hands of the Romans the other cities naturally became restless, and began to look round for opportunities and pretexts for revolting back again to Rome. It was then that Hannibal seems to have been at his lowest point of distress and despair. For neither was he able to keep a watch upon all the cities so widely removed from each other,—while he remained entrenched at one spot, and the enemy were manœuvering against him with several armies,— nor could he divide his force into many parts; for he would have put an easy victory into the hands of the enemy by becoming inferior to them in numbers, and finding it impossible to be personally present at all points. Wherefore he was obliged to completely abandon some of the cities, and withdraw his garrisons from others: being afraid lest, in the course of the revolutions which might occur, he should lose his own soldiers as well. Some cities again he made up his mind to treat with treacherous violence, removing their inhabitants to other cities, and giving their property up to plunder; in consequence of which many were enraged with him, and accused him of impiety or cruelty. For the fact was that these movements were accompanied by robberies of money, murders, and violence, on various pretexts at the hands of the outgoing or incoming soldiers in the cities, because they always supposed that the inhabitants that were left behind were on the verge of turning over to the enemy. It is, therefore, very difficult to express an opinion on the natural character of Hannibal, owing to the influence exercised on it by the counsel of friends and the force of circumstances. The prevailing notion about him, however, at Carthage was that he was greedy of money, at Rome that he was cruel. . . .

The city of Agrigentum is not only superior to most cities in the particulars I have mentioned, but above all in beauty and elaborate ornamentation. It stands within eighteen stades of the sea, so that it participates in every advantage from that quarter; while its circuit of fortification is particularly strong both by nature and art. For its wall is placed on a rock, steep and precipitous, on one side naturally; on the other made so artificially. And it is enclosed by rivers: for along the south side runs the river of the same name as the town, and along the west and south-west side the river called Hypsas. The citadel overlooks the city exactly at the south-east, girt on the outside by an impassable ravine, and on the inside with only one approach from the town. On the top of it is a temple of Athene and of Zeus Atabyrius as at Rhodes: for as Agrigentum was founded by the Rhodians, it is natural that this deity should have the same appellation as at Rhodes. The city is sumptuously adorned in other respects also with temples and colonnades. The temple of Zeus Olympius is still unfinished, but in its plan and dimensions it seems to be inferior to no temple whatever in all Greece. . . .

Marcus Valerius persuaded these refugees, on giving them a pledge for the security of their lives, to leave Sicily and go to Italy, on condition that they should receive pay from the people of Rhegium for plundering Bruttium, and retain all booty obtained from hostile territory. . . .

That the Macedonian supremacy, men of Sparta, was the beginning of slavery to the Greeks, I am persuaded that no one will venture to deny; and you may satisfy yourselves by looking at it thus. There was a league of Greeks living in the parts towards Thrace who were colonists from Athens and Chalcis, of which the most conspicuous and powerful was the city of Olynthus. Having enslaved and made an example of this town, Philip not only became master of the Thraceward cities, but reduced Thessaly also to his authority by the terror which he had thus set up. Not long after this he conquered the Athenians in a pitched battle, and used his success with magnanimity, not from any wish to benefit the Athenians—far from it, but in order that his favourable treatment of them might induce the other states to submit to him voluntarily. The reputation of your city was still such that it seemed likely, that, if a proper opportunity arose, it would recover its supremacy in Greece. Accordingly, without waiting for any but the slightest pretext, Philip came with his army and cut down everything standing in your fields, and destroyed the houses with fire. And at last, after destroying towns and open country alike, he assigned part of your territory to the Argives, part to Tegea and Megalopolis, and part to the Messenians: determined to benefit every people in spite of all justice, on the sole condition of their injuring you. Alexander succeeded Philip on the throne, and how he destroyed Thebes, because he thought that it contained a spark of Hellenic life, however small, you all I think know well.

And why need I speak in detail of how the successors of this king have treated the Greeks? For surely there is no man living, so uninterested in public affairs, as not to have heard how Antipater in his victory at Lamia treated the unhappy Athenians, as well as the other Greeks; and how he went so far in violence and brutality as to institute man-hunters, and send them to the various cities to catch all who had ever spoken against, or in any way annoyed, the royal family of Macedonia: of whom some were dragged by force from the temples, and others from the very altars, and put to death with torture, and others who escaped were forced to leave Greece entirely; nor had they any refuge save the Aetolian nation alone. For the Aetolians were the only people in Greece who withstood Antipater in behalf of those unjustly defrauded of safety to their lives: they alone faced the invasion of Brennus and his barbarian army: and they alone came to your aid when called upon, with a determination to assist you in regaining your ancestral supremacy in Greece. Who again is ignorant of the deeds of Cassander, Demetrius, and Antigonus Gonatas? For owing to their recency the knowledge of them still remains distinct. Some of them by introducing garrisons, and others by implanting despots in the cities, effectually secured that every state should share the infamous brand of slavery. But passing by all these I will now come to the last Antigonus, lest any of you, viewing his policy unsuspiciously, should consider that you are under an obligation to the Macedonians. For it was with no purpose of saving the Achaeans that he undertook the war against you, nor from any dislike of the tyranny of Cleomenes inducing him to free the Lacedaemonians. If any man among you holds this opinion, he must be simple indeed. No! It was because he saw that his own power would not be secure if you got the rule of the Peloponnese; and because he saw that Cleomenes was of a nature well calculated to secure this object, and that fortune was splendidly seconding your efforts, that he came in a tumult of fear and jealousy, not to help Peloponnesians, but to destroy your hopes and abase your power. Therefore you do not owe the Macedonians so much gratitude for not destroying your city when they had taken it, as hostility and hatred, for having more than once already stood in your way, when you were strong enough to grasp the supremacy of Greece.

Again, what need to speak more on the wickedness of Philip? For of his impiety towards the gods his outrages on the temples at Thermus are a sufficient proof; and of his cruelty towards man, his perfidy and treachery to the Messenians.

So much for the past. But as to the present resolution before you, it is in a way necessary to draft it, and vote on it, as though you were deciding on war, and yet in real truth not to regard it as a war. For it is impossible for the Achaeans, beaten as they are, to damage your territory: but I imagine that they will be only too thankful to heaven if they can but protect their own, when they find themselves surrounded by war with Eleans and Messenians as allied to us, and with ourselves at the same time. And Philip, I am persuaded, will soon desist from his attack, when involved in a war by land with Aetolians, and by sea with Rome and King Attalus. The future may be easily conjectured from the past. For if he always failed to subdue Aetolians when they were his only enemies, can we conceive that he will be able to support the war if all these combine?

I have said thus much with the deliberate purpose of showing you that you are not hampered by previous engagements, but are entirely free in your deliberations as to which you ought to join—Aetolians or Macedonians. If you are under an earlier engagement, and have already made up your minds on these points, what room is there for further argument? For if you had made the alliance now existing between yourselves and us, previous to the good services done you by Antigonus, there might perhaps have been some reason for questioning whether it were right to neglect an old treaty in gratitude for recent favours. But since it was subsequent to this much vaunted freedom and security given you by Antigonus, and with which they are perpetually taunting you, that, after deliberation and frequent consideration as to which of the two you ought to join, you decided to combine with us Aetolians; and have actually exchanged pledges of fidelity with us, and have fought by our side in the late war against Macedonia, how can any one entertain a doubt on the subject any longer? For the obligations of kindness between you and Antigonus and Philip were cancelled then. It now remains for you to point out some subsequent wrong done you by Aetolians, or subsequent favour by Macedonians: or if neither of these exist, on what grounds are you now, at the instance of the very men to whom you justly refused to listen formerly, when no obligation existed, about to undo treaties and oaths—the strongest bonds of fidelity existing among mankind.

Book 9, Part 7

Such was the conclusion of what was considered a very cogent speech by Chlaeneas.

After him the ambassador of the Acarnanians, Lyciscus, came forward: and at first he paused, seeing the multitude talking to each other about the last speech; but when at last silence was obtained, he began his speech as follows:—

I and my colleagues, men of Sparta, have been sent to you by the common league of the Acarnanians; and as we have always shared in the same prospects as the Macedonians, we consider that this mission also is common to us and them. For just as on the field of war, owing to the superiority and magnitude of the Macedonian, force, our safety is involved in their valour; so, in the controversies of diplomacy, our interests are inseparable from the rights of the Macedonians. Now Chlaeneas in the peroration of his address gave a summary of the obligations existing between the Aetolians and yourselves. For he said, If subsequent to your making the alliance with them any fresh injury or offence had been committed by Aetolians, or any kindness done by Macedonians, the present proposal ought properly to be discussed as a fresh start; but that if, nothing of the sort having taken place, we believe that by quoting the services of Antigonus, and your former decrees, we shall be able to annul existing oaths and treaties, we are the greatest simpletons in the world. To this I reply by acknowledging that I must indeed be the most foolish of men, and that the arguments I am about to put forward are indeed futile, if, as he maintains, nothing fresh has happened, and Greek affairs are in precisely the same position as before. But if exactly the reverse be the case, as I shall clearly prove in the course of my speech,—then I imagine that I shall be shown to give you some salutary advice, and Chlaeneas to be quite in the wrong. We are come, then, expressly because we are convinced that it is needful for us to speak on this very point: namely, to point out to you that it is at once your duty and your interest, after hearing of the evils threatening Greece, to adopt if possible a policy excellent and worthy of yourselves by uniting your prospects with ours; or if that cannot be, at least to abstain from this movement for the present.

But since the last speaker has ventured to go back to ancient times for his denunciations of the Macedonian royal family, I feel it incumbent on me also to say a few words first on these points, to remove the misconception of those who have been carried away by his words.

Chlaeneas said, then, that Philip son of Amyntas became master of Thessaly by the ruin of Olynthus. But I conceive that not only the Thessalians, but the other Greeks also, were preserved by Philip’s means. For at the time when Onomarchus and Philomelus, in defiance of religion and law, seized Delphi and made themselves masters of the treasury of the god, who is there among you who does not know that they collected such a mighty force as no Greek dared any longer face? Nay, along with this violation of religion, they were within an ace of becoming lords of all Greece also. At that crisis Philip volunteered his assistance; destroyed the tyrants, secured the temple, and became the author of freedom to the Greeks, as is testified even to posterity by the facts. For Philip was unanimously elected general-in-chief by land and sea, not, as my opponent ventured to assert, as one who had wronged Thessaly; but on the ground of his being a benefactor of Greece: an honour which no one had previously obtained. Ay, but, he says, Philip came with an armed force into Laconia. Yes, but it was not of his own choice, as you know: he reluctantly consented to do so, after repeated invitations and appeals by the Peloponnesians, under the name of their friend and ally. And when he did come, pray observe, Chlaeneas, how he behaved. Though he could have availed himself of the wishes of the neighbouring states for the destruction of these men’s territory and the humiliation of their city, and have won much gratitude too by his act, he by no means lent himself to such a policy; but, by striking terror into the one and the other alike, he compelled both parties to accommodate their differences in a congress, to the common benefit of all: not putting himself forward as arbitrator of the points in dispute, but appointing a joint board of arbitration selected from all Greece. Is that a proceeding which deserves to be held up to reproach and execration?

Again, you bitterly denounced Alexander, because, when he believed himself to be wronged, he punished Thebes: but of his having exacted vengeance of the Persians for their outrages on all the Greeks you made no mention at all; nor of his having released us all in common from heavy miseries, by enslaving the barbarians, and depriving them of the supplies which they used for the ruin of the Greeks,—sometimes pitting the Athenians against the ancestors of these gentlemen here, at another the Thebans; nor finally of his having subjected Asia to the Greeks.

As for Alexander’s successors how had you the audacity to mention them? They were indeed, according to the circumstances of the time, on many occasions the authors of good to some and of harm to others: for which perhaps others might be allowed to bear them a grudge. But to you Aetolians it is in no circumstance open to do so,— you who have never been the authors of anything good to any one, but of mischief to many and on many occasions! Who was it that called in Antigonus son of Demetrius to the partition of the Achaean league? Who was it that made a sworn treaty with Alexander of Epirus for the enslaving and dismembering of Acarnania? Was it not you? What nation ever sent out military commanders duly accredited of the sort that you have? Men that ventured to do violence to the sanctity of asylum itself! Timaeus violated the sanctuary of Poseidon on Taenarum, and of Artemis at Lusi. Pharylus and Polycritus plundered, the former the sacred enclosure of Here in Argos, the latter that of Poseidon at Mantinea. What again about Lattabus and Nicostratus? Did not they make a treacherous attack on the assembly of the Pan-Boeotians in time of peace, committing outrages worthy of Scythians and Gauls? You will find no such crimes as these committed by the Diadochi.

Not being able to say anything in defence of any of these acts, you talk pompously about your having resisted the invasion of Delphi by the barbarians, and allege that for this Greece ought to be grateful to you. But if for this one service some gratitude is owing to the Aetolians; what high honour do the Macedonians deserve, who throughout nearly their whole lives are ceaselessly engaged in a struggle with the barbarians for the safety of the Greeks? For that Greece would have been continually involved in great dangers, if we had not had the Macedonians and the ambition of their kings as a barrier, who is ignorant? And there is a very striking proof of this. For no sooner had the Gauls conceived a contempt for the Macedonians, by their victory over Ptolemy Ceraunus, than, thinking the rest of no account, Brennus promptly marched into the middle of Greece. And this would often have happened if the Macedonians had not been on our frontiers.

However, though I have much that I could say on the past, I think this is enough. Of all the actions of Philip, they have selected his destruction of the temple, to fasten the charge of impiety upon him. They did not add a word about their own outrage and crime, which they perpetrated in regard to the temples in Dium, and Dodona, and the sacred enclosures of the gods. The speaker should have mentioned this first. But anything you Aetolians have suffered you recount to these gentlemen with exaggeration: but the things you have inflicted unprovoked, though many times as numerous as the others, you pass over in silence; because you know full well that everybody lays the blame of acts of injustice and mischief on those who give the provocation by unjust actions themselves.

Of Antigonus I will only make mention so far, as to avoid appearing to despise what was done, or to treat as unimportant so great an undertaking. For my part I think that history does not contain the record of a more admirable service than that which Antigonus performed for you: indeed it appears to me to be unsurpassable. And the following facts will show this. Antigonus went to war with you and conquered you in a pitched battle. By force of arms he became master of your territory and city at once. He might have exercised all the rights of war upon you: but he was so far from inflicting any hardships upon you, that, besides other benefits, he expelled your tyrant and restored your laws and ancestral constitution. In return for which, in the national assemblies, calling the Greeks to witness your words, you proclaimed Antigonus your benefactor and preserver.

Book 9, Part 8

What then ought to have been your policy? I will speak what I really think, gentlemen of Sparta: and you will I am sure bear with me. For I shall do this now from no wish to go out of my way to bring railing accusations against you, but under the pressure of circumstances, and for the common good. What then am I to say? This: that both in the late war you ought to have allied yourselves not with Aetolians but with Macedonians; and now again, in answer to these invitations, you ought to join Philip rather than the former people. But, it may be objected, you will be breaking a treaty. Which will be the graver breach of right on your part,—to neglect a private arrangement made with Aetolians, or one that has been inscribed on a column and solemnly consecrated in the sight of all Greece? On what ground are you so careful of breaking faith with this people, from whom you have never received any favour, while you pay no heed to Philip and the Macedonians, to whom you owe even the very power of deliberating to-day? Do you regard it as a duty to keep faith with friends? Yet it is not so much a point of conscience to confirm written pledges of faith, as it is a violation of conscience to go to war with those who preserved you: and this is what, in the present instance, the Aetolians are come to demand of you.

Let it, however, be granted that what I have now said may in the eyes of severe critics be regarded as beside the subject. I will now return to the main point at issue, as they state it. It was this: If the circumstances are the same now as at the time when you made alliance with the Aetolians, then your policy ought to remain on the same lines. That was their first proposition. But if they have been entirely changed, then it is fair that you should now deliberate on the demands made to you as on a matter entirely new and unprejudiced. I ask you therefore, Cleonicus and Chlaeneas, who were your allies on the former occasion when you invited this people to join you? Were they not all the Greeks? But with whom are you now united, or to what kind of federation are you now inviting this people? Is it not to one with the foreigner? A mighty similarity exists, no doubt, in your minds, and no diversity at all! Then you were contending for glory and supremacy with Achaeans and Macedonians, men of kindred blood with yourselves, and with Philip their leader; now a war of slavery is threatening Greece against men of another race, whom you think to bring against Philip, but have really unconsciously brought against yourselves and all Greece. For just as men in the stress of war, by introducing into their cities garrisons superior in strength to their own forces, while successfully repelling all danger from the enemy, put themselves at the mercy of their friends,—just so are the Aetolians acting in the present case. For in their desire to conquer Philip and humble Macedonia, they have unconsciously brought such a mighty cloud from the west, as for the present perhaps will overshadow Macedonia first, but which in the sequel will be the origin of heavy evils to all Greece.

All Greeks indeed have need to be on the alert for the crisis which is coming on: but Lacedaemonians above all. For why was it, do you suppose, men of Sparta, that your ancestors, when Xerxes sent an ambassador to your town demanding earth and water, thrust the man into a well, and, throwing earth upon him, bade him take back word to Xerxes that he had got from the Lacedaemonians what he had demanded from them,—earth and water? Why was it again, do you suppose, that Leonidas and his men started forth to a voluntary and certain death? Was it not that they might have the glory of being the forlorn hope, not only of their own freedom, but of that of all Greece also? And it would indeed be a worthy action for descendants of such heroes as these to make a league with the barbarians now, and to serve with them; and to war against Epirotes, Achaeans, Acarnanians, Boeotians, Thessalians, and in fact against nearly every Greek state except Aetolians! To these last it is habitual to act thus: and to regard nothing as disgraceful, so long only as it is accompanied by an opportunity of plunder. It is not so, however, with you. And what must we expect these people to do, now that they have obtained the support of the Roman alliance? For when they obtained an accession of strength and support from the Illyrians, they at once set about acts of piracy at sea, and treacherously seized Pylus; while by land they stormed the city of Cleitor, and sold the Cynethans into slavery. Once before they made a treaty with Antigonus, as I said just now, for the destruction of the Achaean and Acarnanian races; and now they have done the same with Rome for the destruction of all Greece.

With a knowledge of such transactions before his eyes who could help suspecting an attack from Rome, and feeling abhorrence at the abandoned conduct of the Aetolians in daring to make such a treaty? They have already wrested Oeniadae and Nesus from the Acarnanians, and recently seized the city of the unfortunate Anticyreans, whom, in conjunction with the Romans, they have sold into slavery. Their children and women are led off by the Romans to suffer all the miseries which those must expect who fall into the hands of aliens; while the houses of the unhappy inhabitants are allotted among the Aetolians. Surely a noble alliance this to join deliberately! Especially for Lacedaemonians: who, after conquering the barbarians, decreed that the Thebans, for being the only Greeks that resolved to remain neutral during the Persian invasion, should pay a tenth of their goods to the gods.

The honourable course then, men of Sparta, and the one becoming your character, is to remember from what ancestors you are sprung; to be on your guard against an attack from Rome; to suspect the treachery of the Aetolians. Above all to recall the services of Antigonus: and so once more show your loathing for dishonest men; and, rejecting the friendship of the Aetolians, unite your hopes for the future with those of Achaia and Macedonia. If, however, any of your own influential citizens are intriguing against this policy, then at least remain neutral, and do not take part in the iniquities of these Aetolians. . . .

When the Acarnanians heard of the intended invasion of the Aetolians, in a tumult of despair and fury they adopted a measure of almost frantic violence. . .

If any one of them survived the battle and fled from the danger, they begged that no one should receive him in any city or give him a light for a fire. And this they enjoined on all with a solemn execration, and especially on the Epirotes, to the end that they should offer none of those who fled an asylum in their territory. . . .

Zeal on the part of friends, if shown in time, is of great service; but if it is dilatory and late, it renders the assistance nugatory,—supposing, of course, that they wish to keep the terms of their alliance, not merely on paper, but by actual deeds. . . .

Having determined to make his approach upon the town at the two towers, he erected opposite to them diggers’ sheds and rams; and opposite the space between the towers he erected a covered way between the rams, parallel to the wall. And when the plan was complete, the appearance of the works was very like the style of the wall. For the superstructures on the pent-houses had the appearance and style of towers, owing to the placing of the wattles side by side; and the space between looked like a wall, because the row of wattles at the top of the covered way were divided into battlements by the fashion in which they were woven. In the lowest division of these besieging towers the diggers employed in levelling inequalities, to allow the stands of the batteringrams to be brought up, kept throwing on earth, and the ram was propelled forward: in the second story were water vessels and other appliances for quenching fires, and along with them the catapults: and on the third a considerable body of men were placed to fight with all who tried to damage the rams; and they were on a level with the city towers. From the covered way between the besieging towers a double trench was to be dug towards the wall, between the city towers. There were also three batteries for stone-throwing machines, one of which carried stones of a talent weight, and the other two half that weight. From the camp to the pent-houses and diggers’ sheds underground tunnels had been constructed, to prevent men, going to the works from the camp or returning from the works, being wounded in any way by missiles from the town. These works were completed in a very few days, because the district round produced what was wanted for this service in abundance. For Echinus is situated on the Melian Gulf, facing south, exactly opposite the territory of Thronium, and enjoys a soil rich in every kind of produce; thanks to which circumstance Philip had no scarcity of anything he required for his purpose. Accordingly, as I said, as soon as the works were completed, they begun at once pushing the trenches and the siege machinery towards the walls. . . .

While Philip was investing Echinus, and had secured his position excellently on the side of the town, and had strengthened the outer line of his camp with a trench and wall, Publius Sulpicius, the Roman pro-consul, and Dorimachus, Strategus of the Aetolians, arrived in person,—Publius with a fleet, and Dorimachus with an army of infantry and cavalry,—and assaulted Philip’s entrenchment. Their repulse led to greater exertions on Philip’s part in his attack upon the Echinaeans, who in despair surrendered to him. For Dorimachus was not able to reduce Philip by cutting off his supplies, as he got them by sea. . . .

Book 9, Part 9

When Aegina was taken by the Romans, such of the inhabitants as had not escaped crowded together at the ships, and begged the pro-consul to allow them to send ambassadors to cities of their kinsmen to obtain ransom. Publius at first returned a harsh answer, saying, that When they were their own masters was the time that they ought to have sent ambassadors to their betters to ask for mercy, not now when they were slaves. A little while ago they had not thought an ambassador from him worthy of even a word; now that they were captives they expected to be allowed to send ambassadors to their kinsfolk: was that not sheer folly? So at the time he dismissed those who came to him with these words. But next morning he called all the captives together and said that, as to the Aeginetans, he owed them no favour; but for the sake of the rest of the Greeks he would allow them to send ambassadors to get ransom, since that was the custom of their country. . . .

The Euphrates rises in Armenia and flows through Syria and the country beyond to Babylonia. It seems to discharge itself into the Red Sea; but in point of fact it does not do so: for its waters are dissipated among the ditches dug across the fields before it reaches the sea. Accordingly the nature of this river is the reverse of that of others. For in other rivers the volume of water is increased in proportion to the greater distance traversed, and they are at their highest in winter and lowest in midsummer; but this river is fullest of water at the rising of the dog-star, and has the largest volume of water in Syria, which continually decreases as it advances. The reason of this is that the increase is not caused by the collection of winter rains, but by the melting of the snows; and its decrease by the diversion of its stream into the land, and its subdivision for the purposes of irrigation. It was this which on this occasion made the transport of the army slow, because as the boats were heavily laden, and the stream very low, the forces of the current did exceedingly little to help them down. . . .

The Romans sent ambassadors to Ptolemy, wishing to be supplied with corn, as they were suffering from a great scarcity of it at home; and, moreover, when all Italy had been laid waste by the enemy’s troops up to the gates of Rome, and when all supplies from abroad were stopped by the fact that war was raging, and armies encamped, in all parts of the world except in Egypt. In fact the scarcity at Rome had come to such a pitch, that a Sicilian medimnus was sold for fifteen drachmae. But in spite of this distress the Romans did not relax in their attention to the war.

Book 10, Part 1

THE distance from the strait and town of Rhegium to Tarentum is more than two thousand stades; and that portion of the shore of Italy is entirely destitute of harbours, except those of Tarentum: I mean the coast facing the Sicilian sea, and verging towards Greece, which contains the most populous barbarian tribes as well as the most famous of the Greek cities. For the Bruttii, Lucani, some portions of the Daunii, the Cabalii, and several others, occupy this quarter of Italy. So again this coast is lined by the Greek cities of Rhegium, Caulon, Locri, Croton, Metapontum, and Thurii: so that voyagers from Sicily or from Greece to any one of these cities are compelled to drop anchor in the harbours of Tarentum; and the exchange and commerce with all who occupy this coast of Italy take place in this city. One may judge of the excellence of its situation from the prosperity attained by the people of Croton; who, though only possessing roadsteads suitable for the summer, and enjoying therefore but a short season of mercantile activity, still have acquired great wealth, entirely owing, it seems, to the favourable situation of their town and harbour, which yet cannot be compared with those of Tarentum. For, even at this day, Tarentum is in a most convenient position in respect to the harbours of the Adriatic, and was formerly still more so. Since, from the Iapygian promontory as far as Sipontum, every one coming from the other side and dropping anchor at Italy always crossed to Tarentum, and used that city for his mercantile transactions as an emporium; for the town of Brundisium had not yet been founded in these times. Therefore Fabius regarded the recovery of it as of great importance, and, omitting everything else, turned his whole thoughts to this. . . .

Being about to narrate the exploits of Publius Scipio in Iberia, and in fact all the achievements in his life, I think it necessary to direct my readers’ attention, to begin with, to his moral and mental qualities. For as he is perhaps the most illustrious man of any born before the present generation, everybody seeks to know what kind of man he was, and what advantages from natural ability or experience he enjoyed, to account for a career so crowded with brilliant achievement; and yet is compelled to remain in the dark, or to entertain false opinions, because those who write about him have not kept to the truth. The soundness of this assertion will be rendered evident in the course of my narrative to all who are capable of estimating the noblest and most gallant of his exploits. Now all other writers represent him as a man favoured by fortune, who succeeded in his undertakings contrary to rational expectation, and by the mere force of circumstances. They consider apparently such men to be, so to speak, more godlike and worthy of admiration, than those who act in every case by calculation. They do not seem to be aware of the distinction between credit for good fortune and credit for good conduct in the case of such men; and that the former may be assigned to any one however commonplace, while the latter belongs to those alone who act from prudent calculation and clear intelligence: and it is these last whom we should look upon as the most god-like and god-beloved.

Now it seems to me that in his character and views Publius was very like Lycurgus the legislator of the Lacedaemonians. For we must not suppose that it was from superstition that Lycurgus continually consulted the Pythian priestess in the establishment of the Lacedaemonian constitution; nor that Publius depended on dreams and ominous words for his success in securing empire for his country. But as both saw that the majority of mankind cannot be got to accept contentedly what is new and strange, nor to face dangers with courage, without some hope of divine favour,—Lycurgus, by always supporting his own schemes by an oracular response from the Pythia, secured better acceptation and credit for his ideas; and Publius, by always in like manner instilling into the minds of the vulgar an opinion of his acting on some divine suggestion in the formation of his designs, caused those under his command to confront dangerous services with greater courage and cheerfulness. But that he invariably acted on calculation and with foresight, and that the successful issue of his plans was always in harmony with rational expectation, will be evident by what I am about to relate.

For that he was beneficent and high-minded is acknowledged; but that he was acute, sober-minded, and earnest in pursuit of his aims, no one will admit, except those who have lived with him, and contemplated his character, so to speak, in broad daylight. Of such Gaius Laelius was one. He took part in everything he did or said from boyhood to the day of his death; and he it was who convinced me of this truth: because what he said appeared to me to be likely in in itself, and in harmony with the achievements of that great man. He told me that the first brilliant exploit of Publius was when his father fought the cavalry engagement with Hannibal near the Padus. He was then, as it seems, eighteen years old and on his first campaign. His father had given him a squadron of picked cavalry for his protection; but when in the course of the battle he saw his father surrounded by the enemy, with only two or three horsemen near him, and dangerously wounded, he first tried to cheer on his own squadron to go to his father’s assistance, but when he found them considerably cowed by the numbers of the enemy surrounding them, he appears to have plunged by himself with reckless courage into the midst of the enemy: whereupon, his comrades being forced to charge also, the enemy were everawed and divided their ranks to let them pass; and Publius the elder, being thus unexpectedly saved, was the first to address his son as his preserver in the hearing of the whole army. Having gained an acknowledged reputation for bravery by this exploit, he ever afterwards freely exposed himself to every sort of personal danger, whenever his country rested its hope of safety on him. And this is not the conduct of a general who trusts to luck, but of one who has a clear head.

Subsequently, when his elder brother Lucius was a candidate for the Aedileship, which is about the most honourable office open to a young man at Rome: it being the custom for two patricians to be appointed, and there being many candidates, for some time he did not venture to stand for the same office as his brother. But as the day of election drew near, judging from the demeanour of the people that his brother would easily obtain the office, and observing that his own popularity with the multitude was very great, he made up his mind that the only hope of his brother’s success was that they should combine their candidatures. He therefore resolved to act as follows: His mother was going round to the temples and sacrificing to the gods in behalf of his brother, and was altogether in a state of eager expectation as to the result. She was the only parent whose wishes he had to consult; for his father was then on his voyage to Iberia, having been appointed to command in the war there. He therefore said to her that he had seen the same dream twice: for he thought that he was coming home from the Forum after being elected Aedile with his brother, and that she met them at the door and threw her arms round them and kissed them. His mother with true womanly feeling exclaimed, Oh, that I might see that day! He replied, Do you wish us to try? Upon her assenting, under the idea that he would not venture, but was only jesting on the spur of the moment (for of course he was quite a young man), he begged her to prepare him at once a white toga, such as it is the custom for candidates for office to wear.

His mother thought no more about it: but Publius, having obtained a white toga, went to the Forum before his mother was awake. His boldness, as well as his previous popularity, secured him a brilliant reception from the people; and when he advanced to the spot assigned for candidates, and took his place by the side of his brother, the people not only invested him with the office, but his brother also for his sake; and both brothers returned home Aediles designate. The news having been suddenly brought to their mother, she rushed in the utmost delight to meet them at the door, and kissed the young men in an ecstasy of joy. Accordingly Publius was believed by all who had heard previously about his dream to have held commune with the gods, not merely in his sleep, but rather in a waking vision, and by day. But in point of fact there was no dream at all: Scipio was kind, open-handed, and courteous, and by these means had conciliated the favour of the multitude. But by a dexterous use of the occasion, both with the people and his mother, he obtained his purpose, and moreover got the reputation of acting under divine inspiration. For those persons, who, from dulness or want of experience, or idleness, can never take a clear view of the occasions or causes or connexion of events, are apt to give the gods and chance the credit for what is really effected by sagacity and far-seeing calculation. I have thought it worth while to say thus much, that my readers may not be misled by unfounded gossip to pass over this great man’s finest and most splendid qualities, I mean his wealth of resource and untiring diligence; which will become still more apparent when we come to recount his actual achievements.

Such was the man who now assembled the soldiers and exhorted them not to be dismayed by the disaster which had befallen them. For, said he, Romans have never been beaten by Carthaginians in a trial of valour. It was the result of treachery on the part of the Celtiberians, and of rashness, the two commanders getting cut off from each other owing to their trust in the alliance of these men. But now these two disadvantages are on the side of the enemy: for they are encamped at a wide distance from each other; and by their tyrannical conduct to their allies have alienated them all, and made them hostile to themselves. The consequence is that some of them are already sending messages to us; while the rest, as soon as they dare, and see that we have crossed the river, will gladly join us; not so much because they have any affection for us, as because they are eager to punish the outrages of the Carthaginians. Most important of all is the fact that the enemy are at variance with each other, and will refuse to fight against us in a body, and by thus engaging in detail will be more easily dealt with by us. Looking to these facts, therefore, he bade them cross the river with confidence, and undertook that he and the other officers would see to the next step to be taken. With these words he left his colleague, Marcus Silanus, with five hundred horse to guard the ford, and to protect the allies on the north of the river, while he himself began taking his army across, without revealing his design to any one. As a matter of fact he had resolved to do nothing of what he gave out publicly, and had made up his mind to make a rapid attack upon the town called Iberian Carthage. This may be looked upon as the first and strongest proof of the judgment which I lately passed upon him. He was now only in his twenty-seventh year: and yet he, in the first place, undertook to accomplish what the magnitude of the previous disasters had made the world look upon as completely hopeless; and, in the second place, having undertaken it, he left on one side the plain and obvious course, and conceived and carried out a plan which was a surprise to the enemy himself. This could only be the result of the closest calculation.

The fact is that he had made minute inquiries, before leaving Rome, both about the treason of the Celtiberians, and the separation of the two Roman armies; and had inferred that his father’s disaster was entirely attributable to these. He had not therefore shared the popular terror of the Carthaginians, nor allowed himself to be overcome by the general panic. And when he subsequently heard that the allies of Rome north of the Ebro were remaining loyal, while the Carthaginian commanders were quarrelling with each other, and maltreating the natives subject to them, he began to feel very cheerful about his expedition, not from a blind confidence in Fortune, but from deliberate calculation. Accordingly, when he arrived in Iberia, he learnt, by questioning everybody and making inquiries about the enemy from every one, that the forces of the Carthaginians were divided into three. Mago, he was informed, was lingering west of the pillars of Hercules among the Conii; Hasdrubal, the son of Gesco, in Lusitania, near the mouth of the Tagus; while the other Hasdrubal was besieging a certain city of the Caspetani; and none of the three were less than ten days’ march from the New Town. Now he calculated that, if he decided to give the enemy battle, it would be risking too much to do so against all three at once, because his predecessors had been beaten, and because the enemy would vastly out-number him; if, on the other hand, he were to march rapidly to engage one of the three, and should then find himself surrounded—which might happen by the one attacked retreating, and the others coming up to his relief,—he dreaded a disaster like that of his uncle Gnaeus and his father Publius.

He therefore rejected that idea altogether: but being informed that New Carthage was the most important source of supplies to the enemy and of damage to the Romans in the present war, he had taken the trouble to make minute inquiries about it during the winter from those who were well informed. He learnt that it was nearly the only town in Iberia which possessed a harbour suitable for a fleet and naval force; that it lay very conveniently for the Carthaginians to make the sea passage from Libya; that they in fact had the bulk of their money and war material in it, as well as their hostages from the whole of Iberia; that, most important of all, the number of fighting men garrisoning the citadel only amounted to a thousand,—because no one would ever suppose that, while the Carthaginians commanded nearly the whole of Iberia, any one would conceive the idea of assaulting this town; that the other inhabitants were exceedingly numerous, but all consisted of craftsmen, mechanics, and fisher-folk, as far as possible removed from any knowledge of warfare. All this he regarded as being fatal to the town, in case of the sudden appearance of an enemy. Nor did he moreover fail to acquaint himself with the topography of New Carthage, or the nature of its defences, or the lie of the lagoon: but by means of certain fishermen who had worked there he had ascertained that the lagoon was quite shallow and fordable at most points; and that, generally speaking, the water ebbed every day towards evening sufficiently to secure this. These considerations convinced him that, if he could accomplish his purpose, he would not only damage his opponents, but gain a considerable advantage for himself; and that, if on the other hand he failed in effecting it, he would yet be able to secure the safety of his men owing to his command of the sea, provided he had once made his camp secure,—and this was easy, because of the wide dispersion of the enemy’s forces. He had therefore, during his residence in winter quarters, devoted himself to preparing for this operation to the exclusion of every other: and in spite of the magnitude of the idea which he had conceived, and in spite of his youth, he concealed it from all except Gaius Laelius, until he had himself decided to reveal it.

Book 10, Part 2

But although historians agree in attributing these calculations to him; yet, when they come to narrate their issue, they somehow or another attribute the success obtained not to the man and his foresight, but to the gods and to Fortune, and that, in spite of all probability, and the evidence of those who lived with him; and in spite of the fact that Publius himself in a letter addressed to Philip has distinctly set forth that it was upon the deliberate calculations, which I have just set forth, that he undertook the Iberian campaign generally, and the assault upon New Carthage in particular.

However that may be, at the time specified he gave secret instructions to Gaius Laelius, who was in command of the fleet, and who, as I have said, was the only man in the secret, to sail to this town; while he himself marched his army at a rapid pace in the same direction. His force consisted of twenty-five thousand infantry and two thousand five hundred cavalry; and arriving at New Carthage on the seventh day he pitched his camp on the north of the town; defended its rear by a double trench and rampart stretching from sea to sea, while on the side facing the town he made absolutely no defences, for the nature of the ground made him sufficiently secure.

But as I am now about to describe the assault and capture of the town, I think I must explain to my readers the lie of the surrounding country, and the position of the town itself.

It stands about half-way down the coast of Iberia in a gulf which faces south-west, running about twenty stades inland, and about ten stades broad at its entrance. The whole gulf is made a harbour by the fact that an island lies at its mouth and thus makes the entrance channels on each side of it exceedingly narrow. It breaks the force of the waves also, and the whole gulf has thus smooth water, except when south-west winds setting down the two channels raise a surf: with all other winds it is perfectly calm, from being so nearly landlocked. In the recess of the gulf a mountain juts out in the form of a chersonese, and it is on this mountain that the city stands, surrounded by the sea on the east and south, and on the west by a lagoon extending so far northward that the remaining space to the sea on the other side, to connect it with the continent, is not more than two stades. The city itself has a deep depression in its centre, presenting on its south side a level approach from the sea; while the rest of it is hemmed in by hills, two of them mountainous and rough, three others much lower, but rocky and difficult of ascent; the largest of which lies on the east of the town running out into the sea, on which stands a temple of Asclepius. Exactly opposite this lies the western mountain in a closely-corresponding position, on which a palace had been erected at great cost, which it is said was built by Hasdrubal when he was aiming at establishing royal power. The remaining three lesser elevations bound it on the north, of which the westernmost is called the hill of Hephaestus, the next to it that of Aletes,—who is believed to have attained divine honours from having been the discoverer of the silver mines,—and the third is called the hill of Cronus. The lagoon has been connected with the adjoining sea artificially for the sake of the maritime folk; and over the channel thus cut between it and the sea a bridge has been built, for beasts of burden and carts to bring in provisions from the country.

Such is the nature of this city’s situation. The side of the Roman camp which faced the city therefore was secured, without any artificial means, by the lagoon and the sea. The neck of land lying between these two, and connecting the city with the continent, Scipio did not fence off with a stockade, although it abutted on the middle of his camp,—either for the sake of making an impression upon the enemy, or by way of suiting the arrangement to his own design, —that he might have nothing to hamper the free egress and return of his troops to and from the camp. The circuit of the city wall was not more than twenty stades formerly,— though I am aware that it has been stated at forty stades; but this is false, as I know from personal inspection and not from mere report,—and in our day it has been still farther contracted.

The fleet arrived to the hour, and Publius then thought it time to summon a meeting of his men and to encourage them to the undertaking by the use of the same arguments by which he had convinced himself, and which I have just now detailed. He pointed out to them that the plan was practicable; and briefly summing up the blow which their success would be to their enemies, and the advantage it would be to themselves, he ended by promising crowns of gold to those who first mounted the walls, and the usual rewards to those who displayed conspicuous gallantry. And finally he declared that Poseidon had appeared to him in his sleep, and originally suggested his plan to him; and had promised to give him such signal aid in the actual hour of battle that his assistance should be made manifest to all. The skilful mixture in this speech of accurate calculation with promises of gold crowns, and a reference to Divine Providence, created a great impression and enthusiasm in the minds of the young soldiers.

Next morning he stationed ships supplied with missiles of every sort, all along the seaboard, under the command of Gaius Laelius; and having told off two thousand of his strongest men to accompany the ladder-carriers, he begun the assault about the third hour. The commandant of the town, Mago, divided his garrison of a thousand men into two companies; half he left upon the citadel, and the rest he stationed upon the eastern hill. Of the other inhabitants he accoutred about two thousand of the strongest men with such arms as there were in the city, and stationed them at the gate leading to the isthmus and the enemy’s camp: the rest he ordered to assist to the best of their power at all points in the wall. As soon as the bugles of Publius sounded the moment of the assault, Mago caused those whom he had armed to sally from the gate, feeling confident that he should create a panic among the assailants and entirely baffle their design. These men vigorously attacked those of the Roman army who were drawn up opposite the isthmus, and a sharp engagement took place accompanied by loud cries of encouragement on both sides: the Romans in the camp cheering on their men, and the people in the city theirs. But the contest was an unequal one in the respect of the facility of bringing up reserves. The Carthaginians had all to come out by one gate, and had nearly two stades to march before they got on the ground; whereas the Romans had their supports close at hand and able to come out over a wide area; for Publius had purposely stationed his men close to the camp in order to induce the enemy to come out as far as possible: being quite aware that if he succeeded in destroying these, who were so to speak the sharp edge of the urban population, universal consternation would be the result, and no more of those in the town would have the courage to come out of the gate. The contest however for a certain time was undecided, for it was between picked men on both sides; but finally the Carthaginians were overpowered by the superior weight of their opponents, owing to the constant reinforcements from the camp, and turned to flight. A large number of them fell in the actual engagement, and during the retreat; but the greater number were trampled to death by each other as they crowded through the gate. The city people were thrown into such a panic by these events, that even those who were guarding the walls fled. The Romans very nearly succeeded in forcing their way in through the gates with the fugitives; and of course fixed their scaling-ladders against the wall in perfect security.

Meanwhile Publius, though throwing himself heartily into the struggle, yet took all possible precautions to protect his life. He had three men with him carrying large shields, which they held in such a position as to completely protect him from the side of the wall; and accordingly he went along the lines, or mounted on elevated ground, and contributed greatly to the success of the day. For he was enabled to see all that was going on, and at the same time, by being himself in view of all, inspired great zeal in the hearts of the combatants. The result was that nothing was omitted which could contribute to the success of the battle; but any help he saw to be at any moment required was rapidly and thoroughly supplied.

But though the leaders of the escalade had begun mounting the walls with great spirit, they found the operation accompanied by some danger: not so much from the number of the defenders, as from the height of the walls. The defenders accordingly plucked up courage considerably when they saw the distress of the assailants: for some of the ladders were breaking under the weight of the numbers which, owing to their length, were on them at the same time; while on others the first to mount turned giddy owing to their great height, and without requiring much resistance from the defenders threw themselves from the ladders: and when beams, or anything of that sort, were hurled upon them from the battlements, they were swept off en masse and fell to the ground. In spite however of these difficulties nothing could check the zeal and fury of the Roman attack; but as the first fell their place was always taken at once by the next in order. And now, as the day was far advanced, and the soldiers were worn out with fatigue, Scipio sounded a recall for the assaulting party.

Book 10, Part 3

The men in the town were accordingly in high spirits at having, as they thought, repulsed the assault. But Scipio, who was conscious that the time was now approaching for the ebb of the lagoon, had five hundred men stationed ready by its edge with ladders; and meanwhile massed some fresh soldiers upon the gate and isthmus, and, after urging them to undertake the work, furnished them with a larger number of ladders than before: so that the wall was almost covered with men scaling it. When the signal for attack was sounded, and the men placed their ladders against the wall, and began ascending at every point, the excitement and consternation inside the walls was extreme; for when they thought themselves released from the threatened danger, they saw it beginning all over again by another assault. Besides, their missiles were beginning to fall short; and the number of men they had lost greatly disheartened them. Still, though they were in great distress, they continued the defence as well as they could.

Just when the struggle at the ladders was at its hottest the ebb of the tide began. The water began gradually to leave the edges of the lagoon, and the current ran with such violence, and in such a mass through its channel into the adjoining sea, that to those who were unprepared for the sight it appeared incredible. Being provided with guides, Scipio at once ordered his men, who had been stationed ready for this service, to step in and to fear nothing. His was a nature especially fitted to inspire courage and sympathy with his own feelings. So now the men at once obeyed him, and when the army saw them racing each other across the marsh, it could not but suppose that the movement was a kind of heaven-sent inspiration. This reminded them of the reference Scipio had made to Poseidon, and the promises contained in his harangue: and their enthusiasm rose to such a height that they locked their shields above their heads, and, charging up to the gate, they began trying to hew their way through the panels of the doors with their axes and hatchets.

Meanwhile the party which had crossed the marsh had approached the wall. They found the battlements unguarded: and therefore, not only fixed their ladders against the wall, but actually mounted and took it without striking a blow; for the attention of the garrison was distracted to other points, especially to the isthmus and the gate leading to it, and they never expected that the enemy were likely to attack on the side of the lagoon: besides, and above all, there was such disorderly shouting, and such a scene of confusion within the wall, that they could neither hear nor see to any purpose.

As soon as they found themselves in possession of the wall, the Romans began making their way along the top of it, hurling off such of the enemy as they met, the nature of their arms being especially suited for an operation of that sort. But when they arrived at the gate they descended and began cutting through the bolts, while those without began forcing their way in, and those who were mounting the walls in the direction of the isthmus, beginning by this time to get the better of their opponents, were getting a footing on the battlements. Thus the walls were finally in possession of the enemy: and the troops, which entered by the gate, carried the eastern hill and drove off the garrison occupying it.

When Scipio thought that a sufficient number of troops had entered the town, he gave leave to the larger number of them to attack those in it, according to the Roman custom, with directions to kill everything they met, and to spare nothing; and not to begin looting until they got the order to do so. The object of this is, I suppose, to strike terror. Accordingly, one may often see in towns captured by the Romans, not only human beings who have been put to the sword, but even dogs cloven down the middle, and the limbs of other animals hewn off. On this occasion the amount of such slaughter was exceedingly great, because of the numbers included in the city.

Scipio himself with about a thousand men now pressed on towards the citadel. When he arrived there, Mago at first thought of resistance; but afterwards, when he was satisfied that the city was completely in the power of the enemy, he sent to demand a promise of his life, and then surrendered. This being concluded, the signal was given to stop the slaughter: whereupon the soldiers left off slaying, and turned to plunder. When night fell those of the soldiers to whom this duty had been assigned remained in the camp, while Scipio with his thousand men bivouacked in the citadel; and summoning the rest from the dwellinghouses by means of the Tribunes, he ordered them to collect all their booty into the market-place by maniples, and to take up their quarters for the night by these several heaps. He then summoned the light-armed from the camp, and stationed them upon the eastern hill.

Thus did the Romans become masters of Carthage in Iberia.

Next morning the baggage of those who had served in the Carthaginian ranks, as well as the property of the city-folk and the craftsmen, having been collected together in the market-place, the Tribunes divided it according to the Roman custom among their several legions. Now the Roman method of procedure in the capture of cities is the following: Sometimes certain soldiers taken from each maniple are told off for this duty, their numbers depending on the size of the city; sometimes maniples are told off in turn for it: but there are never more than half the whole number assigned to the work. The rest remain in their own ranks in reserve, sometimes outside, at others inside the city, for taking such precautions as may be from time to time necessary. Sometimes, though rarely, four legions are massed together; but generally speaking the whole force is divided into two legions of Romans and two of allies. This being settled, all who are told off for plundering carry all they get, each to his own legion; and when this booty has been sold, the Tribunes distribute the proceeds among all equally, including not only those who were thus held in reserve, but even those who were guarding the tents, or were invalided, or had been sent away anywhere on any service. But I have spoken fully before, when discussing the Roman constitution, on the subject of the distribution of booty, showing how no one is excluded from a share in it, in accordance with the oath which all take upon first joining the camp. I may now add that the arrangement whereby the Roman army is thus divided, half being engaged in gathering booty and half remaining drawn up in reserve, precludes all danger of a general catastrophe arising from personal rivalry in greed. For as both parties feel absolute confidence in the fair dealing of each in respect to the booty,—the reserves no less than the plunderers,—no one leaves the ranks, which has been the most frequent cause of disaster in the case of other armies.

For, as the majority of mankind encounter miseries and embrace dangers for the sake of gain, it is plain that when such opportunity is presented to them as this, the men in the reserve or in the camp would be with difficulty induced to abstain from taking advantage of it; because the usual idea is that everything belongs to the man who actually takes it: and though a general or king may be careful to order all booty to be brought into the common stock, yet everybody considers that what he can conceal is his own. The result is that, while the ruck of the army cannot be prevented from eagerly devoting themselves to plunder, they often run the risk of a complete overthrow: and it has often in fact happened that after a successful movement, such as the carrying of an entrenched camp or the capture of a city, the victorious army has, from no other cause but this, been not only ejected but even utterly defeated. Therefore there is nothing about which leaders ought to exercise more care or foresight, than that, on such an occasion, all may have an absolutely equal prospect of sharing in the booty.

Book 10, Part 4

Thus on the present occasion, while the Tribunes were busied in the distribution of the spoil; the Roman commander caused the prisoners, who numbered little short of With ten thousand, to be assembled; and having first ordered them to be divided into two groups, one containing the citizens and their wives and children, the other the craftsmen, he exhorted the first of these to be loyal to the Romans, and to remember the favour which they were now receiving, and allowed them all to depart to their own houses. tears of joy at this unexpected preservation, they bowed in reverence to Scipio and dispersed. He then told the craftsmen that they were for the present public slaves of Rome, but that, if they showed themselves loyal and zealous in their several crafts, he promised them their freedom, as soon as the war with the Carthaginians had been brought to a successful issue. He then bade them go get their names enrolled in the office of the Quaestor, and appointed a Roman overseer for every thirty of them, their whole number being about two thousand. From the remaining captives he selected the strongest, those who were in the prime of youth and physical vigour, and assigned them to serve on board ship: and having thus increased the number of his naval allies by one half, he manned the ships taken from the enemy as well as his own; so that the number of men on board each vessel were now little short of double what it was before. For the captured ships numbered eighteen, his original fleet thirty-five. These men he also promised their freedom, if they showed themselves loyal and zealous, as soon as they had conquered the Carthaginians. By this treatment of the captives he inspired the citizens with warm feelings of loyalty and fidelity, and the handicraftsmen with great readiness to serve, from the hope held out to them of recovering their freedom.

He next took Mago and the Carthaginians with him separately, consisting of one member of the Council of ancients and fifteen of the Senate. These he put under the charge of Gaius Laelius, with orders that he should take due care of them. He next summoned the hostages, who numbered more than three hundred. Such of them as were children he called to him one by one, and stroking their heads told them not to be afraid, for in a few days they would see their parents. The others also he exhorted to be of good cheer, and to write word to their relations in their several cities, first, that they were safe and well; and, secondly, that the Romans were minded to restore them all unharmed to their homes, if only their relations adopted the Roman alliance. With these words, having already selected from the spoils such articles as were fitting for his purpose, he presented each with what was suitable to their sex and age: the girls with ear-rings and bracelets, the young men with daggers and swords. Among the captive women was the wife of Mandonius, brother of Andobalus king of the Ilergētes. This woman fell at his feet and besought him with tears to protect their honour better than the Carthaginians had done. Touched by her distress Scipio asked her in what respect she and the other women were left unprovided. She was a lady of advanced years and of a certain majestic dignity of appearance: and upon her meeting his question by perfect silence, he summoned the men who had been appointed to take charge of the women; and when they reported that they had supplied them with all necessaries in abundance, and when the woman again clasped his knees and repeated the same request, Scipio felt still more embarrassed; and, conceiving the idea that their guardians had neglected them, and were now making a false report, he bade the women fear nothing, for that he would appoint different men to see to their interests, and secure that they were not left in want of anything. Then after a brief hesitation the woman said, You mistake my meaning, General, if you think that we are asking you for food. Scipio then at length began to understand what she wished to convey; and seeing under his eyes the youthful beauty of the daughters of Andobalus, and of many of the other nobles, he could not refrain from tears, while the aged lady indicated in a few words the danger in which they were. He showed at once that he understood her words: and taking her by the hand, he bade her and the others also be of good cheer, for that he would watch over them as he would over his own sisters and daughters, and would accordingly put men in charge of them on whom he could rely.

His next business was to pay over to the Quaestors such public money of the Carthaginians as had been captured. It amounted to more than six hundred talents, so that when this was added to the four hundred which he had brought with him from Rome, he found himself in possession of more than one thousand talents.

It was on this occasion that some young Romans fell in with a girl surpassing all the other women in bloom and beauty; and seeing that Scipio was fond of the society of women, they brought her to him, and, placing her before him, said that they desired to present the damsel to him. He was struck with admiration for her beauty, and replied that, if he had been in a private position, he could have received no present that would have given him greater pleasure; but as general it was the last in the world which he could receive. He meant to convey, I presume, by this ambiguous answer that, in hours of rest and idleness, such things are the most delightful enjoyments and pastimes for young men; whereas in times of activity they are hindrances physically and mentally. However that may be, he thanked the young men; but called the girl’s father, and handing her over at once to him, told him to bestow her in marriage on whichever of the citizens he chose. By this display of continence and self-control he gained the warm respect of his men.

Having made these arrangements, and handed over the rest of the captives to the Tribunes, he despatched Gaius Laelius on board a quinquereme to Rome, with the Carthaginian prisoners and the noblest of the others, to announce at home what had taken place. For as the prevailing feeling at Rome was one of despair of success in Iberia, he felt certain that on this news their spirits would revive, and that they would make much more strenuous efforts to support him.

Scipio himself stayed a certain time in New Carthage and assiduously practised his fleet; and drew up the following scheme for his military Tribunes for training their men. The first day he ordered the men to go at the double for thirty stades in their full arms; and on the second all of them to rub down, clean, and thoroughly examine their whole equipments; on the third to rest and do nothing; on the fourth to have a sham fight, some with wooden swords covered with leather and with a button at the end, others with javelins also buttoned at the end; on the fifth the same march at the double as on the first. That there might be no lack of weapons for the practises, or for the real fighting, he took the greatest pains with the handicraftsmen. He had, as I have already stated, appointed overseers over them in regular divisions to secure that this was done; but he also personally inspected them every day, and saw that they were severally supplied with what was necessary. Thus while the legions were practising and training in the vicinity of the town, and the fleet manœuvring and rowing in the sea, and the city people sharpening weapons or forging arms or working in wood, every one in short busily employed in making armour, the whole place must have presented the appearance of what Xenophon called a workshop of war. When he thought all these works were sufficiently advanced for the requirements of the service, he secured the town by posting garrisons and repairing the walls, and got both his army and navy on the move, directing his advance upon Tarraco, and taking the hostages with him. . . .

Euryleon, the Strategus of the Achaeans, was a man of timid character, and quite unsuited for service in the field. But as my history has now arrived at a point at which the achievements of Philopoemen begin, I think it only proper that, as I have attempted to describe the habits and characters of the other men of eminence with whom we have had to deal, I should do the same for him. It is strangely inconsistent in historians to record in elaborate detail the founding of cities, stating when and how and by whom they were established, and even the circumstances and difficulties which accompanied the transaction, and yet to pass over in complete silence the characteristics and aims of the men by whom the whole thing was done, though these in fact are the points of the greatest value. For as one feels more roused to emulation and imitation by men that have life, than by buildings that have none, it is natural that the history of the former should have a greater educational value. If I had not therefore already composed a separate account of him, clearly setting forth who he was, his origin, and his policy as a young man, it would have been necessary to have given an account now of each of these particulars. But since I have done this in a work in three books, unconnected with my present history, detailing the circumstances of his childhood and his most famous achievements, it is clear that in my present narrative my proper course will be to remove anything like details from my account of his youthful characteristics and aims; while I am careful to add details to the story of the achievements of his manhood, which in that treatise were only stated summarily. I shall thus preserve the proper features of both works. The former being in the nature of a panegyric demanded an account of his actions, put briefly and in a style deliberately intended to enhance their merits; my present work, which is history, and therefore absolutely uncommitted to praise or blame, requires only a true statement, which puts the facts clearly, and traces the policy which dictated the several actions.

Philopoemen, then, to begin with, was of good birth, descended from one of the noblest families in Arcadia. He was also educated under that most distinguished Mantinean, Cleander, who had been his father’s friend before, and happened at that time to be in exile. When he came to man’s estate he attached himself to Ecdemus and Demophanes, who were by birth natives of Megalopolis, but who having been exiled by the tyrant, and having associated with the philosopher Arcesilaus during their exile, not only set their own country free by entering into an intrigue against Aristodemus the tyrant, but also helped in conjunction with Aratus to put down Nicocles, the tyrant of Sicyon. On another occasion also, on the invitation of the people of Cyrene, they stood forward as their champions and preserved their freedom for them. Such were the men with whom he passed his early life; and he at once began to show a superiority to his contemporaries, by his power of enduring hardships in hunting, and by his acts of daring in war. He was moreover careful in his manner of life, and moderate in the outward show which he maintained; for he had imbibed from these men the conviction, that it was impossible for a man to take the lead in public business with honour who neglected his own private affairs; nor again to abstain from embezzling public money if he lived beyond his private income.

Being then appointed Hipparch by the Achaean league at this time, and finding the squadrons in a state of utter demoralisation, and the men thoroughly dispirited, he not only restored them to a better state than they were, but in a short time made them even superior to the enemy’s cavalry, by bringing them all to adopt habits of real training and genuine emulation. The fact is that most of those who hold this office of Hipparch, either, from being without any genius themselves for cavalry tactics, do not venture to enforce necessary orders upon others; or, because they are aiming at being elected Strategus, try all through their year of office to attach the young men to themselves and to secure their favour in the coming election: and accordingly never administer necessary reprimands, which are the salvation of the public interests, but hush up all transgressions, and, for the sake of gaining an insignificant popularity, do great damage to those who trust them. Sometimes again, commanders, though neither feeble nor corrupt, do more damage to the soldiers by intemperate zeal than the negligent ones, and this is still oftener the case with regard to the cavalry. . . .

Book 10, Part 5

Now the movements which he undertook to teach the horsemen as being universally applicable to cavalry warfare were these. In the first place each separate horse was to be practised in wheeling first to the left and then to the right, and also to face right-about; and in the next place they were to be taught to wheel in squadrons, face-about, and by a treble movement to face-about right-turn. Next they were to learn to throw out flying columns of single or double companies at full speed from both wings or from the centre; and then to pull up and fall in again into troops, or squadrons, or regiments: next to deploy into line on both wings, either by filling up the intervals in the line or by a lateral movement on the rear. Simply to form an oblique line, he said, required no practice, for it was exactly the same order as that taken up on a march. After this they were to practice charging the enemy and retreating by every kind of movement, until they were able to advance at an alarming pace; provided only that they kept together, both line and column, and preserved the proper intervals between the squadrons: for nothing is more dangerous and unserviceable than cavalry that have broken up their squadrons, and attempt to engage in this state.

After giving these instructions both to the people and their magistrates, he went on a round of inspection through the towns, and inquired, first, whether the men obeyed the words of command; and, secondly, whether the officers in the several towns knew how to give them clearly and properly: for he held that the first thing requisite was technical knowledge on the part of the commanders of each company.

When he had thus made the proper preliminary preparations, he mustered the cavalry from the various cities into one place, and set about perfecting their evolutions under his own command, and personally directed the whole drill. He did not ride in front of the army, as generals nowadays do, from the notion that this is the proper position for a commander. For what can be less scientific or more dangerous than for a commander to be seen by all his men, and yet not to see one of them? In such manœuvres a Hipparch should not make a display not of mere military dignity, but of the skill and ability of an officer, appearing at one time in the front, at another on the rear, and at another in the centre. This is what he did, riding along the lines, and personally seeing to all the men, giving them directions when they were at a loss what to do, and correcting at once every mistake that was being made. Such mistakes, however, were trifling and rare, owing to the previous care bestowed on every individual and company. Demetrius of Phalerum has, as far as words go, given expression to the same idea: As in the case of building, if you lay each single brick rightly, and if proper care is taken in placing each successive course, all will be well; so in an army, accuracy in the arrangement of each soldier and each company makes the whole strong. . . .

The case is just like that of the disposition of the various kinds of troops on the field of battle. The light-armed and most active men bear the brunt of the danger, are the first to be engaged and the first to perish, while the phalanx and the heavy-armed generally carry off the glorySo in this case, the Aetolians, and such of the Peloponnesians as are in alliance with them, are put in the post of danger; while the Romans, like the phalanx, remain in reserve. And if the former meet with disaster and perish, the Romans will retire unharmed from the struggle; while if they are victorious, which Heaven forbid ! the Romans will get not only them but the rest of the Greeks also into their power. . . .

After finishing the celebration of the Nemean games, King Philip of Macedon returned to Argos and laid aside his crown and purple robe, with the view of making a display of democratic equality and good nature. But the more democratic the dress which he wore, the more absolute and royal were the privileges which he claimed. He was not now content with seducing unmarried women, or even with intriguing with married women, but assumed the right of sending authoritatively for any woman whose appearance struck him; and offered violence to those who did not at once obey, by leading a band of revellers to their houses; and, summoning their sons or their husbands, he trumped up false pretexts for menacing them. In fact his conduct was exceedingly outrageous and lawless. But though this abuse of his privileges as a guest was exceedingly annoying to many of the Achaeans, and especially to the orderly part of them, the wars that threatened them on every side compelled them to show a patience under it uncongenial to their character. . . .

None of his predecessors had better qualifications for sovereignty, or more important defects, than this same Philip. And it appears to me that the good qualities were innate, while the defects grew upon him as he advanced in years, as happens to some horses as they grow old. Such remarks I do not, following some other historians, confine to prefaces; but when the course of my narrative suggests it, I state my opinion of kings and eminent men, thinking that most convenient for writer and reader alike.

In regard to extent of territory Media is the most considerable of the kingdoms in Asia, as also in respect of the number and excellent qualities of its men, and not less so of its horses. For, in fact, it supplies nearly all Asia with these animals, the royal studs being entrusted to the Medes because of the rich pastures in their country. To protect it from the neighbouring barbarians a ring of Greek cities was built round it by the orders of Alexander. The chief exception to this is Ecbatana, which stands on the north of Media, in the district of Asia bordering on the Maeotis and Euxine. It was originally the royal city of the Medes, and vastly superior to the other cities in wealth and the splendour of its buildings. It is situated on the skirts of Mount Orontes, and is without walls, though containing an artificially formed citadel fortified to an astonishing strength. Beneath this stands the palace, which it is in some degree difficult to describe in detail, or to pass over in complete silence. To those authors whose aim is to produce astonishment, and who are accustomed to deal in exaggeration and picturesque writing, this city offers the best possible subject; but to those who, like myself, are cautious when approaching descriptions which go beyond ordinary notions, it presents much difficulty and embarrassment. However, as regards size, the palace covers ground the circuit of which is nearly seven stades; and by the costliness of the structure in its several parts it testifies to the wealth of its original builders: for all its woodwork being cedar or cypress not a single plank was left uncovered; beams and fretwork in the ceilings, and columns in the arcades and peristyle, were overlaid with plates of silver or gold, while all the tiles were of silver. Most of these had been stripped off during the invasion of Alexander and the Macedonians, and the rest in the reigns of Antigonus and Seleucus Nicanor. However, even at the time of Antiochus’s arrival, the temple of Aena still had its columns covered with gold, and a considerable number of silver tiles had been piled up in it, and some few gold bricks and a good many silver ones were still remaining. It was from these that the coinage bearing the king’s impress was collected and struck, amounting to little less than four thousand talents.

Arsaces expected that Antiochus would come as far as this district (of Media), but that he would not venture to proceed across the adjoining desert with so large a force, if for no other reason, yet from the scarcity of water. For in this tract of country there is no water appearing on the surface, though there are many subterranean channels which have well-shafts sunk to them, at spots in the desert unknown to persons unacquainted with the district. A true account of these channels has been preserved among the natives to the effect that, during the Persian ascendency, they granted the enjoyment of the profits of the land to the inhabitants of some of the waterless districts for five generations, on condition of their bringing fresh water in; and that, there being many large streams flowing down Mount Taurus, these people at infinite toil and expense constructed these underground channels through a long tract of country, in such a way, that the very people who now use the water are ignorant of the sources from which the channels are originally supplied.

When, however, Arsaces saw that Antiochus was determined to attempt to cross the desert, he endeavoured at once to choke up and spoil the wells. But King Antiochus, upon this being reported to him, despatched Nicomedes with a thousand horse; who found that Arsaces had retired with his main army, but came upon some of his cavalry in the act of choking up the shafts which went down into the underground channels. They promptly attacked these men, and, having routed and forced them to fly, returned back again to Antiochus. The king, having thus accomplished the journey across the desert, arrived before the city Hecatompylos, which is situated in the centre of Parthia, and derives its name from the fact that the roads which lead to all the surrounding districts converge there.

Book 10, Part 6

Having rested his army at this place, and having convinced himself that, had Arsaces been able to give him battle, he would not have abandoned his own country, nor have sought a ground more favourable to his own army for fighting him than the district round Hecatompylos; he concluded that, since he had done so, it stood to reason that he had entirely changed his mind. He therefore decided to advance into Hyrcania. But having arrived at Tagae, he learnt from the natives that the country he had to cross, until he reached the ridges of Mount Labus sloping down into Hyrcania, was exceedingly rough and difficult, and that large numbers of barbarians were stationed at the narrowest points. He therefore resolved to divide his light-armed troops into companies, and distribute their officers among them, giving them directions as to the route they were severally to take. He did the same with the pioneers, whose business it was to make the positions occupied by the light-armed possible of approach for the phalanx and beasts of burden. Having made these arrangements, he entrusted the first division to Diogenes, strengthening him with bowmen and slingers and some mountaineers skilled in throwing javelins and stones, and who, without keeping any regular order, were always ready to skirmish at a moment’s notice, and in any direction, and rendered the most effective assistance at the narrow passes. Next to these he ordered a company of about two thousand Cretans armed with shields to advance, under the command of Polyxenidas of Rhodes. The rear was to be brought up by companies armed with breastplate and shield, and commanded by Nicomedes of Cos, and Nicolaus the Aetolian.

But as they advanced, the ruggedness of the ground and the narrowness of the passes were found to far exceed the king’s expectations. The length of the ascent was altogether about three hundred stades; and a great part had to be made up the bed of a winter torrent of great depth, into which numerous rocks and trees had been hurled by natural causes from the overhanging precipices, and made a passage up it difficult, to say nothing of the obstacles which the barbarians had helped to construct expressly to impede them. These latter had felled a large number of trees and piled up heaps of huge rocks; and had besides occupied all along the gully the high points, which were at once convenient for attack and capable of covering themselves; so that, if it had not been for one glaring error on their part, Antiochus would have found the attempt beyond his powers, and would have desisted from it. The error was this. They assumed that the whole army would be obliged to march the entire way up the gully, and they accordingly occupied the points of vantage. But they did not perceive this fact, that, though the phalanx and the baggage could not possibly go by any other route than the one they supposed, there was yet nothing to make it impossible for the light-armed and active troops to accomplish the ascent of the bare rocks. Consequently, as soon as Diogenes had come upon the first outpost of the enemy, he and his men began climbing out of the gully, and the affair at once took a different aspect. For no sooner had they come to close quarters, than, acting on the suggestion of the moment, Diogenes avoided the engagement by ascending the mountains that flanked the enemy’s position, and so got above him; and by pouring down volleys of darts and stones he seriously harassed the barbarians. Their most deadly weapons however proved to be the slings, which could carry a great distance; and when by these means they had dislodged the first outpost and occupied their position, an opportunity was secured for the pioneers to clear the way and level it, without being exposed to danger. Owing to the number of hands the work went on rapidly; and meanwhile the slingers, bowmen, and javelin-men advanced in skirmishing order along the higher ground, every now and then reforming and seizing on strong points of vantage; while the men with shields formed a reserve, marching in order and at a regular pace along the side of the gully itself. The barbarians thereupon abandoned their positions, and, ascending the mountain, mustered in full force on the summit.

Thus Antiochus effected this ascent without loss, but slowly and painfully, for it was not until the eighth day that his army made the summit of Labus. The barbarians being mustered there, and resolved to dispute his passage, a severe engagement took place, in which the barbarians were eventually dislodged, and by the following manœuvre. As long as they were engaged face to face with the phalanx, they kept well together and fought desperately; but before daybreak the light-armed troops had made a wide circuit, and seized some high ground on the rear of the enemy, and as soon as the barbarians perceived this they fled in a panic. King Antiochus exerted himself actively to prevent a pursuit, and caused a recall to be sounded, because he wished his men to make the descent into Hyrcania, without scattering, and in close order. He accomplished his object: reached Tambrax, an unwalled city of great size and containing a royal palace, and there encamped. Most of the natives fled from the battle-field, and its immediate neighbourhood, into a city called Sirynx, which was not far from Tambrax, and from its secure and convenient situation was considered as the capital of Hyrcania. Antiochus therefore determined to carry this town by assault; and having accordingly advanced thither, and pitched his camp under its walls, he commenced the assault. The operation consisted chiefly of mining under pent-houses. For the city was defended by three trenches, thirty cubits broad and fifteen deep, with a double vallum on the edge of each; and behind these there was a strong wall. Frequent struggles took place at the works, in which neither side were strong enough to carry off their killed and wounded: for these hand-to-hand battles took place, not above ground only, but underground also in the mines. However, owing to the numbers employed and the activity of the king, it was not long before the trenches were choked up and the walls were undermined and fell. Upon this the barbarians, giving up all as lost, put to death such Greeks as were in the town; and having plundered all that was most worth taking, made off under cover of night. When the king saw this, he despatched Hyperbasus with the mercenaries; upon whose approach the barbarians threw down their booty and fled back again into the city; and when they found the peltasts pouring in energetically through the breach in the walls they gave up in despair and surrendered.

The Consuls, wishing to reconnoitre the slope of the hill towards the enemy’s camp, ordered their main force to remain in position; while they themselves with two troops of cavalry, their lictors, and about thirty velites advanced to make the reconnaisance. Now some Numidians, who were accustomed to lie in ambush for those who came on skirmishes, or any other services from the Roman camp, happened, as it chanced, to have ensconced themselves at the foot of the hill. Being informed by their look-out man that a body of men was coming over the brow of the hill above them, they rose from their place of concealment, ascended the hill by a side road, and got between the Consuls and their camp. At the very first charge they killed Claudius and some others, and having wounded the rest, forced them to fly in different directions down the sides of the hill. Though the men in camp saw what was happening they were unable to come to the relief of their endangered comrades; for while they were still shouting out to get ready, and before they had recovered from the first shock of their surprise, while some were putting the bridles on their horses and others donning their armour, the affair was all over. The son of Claudius, though wounded, narrowly escaped with his life.

Thus fell Marcus Marcellus from an act of incautiousness unworthy of a general. I am continually compelled in the course of my history to draw the attention of my readers to occurrences of this sort; for I perceive that it is this, more than anything else connected with the science of tactics, that ruins commanders. And yet the blunder is a very obvious one. For what is the use of a commander or general, who has not learnt that the leader ought to keep as far as possible aloof from those minor operations, in which the whole fortune of the campaign is not involved? Or of one who does not know that, even if circumstances should at times force them to engage in such subordinate movements, the commanders-in-chief should not expose themselves to danger until a large number of their company have fallen? For, as the proverb has it, the experiment should be made on the worthless Carian not on the general. For to say I shouldn’t have thought it,—Who would have expected it? seems to me the clearest proof of strategical incompetence and dulness.

And so, though Hannibal’s claims to be reckoned a great general are manifold, there is none more conspicuous than this, that though engaged for a great length of time in an enemy’s country, and though he experienced a great variety of fortune, he again and again inflicted a disaster on his opponents in minor encounters, but never suffered one himself, in spite of the number and severity of the contests which he conducted: and the reason, we may suppose was, that he took great care of his personal safety. And very properly so: for if the leader escapes uninjured and safe, though a decisive defeat may have been sustained, fortune offers many opportunities for retrieving disasters; but if he has fallen, the pilot as it were of the ship, even should fortune give the victory to the army, no real advantage is gained; because all the hopes of the soldiers depend upon their leaders. So much for those who fall into such errors from foolish vanity, childish parade, ignorance, or contempt. For it is ever one or the other of these that is at the bottom of such disasters. . . . They suddenly let down the portcullis, which they had raised somewhat by pulleys, and thus closed up the gateway. Then they took the men and crucified them before the walls. . . .

In Iberia Publius Scipio took up his winter quarters at Tarraco, as I have already stated; and secured the fidelity and affection of the Iberians, to begin with, by the restoration of the hostages to their respective families. He found a voluntary supporter of his measures in the person of Edeco, the prince of the Edetani; who no sooner heard that New Carthage had been taken, and that Scipio had got his wife and children into his hands, than, concluding that the Iberians would change sides, he resolved to take the lead in the movement: conceiving that, by acting thus, he would best be able to get back his wife and children, and at the same time have the credit of joining the Romans by deliberate choice, and not under compulsion. And so it turned out. For as soon as the armies were dismissed to their winter quarters, he came to Tarraco, accompanied by his kinsfolk and friends; and there being admitted to an interview with Scipio, he said that he thanked the gods heartily that he was the first of the native princes to come to him; for whereas the others were still sending ambassadors to the Carthaginians and looking to them for support,—even while stretching out their hands to the Romans,—he was come there to offer not only himself, but his friends and kinsfolk also, to the protection of Rome. If therefore he should have the honour to be regarded by him as a friend and ally, he would be able to render him important service both in the present and the future. For as soon as the Iberians saw that he had been admitted to Scipio’s friendship, and had obtained what he asked, they would all come in with a similar object, hoping to have their relatives restored, and to enjoy the alliance of Rome. Their affection being secured for the future by receiving such a mark of honour and benevolence, he would have in them sincere and ready coadjutors in all his future undertakings. He therefore asked to have his wife and children restored to him, and to be allowed to return home an acknowledged friend of Rome; in order that he might have a reasonable pretext for showing, to the best of his power, his own and his friends’ affection for Scipio himself and for the Roman cause.

When Edeco had finished his speech, Scipio, who had been ready to gratify him from the first, and took the same view as to the policy of the proceeding, delivered him his wife and children, and granted the friendship which he asked. More than this, his subtle intellect made an extraordinary impression on the Iberian in the course of the interview; and having held out splendid hopes to all his companions for the future, he allowed him to return to his own country. This affair having rapidly got wind, all the tribes living north of the Ebro, such as had not done so before, joined the Romans with one consent.

Thus so far everything was going well with Scipio. After the departure of these people, he broke up his naval force, seeing that there was nothing to resist him at sea; and selecting the best of the crews, he distributed them among the maniples, and thus augmented his land forces.

Book 10, Part 7

But Andobales and Mandonius, the most powerful princes of the day in Iberia, and believed to be the most sincerely devoted to the Carthaginians, had long been secretly discontented and on the look-out for an opportunity: ever since Hasdrubal, under a pretence of having a doubt of their loyalty, had demanded a large sum of money, and their wives and daughters as hostages, as I have already narrated. And thinking that a convenient opportunity had now come, they got together their own forces, and, quitting the Carthaginian camp under cover of night, occupied a position sufficiently strong to secure their safety. Upon this, most of the other Iberians also abandoned Hasdrubal: having long been annoyed at the overbearing conduct of the Carthaginians, and now seizing the first opportunity to manifest their feelings.

This has often happened to people before. For though, as I have many times remarked, success in a campaign and victory over one’s enemies are great things, it requires much greater skill and caution to use such successes well. Accordingly, you will find that those who have gained victories are many times more numerous than those who have made good use of them. The Carthaginians at this crisis are an instance in point. After conquering the Roman armies, and slaying both the generals, Publius and Gnaeus Scipio, imagining that Iberia was their own without dispute, they began treating the natives tyrannically; and accordingly found enemies in their subjects instead of allies and friends. And they were quite rightly served, for imagining that the conduct necessary for keeping power was something different from that necessary for obtaining it; and for failing to understand that they keep empire best, who best maintain the same principles in virtue of which they gained it. And yet it is obvious enough, and has been again and again demonstrated, that men gain power by beneficent actions, and by holding out hopes of advantage to those with whom they are dealing; but that, as soon as they have got what they wanted, and begin to act wickedly and rule despotically, it is but natural that, as their rulers have changed, the feelings of the subjects should change too. So it was with the Carthaginians.

Surrounded by such difficulties Hasdrubal was agitated by many conflicting emotions and anxieties. He was vexed by the desertion of Andobales; vexed by the opposition and feud between himself and the other commanders; and greatly alarmed as to the arrival of Scipio, expecting that he would immediately bring his forces to attack him. Perceiving therefore that he was being abandoned by the Iberians, and that they were joining the Romans with one accord, he decided upon the following plan of action. He resolved that he must collect the best force he could, and give the enemy battle: if fortune declared in his favour he could then consider his next step in safety, but if the battle turned out unfavourably for him, he would retreat with those that survived into Gaul; and collecting from that country as many of the natives as he could, would go to Italy, and take his share in the same fortune as his brother Hannibal.

While Hasdrubal was arriving at this resolution, Publius Scipio was rejoined by Gaius Laelius; and, being informed by him of the orders of the Senate, he collected his forces from their winter quarters and began his advance: the Iberians joining him on the march with great promptness and hearty enthusiasm. Andobales had long been in communication with Scipio: and, on the latter approaching the district in which he was entrenched, he left his camp with his friends and came to Scipio. In this interview he entered upon a defence of himself in regard to his former friendship with the Carthaginians, and spoke of the services he had done them, and the fidelity which he had shown to them. He then went on to narrate the injustice and tyranny which he had experienced at their hands; and demanded that Scipio himself should be the judge of his pleas. If he were shown to be making ungrounded complaints against the Carthaginians, he might justly conclude him incapable of keeping faith with the Romans either: but if, on a review of these numerous acts of injustice he were proved to have had no other course than to desert the Carthaginians, Scipio might confidently expect that, if he now elected to join the Romans, he would be firm in his loyalty to them.

Andobales added many more arguments before finishing his speech; and when he had done, Scipio answered by saying that he quite believed what he had said; and that he had the strongest reason for knowing about the insolent conduct of the Carthaginians, both from their treatment of the other Iberians, and conspicuously from their licentious behaviour to their wives and daughters, whom he had found occupying the position, not of hostages, but of captives and slaves; and to whom he had preserved such inviolable honour as could scarcely have been equalled by their very fathers themselves. And upon Andobales and his companions acknowledging that they were quite aware of this, and falling at his feet and calling him king, all present expressed approval. Whereupon Scipio with emotion bade them fear nothing, for they would experience nothing but kindness at the hands of the Romans. He at once handed over his daughters to Andobales; and next day made the treaty with him, the chief provision of which was that he should follow the Roman commanders and obey their commands. This being settled, he returned to his camp; brought over his army to Scipio; and, having joined camps with the Romans, advanced with them against Hasdrubal.

Now the Carthaginian general was encamped at Baecula, in the district of Castulo, not far from the silver mines. But when he learnt the approach of the Romans, he shifted his quarters; and his rear being secured by a river, and having a stretch of tableland in front of his entrenchment of sufficient extent for his troops to manœuvre, and bounded by a steep descent sufficiently deep for security, he stayed quietly in position: always taking care to post pickets on the brow of the descent. As soon as he came within distance, Scipio was eager to give him battle, but was baffled by the strength of the enemy’s position. After waiting two days, however, he became anxious, lest by the arrival of Mago and Hasdrubal, son of Gesco, he should find himself surrounded by hostile forces: he therefore determined to venture on an attack and make trial of the enemy.

His whole army having been got ready for battle, he confined the main body within his camp, but sent out the velites and some picked men of the infantry with orders to assault the brow of the hill and attack the enemy’s pickets. His orders were carried out with great spirit. At first the Carthaginian commander watched what was happening without stirring: but when he saw that, owing to the fury of the Roman attack, his men were being hard pressed, he led out his army and drew them up along the brow of the hill, trusting to the strength of the position. Meanwhile Scipio despatched all his light-armed troops with orders to support the advanced guard: and the rest of his army being ready for action, he took half of them under his own command, and going round the brow of the hill to the enemy’s left, began assaulting the Carthaginians; while he entrusted the other half to Laelius, with orders to make a similar attack on the right of the enemy. While this was going on, Hasdrubal was still engaged in getting his troops out of camp: for hitherto he had been waiting, because he trusted in the strength of the position, and felt confident that the enemy would never venture to attempt it. The attack, therefore, took him by surprise, before he was able to get his men on to the ground. As the Romans were now assaulting the two wings of the position which the enemy had not yet occupied, they not only mounted the brow of the hill in safety, but actually advanced to the attack while their opponents were still in all the confusion and bustle of falling in. Accordingly they killed some of them on their exposed flank; while others, who were actually in the act of falling in, they forced to turn and flee. Seeing his army giving way and retreating, Hasdrubal reverted to his preconceived plan; and determining not to stake his all upon this one desperate hazard, he secured his money and his elephants, collected as many of his flying soldiers as he could, and commenced a retreat towards the Tagus, with a view of reaching the passes of the Pyrenees and the Gauls in that neighbourhood.

Scipio did not think it advisable to pursue Hasdrubal at once, for fear of being attacked by the other Carthaginian generals; but he gave up the enemy’s camp to his men to pillage.

Next morning he collected the prisoners, amounting to ten thousand foot and more than two thousand horse, and busied himself in making arrangements about them. All the Iberians of that district, who were in alliance at that time with the Carthaginians, came in and submitted to the Roman obedience, and in addressing Scipio called him king. The first to do this and to bow the knee before him had been Edeco, and the next Andobales. On these occasions Scipio had passed the word over without remark; but after the battle, when all alike addressed him by that title, his attention was drawn to it; and he therefore summoned the Iberians to a meeting, and told them that he quite wished to be called a man of royal liberality by them all, and to be so in the truest sense, but that he had no wish to be a king, nor to be called one by any one; they should address him as general.

Book 10, Part 8

Even at this early period of his career, an observer might have remarked the loftiness of Scipio’s character. He was still quite young. His good fortune had been so persistent, that all who came under his rule were led naturally to think and speak of him as a king. Yet he did not lose his selfcontrol; but deprecated this popular impulse and this show of dignity. But this same loftiness of character was still more admirable in the closing scenes of his life, when, in addition to his achievements in Iberia, he crushed the Carthaginians; reduced the largest and fairest districts of Libya, from the Altars of Philaenus to the Pillars of Hercules, under the power of his country; conquered Asia and the kings of Syria; made the best and largest part of the world subject to Rome; and in doing so had numerous opportunities of acquiring regal sway, in whatever parts of the world suited his purpose or wish. For such achievements were enough to have kindled pride, not merely in any human breast, but even, if I may say so without irreverence, in that of a god. But Scipio’s greatness of soul was so superior to the common standard of mankind, that he again and again rejected what Fortune had put within his grasp, that prize beyond which men’s boldest prayers do not go—the power of a king: and he steadily preferred his country and his duty to that royalty, which men gaze at with such admiration and envy.

Scipio next proceeded to select from the captives the native Iberians, and all these he dismissed to their homes without ransom; and bidding Andobales select three hundred of the horses, he distributed the remainder among those who had none. For the rest, he at once occupied the entrenchment of the Carthaginians, owing to its excellent situation; and there he remained himself, waiting to see the movements of the other Carthaginian generals; while he detached a body of men to the passes of the Pyrenees to keep a look-out for Hasdrubal. After this, as it was getting late in the season, he retired with his army to Tarraco being bent on wintering there. . . .

The Aetolians had recently become greatly encouraged by the arrival of the Romans and King Attalus: and accordingly began menacing every one, and threatening all with an attack by land, while Attalus and Publius Sulpicius did the same by sea. Wherefore Achaean legates arrived at the court of King Philip entreating his help: for it was not the Aetolians alone of whom they were standing in dread, but Machanidas also, as he was encamped with his army on the frontier of Argos. The Boeotians also, in fear of the enemy’s fleet, were demanding a leader and help from the king. Most urgent of all, however, were the Euboeans in their entreaties to him to take some precaution against the enemy. A similar appeal was being made by the Acarnanians; and there was an embassy even from the Epirotes. News had arrived that both Scerdilaidas and Pleuratus were leading out their armies: and, over and above this, that the Thracian tribes on the frontier of Macedonia, especially the Maedi, were planning to invade Macedonia, if the king were induced to stir from his realm however short a distance. Moreover the Aetolians were already securing the pass of Thermopylae with trenches and stockades and a formidable garrison, satisfied that they would thus out Philip, and entirely prevent him from coming to the assistance of his allies south of the pass. It appears to me that a crisis of this sort is well worth the observation and attention of my readers; for it affords a trial and test of the vigour of the leader affected. As in the hunting-field the wild animals never show their full courage and strength until surrounded and brought to bay,—so it is with leaders. And no more conspicuous instance could be found than this of Philip. He dismissed the various embassies, promising each that he would do his best: and then devoted his attention to the war which surrounded him on all sides, watching to see in what direction, and against which enemy, he had best direct his first attack.

Just then intelligence reached him that Attalus had crossed the sea and, dropping anchor at Peparethos, had occupied the island. He therefore despatched a body of men to the islanders to garrison their city; and at the same time despatched Polyphontes with an adequate force into Phocis and Boeotia; and Menippus, with a thousand peltasts and five hundred Agrianes to Chalcis and the rest of Euboea; while he himself advanced to Scotusa, and sent word at the same time to the Macedonians to meet him at that town. But when he learnt that Attalus had sailed into the port of Nicaea, and that the leaders of the Aetolians were collecting at Heraclea, with the purpose of holding a conference together on the immediate steps to be taken, he started with his army from Scotusa, eager to hurry thither and break up their meeting. He arrived too late to interrupt the conference: but he destroyed or carried off the corn belonging to the people along the Aenianian gulf, and then returned. After this he left his army in Scotusa once more; and, with the light-armed troops and the royal guard, went to Demetrias, and there remained, waiting to see what the enemy would attempt. To secure that he should be kept perfectly acquainted with all their movements, he sent messengers to the Peparethii, and to his troops in Phocis and Euboea, and ordered them to telegraph to him everything which happened, by means of fire signals directed to Mount Tisaeum, which is a mountain of Thessaly conveniently situated for commanding a view of those places.

The method of signalling by fire, which is of the highest utility in the operations of war, has never before been clearly expounded; and I think I shall be doing a service if I do not pass it over, but give an account of it adequate to its importance. Now that opportuneness is of the utmost moment in all undertakings, and pre-eminently so in those of war, no one doubts; and of all the things which contribute to enable us to hit the proper time nothing is more efficacious than fire signals. For they convey intelligence sometimes of what has just happened, sometimes of what is actually going on; and by paying proper attention to them one can get this information at three or four days’ journey off, and even more: so that it continually happens that the help required may be unexpectedly given, thanks to a message conveyed by fire signals. Now, formerly, as the art of signalling by fire was confined to a single method, it proved in very many cases unserviceable to those employing it. For as it was necessary to employ certain definite signals which had been agreed upon, and as possible occurrences are unlimited, the greater number of them were beyond the competence of the fire signals to convey. To take the present instance: it was possible by means of the signals agreed upon to send the information that a fleet had arrived at Oreus or Peparethos or Chalcis; but it was impossible to express that certain citizens had gone over to the enemy, or were betraying the town, or that a massacre had taken place, or any of those things which often occur, but which cannot be all anticipated. Yet it is precisely the unexpected occurrences which demand instant consideration and succour. All such things then were naturally beyond the competence of fire signalling, inasmuch as it was impossible to adopt an arbitrary sign for things which it was impossible to anticipate.

Aeneas, therefore, the writer of the treatise on tactics, wished to correct this defect, and did in fact make some improvement; but his invention still fell very far short of what was wanted, as the following passage from his treatise will show. Let those who wish, he says, to communicate any matter of pressing importance to each other by fire-signals prepare two earthenware vessels of exactly equal size both as to diameter and depth. Let the depth be three cubits, the diameter one. Then prepare corks of a little shorter diameter than that of the vessels: and in the middle of these corks fix rods divided into equal portions of three fingers’ breadth, and let each of these portions be marked with a clearly distinguishable line: and in each let there be written one of the most obvious and universal of those events which occur in war; for instance in the first cavalry have entered the country, in the second hoplites, in the third light-armed, in the next infantry and cavalry, in another ships, in another corn, and so on, until all the portions have written on them the events which may reasonably be expected to occur in the particular war. Then carefully pierce both the vessels in such a way that the taps shall be exactly equal and carry off the same amount of water. Fill the vessels with water and lay the corks with their rods upon its surface, and set both taps running together. This being done, it is evident that if there is perfect equality in every respect between them, both corks will sink exactly in proportion as the water runs away, and both rods will disappear to the same extent into the vessels. When they have been tested, and the rate of the discharge of water has been found to be exactly equal in both, then the vessels should be taken respectively to the two places from which the two parties intend to watch for fire signals. As soon as any one of those eventualities which are inscribed upon the rods takes place, raise a lighted torch, and wait until the signal is answered by a torch from the others: this being raised, both parties are to set the taps running together. When the cork and rod on the signalling side has sunk low enough to bring the ring containing the words which give the desired information on a level with the rim of the vessel, a torch is to be raised again. Those on the receiving side are then at once to stop the tap, and to look at the words in the ring of the rod which is on a level with the rim of their vessel. This will be the same as that on the signalling side, assuming everything to be done at the same speed on both sides.

Now this method, though introducing a certain improvement in the system of fire signalling, is still wanting in definiteness: for it is evident that it is neither possible to anticipate, or, if you could anticipate, to write upon the rod every possible thing that may happen: and therefore, when anything unexpected in the chapter of accidents does occur, it is plainly impossible to communicate it by this method. Besides, even such statements as are written on the rods are quite indefinite; for the number of cavalry or infantry that have come, or the particular point in the territory which they have entered, the number of ships, or the amount of corn, cannot be expressed. For what cannot be known before it happens cannot have an arrangement made for expressing it. And this is the important point. For how is one to take proper measures for relief without knowing the number or direction of the enemy? Or how can the party to be relieved feel confidence or the reverse, or indeed have any conception at all of the situation, if it does not know how many ships or how much corn have been despatched by the allies?

But the last method which was hit upon by Cleoxenus and Democlitus, and further elaborated by myself, is above all things definite, and made capable of indicating clearly whatever is needed at the moment; but in its working it requires attention and more than ordinarily close observation. It is as follows: Divide the alphabet into five groups of five letters each (of course the last group will be one letter short, but this will not interfere with the working of the system). The parties about to signal to each other must then prepare five tablets each, on which the several groups of letters must be written. They must then agree that the party signalling shall first raise two torches, and wait until the other raises two also. The object of this is to let each other know that they are attending. These torches having been lowered, the signalling party raises first torches on the left to indicate which of the tablets he means: for instance, one if he means the first, two if he means the second, and so on. He next raises torches on the right showing in a similar manner by their number which of the letters in the tablet he wishes to indicate to the recipient.

This matter being agreed upon, the two parties must go to their respective points of observation; and each must have, to begin with, a stenoscope with two funnels, to enable him to distinguish through one the right, through the other the left position of the signaller opposite him. Near this stenoscope the tablets must be fixed, and both points, to the right and to the left, must be defended by a fence ten feet long and about the height of a man, in order to make it clear on which side the torches are raised, and to hide them entirely when they are lowered. These preparations completed on both sides, when a man wishes, for instance, to send the message Some of our soldiers to the number of a hundred have deserted to the enemy,—the first thing to do is to select words that may give the same information with the fewest letters, for instance, A hundred Cretans have deserted, for thus the number of letters is diminished by more than a half and the same information is given. This sentence having been written on a tablet will be transmitted by five signals thus: The first letter is κ, this comes in the second group of letters and therefore on the second tablet; the signaller therefore must raise two torches on the left to show the recipient that he must look at the second tablet; then he will raise five on the right, because κ is the fifth letter in the group, which the recipient must thereupon write on his tablet. Then the signaller must raise four torches on the left, for ρ is in that group, and two on the right, because it is the second in the fourth group, and the recipient will write ρ on his tablet: and so on for the other letters.

Book 10, Part 9

The grouping of these letters will be as follows:— 1 23 4 5 6 1 α ζλ π φ 2 β ημ ρ χ 3 γ θν σ ψ 4 δ ιξ τ ω 5 ε κο υ

Now everything that happens can be definitely imparted by means of this invention; but the number of torches employed is large, because each letter has to be indicated by two series of them: still, if proper preparations are made, the thing can be adequately carried out. But whichever method is employed, those who use it must practise beforehand, in order that when the actual occasion for putting it in use arises they may be able to give each other the information without any hitch. For there are plenty of instances to show what a wide difference there is between the way an operation is carried out by men who hear of it for the first time, and by men who have become habituated to it. Many things which were considered not only difficult, but impossible at first, are, after an interval of time and practice, performed with the greatest ease. I could give many illustrations of the truth of this remark, but the clearest may be found in the art of reading. Put side by side a man who has never learnt his letters, though otherwise acute, and a child who has acquired the habit, and give the latter a book, and bid him read it: the former will clearly not be induced to believe that the reader has first to attend to the look of each of the letters, secondly to their sound-value, and thirdly to their combinations with others, each of which operation requires a certain time. Therefore when he sees the boy, without a pause for thought, reading off seven or five lines at a breath, he will not easily be induced to believe that he has not read the book before; and certainly not, if he is able also to observe the appropriate enunciation, the proper separations of the words, and the correct use of the rough and smooth breathings. The moral is, not to give up any useful accomplishment on account of its apparent difficulties, but to persevere till it becomes a matter of habit, which is the way mankind have obtained all good things. And especially is this right when the matters in question are such as are often of decisive importance to our safety.

I was led to say this much in connexion with my former assertion that all the arts had made such progress in our age that most of them were reduced in a manner to exact sciences. And therefore this too is a point in which history properly written is of the highest utility. . . .

The Apasiacae live between the rivers Oxus and Tanais, the former of which falls into the Hyrcanian Sea, the latter into the Palus Maeotis. Both are large enough to be navigable; and it seems surprising how the Nomads managed to come by land into Hyrcania along with their horses. Two accounts are given of this affair, one of them probable, the other very surprising yet not impossible. The Oxus rises in the Caucasus, and being much augmented by tributaries in Bactria, it rushes through the level plain with a violent and turbid stream. When it reaches the desert it dashes its stream against some precipitous rocks with a force raised to such tremendous proportions by the mass of its waters, and the declivity down which it has descended, that it leaps from the rocks to the plain below leaving an interval of more than a stade between the rock and its falls. It is through this space that they say the Apasiacae went on foot with their horses into Hyrcania, under the fall, and keeping close to the rock. The other account is more probable on the face of it. It is said that, as the basin of the river has extensive flats into which it descends with violence, the force of the stream makes hollows in them, and opens chasms into which the water descends deep below the surface, and so is carried on for a short way, and then reappears: and that the barbarians, being well acquainted with the facts, make their way on horseback, over the space thus left dry, into Hyrcania. . . .

News being brought that Euthydemus with his force was at Tapuria, and that a body of ten thousand horsemen were keeping guard at the passage of the river Arius, he decided to abandon the siege and attack these last. The river was three days’ march away. For two days therefore he marched at a moderate speed; but on the third, after dinner, he gave orders for the rest of his army to start next day at daybreak; while he himself, with the cavalry and light-armed troops and ten thousand peltasts, started in the night and pushed on at a great rate. For he was informed that the cavalry of the enemy kept guard by day on the bank of the river, but at night retired to a city more than twenty stades off. Having completed therefore the rest of the way under cover of night, the plains being excellent for riding, he got the greater part of his army across the river by daybreak, before the enemy came back. When their scouts told them what had happened, the horsemen of the Bactrians hastened to the rescue, and fell in with their opponents while on the march. Seeing that he must stand the first charge of the enemy, the king summoned the two thousand horsemen who were accustomed to fight round his own person; and issuing orders that the rest were to form their companies and squadrons, and take up their usual order on the ground on which they already were, he advanced with the two thousand cavalry, and met the charge of the advanced guard of the Bactrians. In this engagement Antiochus is reputed to have shown the greatest gallantry of any of his men. There was heavy loss on both sides: the king’s men conquered the first squadron, but when a second and a third charged, they began to be hard pressed and to suffer seriously. At that juncture, most of the cavalry being by this time on the ground, Panaetolus ordered a general advance; relieved the king and his squadrons; and, upon the Bactrians charging in loose order, forced them to turn and fly in confusion. They never drew rein before the charge of Panaetolus, until they rejoined Euthydemus, with a loss of more than half their number. The king’s cavalry on the contrary retired, after killing large numbers and taking a great many prisoners, and bivouacked by the side of the river. In this action the king had a horse killed under him, and lost some of his teeth by a blow on the mouth; and his whole bearing obtained him a reputation for bravery of the highest description. After this battle Euthydemus retreated in dismay with his army to the city of Zariaspa in Bactria. . . .

Book 11, Part 1

MY reason for prefixing a table of contents to each book, rather than a preface, is not because I do not recognise the usefulness of a preface in arresting attention and rousing interest, and also giving facilities for finding any passage that is wanted, but because I find prefaces viewed, though from many inadequate reasons, with contempt and neglect. I therefore had recourse to a table of contents throughout my history, except the first six books, arranged according to Olympiads, as being as effective, or even more so, than a preface, and at the same time as less subject to the objection of being out of place, for it is closely connected with the subject-matter. In the first six books I wrote prefaces, because I thought a mere table of contents less suitable. . . .

Much easier and shorter was Hasdrubal’s journey into Italy. . . .

Never at any other time had Rome been in a greater state of excitement and terrified expectation of the result. . . .

None of these arrangements satisfied Hasdrubal. But circumstances no longer admitted of delay. He saw the enemy drawn out in battle array and advancing; and he was obliged to get the Iberians and the Gauls who were serving with him into line. He therefore stationed his ten elephants on the front, increased the depth of his lines, and so had his whole army covering a somewhat small ground. He took up a position himself in the centre of the line, immediately behind the elephants, and commenced an advance upon the Roman left, with a full resolution that in this battle he must either conquer or die. Livius advanced to meet the enemy with proud confidence, and having come to close quarters with him was fighting with great gallantry, Meanwhile Claudius, who was stationed on the right wing, found himself unable to advance and outflank the enemy, owing to the rough ground in front of him, relying on which Hasdrubal had directed his advance upon the Roman left: and being embarrassed by his inability to strike a blow, he promptly decided what the circumstances pointed out as the tactics to pursue. He withdrew his men from the right wing, and marched them on the rear of the field of battle; and, after passing the left of the Roman line, fell upon the flank of the Carthaginians who were fighting near the elephants. Up to this point the victory had been doubtful; for both sides fought with desperation, the Romans believing that all would be over with them if they failed, and the Iberians and Carthaginians holding exactly the same conviction for themselves. Moreover the elephants were being of disservice to both sides alike; for finding themselves between two forces, and exposed to a crossfire of javelins, they kept throwing both the Carthaginian and Roman lines into confusion. But as soon as Claudius fell upon the rear of the enemy the battle ceased to be equal: for the Iberians found themselves attacked on front and rear at once, which resulted in the greater part of them being cut down on the ground. Six of the elephants were killed with the men on them, four forced their way through the lines and were afterwards captured, having been abandoned by their Indian drivers.

Hasdrubal had behaved on this occasion, as throughout his whole life, like a brave man, and died fighting: and he deserves not to be passed over without remark. I have already stated that Hannibal was his brother, and on his departure to Italy entrusted the command in Iberia to him. I have also described his many contests with the Romans, and the many embarrassing difficulties with which he had to struggle, caused by the generals sent from Carthage to Iberia; and how in all these matters he had supported these vicissitudes and reverses in a noble spirit worthy of a son of Barcas. But I will now speak of his last contest, and explain why he seems to me pre-eminently to deserve respectful attention and imitation. Most generals and kings, when entering upon decisive battles, place before their eyes the glory and advantages to be obtained from victory, and frequently consider and contrive what use they will make of every success; but they do not go on to review the chances of failure, nor contemplate the plan to be adopted, or the action to be taken, in the case of reverse. Yet the former is obvious, the latter requires foresight. Therefore it is that most of them, though in many instances their soldiers have fought nobly, by their own folly and imprudence in this respect have added dishonour to defeat: have disgraced their previous achievements, and rendered themselves, during the remainder of their lives, objects of reproach and contempt. It is easy to see that many leaders make this fatal mistake, and that the difference between one man and another in these points is most signal; for history is full of such instances. Hasdrubal, on the contrary, as long as there was reasonable hope of being able to accomplish anything worthy of his former achievements, regarded his personal safety in battle as of the highest consequence; but when Fortune deprived him of all hopes for the future, and reduced him to the last extremities, though neglecting nothing either in his preparations or on the field that might secure him the victory, nevertheless considered how, in case of total overthrow, he might face his fate and suffer nothing unworthy of his past career.

These remarks are meant for those engaged in active operations, that they may neither dash the hopes of those who rely upon them by a heedless seeking of danger, nor by an unworthy clinging to life add disgrace and shame to the catastrophies which befall them.

Having won the victory, the Romans began pillaging the enemy’s camp; and killed a number of the Celts, as they lay stupefied with drunkenness in their beds, like unresisting victims. Then they collected the rest of the booty, from which more than three hundred talents were paid into the treasury. Taking Carthaginians and Celts together, not less than ten thousand were killed, and about two thousand Romans. Some of the principal Carthaginians were taken prisoners, but the rest were put to the sword. When the report reached Rome, people at first could not believe it, from the intensity of their wish that it might be true; but when still more men arrived, not only stating the fact, but giving full details, then indeed the city was filled with overpowering joy; every temple-court was decked, and every shrine full of sacrificial cakes and victims: and, in a word, they were raised to such a pitch of hopefulness and confidence, that every one felt sure that Hannibal, formerly the object of their chief terror, could not after that stay even in Italy. . . .

Book 11, Part 2

Facts I imagine, Aetolians, have made it clear to you that neither King Ptolemy nor the community of Rhodes, Byzantium, Chios, or Mitylene, regard a composition with you as unimportant. For this is not the first or the second time that we have introduced the subject of peace to your assembly; but ever since you entered upon the war we have beset you with entreaties, and have never desisted from warning you on this subject; because we saw that its immediate result would be the destruction of yourselves and of Macedonia, and because we foresaw in the future danger to our own countries and to that of all other Greeks. For as, when a man has once set a fire alight, the result is no longer dependent upon his choice, but it spreads in whatever direction chance may direct, guided for the most part by the wind and the combustible nature of the material, and frequently attacks the first author of the conflagration himself: so too, war, when once it has been kindled by a nation, sometimes devours the first those who kindled it; and soon rushes along destroying everything that falls in its way, continually gathering fresh strength, and blown into greater heat by the folly of the people in its neighbourhood, as though by the wind. Wherefore, men of Aetolia, considering that we, as representatives of the whole body of the islanders and of the Greek inhabitants of Asia, are here to beseech you to put an end to war and to choose peace, because the matter affects us as well as you, show your wisdom by listening to us and yielding to our entreaties. For if you were carrying on a war which, though profitless (and most wars are that), was yet glorious from the motive which prompted it, and the reputation likely to accrue from it, you might be pardoned perhaps for a fixed determination to continue it; but if it is a war of the most signal infamy, which can bring you nothing but discredit and obloquy,—does not such an undertaking claim considerable hesitation on your part? We will speak our opinion frankly; and you, if you are wise, will give us a quiet hearing. For it is much better to hear a disagreeable truth now and thereby be preserved, than to listen to smooth things now, and soon afterwards to be ruined yourselves, and to ruin the rest of the Greeks with you.

Put then before your eyes your own folly. You profess to be at war against Philip on behalf of the Greeks, that they may escape from servitude to him; but your war is really for the enslavement and ruin of Greece. That is the tale told by your treaty with Rome, which formerly existed only in written words, but is now seen in full operation. Heretofore, though mere written words, it was a disgrace to you: but now your execution of it has made that disgrace palpable to the eyes of all the world. Moreover, Philip merely lends his name and serves as a pretext for the war: he is not exposed to any attack: it is against his allies,—the majority of the Peloponnesian states, Boeotia, Euboea, Phocis, Locris, Thessaly, Epirus,—that you have made this treaty, bargaining that their bodies and their goods shall belong to the Romans, their cities and their territory to the Aetolians. And though personally, if you took a city, you would not stoop to violate the freeborn, or to burn the buildings, because you look upon such conduct as cruel and barbarous; yet you have made a treaty by which you have handed over all other Greeks to the barbarians, to be exposed to the most shameful violence and lawlessness. And all this was hitherto kept a secret. But now the fate of the people of Oreus, and of the miserable Aeginetans, has betrayed you to every one,—Fortune having, as though of set purpose, suddenly brought your infatuation before the scenes.

So much for the origin of the war and its events up to now. But as to its result,—supposing everything to go to your wish,—what do you expect that to be? Will it not be the beginning of great miseries to all Greece?

For I presume no one can fail to see that, if once the Romans get rid of the war in Italy,—and this is all but done, now that Hannibal has been confined to a narrow district in Bruttii,—they will direct their whole power upon Greece: professedly, indeed, in aid of the Boeotians against Philip, but really with the view of reducing it entirely under their own power. And if they design to treat it well when they have conquered it, theirs will be the honour and glory; and if badly, theirs too will be the plunder from the states they destroy, and the power over those which they allow to survive: while you will be calling upon the gods to witness your wrongs, when no god will be any longer willing, nor any man be able to help you. Now, perhaps, you ought to have foreseen all this from the first, for that would have been your best course. But since the future often escapes human foresight, now, at any rate, that you have seen by actual experience what has happened, it must be your duty to take better measures for the future. In any case we have omitted nothing which it becomes sincere friends to say or do. We have spoken our opinion about the future with absolute frankness; and you we urge and entreat not to stand in the way of the freedom and safety of yourselves or of the rest of Greece.

This speaker having, as it seemed, made a considerable impression, he was followed by the ambassadors of Philip, who, without making a long speech, merely said that they were commissioned to do one of two things,—if the Aetolians chose peace, to accept it readily: if not, to call the gods and the ambassadors from Greece to witness that the Aetolians, and not Philip, ought to be held responsible for what happened thereafter, and so to depart. . . .

Philip loudly lamented his ill-fortune in having so narrowly missed getting Attalus into his hands. . . .

On his way to the lake Trichonis Philip arrived at Thermus, where there was a temple of Apollo; and there he once more defaced all the sacred buildings which he had spared on his former occupation of the town. In both instances it was an ill-advised indulgence of temper: for it is a mark of utter unreasonableness to commit an act of impiety against heaven in order to gratify one’s wrath against man. . . .

Book 11, Part 3

There are three methods followed by those who wish to arrive at an intelligent knowledge of tactics. The first is by the study of history, the second by the use of scientific treatises composed by specialists, the third by actual experience on the field. But of all three of these methods the Achaean commanders were equally ignorant. . . .

A very general fault in the men was an unfortunate rivalry, engendered by the ostentation and bad taste of the others. They were very particular about their attendants and their dress; and there was a show of splendour in this, kept up by the majority beyond their means. But to their arms they paid no attention whatever. . . .

Most people, indeed, do not so much as attempt to imitate the real achievements of those who obtain success, but, while trying to reproduce their unimportant peculiarities, succeed only in displaying their own frivolity. . . .

Brightness in the armour, he said, contributes much to inspire dismay in the enemy; and care bestowed on having it made to fit properly is of great service in actual use. This will best be secured if you give to your arms the attention which you now bestow on your dress, and transfer to your dress the neglect which you now show of your arms. By thus acting, you will at once save your money, and be undoubtedly able to maintain the interests of your country. Therefore the man who is going to take part in manœuvres or a campaign ought, when putting on his greaves, to see that they are bright and well-fitting, much more than that his shoes and boots are; and when he takes up his shield and helmet, to take care that they are cleaner and more costly than his cloak and shirt: for when men take greater care of what is for show, than of what is for use, there can be no doubt of what will happen to them on the field. I beg you to consider that elaboration in dress is a woman’s weakness, and a woman of no very high character either; but costliness and splendour in armour are the characteristics of brave men who are resolved on saving themselves and their country with glory.

The whole audience were so convinced by this speech and so much struck with the wisdom of the advice, that, immediately after leaving the council-chamber, they began pointing with scorn at the over-dressed dandies, and forced some of them to quit the market-place; and what is more, in future manœuvres and campaigns they kept a stricter watch on each other in these points.

So true it is that a single word spoken by a man of credit is often sufficient not only to turn men from the worst courses, but even to incite them to the noblest. But when such a speaker can appeal to his own life as in harmony with his words, then indeed his exhortation carries a weight which nothing can exceed. And this was above all others the case with Philopoemen. For in his dress and eating, as well as in all that concerned his bodily wants, he was plain and simple; in his manners to others without ceremony or pretence; and throughout his life he made it his chief aim to be absolutely sincere. Consequently a few unstudied words from him were sufficient to raise a firm conviction in the minds of his hearers; for as he could point to his own life as an example, they wanted little more to convince them. Thus it happened on several occasions, that the confidence he inspired, and the consciousness of his achievements, enabled him in a few words to overthrow long and, as his opponents thought, skilfully argued speeches.

So on this occasion, as soon as the council of the league separated, all returned to their cities deeply impressed both by the words and the man himself, and convinced that no harm could happen to them with him at their head. Immediately afterwards Philopoemen set out on a visitation of the cities, which he performed with great energy and speed. He then summoned a levy of citizens and began forming them into companies and drilling them; and at last, after eight months of this preparation and training, he mustered his forces at Mantinea, prepared to fight the tyrant Machanidas in behalf of the freedom of all the Peloponnesians.

Book 11, Part 4

Machanidas had now acquired great confidence, and looked upon the determination of the Achaeans as extremely favourable to his plans. As soon as he heard of their being in force at Mantinea, he duly harangued his Lacedaemonians at Tegea, and the very next morning at daybreak advanced upon Mantinea. He led the right wing of the phalanx himself; his mercenaries marched in two parallel columns on each side of his front; and behind them were carts carrying quantities of field artillery and bolts for the catapults. Meanwhile Philopoemen too had arranged his army in three divisions, and was leading them out of Mantinea, the Illyrians and the men with body armour by the gate leading to the temple of Poseidon, and with them all the rest of the foreign contingent and lightarmed troops; by the next gate, toward the west, the phalanx; and by the next the Achaean cavalry. He sent his light-armed men forward to occupy the hill, which rises to a considerable height above the road called Xenis and the above-mentioned temple: he stationed the men with body armour next, resting on this hill to the south; next them the Illyrians; next them, in the same straight line, the phalanx, drawn up in companies, with an interval between each, along the ditch which runs towards the temple of Poseidon, right through the middle of the plain of Mantinea, until it touches the range of mountains that forms the boundary of the territory of the Elisphasii. Next to them, on the right wing, he stationed the Achaean cavalry, under the command of Aristaenetus of Dyme; while on the left wing he led the whole of the foreign contingent, drawn up in lines one behind the other.

As soon as the enemy were well in sight, Philopoemen went down the ranks of the phalanx, and addressed to them an exhortation which, though short, clearly pointed out to them the nature of the battle in which they were engaged. But most of what he said was rendered inaudible by the answering shouts of the troops. The affection and confidence of the men rose to such a pitch of enthusiasm and zeal that they seemed to be almost acting under a divine inspiration, as they cried out to him to lead them on and fear nothing. However he tried, when he could get the opportunity, to make this much clear to them, that the battle on the one side was to establish a shameful and ignominious servitude, on the other to vindicate an ever-memorable and glorious liberty.

Machanidas at first looked as though he meant to attack the enemy’s right wing in column; but when he got within moderate distance he deployed into line by the right, and by this extension movement made his right wing cover the same amount of ground as the left wing of the Achaeans, and fixed his catapults in front of the whole force at intervals. Philopoemen understood that the enemy’s plan was, by pouring volleys from the catapults into his phalanx, to throw the ranks into confusion: he therefore gave him no time or interval of repose, but opened the engagement by a vigorous charge of his Tarentines close to the temple of Poseidon, where the ground was flat and suitable for cavalry. Whereupon Machanidas was constrained to follow suit by sending his Tarentines forward also.

At first the struggle was confined to these two forces, and was maintained with spirit. But the light-armed troops coming gradually to the support of such of them as were wavering, in a very short time the whole of the mercenaries on either side were engaged. They fought sometimes in close order, sometimes in pairs: and for a long time so entirely without decisive result, that the rest of the two armies, who were watching in which direction the cloud of dust inclined, could come to no conclusion, because both sides maintained for a long while exactly their original ground. But after a time the mercenaries of the tyrant began to get the better of the struggle, from their numbers, and the superiority in skill obtained by long practice. And this is the natural and usual result. The citizens of a democracy no doubt bring more enthusiasm to their battles than the subjects of a tyrant; but in the same proportion the mercenaries of sovereigns are naturally superior and more efficient than those of a democracy. For in the former case one side is fighting for liberty, the other for a condition of servitude; but in the case of mercenaries, those of the tyrant are encouraged by the certain prospect of reward, those of a democracy know that they must lose by victory: for as soon as a democracy has crushed its assailants, it no longer employs mercenaries to protect its liberties; while a tyranny requires more mercenaries in proportion as its field of ambition is extended: for as the persons injured by it are more numerous, those who plot against it are more numerous also; and the security of despots rests entirely on the loyalty and power of mercenaries.

Thus it came about that the mercenaries in the army of Machanidas fought with such fury and violence, that even the Illyrians and men with body armour, who formed the reserve supporting the mercenaries of the Achaean army, were unable to withstand their assault; but were all driven from their position, and fled in confusion towards the city of Mantinea, which was about seven stades distant.

And now there occurred an undoubted instance of what some doubt, namely, that the issues in war are for the most part decided by the skill or want of skill of the commanders. For though perhaps it is a great thing to be able to follow up a first success properly, it is a greater thing still that, when the first step has proved a failure, a man should retain his presence of mind, keep a good look-out for any error of judgment on the part of the victors, and avail himself of their mistakes. At any rate one often sees the side, which imagines itself to have obtained a clear victory, ultimately lose the day; while those who seemed at first to have failed recover themselves by presence of mind, and ultimately win an unexpected victory. Both happened on this occasion to the respective leaders.

The whole of the Achaean mercenaries having been driven from their ground, and their leftwing having been thoroughly broken up, Machanidas abandoned his original plan of winning the day by outflanking the enemy with some of his forces and charging their front with others, and did neither; but, quite losing his head, rushed forward heedlessly with all his mercenaries in pursuit of the fugitives, as though the panic was not in itself sufficient to drive those who had once given way up to the town gates.

Book 11, Part 5

Meanwhile the Achaean general was doing all he could to rally the mercenaries, addressing the officers by name, and urging them to stand; but when he saw that they were hopelessly beaten, he did not run away in a panic nor give up the battle in despair, but, withdrawing under cover of his phalanx, waited until the enemy had passed him in their pursuit, and left the ground on which the fighting had taken place empty, and then immediately gave the word to the front companies of the phalanx to wheel to the left, and advance at the double, without breaking their ranks. He thus swiftly occupied the ground abandoned by his mercenaries, and at once cut off the pursuers from returning, and got on higher ground than the enemy’s right wing. He exhorted the men to keep up their courage, and remain where they were, until he gave the word for a general advance; and he ordered Polybius of Megalopolis to collect such of the Illyrians and body armour men and mercenaries as remained behind and had not taken part in the flight, and form a reserve on the flank of the phalanx, to keep a look-out against the return of the pursuers. Thereupon the Lacedaemonians, excited by the victory gained by the light-armed contingent, without waiting for the word of command, brought their sarissae to the charge and rushed upon the enemy. But when in the course of their advance they reached the edge of the dyke, being unable at that point to change their purpose and retreat when at such close quarters with the enemy, and partly because they did not consider the dyke a serious obstacle, as the slope down to it was very gradual, and it was entirely without water or underwood growing in it, they continued their advance through it without stopping to think.

The opportunity for attack which Philopoemen had long foreseen had now arrived. He at once ordered the phalanx to bring their sarissae to the charge and advance. The men obeyed with enthusiasm, and accompanied their charge with a ringing cheer. The ranks of the Lacedaemonians had been disorganised by the passage of the dyke, and as they ascended the opposite bank they found the enemy above them They lost courage and tried to fly; but the greater number of them were killed in the ditch itself, partly by the Achaeans, and partly by trampling on each other. Now this result was not unpremeditated or accidental, but strictly owing to the acuteness of the general. For Philopoemen originally took ground behind the dyke, not to avoid fighting, as some supposed, but from a very accurate and scientific calculation of strategical advantages. He reckoned either that Machanidas when he arrived would advance without thinking of the dyke, and that then his phalanx would get entangled, just as I have described their actually doing; or that if he advanced with a full apprehension of the difficulty presented by the dyke, and then changing his mind and deciding to shrink from the attempt, were to retire in loose order and a long straggling column, the victory would be his, without a general engagement, and the defeat his adversary’s. For this has happened to many commanders, who having drawn up their men for battle, and then concluded that they were not strong enough to meet their opponents, either from the nature of the ground, the disparity of their numbers, or for other reasons, have drawn off in too long a line of march, and hoped in the course of the retreat to win a victory, or at least get safe away from the enemy, by means of their rear guard alone.

However, Philopoemen was not deceived in his prognostication of what would happen; for the Lacedaemonians were thoroughly routed. Seeing therefore that his phalanx was victorious and that he had gained a complete and brilliant success, he set himself vigorously to secure the only thing wanting to complete it, that is, to prevent the escape of Machanidas. Seeing therefore that, in the course of the pursuit, he was caught between the dyke and the town with his mercenaries, he waited for him to attempt a return. But when Machanidas saw that his army was in full retreat, with the enemy at their heels, he knew that he had advanced too far, and had lost his chance of victory: he therefore rallied the mercenaries that he had with him, and tried to form close order, and cut his way through the enemy, while they were still scattered and engaged in the pursuit. Some of his men, understanding his plan and seeing no other hope of safety, kept by him at first; but when they came upon the ground, and saw the Achaeans guarding the bridge over the dyke, they lost heart; and the whole company began falling away from him, each doing the best he could to preserve his own life. Thereupon the tyrant gave up all hope of making his way over the bridge; and rode along the edge of the dyke, trying with all his might to find a place which he could cross.

Philopoemen recognised Machanidas by his purple cloak and the trappings of his horse. He at once left Anaxidamus, with orders to guard the bridge with vigilance, and give no quarter to any of the mercenaries; because they were the men on whom the despots of Sparta always depended for supporting their power. Then taking Polyaenus of Cyprus and Simias, who were attending on him at the time, he rode along the edge of the ditch opposite to that in which the tyrant and his attendants were; for Machanidas had still two men with him, Arexidamus and one of the mercenaries. As soon as Machanidas had found a spot in the dyke which could be crossed, he put spurs to his horse, and tried to force it to go on and get over. Then Philopoemen turned suddenly round upon him and dealt him a mortal wound with his spear, and a second with a stab from the spike at the butt end of it, and thus killed the tyrant in a hand-to-hand encounter. Those who were riding with him did the same to Arexidamus; but the third man seeing their fall gave up the idea of crossing the dyke and escaped. Simias immediately stripped the bodies of the two who had fallen, and with their armour carried off also the tyrant’s head, and then hurried off to overtake the pursuing party; being eager to give the soldiers ocular evidence of the fall of the enemy’s commander, that they might continue the pursuit of their opponents with all the more confidence and spirit right up to Tegea. And this in fact added so greatly to the spirit of the men that it contributed more than anything else to their carrying Tegea by assault, and pitching their camp next day on the Eurotas, undisputed masters of all the open country. For many years past they had been vainly trying to drive the enemy from their own borders, but now they were themselves devastating Laconia without resistance, without having lost any great number of their own men in the battle; while they had killed not less than four thousand Lacedaemonians, taken even more prisoners, and possessed themselves of all their baggage and arms.

What profit is it to our readers to describe wars and battles, the storming of cities and the enslavement of their inhabitants, if they are to know nothing of the causes which conduce to success and failure? The results of such operations merely touch the fancy: it is the tracing of the designs of the actors in such scenes that is really instructive; and above all it is the following in detail of each step that can educate the ideas of the student.

Who could refrain from speaking in terms of admiration of this great man’s strategic skill, courage, and ability, when one looks to the length of time during which he displayed those qualities; and realises to one’s self the pitched battles, the skirmishes and sieges, the revolutions and counter-revolutions of states, the vicissitudes of fortune, and in fact the course of his design and its execution in its entirety? For sixteen continuous years Hannibal maintained the war with Rome in Italy, without once releasing his army from service in the field, but keeping those vast numbers under control, like a good pilot, without any sign of disaffection towards himself or towards each other, though he had troops in his service who, so far from being of the same tribe, were not even of the same race. He had Libyans, Iberians, Ligurians, Celts, Phoenicians, Italians, Greeks, who had naturally nothing in common with each other, neither laws, nor customs, nor language. Yet the skill of the commander was such, that these differences, so manifold and so wide, did not disturb the obedience to one word of command and to a single will. And yet circumstances were not by any means unvarying: for though the breeze of fortune often set strongly in his favour, it as often also blew in exactly the opposite direction. There is therefore good ground for admiring Hannibal’s display of ability in campaign; and there can be no fear in saying that, if he had reserved his attack upon the Romans until he had first subdued other parts of the world, there is not one of his projects which would have eluded his grasp. As it was, he began with those whom he should have attacked last, and accordingly began and ended his career with them. . . .

Hasdrubal having collected his forces from the various towns in which they had wintered, advanced to within a short distance of Ilipa and there encamped; forming his entrenchment at the foot of the mountains, with a plain in front of him well suited for a contest and battle. His infantry amounted to seventy thousand, his cavalry to four thousand, and his elephants to thirty-two. On his part, Scipio sent M. Junius Silanus to visit Colichas and take over from him the forces that had been prepared by him. These amounted to three thousand infantry and five hundred horse. The other allies he received personally in the course of his march up the country to his destination. When he approached Castalo and Baecula, and had there been joined by Marcus Junius and the troops from Colichas, he found himself in a position of great perplexity. For without their allies the Roman forces were not strong enough to risk a battle; yet to do so, in dependence upon the allies for his hopes of ultimate success, appeared to him to be dangerous and too venturesome. In spite however of his perplexity, he was obliged to yield to the force of circumstances so far as to employ the Iberians; but he resolved to do so only to make a show of numbers to the enemy, while he really fought the action with his own legions. With this purpose in his mind he got his whole army on the march, forty-five thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry; and when he had come within the view of the Carthaginians, he pitched his camp on some low hills exactly opposite the enemy.

Book 11, Part 6

Mago thought that it would be an excellent moment to attack the Romans while actually engaged in making their camp; he therefore rode up to the entrenchment with the greater part of his own cavalry and Massanissa with the Numidians, persuaded that he should catch Scipio off his guard. Scipio had however all along foreseen this, and had placed some cavalry equal in number to those of the Carthaginians under cover of some hills. Upon these making an unexpected charge, many of the enemy’s horsemen at once took to flight at the startling appearance, and began to make off; while the rest closed with their opponents and fought with great gallantry. But the Carthaginians were disconcerted by the agility of some of the Roman horsemen in dismounting, and after a short resistance they retreated with considerable loss. The retreat was at first conducted in good order: but as the Romans pressed them hard, they broke up their squadrons, and fled for safety to their own camp. This affair gave the Romans better spirits for engaging in a pitched battle, and had the contrary effect on the Carthaginians. However, during the next few days they both drew out on the intervening plain; skirmished with their cavalry and light-armed troops; and, after thus trying each other’s mettle, were resolved to bring the matter to the test of a general engagement.

On this occasion Scipio appears to have employed a two-fold stratagem. Hasdrubal had been accustomed to make his demonstrations in force somewhat late in the day, with the Libyans in his centre, and the elephants on either wing; while his own practice had been to make his counter-movements somewhat later still, with the Roman soldiers on his centre opposite the Libyans, and the Iberians on his two wings; but the day on which he resolved upon a general engagement, by reversing this arrangement, he greatly contributed to secure the victory for his own men, and succeeded in putting the enemy at a considerable disadvantage. For directly it was light he sent his aides with orders to the tribunes and men to arm, as soon as they had got their breakfasts, and parade outside the camp. The order was obeyed with alacrity because the men suspected what was going to take place. He then sent the cavalry and light-armed forward, with orders to advance close to the enemy’s camp, and skirmish boldly up to it; while he himself marched out with the infantry, just as the sun was appearing above the horizon; and on reaching the middle of the plain, made his dispositions in the reverse order to his usual arrangement, placing the Iberians in the centre and the Roman legionaries on the two wings.

The sudden approach of the cavalry to their camp, and the simultaneous appearance of the rest of the army getting into order, left the Carthaginians barely time to get under arms. Hasdrubal was therefore obliged, without waiting for the men to get breakfast, or making any preparations, to despatch his cavalry and light-armed troops at once against the enemy’s cavalry on the plain, and to get his infantry into order on some level ground not far from the skirts of the mountains, as was their custom. For a time the Romans remained quiet; but when the morning was getting on, and the engagement between the light-armed troops still continued undecided, because such of them as were forced from their ground retired on their own heavy infantry and then formed again for attack, Scipio at length thought that the time was come. He withdrew his skirmishers through the intervals of the maniples, and then distributed them equally between the two wings on rear of his line, first the velites and behind them the cavalry. He then advanced, at first in line direct; but when he was about a stade from the enemy, he ordered the Iberians to continue the advance in the same order, while he commanded the maniples and squadrons on the right wing to turn outwards to the right, and those on the left wing to the left.

Scipio with the three leading squadrons of cavalry from the right wing, preceded by the usual number of velites and three maniples (a combination of troops which the Romans call a cohort), and Lucius Marcius and Marcus Junius with a similar force from the left wing, turned the one to the left the other to the right, and advanced at a great speed in column upon the enemy, the troops in succession forming up and following in column as they wheeled. When these troops were within a short distance of the enemy,—the Iberians in the line direct being still a considerable distance behind, because they were advancing at a deliberate pace,—they came into contact with the two wings of the enemy simultaneously, the Roman forces being in column, according to Scipio’s original plan. The movements subsequent to this, which resulted in the troops on the rear finding themselves in the same line as the troops in front, and engaged like them with the enemy, were exactly the converse of each other—taking the right and left wings in general, and the cavalry and infantry in particular. For the cavalry and velites on the right wing came into line on the right and tried to outflank the enemy, while the heavy infantry came into line on the left; but on the left wing the heavy infantry came into line by the right, the cavalry and velites by the left. The result of this movement was that, as far as the cavalry and light infantry were concerned, their right became their left. Scipio cared little for this, but was intent on something more important, namely, the outflanking of the enemy. For while a general ought to be quite alive to what is taking place, and rightly so, he ought to use whatever movements suit the circumstances.

When these troops were at close quarters the elephants were severely handled, being wounded and harassed on every side by the velites and cavalry, and did as much harm to their friends as to their foes; for they rushed about promiscuously and killed every one that fell in their way on either side alike. As to the infantry,— the Carthaginian wings began to be broken, but the centre occupied by the Libyans, and which was the best part of the army, was never engaged at all. It could not quit its ground to go to the support of the wings for fear of the attack of the Iberians, nor could it by maintaining its position do any actual fighting, because the enemy in front of it did not come to close quarters. However, for a certain time the two wings fought gallantly, because it was for them, as for the enemy, a struggle for life and death. But now the midday heat was become intense, and the Carthaginians began to feel faint, because the unusual time at which they had been forced to come on the field had prevented them from fortifying themselves with the proper food; while the Romans had the advantage in physical vigour as well as in cheerfulness, which was especially promoted by the fact that the prudence of their general had secured his best men being pitted against the weakest troops of the enemy. Thus hard pressed Hasdrubal’s centre began to retreat; at first step by step; but soon the ranks were broken, and the men rushed in confusion to the skirts of the mountain; and on the Romans pressing in pursuit with still greater violence, they began a headlong flight into their entrenchments. Had not Providence interfered to save them, they would promptly have been driven from their camp too; but a sudden storm gathered in the air, and a violent and prolonged torrent of rain descended, under which the Romans with difficulty effected a return to their own camp. . . .

Many Romans lost their lives by the fire in trying to get the silver and gold which had been melted and fused. . . .

When every one complimented Scipio after he had driven the Carthaginians from Iberia, and advised him straightway to take some rest and ease, as having put a period to the war, he answered that he congratulated them on their sanguine hopes; for himself he was now more than ever revolving in his mind how to begin the war with Carthage. Up to that time the Carthaginians had waged war upon the Romans; but that now fortune put it in the power of the Romans to make war upon them. . . .

Book 11, Part 7

In his conversation with Syphax, Scipio, who was eminently endowed by nature in this respect, conducted himself with so much kindness and tact, that Hasdrubal afterwards remarked to Syphax that Scipio appeared more formidable to him in such an interview than in the field. . . .

When a mutiny broke out among part of the troops in the Roman camp, Scipio, though he had now had a very adequate experience of the difficulties of administration, never felt himself more at a loss how to act or in greater embarrassment. And naturally so. For as in the case of the body, causes of mischief, such as cold, heat, fatigue, or wounds, may be avoided by precautions, or easily relieved when they occur; while those which arise from within the body itself, such as tumours or diseases, are difficult to foresee and difficult to relieve when they do exist, so it is, we must believe, with political and military administration. Against plots from without, and the attacks of enemies, the precautions to be taken and the measures for relief may readily be learned by those who pay the requisite attention; but to decide on the right method of resisting intestine factions, revolutions, and disturbances is difficult, and requires great tact and extreme acuteness; and, moreover, the observation of one maxim suitable in my opinion to all armies, states, and bodies alike, which is this: never in such cases to allow any lengthened idleness or repose, and least of all at a time of success and when provisions are abundant.

Being, then, as I have all along said, a man eminently careful, acute, and prompt, Scipio summoned a meeting of the military tribunes and proposed a solution of the existing troubles as follows. He said that he must promise the soldiers the settlement of their pay; and, in order to create a belief in his promise, he must now take public steps to exact with all speed the contributions which had been already imposed upon the cities for the support of the whole army, with the distinct understanding that the object of that measure was the settlement of the pay: and these same tribunes should return to the army and urge and entreat the men to abandon their rebellious spirit, and come to him to receive their pay, either singly or, if they preferred it, in a body. And when this was done he would consider, as circumstances arose, what measures it was necessary to take.

With this suggestion in their minds these officers deliberated on the means of raising money; and having communicated their decisions to Scipio, he said that he would now consult them on the next necessary step. They accordingly resolved that they would name a day on which all were to appear; and that then they would pardon the general body of the men, but severely punish the instigators of the mutiny, who were as many as thirty-five. The day having arrived, and the mutineers having appeared to make terms and receive their pay, Scipio gave secret instructions to the tribunes, who had been sent on the mission to them, to meet them; and, each of them selecting five of the ringleaders, to greet them with politeness and invite them, if possible, to their own tent, or, if they could not do that, to dinner or some such entertainment. But to the troops with him he sent round orders to have provisions for a considerable period ready in three days’ time, because they were to march against the deserter Andobales under Marcus Silanus. When they heard this the mutineers were much emboldened, because they imagined that they would have everything in their own hands, as the other troops would be gone by the time they joined the general.

Upon the approach of the mutineers, Scipio gave orders to his army to march out the next morning at daybreak with their baggage. But he instructed the tribunes and praefects that, as soon as they met the mutineers, they should order their men to put down their baggage, and keep them under arms at the city gate; and then, placing a detachment at each of the gates, take good care that none of the mutineers should leave the city. The officers who had been sent to meet the men fell in with them on their arrival, and took the ringleaders with every appearance of civility to their own tents, in accordance with the arrangement that had been made. At the same time orders had been given to them to arrest the thirty-five immediately after dinner, and to keep them in fetters: without allowing any one in the tent to go out, except the messenger who was to inform the general from each of them that this had been accomplished.

The tribunes having done as they were ordered, at daybreak next morning, seeing that the new arrivals were collected in the market-place, the general gave the signal for the assembly of the army. The signal was as usual promptly obeyed by all, for they were curious to see how the general would demean himself in their presence, and what he would say to them about the business in hand. As soon as they were come together, Scipio sent word to the tribunes to bring their soldiers under arms, and station them round the assembled men. He then came forward himself. His first appearance caused an immediate change of feeling. The soldiers supposed that he was still unwell, and when they suddenly saw him, contrary to all expectations, with all the appearance of full health and strength, they were struck with terror.

He began his speech by saying that he wondered what their grievances were, or what they looked for forward that induced them to mutiny. For that there were three motives only on which men usually venture to rebel against their country and their commanders,—discontent and anger with their officers; dissatisfaction with their present position; or, lastly, hopes of something better and more glorious. Now, I ask you, he continued, which of these can you allege? It is with me, I presume, that you are dissatisfied, because I did not pay you your wages. But this cannot be laid to my charge; for while I was in office your pay was never short. The fault then may lie with Rome that the accumulated arrears have not been settled. Which was your proper course then in that case? To have brought forward your complaint thus, as rebels and enemies to the country that nurtured you, or to have come personally to me and stated your case, and to have begged your friends to support and help you? The latter would have been the better plan in my opinion. In those who serve others for pay it is sometimes pardonable to revolt against their paymasters; but in the case of those who are fighting for themselves, for their own wives and children, it can in no circumstances be conceded. It is just as though, on the plea of being wronged in money matters by his own father, a man were to come in arms to slay him from whom he received his own life. Or perhaps you may allege that I imposed greater hardships and dangers on you than on the others, and gave the rest more than their share of profits and booty. But you can neither venture to say this, nor, if you did venture, could you prove it. What then is your grievance against me at this moment, I should like to ask, that you have mutinied? I believe that not one of you will be able to express or even conceive it.

Book 11, Part 8

Nor again can it have been any dissatisfaction with the position of affairs. For when was any prosperity greater? When has Rome won more victories, when have her arms had brighter prospects than now? But perhaps some faint-heart will say that our enemies have more numerous advantages, fairer and more certain prospects than ourselves. Which, pray, of these enemies? Is it Andobales and Mandonius? But which of you is ignorant of the fact that these men first betrayed the Carthaginians and joined us, and now once more, in defiance of their oaths and pledges, have come forward as our opponents? It is a fine thing surely to become the enemies of your country in reliance on such men as these! Nor again had you any prospect of becoming masters of Iberia by your own prowess: for you would not have been strong enough, even in conjunction with Andobales, to meet us in the field, to say nothing of doing so without such aid. I should like then to ask,—what was it in which you trusted? Surely not in the skill and valour of the leaders whom you have now elected, or in the fasces and axes which were borne in front of them,—men of whom I will not deign to say even another word. All this, my men, is absolutely futile; nor will you be able to allege even the smallest just complaint against me or your country. Wherefore I will undertake your defence to Rome and myself, by putting forward a plea which all the world will acknowledge to hold good. And it is that, a crowd is ever easily misled and easily induced to any error. Therefore it is that crowds are like the sea, which in its own nature is safe and quiet; but, when winds fall violently upon it, assumes the character of the blasts which lash it into fury: thus a multitude also is ever found to be what its leaders and counsellors are. Acting on this consideration, I and all my fellow-officers hereby offer you pardon and amnesty for the past: but to the guilty authors of the mutiny we are resolved to show no mercy, but to punish them as their misconduct to their country and to ourselves deserves.

Just as he said these words, the soldiers, who were posted under arms round the assembly, clashed their swords against their shields; and at the same instant the ringleaders of the mutiny were brought in, stripped and in chains. But such terror was inspired in the men by the threatening aspect of the surrounding troops, and by the dreadful spectacle before them, that, while the ringleaders were being scourged and beheaded, they neither changed countenance nor uttered a sound, but remained all staring open-mouthed and terrified at what was going on. So the ringleaders of the mischief were scourged and dragged off through the crowd dead; but the rest of the men accepted with one consent the offer of an amnesty from the general and officers; and then voluntarily came forward, one by one, to take an oath to the tribunes that they would obey the orders of their commanders and remain loyal to Rome.

Having thus crushed what might have been the beginning of serious danger, Scipio restored his troops to their former good disposition. . . .

Scipio at once summoned a meeting of the soldiers in New Carthage, and addressed them on the subject of the audacious proceedings of Andobales, and his treachery to them; and by dwelling at great length on these topics he inspired the men with a very great eagerness to attack these princes. He then proceeded to enumerate the battles they had already fought against the Iberians and Carthaginians combined, the Carthaginians acting as leaders in the campaigns. Seeing, he added, that you always beat them, it does not now become you to fear defeat in a war against Iberians by themselves, and led by Andobales. I will not therefore even accept any Iberian of them all as a partner in the struggle, but I will undertake the campaign by the unassisted services of my Roman soldiers: in order to make it plain to all that it was not, as some assert, by the aid of Iberians that we defeated the Carthaginians and drove them from Iberia; but that it was by Roman valour and your own gallantry that we have conquered Carthaginian and Celtiberian combined. Let nothing therefore disturb your confidence in each other: but, if you have ever done it before, approach this undertaking with courage undismayed. For securing the victory I will with God’s help make every necessary provision. This speech filled the troops with such zeal and confidence, that they presented all the appearance of men whose enemies are in full view, and who are on the very point of closing with them.

Scipio then dismissed the assembly, but on the next day got his troops on the march, and having reached the Ebro in ten days and crossed it, on the fourth day after that pitched his camp near that of the enemy, with a valley between his own and the enemy’s lines. Next day he turned some cattle that had accompanied his army into this valley, after giving Caius Laelius instructions to have the cavalry ready, and some of the tribunes to prepare the velites. The Iberians having at once made an onslaught upon the cattle, he despatched some of the velites against them. These two forces became engaged, and reinforcements being sent to either party from time to time, a severe infantry skirmishing took place in the valley. The proper moment for attack being now come, Caius Laelius, having the cavalry prepared as directed, charged the skirmishers of the enemy, getting between them and the high ground, so that the greater number of them were scattered about the valley and killed by the cavalry. This event roused the barbarians to a furious desire to engage, that they might not appear to be entirely reduced to despair by their previous defeat; and accordingly by daybreak next day they drew out their whole army for battle. Scipio was quite ready to give them battle; but when he saw that the Iberians had come down into the valley in an imprudent manner, and were stationing, not only their cavalry, but their infantry also on the level ground, he waited for a time, because he wished as many of the enemy as possible to take up a position like that. He felt confidence in his cavalry, and still more in his infantry; because, in such deliberate and hand-tohand battles as this, his men were vastly superior to the Iberians both in themselves and in their arms.

When he thought the right time had come he drew out [the velites] to oppose those of the enemy who occupied the foot of the hills; while against those who had descended into the valley he led his main force from the camp in four cohorts, and attacked the infantry. Caius Laelius at the same time made a detour with the cavalry by the hills, which stretched from the camp to the valley, and charged the enemy’s horse on the rear; and so kept them occupied with fighting him. The enemy’s infantry therefore, being thus deprived of the support of the cavalry, on which they had relied in descending into the valley, were distressed and overmatched in the battle; while their cavalry was in much the same plight: for, being surprised on ground of insufficient extent, they fell into confusion, and lost more men by hurting each other than by the hands of the enemy; for their own infantry was pressing upon their flank, and the enemy’s infantry on their front, while his cavalry were attacking on their rear. The battle having taken this course, the result was that nearly all those who had descended into the valley lost their lives; while those who had been stationed on the foot of the hills managed to escape. These last were the light-armed troops, and formed about a third of the whole army: with whom Andobales himself contrived to make good his escape to a certain stronghold of great security. . . .

Having thus put a finishing stroke to his campaigns in Iberia, Scipio arrived at Tarraco in high spirits, bringing with him the materials of a brilliant triumph for himself, and a glorious victory for his country. But being anxious to arrive in Rome before the consular elections, he arranged for the government of Iberia, and, having put the army into the hands of Junius Silanus and L. Marcius, embarked with Caius Laelius and his other friends for Rome. . . .

Book 11, Part 9

Euthydemus was himself a Magnesian, and he answered the envoy by saying that Antiochus was acting unjustly in trying to expel him from his kingdom. He was not himself a revolted subject, but had destroyed the descendant of some who had been such, and so had obtained the kingdom of Bactria. After adding more arguments to the same effect, he urged Teleas to act as a sincere mediator of peace, by urging Antiochus not to grudge him the royal title and dignity, for if he did not yield to this demand, neither of them would be safe: seeing that great hords of Nomads were close at hand, who were a danger to both; and that if they admitted them into the country, it would certainly be utterly barbarised. With these words he sent Teleas back to Antiochus. The king had long been looking about for some means of ending the controversy; and when he was informed by Teleas of what Euthydemus had said, he readily admitted these pleas for a pacification. And after several journeys of Teleas to and fro between the two, Euthydemus at last sent his son Demetrius to confirm the terms of the treaty. Antiochus received the young prince; and judging from his appearance, conversation, and the dignity of his manners that he was worthy of royal power, he first promised to give him one of his own daughters, and secondly conceded the royal title to his father. And having on the other points caused a written treaty to be drawn up, and the terms of the treaty to be confirmed on oath, he marched away; after liberally provisioning his troops, and accepting the elephants belonging to Euthydemus. He crossed the Caucasus and descended into India; renewed his friendship with Sophagasenus the king of the Indians; received more elephants, until he had a hundred and fifty altogether; and having once more provisioned his troops, set out again personally with his army: leaving Androsthenes of Cyzicus the duty of taking home the treasure which this king had agreed to hand over to him. Having traversed Arachosia and crossed the river Enymanthus, he came through Drangene to Carmania; and, as it was now winter, he put his men into winter quarters there. This was the extreme limit of the march of Antiochus into the interior: in which he not only reduced the up-country Satraps to obedience to his authority, but also the coast cities, and the princes on this side Taurus; and, in a word, consolidated his kingdom by overawing all his subjects with the exhibition of his boldness and energy. For this campaign convinced the Europeans as well as the Asiatics that he was worthy of royal power. . . .

Book 12, Part 1

BYZACIA is near the Syrtes; it has a circumference of two thousand stades, and is circular in shape. . . .

Hippo, Singa, Tabraca, are cities in Libya. Chalkeia, however, is not, as Demosthenes ignorantly states, the name of a city, but means only a bronze-factory.. . .

The lotus is not a large tree; but it is rough and thorny, and has a green leaf, like the rhamnus (black or white thorn), a little longer and broader. The fruit is like white myrtle-berries when they are come to perfection; but, as it grows, it becomes purple in colour, and in size about equal to round olives, and has a very small stone. When it is ripe they gather it: and some of it they pound up with groats of spelt, and store in vessels for their slaves; and the rest they also preserve for the free inhabitants, after taking out the stones, and use it for food. It tastes like a fig or a date, but is superior to them in aroma. A wine is made of it also by steeping it in water and crushing it, sweet and pleasant to the taste, like good mead; and they drink it without mixing it with water. It will not keep, however, more than ten days, and they therefore only make it in small quantities as they want it. Vinegar also is made out of it. . . .

The excellence of the soil of Libya must excite our admiration. But one would feel inclined to say of Timaeus, not merely that he had never studied the country, but that he was childish and entirely unintelligent in his notions; completely enslaved to those old traditional stories of Libya being wholly sandy, parched, and barren. The same too holds good about its animals. The supply of horses, oxen, sheep, and goats in it is beyond anything to be found in any other part of the world; because many of the tribes in Libya do not use cultivated crops, but live on and with their flocks and herds. Again what writer has failed to mention the vast number and strength of its elephants, lions, and panthers, or the beauty of its buffalos, or the size of its ostriches? Of these not one is to be found in Europe, while Libya is full of them. But Timaeus, by passing them over without a word, gives, as though purposely, an impression exactly the reverse of the truth.

And just in the same random way in which he has spoken about Libya, he has also done about the island called Cyrnus. For, when mentioning it in his second book, he says that wild goats, sheep, wild oxen, stags, hares, wolves, and some other animals are plentiful in it; and that the inhabitants employ themselves in hunting them, and in fact spend most of their time in that pursuit. Whereas in this island there are not only no wild goats or wild oxen, but not even hare, wolf, or stag, or any animal of the sort, except some foxes, rabbits, and wild sheep. The rabbit indeed at a distance looks like a small hare; but when taken in the hand, it is found to be widely different both in appearance and in the taste of its flesh; and it also lives generally underground.

The idea, however, of all the animals in the island being wild, has arisen in the following way: The caretakers cannot keep up with their animals, owing to the thick woods and rocky broken nature of the country; but, whenever they wish to collect them, they stand on some convenient spots and call the beasts together by the sound of a trumpet; and all of them flock without fail to their own trumpets. Now, when ships arrive at the coast. and the sailors see goats or cattle grazing without any one with them, and thereupon try to catch them, the animals will not let them come near them, because they are not used to them, but will scamper off. But as soon as the keeper sees the men disembarking and sounds his trumpet, they all set off running at full speed and collect round the trumpet. This gives the appearance of wildness; and Timaeus, who made only careless and perfunctory inquiries, committed himself to a random statement.

Now this obedience to the sound of a trumpet is nothing astonishing. For in Italy the swineherds manage the feeding of their pigs in the same way. They do not follow close behind the beasts, as in Greece, but keep some distance in front of them, sounding their horn every now and then; and the animals follow behind and run together at the sound. Indeed, the complete familiarity which the animals show with the particular horn to which they belong seems at first astonishing and almost incredible. For owing to the populousness and wealth of the country, the droves of swine in Italy are exceedingly large, especially along the sea coast of the Tuscans and Gauls: for one sow will bring up a thousand pigs, or sometimes even more. They therefore drive them out from their night styes to feed, according to their litters and ages. Whence, if several droves are taken to the same place, they cannot preserve these distinction of litters; but they of course get mixed up with each other, both as they are being driven out, and as they feed, and as they are being brought home. Accordingly the device of the horn-blowing has been invented to separate them, when they have got mixed up together, without labour or trouble. For as they feed, one swineherd goes in one direction sounding his horn, and another in another: and thus the animals sort themselves of their own accord, and follow their own horns with such eagerness that it is impossible by any means to stop or hinder them. But in Greece, when the swine get mixed up in the oak forests in their search for the mast, the swineherd who has most assistants and the best help at his disposal, when collecting his own animals, drives off his neighbour’s also. Sometimes too a thief lies in wait, and drives them off without the swineherd knowing how he lost them; because the beasts straggle a long way from their drivers, in their eagerness to find acorns, when they are just beginning to fall. . . .

It is difficult to pardon such errors in Timaeus, considering how severe he is in criticising the slips of others. For instance he finds fault with Theopompus for stating that Dionysius sailed from Sicily to Corinth in a merchant vessel, whereas he really arrived in a ship of war. And again he falsely charges Ephorus with contradicting himself, on the ground that he asserts that Dionysius the Elder ascended the throne at the age of twenty-three, reigned forty-two years, and died at sixty-three. Now no one would say, I think, that this was a blunder of the historian, but clearly one of the transcriber. For either Ephorus must be more foolish than Coroebus and Margites, if he were unable to calculate that forty-two added to twenty-three make sixty-five; or, if that is incredible in the case of a man like Ephorus, it must be a mere mistake of the transcriber, and the carping and malevolent criticism of Timaeus must be rejected.

Book 12, Part 2

Again, in his history of Pyrrhus, he says that the Romans still keep up the memory of the fall of Troy by shooting to death with javelins a war-horse on a certain fixed day, because the capture of Troy was accomplished by means of the Wooden Horse. This is quite childish. On this principle, all non-Hellenic nations must be put down as descendants of the Trojans; for nearly all of them, or at any rate the majority, when about to commence a war or a serious battle with an enemy, first kill and sacrifice a horse. In making this sort of ill-founded deduction, Timaeus seems to me to show not only want of knowledge, but, what is worse, a trick of misapplying knowledge. For, because the Romans sacrifice a horse, he immediately concludes that they do it because Troy was taken by means of a horse.

These instances clearly show how worthless his account of Libya, Sardinia, and, above all, of Italy is; and that, speaking generally, he has entirely neglected the most important element in historical investigation, namely, the making personal inquiries. For as historical events take place in many different localities, and as it is impossible for the same man to be in several places at the same time, and also impossible for him to see with his own eyes all places in the world and observe their peculiarities, the only resource left is to ask questions of as many people as possible; and to believe those who are worthy of credit; and to show critical sagacity in judging of their reports.

And though Timaeus makes great professions on this head, he appears to me to be very far from arriving at the truth. Indeed, so far from making accurate investigations of the truth through other people, he does not tell us anything trustworthy even of events of which he has been an eye-witness, or of places he has personally visited. This will be made evident, if we can convict him of being ignorant, even in his account of Sicily, of the facts which he brings forward. For it will require very little further proof of his inaccuracy, if he can be shown to be ill-informed and misled about the localities in which he was born and bred, and that too the most famous of them. Now he asserts that the fountain Arethusa at Syracuse has its source in the Peloponnese, from the river Alpheus, which flows through Arcadia and Olympia. For that this river sinks into the earth, and, after being carried for four thousand stades under the Sicilian Sea, comes to the surface again in Syracuse; and that this was proved from the fact that on a certain occasion a storm of rain having come on during the Olympic festival, and the river having flooded the sacred enclosure, a quantity of dung from the animals used for sacrifice at the festival was thrown up by the fountain Arethusa; as well as a certain gold cup, which was picked up and recognised as being one of the ornaments used at the festival. . . .

I happened to have visited the city of the Locrians on several occasions, and to have been the means of doing them important services. For it was I that secured their exemption from the service in Iberia and Dalmatia, which, in accordance with the treaty, they were bound to supply to the Romans, And being released thereby from considerable hardship, danger, and expense, they rewarded me with every mark of honour and kindness. I have therefore reason to speak well of the Locrians rather than the reverse. Still I do not shrink from saying and writing that the account of their colonisation given by Aristotle is truer than that of Timaeus. For I know for certain that the inhabitants themselves acknowledge that the report of Aristotle, and not of Timaeus, is the one which they have received from their ancestors. And they give the following proofs of this. In the first place, they stated that every ancestral distinction existing among them is traced by the female not the male side. For instance, those are reckoned noble among them who belong to the hundred families; and these hundred families are those which were marked out by the Locrians, before embarking upon their colonisation, as those from which they were in accordance with the oracle to select the virgins to be sent to Ilium. Further, that some of these women joined the colony: and that it is their descendants who are now reckoned noble, and called the men of the hundred families. Again, the following account of the cup-bearing priestess had been received traditionally by them. When they ejected the Sicels who occupied this part of Italy, finding that it was a custom among them for the processions at their sacrifices to be led by a boy of the most illustrious and high-born family obtainable, and not having any ancestral custom of their own on the subject, they adopted this one, with no other improvement than that of substituting a girl for one of their boys as cupbearer, because nobility with them went by the female line.

And as to a treaty, none ever existed, or was said to have existed, between them and the Locrians in Greece; but they all knew by tradition of one with the Sicels: of which they give the following account. When they first appeared, and found the Sicels occupying the district in which they are themselves now dwelling, these natives were in terror of them, and admitted them through fear into the country; and the newcomers made a sworn agreement with them that they would be friendly and share the country with them, as long as they stood upon the ground they then stood upon, and kept heads upon their shoulders. But, while the oaths were being taken, they say that the Locrians put earth inside the soles of their shoes, and heads of garlic concealed on their shoulders, before they swore; and that then they shook the earth out of their shoes, and threw the heads of garlic off their shoulders, and soon afterwards expelled the Sicels from the country. This is the story current at Locri. . . .

By an extraordinary oversight Timaeus of Tauromenium commits himself to the statement that it was not customary with the Greeks to possess slaves. . . .

These considerations would lead us to trust Aristotle rather than Timaeus. His next statement is still more strange. For to suppose, with Timaeus, that it was unlikely that men, who had been the slaves of the allies of the Lacedaemonians, would continue the kindly feelings and adopt the friendships of their late masters is foolish. For when they have had the good fortune to recover their freedom, and a certain time has elapsed, men, who have been slaves, not only endeavour to adopt the friendships of their late masters, but also their ties of hospitality and blood: in fact, their aim is to keep them up even more than the ties of nature, for the express purpose of thereby wiping out the remembrance of their former degradation and humble position; because they wish to pose as the descendants of their masters rather than as their freedmen. And this is what in all probability happened in the case of the Locrians. They had removed to a great distance from all who knew their secret; the lapse of time favoured their pretensions; and they were not therefore so foolish as to maintain any customs likely to revive the memory of their own degradation, rather than such as would contribute to conceal it. Therefore they very naturally called their city by the name of that from which the women came; and claimed a relationship with those women: and, moreover, renewed the friendships which were ancestral to the families of the women.

And this also indicates that there is no sign of Aristotle being wrong in saying that the Athenians ravaged their territory. For it being quite natural, as I have shown, that the men who started from Locri and landed in Italy, if they were slaves ten times over, should adopt friendly relations with Sparta, it becomes also natural that the Athenians should be rendered hostile to them, not so much from regard to their origin as to their policy.

Book 12, Part 3

It is not, again, likely that the Lacedaemonians should themselves send their young men home from the camp for the sake of begetting children, and should refuse to allow the Locrians to do the same. Two things in such a statement are not only improbable but untrue. In the first place, they were not likely to have prevented the Locrians doing so, when they did the same themselves, for that would be wholly inconsistent: nor were the Locrians, in obedience to orders from them, likely to have adopted a custom like theirs. (For in Sparta it is a traditional law, and a matter of common custom, for three or four men to have one wife, and even more if they are brothers; and when a man has begotten enough children, it is quite proper and usual for him to sell his wife to one of his friends.) The fact is, that though the Locrians, not being bound by the same oath as the Lacedaemonians, that they would not return home till they had taken Messene, had a fair pretext for not taking part in the common expedition; yet, by returning home only one by one, and at rare intervals, they gave their wives an opportunity of becoming familiar with the slaves instead of their original husbands, and still more so the unmarried women. And this was the reason of the migration. . . .

Timaeus makes many untrue statements; and he appears to have done so, not from ignorance, but because his view was distorted by party spirit. When once he has made up his mind to blame or praise, he forgets everything else and outsteps all bounds of propriety. So much for the nature of Aristotle’s account of Locri, and the grounds on which it rested. But this naturally leads me to speak of Timaeus and his work as a whole, and generally of what is the duty of a man who undertakes to write history. Now I think that I have made it clear from what I have said, first, that both of them were writing conjecturally; and, secondly, that the balance of probability was on the side of Aristotle. It is in fact impossible in such matters to be positive and definite. But let us even admit that Timaeus gives the more probable account. Are the maintainers of the less probable theory, therefore, to be called by every possible term of abuse and obloquy, and all but be put on trial for their lives? Certainly not. Those who make untrue statements in their books from ignorance ought, I maintain, to be forgiven and corrected in a kindly spirit: it is only those who do so from deliberate intention that ought to be attacked without mercy.

It must then either be shown that Aristotle’s account of Locri was prompted by partiality, corruption, or personal enmity; or, if no one ventures to say that, then it must be acknowledged that those who display such personal animosity and bitterness to others, as Timaeus does to Aristotle, are wrong and ill advised.

The epithets which he applies to him are audacious, unprincipled, rash; and besides, he says that he has audaciously slandered Locri by affirming that the colony was formed by runaway slaves, adulterers, and man-catchers. Further, he asserts that Aristotle made this statement, in order that men might believe him to have been one of Alexander’s generals, and to have lately conquered the Persians at the Cilician Gates in a pitched battle by his own ability; and not to be a mere pedantic sophist, universally unpopular, who had a short time before shut up that admirable doctor’s shop. Again, he says that he pushed his way into every palace and tent: and that he was a glutton and a gourmand, who thought only of gratifying his appetite. Now it seems to me that such language as this would be intolerable in an impudent vagabond bandying abuse in a law court; but an impartial recorder of public affairs, and a genuine historian, would not think such things to himself, much less venture to put them in writing.

Let us now, then, examine the method of Timaeus, and compare his account of this colony, that we may learn which of the two better deserves such vituperation. He says in the same book: I am not now proceeding on conjecture, but have investigated the truth in the course of a personal visit to the Locrians in Greece. The Locrians first of all showed me a written treaty which began with the words, as parents to children. There are also existing decrees securing mutual rights of citizenship to both. In fine, when they were told of Aristotle’s account of the colony, they were astonished at the audacity of that writer. I then crossed to the Italian Locri and found that the laws and customs there accorded with the theory of a colony of free men, not with the licentiousness of slaves. For among them there are penalties assigned to man-catchers, adulterers, and run-away slaves. And this would not have been the case if they were conscious of having been such themselves.

Now the first point one would be inclined to raise is, as to what Locrians he visited and questioned on these subjects. If it had been the case that the Locrians in Greece all lived in one city, as those in Italy do, this question would perhaps have been unnecessary, and everything would have been plain. But as there are two clans of Locrians, we may ask, Which of the two did he visit? What cities of the one or the other? In whose hands did he find the treaty? Yet we all know, I suppose, that this is a speciality of Timaeus’s, and that it is in this that he has surpassed all other historians, and rests his chief claim to credit,—I mean his parade of accuracy in studying chronology and ancient monuments, and his care in that department of research. Therefore we may well wonder how he came to omit telling us the name of the city in which he found the treaty, the place in which it was inscribed, or the magistrates who showed him the inscription, and with whom he conversed: to prevent all cavil, and, by defining the place and city, to enable those who doubted to ascertain the truth. By omitting these details he shows that he was conscious of having told a deliberate falsehood. For that Timaeus, if he really had obtained such proofs, would not have let them slip, but would have fastened upon them with both hands, as the saying is, is proved by the following considerations. Would a writer who tried to establish his credit on that of Echecrates,—he mentioning him by name as the person with whom he had conversed, and from whom he had obtained his facts about the Italian Locri,—taking the trouble to add, by way of showing that he had been told them by no ordinary person, that this man’s father had formerly been entrusted with an embassy by Dionysius,—would such a writer have remained silent about it if he had really got hold of a public record or an ancient tablet?

This is the man forsooth who drew out a comparative list of the Ephors and the kings of Sparta from the earliest times; as well as one comparing the Archons at Athens and priestesses in Argos with the list of Olympic victors, and thereby convicted those cities of being in error about those records, because there was a discrepancy of three months between them! This again is the man who discovered the engraved tablets in the inner shrines, and the records of the guest-friendships on the doorposts of the temples. And we cannot believe that such a man could have been ignorant of anything of this sort that existed, or would have omitted to mention it if he had found it. Nor can he on any ground expect pardon, if he has told an untruth about it: for, as he has shown himself a bitter and uncompromising critic of others, he must naturally look for equally uncompromising attacks from them.

Being then clearly convicted of falsehood in these points, he goes to the Italian Locri: and, first of all, says that the two Locrian peoples had a similar constitution and the same ties of amity, and that Aristotle and Theophrastus have maligned the city. Now I am fully aware that in going into minute particulars and proofs on this point I shall be forced to digress from the course of my history. It was for that reason however that I postponed my criticism of Timaeus to a single section of my work, that I might not be forced again and again to omit other necessary matter. . . .

Book 12, Part 4

Timaeus says that the greatest fault in history is want of truth; and he accordingly advises all, whom he may have convicted of making false statements in their writings, to find some other name for their books, and to call them anything they like except history. . . .

For example, in the case of a carpenter’s rule, though it may be too short or too narrow for your purpose, yet if it have the essential feature of a rule, that of straightness, you may still call it a rule; but if it has not this quality, and deviates from the straight line, you may call it anything you like except a rule. On the same principle, says he, historical writings may fail in style or treatment or other details; yet if they hold fast to truth, such books may claim the title of history, but if they swerve from that, they ought no longer to be called history. Well, I quite agree that in such writings truth should be the first consideration: and, in fact, somewhere in the course of my work I have said that as in a living body, when the eyes are out, the whole is rendered useless, so if you take truth from history what is left is but an idle tale. I said again, however, that there were two sorts of falsehoods, the ignorant and the intentional; and the former deserved indulgence, the latter uncompromising severity. . . . These points being agreed upon—the wide difference between the ignorant and intentional lie, and the kindly correction due to the one and the unbending denunciation to the other—it will be found that it is to the latter charge that Timaeus more than any one lays himself open. And the proof of his character in this respect is clear. . . .

There is a proverbial expression for the breakers of an agreement, Locrians and a treaty. An explanation given of this, equally accepted by historians and the rest of the world, is that, at the time of the invasion of the Heracleidae, the Locrians agreed with the Peloponnesians that, if the Heracleidae did not enter by way of the isthmus, but crossed at Rhium, they would raise a war beacon, that they might have early intelligence and make provisions to oppose their entrance. The Locrians, however, did not do this, but, on the contrary, raised a beacon of peace; and therefore, when the Heracleidae arrived opposite Rhium, they crossed without resistance; while the Peloponnesians, having taken no precautions, found that they had allowed their enemies to enter their country, because they had been betrayed by the Locrians. . . .

Many remarks depreciatory of divination and dream interpretation may be found in his writings. But writers who have introduced into their books a good deal of such foolish talk, so far from running down others, should think themselves fortunate if they escape attack themselves. And this is just the position in which Timaeus stands. He remarks that Callisthenes was a mere sycophant for writing stuff of this sort; and acted in a manner utterly unworthy of his philosophy in giving heed to ravens and inspired women; and that he richly deserved the punishment which he met with at the hands of Alexander, for having corrupted the mind of that monarch as far as he could. On the other hand, he commends Demosthenes, and the other orators who flourished at that time, and says that they were worthy of Greece for speaking against the divine honours given to Alexander; while this philosopher, for investing a mere mortal with the aegis and thunderbolt, justly met the fate which befell him from the hands of providence. . . .

Timaeus asserts that Demochares was guilty of unnatural lust, and that his lips therefore were unfit to blow the sacred fire; and that in morals he went beyond any stories told by Botrys and Philaenis and all other writers of indecent tales. Foul abuse and shameless accusations of this sort are not only what no man of cultivation would have uttered, they go beyond what you might expect from the lowest brothels. It is, however, to get credit for the foul and shameless accusations, which he is always bringing, that he has maligned this man: supporting his charge by dragging in an obscure comic poet. Now on what grounds do I conjecture the falsity of the accusation? Well, first, from the fact of the good birth and education of Demochares; for he was a nephew of Demosthenes. And in the second place, from the fact that he was thought worthy at Athens, not only of being a general, but of the other offices also; which he certainly would not have obtained, if he had got into such troubles as these. Therefore it seems to me that Timaeus is accusing the people of Athens more than Demochares, if it is the fact that they committed the interests of the country and their own lives to such a man. For if it had been true, the comic poet Archedicus would not have been the only one to have made this statement concerning Demochares, as Timaeus alleges: it would have been repeated by many of the partisans of Antipater, against whom he has spoken with great freedom, and said many things calculated to annoy, not only Antipater himself, but also his successors and friends. It would have been repeated also by many of his political opponents: and among them, by Demetrius of Phalerum, against whom Demochares has inveighed with extraordinary bitterness in his History, alleging that his conduct as a prince, and the political measures on which he prided himself, were such as a petty tax-gatherer might be proud of; for he boasted that in his city things were abundant and cheap, and every one had plenty to live upon. And he tells another story of Demetrius, that He was not ashamed to have a procession in the theatre led by an artificial snail, worked by some internal contrivance, and emitting slime as it crawled, and behind it a string of asses; meaning by this to indicate the slowness and stupidity of the Athenians, who had yielded to others the honour of defending Greece, and were tamely submissive to Cassander. Still, in spite of these taunts, neither Demetrius nor any one else has ever brought such a charge against Demochares.

Relying therefore on the testimony of his own countrymen, as safer ground than the virulence of Timaeus, I feel no hesitation in declaring that the life of Demochares is not chargeable with such enormities. But even supposing that Demochares had ever so disgraced himself, what need was there for Timaeus to insert this passage in his History? Men of sense, when resolved to retaliate upon a personal enemy, think first, not of what he deserves, but of what it is becoming in them to do. So in the case of abusive language: the first consideration should be, not what our enemies deserve to be called, but what our self respect will allow us to call them. But if men measure everything by their own ill temper and jealousy, we are forced to be always suspicious of them, and to be ever on our guard against their exaggeration. Wherefore, in the present instance, we may fairly reject the stories to the discredit of Philochares told by Timaeus; for he has put himself out of the pale of indulgence or belief, by so obviously allowing his native virulence to carry him beyond all bounds of propriety in his invectives.

For my part I cannot feel satisfied with his abuse of Agathocles either, even admitting him to have been the worst of men. I refer to the passage at the end of his History in which he asserts that in his youth Agathocles was a common stale, extravagantly addicted to every unnatural vice, and that when he died, his wife in the course of her lamentations exclaimed Ah, what have I not done for you I what have you not done to me? To such language one can only repeat what has been already said in the case of Demochares, and express one’s astonishment at such extravagant virulence. For that Agathocles must have had fine natural qualities is evident from the narrative of Timaeus itself. That a man who came as a runaway slave to Syracuse, from the potter’s wheel and smoke and clay, at the early age of eighteen, should have within a short time advanced from that humble beginning to be master of all Sicily, and after being a terror to the Carthaginians, should have grown old in office and died in enjoyment of the royal title,—does not this prove that Agathocles had some great and admirable qualities, and many endowments and talents for administration? In view of these the historian ought not to have recounted to posterity only what served to discredit and defame this man, but those facts also which were to his honour. For that is the proper function of history. Blinded, however, by personal malignity, he has recorded for us with bitterness and exaggeration all his defects; while his eminent achievements he has passed over in entire silence: seeming not to be aware that in history such silence is as mendacious as misstatement. The part of his history, therefore, which was added by him for the gratification of his personal spite I have passed over, but not what was really germane to his subject. . . .

Two young men had a dispute about the ownership of a slave. This slave had been in the possession of one of them for a long time; but two days before, as he was going to the farm without his master, the other laid violent hands upon him and dragged him to his house. When the first young man heard of this, he came to the house, seized the slave, and taking him before the magistrate asserted his ownership and offered sureties. For the law of Zaleucus ordained that the party from whom the abduction was made should have possession of the property in dispute, pending the decision of the suit. But the other man in accordance with the same law, alleged that he was the party from whom the abduction had been made, for the slave had been brought before the magistrate from his house. The magistrates who were trying the case were in doubt, and calling in the Cosmopolis referred the point to him. He interpreted the law as meaning that the abduction was always from that party in whose possession the property in dispute had last been for a certain period unquestioned; but that if another abducted this property from a holder, and then the original holder repossessed himself of it from the abductor, this was not abduction in the sense of the law. The young man, who thus lost his case, was not satisfied, and alleged that such was not the intention of the legislator. Thereupon the Cosmopolis summoned him to discuss the interpretation in accordance with the law of Zaleucus; that is, to argue on the interpretation of the law with him before the court of the one thousand, and with a halter round the neck of each: whichever should be shown to be wrong in his interpretation was to lose his life in the sight of the thousand. But the young man asserted that the compact was not a fair one, for the Cosmopolis, who happened to be nearly ninety, had only two or three years of life left, while in all reasonable probability he had not yet lived half his life. By this adroit rejoinder the young man turned off the affair as a jest: but the magistrates adjudged the question of abduction in accordance with the interpretation of the Cosmopolis.

Book 12, Part 5

That I may not be thought to detract wantonly from the credit of such great writers, I will mention one battle, which is at once one of the most famous ever fought, and not too remote in point of time; and at which, above everything else, Callisthenes was himself present. I mean the battle between Alexander and Darius in Cilicia. He says that Alexander had already got through the pass called the Cilician Gates: and that Darius, availing himself of that by the Amanid Gates, made his way with his army into Cilicia; but on learning from the natives that Alexander was on his way into Syria, he followed him; and having arrived at the pass leading to the south, pitched his camp on the bank of the river Pinarus. The width of the ground from the foot of the mountain to the sea was not more than fourteen stades, through which this river ran diagonally. On first issuing from the mountains its banks were broken, but in its course through the level down to the sea it ran between precipitous and steep hills. Starting with this description of the ground, he goes on to say that When Alexander’s army faced about, and, retracing its steps, was approaching to attack them, Darius and his officers determined to draw up their whole phalanx on the ground occupied by his encampment, as it then was, and to defend his front by the river, which flowed right along his camp. But he afterwards says that Darius stationed his cavalry close to the sea, his mercenaries next along the river, and his peltasts next resting on the mountains.

Now it is difficult to understand how he could have drawn up these troops in front of his phalanx, considering that the river ran immediately under the camp: especially as their numbers were so great, amounting, on Callisthenes’s own showing, to thirty thousand cavalry and thirty thousand mercenaries. Now it is easy to calculate how much ground such a force would require. At the most cavalry in a regular engagement is drawn up eight deep, and between each squadron a clear space must be left in the line to enable them to turn or face about. Therefore eight hundred will cover a stade of front; eight thousand, ten stades; three thousand two hundred, four stades; and so eleven thousand two hundred would cover the whole of fourteen stades. If therefore he were to put his whole thirty thousand on the ground, he would have to mass his cavalry alone nearly three times the usual depth; and then what room is left for his large force of mercenaries? None, indeed, unless on the rear of the cavalry. But Callisthenes says this was not the case, but that these latter engaged the Macedonians first. We must therefore understand half the front, that nearest the sea, to have been occupied by the cavalry; the other half, that nearest the mountains, by the mercenaries. We may by these data easily calculate the depth of the cavalry, and the distance the river must have been from the camp to allow of it.

Again, he says that on the approach of the enemy Darius himself, who was on the centre, ordered up the mercenaries from the wing. It is difficult to see what he means by this: for the point of junction of the mercenaries and the cavalry must have been at the centre. Where and how then, and to what point could Darius, who was himself actually among the mercenaries, be said to order them up?

Lastly, he says that the cavalry on the right wing charged Alexander; and that his men stood the charge gallantly, and, making a counter charge, kept up an obstinate fight. But he quite forgets that there was a river between them, a river, too, of the nature that he had just himself described.

His account of the movements of Alexander are equally vague. He says that he crossed into Asia with forty thousand infantry and four thousand five hundred cavalry; but that when he was about to enter Cilicia he was joined by a reinforcement of five thousand infantry and eight hundred cavalry. From these numbers, if one were to make the liberal allowance of three thousand absentees from the infantry and three hundred from the cavalry on various services, there would still remain forty-two thousand infantry and five thousand cavalry. Starting with these numbers, he goes on to say that Alexander heard of the entrance of Darius into Cilicia when he was a hundred stades away from him, having already marched through the pass: that he therefore retraced his steps through the pass, his phalanx on the van, his cavalry next, and his baggage on the rear. But that as soon as he had debouched upon the open country, he gave general orders to form up into a phalanx, at first thirty-two deep; then sixteen; and lastly, when they were nearing the enemy, eight deep. Now this is a worse blunder than the last. A stade, allowing for the distances which must be kept on a march, and reckoning the depth at sixteen, admits of one thousand six hundred men, each man covering six feet. It is plain, therefore, that ten stades will admit of only sixteen thousand men, and twenty twice that number. Hence, when Alexander caused his men to form sixteen deep, he would have wanted a width of ground of twenty stades; and even then, the whole of the cavalry and ten thousand infantry would have been unaccounted for.

Again, he says that Alexander was marching in line when he was about forty stades from the enemy. A greater blunder it is difficult to conceive. For where could one find a ground, and especially in Cilicia, twenty stades broad by forty deep, for a phalanx armed with sarissae to march in line? It would not be easy to count all the impossibilities in the way of such an arrangement and such a movement. One that is mentioned by Callisthenes himself is sufficient to establish the point. For he remarks that the winter torrents which descend from the hills make so many gullies in the plain, that, in the course of the flight, the chief part of the Persians are said to have lost their lives in deep places of that kind. But, it may be urged, Alexander wished to be ready for battle as soon as the enemy were in sight. But what could be less ready than a phalanx in a disordered and straggling line? Is it not much easier to form up a phalanx from a proper column of route, than to bring a disordered and straggling line back into the same alignment, and get it into order of battle on a broken and woody ground? It was, therefore much better to march twice or four times the ordinary depth of a phalanx in good order, for which sufficient ground could possibly be found. And it was easy to deploy his men quickly into the line of the phalanx, because he was able by means of scouts to ascertain the presence of the enemy in plenty of time. But in this case, beside other absurdities, while bringing his men in line across the level, he did not even (we are told) put the cavalry in front, but marched with them in the same alignment.

But the greatest blunder is still to come. As soon as Alexander, he says, was within distance of the enemy he caused his men to take up order eight deep, which would have necessitated ground forty stades wide for the length of the line; and even had they, to use the poet’s expression, laid shield to shield and on each other leaned, still ground twenty stades wide would have been wanted, while he himself says that it was less than fourteen. [We have also to deduct from these fourteen stades the space occupied by the two divisions of the cavalry, one on the left next the sea, the other on the right]; and to allow for the fact that the whole force was kept a considerable distance from the hills, to avoid being exposed to the enemy occupying the skirts of the mountains; for we know that Callisthenes represents the wing to have been facing these, at an angle with the centre. We are also leaving out of account the ten thousand foot, whom we showed to be too many according to his own calculation.

The upshot is that eleven stades at most is left for the whole length of the phalanx, even taking Callisthenes’s own account, in which thirty-two thousand men standing shield to shield must necessarily be drawn up thirty deep; while he asserts that they fought eight deep. Such blunders admit of no defence: for the facts at once demonstrate the impossibility of the assertion. We have only to compare the space occupied by each man, the width of the whole ground, and the number of the men, to prove its falsity.

Book 12, Part 6

It would be tedious to mention all his other absurdities in connexion with this battle. I must be content with a very few. He says, for instance, that Alexander took care in arranging his order of battle to be himself personally opposed to Darius; and that at first Darius was equally anxious to be opposite Alexander, but afterwards altered his mind. But he does not vouchsafe to tell us how these kings learnt at what part of their respective forces they were each posted, or to what point in his own line Darius re-transferred himself. Again, how could a phalanx mount to the edge of the river bank, when it was precipitous and covered with brushwood? Such a piece of bad generalship must not be attributed to Alexander, because he is acknowledged by all to have been a skilful strategist and to have studied the subject from childhood: we must rather attribute it to the historian’s want of ability to descern between what is or is not practicable in such movements. So much for Ephorus and Callisthenes. . . .

Timaeus attacks Ephorus with great severity, though he is himself liable to two grave charges—bitterness in attacking others for faults of which he is himself guilty, and complete demoralisation, shown by the opinions which he expresses in his memoirs, and which he endeavours to implant in the minds of his readers. If we are to lay it down that Callisthenes deserved his death, what ought to happen to Timaeus? Surely there is much more reason for Providence to be wroth with him than with Callisthenes. The latter wished to deify Alexander; but Timaeus exalts Timoleon above the most venerable gods. The hero of Callisthenes, again, was a man by universal consent of a superhuman elevation of spirit; while Timoleon, far from having accomplished any action of first-rate importance, never even undertook one. The one expedition which he achieved in the course of his life took him no farther than from Corinth to Syracuse; and how paltry is such a distance when compared with the extent of the world! I presume that Timaeus believed that if Timoleon, by gaining glory in such a mere saucer of a place as Sicily, should be thought comparable to the most illustrious heroes, he too himself, as the historian of only Italy and Sicily, might properly be considered on a par with the writers of universal history. This will be sufficient defence of Aristotle, Theophrastus, Callisthenes, Ephorus, and Demochares against the attacks of Timaeus: and it is addressed to those who believe that this historian is impartial and truthful. . . .

We may fairly judge Timaeus on the principles which he has himself laid down. According to him, poets and historians betray their own tastes by the incidents which they repeatedly record in their writings. Thus the poet by his fondness for banqueting scenes shows that he is a glutton; and in the same way Aristotle, by frequently describing rich food in his writings, betrays his love of dainty living and his greediness. On the same principle he judges Dionysius the tyrant because he was always very particular in the ornamentation of his dining-couches, and had hangings of exquisite make and variegated colours. If we apply this principle to Timaeus, we shall have abundant reason to think badly of him. In attacking others he shows great acuteness and boldness; when he comes to independent narrative he is full of dreams, miracles, incredible myths,—in a word, of miserable superstition and old wives’ tales. The truth is that Timaeus is a proof of the fact, that at times, and in the case of many men, want of skill and want of judgment so completely destroy the value of their evidence, that though present at and eye-witnesses of the facts which they record, they might just as well have been absent or had no eyes. . . .

The story of the brazen bull is this. It was made by Phalaris at Agrigentum; and he used to force men to get into it, and then by way of punishment light a fire underneath. The metal becoming thus red hot, the man inside was roasted and scorched to death; and when he screamed in his agony, the sound from the machine was very like the bellowing of a bull. When the Carthaginians conquered Sicily this bull was removed from Agrigentum to Carthage. The trap door between the shoulders, through which the victims used to be let down, still remains; and no other reason for the construction of such a bull in Carthage can be discovered at all: yet Timaeus has undertaken to upset the common story, and to refute the declarations of poets and historians, by alleging that the bull at Carthage did not come from Agrigentum, and that no such figure ever existed there; and he has composed a lengthy treatise to prove this. . . .

What epithet ought one to apply to Timaeus, and what word will properly characterise him? A man of his kind appears to me to deserve the very bitterest of the terms which he has applied to others. It has already been sufficiently proved that he is a carping, false and impudent writer; and from what remains to be said he will be shown to be unphilosophical, and, in short, utterly uninstructed. For towards the end of his twenty-first book, in the course of his harangue of Timoleon, he remarks that the whole sublunary world being divided into three parts —Asia, Libya, and Europe. . . . One could scarcely believe such a remark to have come, I don’t say from Timaeus, but even from the proverbial Margites. . . .

The proverb tells us that one drop from the largest vessel is sufficient to show the whole contents. This is applicable to the present case. When one or two false statements have been discovered in a history, and they have been shown to be wilful, it is clear that nothing which such an historian may say can be regarded as certain or trustworthy. But in order to convince the more careful student, I must speak on his method and practice in regard to public speeches, military harangues, ambassador’s orations, and all compositions of that class; which are, as it were, a compendium of events and an epitome of all history. Now that he has given these in his writings with entire disregard of truth, and that of set purpose, can any reader of Timaeus fail to be aware? He has not written down the words actually used, nor the real drift of these speeches; but imagining how they ought to have been expressed, he enumerates all the arguments used, and makes the words tally with the circumstances, like a school-boy declaiming on a set theme: as though his object were to display his own ability, not to give a report of what was in reality said. . . .

The special province of history is, first, to ascertain what the actual words used were; and secondly, to learn why it was that a particular policy or argument failed or succeeded. For a bare statement of an occurrence is interesting indeed, but not instructive: but when this is supplemented by a statement of cause, the study of history becomes fruitful. For it is by applying analogies to our own circumstances that we get the means and basis for calculating the future; and for learning from the past when to act with caution, and when with greater boldness, in the present. The historian therefore who omits the words actually used, as well as all statement of the determining circumstances, and gives us instead conjectures and mere fancy compositions, destroys the special use of history. In this respect Timaeus is an eminent offender, for we all know that his books are full of such writing.

But perhaps some one may raise the question as to how it comes about that, being the sort of writer that I am showing him to be, he has obtained acceptance and credit among certain people. The reason is that his work abounds with hostile criticism and invective against others: and he has been judged, not by the positive merits of his own composition and his independent narrative, but by his skill in refuting his fellow historians; to which department he appears to me to have brought great diligence and an extraordinary natural aptitude. The case of the physicist Strato is almost precisely similar. As long as this man is endeavouring to discredit and refute the opinions of others, he is admirable: directly he brings forward anything of his own, or expounds any of his own doctrines, he at once seems to men of science to lose his faculties and become stupid and unintelligent. And for my part, I look upon this difference in writers as strictly analogous to the facts of everyday life. In this too it is easy to criticise our neighbours, but to be faultless ourselves is hard. One might almost say that those who are most ready at finding fault with others are most prone to errors in their own life.

Book 12, Part 7

Besides these I may mention another error of Timaeus. Having stayed quietly at Athens for about fifty years, during which he devoted himself to the study of written history, he imagined that he was in possession of the most important means of writing it. To my mind this was a great mistake. History and the science of medicine are alike in this respect, that both may be divided broadly into three departments; and therefore those who study either must approach them in three ways. For instance the three departments of medicine are the rhetorical, the dietetic, and the surgical and pharmaceutical. [The second of these though important is discredited by some.] The first, which takes its rise from the school of Herophilus and Callimachus of Alexandria, does indeed rightly claim a certain position in medical science; but by its speciousness and liberal promises acquires so much reputation that those who are occupied with other branches of the art are supposed to be completely ignorant. But just bring one of these professors to an actual invalid: you will find that they are as completely wanting in the necessary skill as men who have never read a medical treatise. Nay, it has happened before now that certain persons, who had really nothing serious the matter with them, have been persuaded by their powerful arguments to commit themselves to their treatment, and have thereby endangered their lives: for they are like men trying to steer a ship out of a book. Still such men go from city to city with great éclât, and get the common people together to listen to them. But if, when this is done, they induce certain people to submit as a specimen to their practical treatment; they only succeed in reducing them to a state of extreme discomfort, and making them a laughing stock to the audience. So completely does a persuasive address frequently get the advantage over practical experience. The third branch of the medical science, though it involves genuine skill in the treatment of the several cases, is not only rare in itself, but is also frequently cast into the shade, thanks to the folly of popular judgment, by volubility and impudence.

In the same way the science of genuine history is threefold: first, the dealing with written documents and the arrangement of the material thus obtained; second, topography, the appearance of cities and localities, the description of rivers and harbours, and, speaking generally, the peculiar features of seas and countries and their relative distances; thirdly, political affairs. Now, as in the case of medicine, it is the last branch that many attach themselves to, owing to their preconceived opinions on the subject. And the majority of writers bring to the undertaking no spirit of fairness at all: nothing but dishonesty, impudence and unscrupulousness. Like vendors of drugs, their aim is to catch popular credit and favour, and to seize every opportunity of enriching themselves. About such writers it is not worth while to say more.

But some of those who have the reputation of approaching history in a reasonable spirit are like the theoretical physicians. They spend all their time in libraries, and acquire generally all the learning which can be got from books, and then persuade themselves that they are adequately equipped for their task. . . . Yet in my opinion they are only partially qualified for the production of genuine history. To inspect ancient records indeed, with the view of ascertaining the notions entertained by the ancients of certain places, nations, polities and events, and of understanding the several circumstances and contingencies experienced in former times, is useful; for the history of the past directs our attention in a proper spirit to the future, if a writer can be found to give a statement of facts as they really occurred. But to persuade one’s self, as Timaeus does, that such ability in research is sufficient to enable a man to describe subsequent transactions with success is quite foolish. It is as though a man were to imagine that an inspection of the works of the old masters would enable him to become a painter and a master of the art himself.

This will be rendered still more evident from what I have now to say, particularly from certain passages in the history of Ephorus. This writer in his history of war seems to me to have had some idea of naval tactics, but to be quite unacquainted with fighting on shore. Accordingly, if one turns one’s attention to the naval battles at Cyprus and Cnidus, in which the generals of the king were engaged against Evagoras of Salamis and then against the Lacedaemonians, one will be struck with admiration of the historian, and will learn many useful lessons as to what to do in similar circumstances. But when he tells the story of the battle of Leuctra between the Thebans and Lacedaemonians, or again that of Mantinea between the same combatants, in which Epaminondas lost his life, if in these one examines attentively and in detail the arrangements and evolutions in the line of battle, the historian will appear quite ridiculous, and betray his entire ignorance and want of personal experience of such matters. The battle of Leuctra indeed was simple, and confined to one division of the forces engaged, and therefore does not make the writer’s lack of knowledge so very glaring: but that of Mantinea was complicated and technical, and is accordingly unintelligible, and indeed completely inconceivable, to the historian. This will be rendered clear by first laying down a correct plan of the ground, and then measuring the extent of the movements as described by him. The same is the case with Theopompus, and above all with Timaeus, the subject of this book. These latter writers also can conceal their ignorance, so long as they deal with generalities; but directly they attempt minute and detailed description, they show that they are no better than Ephorus. . . .

It is in fact as impossible to write well on the operations in a war, if a man has had no experience of actual service, as it is to write well on politics without having been engaged in political transactions and vicissitudes. And when history is written by the book-learned, without technical knowledge, and without clearness of detail, the work loses all its value. For if you take from history its element of practical instruction, what is left of it has nothing to attract and nothing to teach. Again, in the topography of cities and localities, when such men attempt to go into details, being entirely without personal knowledge, they must in a similar manner necessarily pass over many points of importance; while they waste words on many that are not worth the trouble. And this is what his failure to make personal inspection brings upon Timaeus. . . .

In his thirty-fourth book Timaeus says that he spent fifty continuous years at Athens as an alien, and never took part in any military service, or went to inspect the localities. Accordingly, when he comes upon any such matters in the course of his history, he shows much ignorance and makes many misstatements; and if he ever does come near the truth, he is like one of those animal-painters who draw from models of stuffed skins. Such artists sometimes preserve the correct outline, but the vivid look and life-like portraiture of the real animal, the chief charm of the painter’s art, are quite wanting. This is just the case with Timaeus, and in fact with all who start with mere book-learning; there is nothing vivid in their presentment of events, for that can only come from the personal experience of the writers. And hence it is, that those who have gone through no such course of actual experience produce no genuine enthusiasm in the minds of their readers. Former historians showed their sense of the necessity of making professions to this effect in their writings. For when their subject was political, they were careful to state that the writer had of course been engaged in politics, and had had experience in matters of the sort; or if the subject was military, that he had served a campaign and been actually engaged; and again, when the matter was one of everyday life, that he had brought up children and had been married; and so on in every department of life, which we may expect to find adequately treated by those writers alone who have had personal experience, and have accordingly made that branch of history their own. It is difficult perhaps for a man to have been actually and literally engaged in everything: but in the most important actions and most frequently occurring he must have been so.

And that this is no impossibility, Homer is a convincing instance; for in him you may see this quality of personal knowledge frequently and conspicuously displayed. The upshot of all this is that the study of documents is only one of three elements in the preparation of an historian, and is only third in importance. And no clearer proof of this could be given than that furnished by the deliberative speeches, harangues of commanders, and orations of ambassadors as recorded by Timaeus. For the truth is, that the occasions are rare which admit of all possible arguments being set forth; as a rule, the circumstances of the case confine them to narrow limits. And of such speeches one sort are regarded with favour by men of our time, another by those of an earlier age; different styles again are popular with Aetolians, Peloponnesians, and Athenians. But to make digressions, in season and out of season, for the purpose of setting forth every possible speech that could be made, as Timaeus does by his trick of inventing words to suit every sort of occasion, is utterly misleading, pedantic, and worthy of a schoolboy essayist. And this practice has brought failure and discredit on many writers. Of course to select from time to time the proper and appropriate language is a necessary part of our art: but as there is no fixed rule to decide the quantity and quality of the words to be used on a particular occasion, great care and training is required if we are to instruct and not mislead our readers. The exact nature of the situation is difficult to communicate always; still it may be brought home to the mind by means of systematic demonstration, founded on personal and habitual experience. The best way of securing that this should be realised is for historians, first, to state clearly the position, the aims, and the circumstances of those deliberating; and then, recording the real speeches made, to explain to us the causes which contributed to the success or failure of the several speakers. Thus we should obtain a true conception of the situation. and by exercising our judgment upon it, and drawing analogies from it, should be able to form a thoroughly sound opinion upon the circumstances of the hour. But I suppose that tracing causes is difficult, while stringing words together in books is easy. Few again have the faculty of speaking briefly to the point, and getting the necessary training for doing so; while to produce a long and futile composition is within most people’s capacity and is common enough.

To confirm the judgment I have expressed of Timaeus, on his wilful misstatements as well as his ignorance, I shall now quote certain short passages from his acknowledged works as specimens. . . . Of all the men who have exercised sovereignty in Sicily, since the elder Gelo, tradition tells us that the most able have been Hermocrates, Timoleon, and Pyrrhus of Epirus, who are the last persons in the world on whom to father pedantic and scholastic speeches. Now Timaeus tells us in his twenty-first book that on his arrival in Sicily Eurymedon urged the cities there to undertake the war against Syracuse; that subsequently the people of Gela becoming tired of the war, sent an embassy to Camarina to make a truce; that upon the latter gladly welcoming the proposal, each state sent ambassadors to their respective allies begging them to despatch men of credit to Gela to deliberate on a pacification, and to secure the common interests. Upon the arrival of these deputies in Gela and the opening of the conference, he represents Hermocrates as speaking to the following effect: He praised the people of Gela and Camarina first, for having made the truce; secondly, because they were the cause of the assembling of this peace congress; and thirdly because they had taken precautions to prevent the mass of the citizens from taking part in the discussion, and had secured that it should be confined to the leading men in the states, who knew the difference between peace and war. Then after making two or three practical suggestions, Hermocrates is represented as expressing an opinion that if they seriously consider the matter they will learn the profound difference between peace and war,—although just before he had said that it was precisely this which moved his gratitude to the men of Gela, that the discussion did not take place in the mass assembly, but in a congress of men who knew the difference between peace and war. This is an instance in which Timaeus not only fails to show the ability of an historian, but sinks below the level of a school theme. For, I presume, it will be universally admitted that what an audience requires is a demonstration of that about which they are in ignorance or uncertainty; but to exhaust one’s ingenuity in finding arguments to prove what is known already is the most futile waste of time. But besides his cardinal mistake of directing the greater part of the speech to points which stood in need of no arguments at all, Timaeus also puts into the mouth of Hermocrates certain sentences of which one could scarcely believe that any commonplace youth would have been capable, much less the colleague of the Lacedaemonians in the battle of Aegospotami, and the sole conqueror of the Athenian armies and generals in Sicily.

Book 12, Part 8

For first he thinks that he should remind the congress that in war sleepers are woke at dawn by bugles, in peace by cocks. Then he says that Hercules established the Olympic games and the sacred truce during them, as an exemplification of his own principles; and that he had injured all those persons against whom he waged war, under compulsion and in obedience to the order of another, but was never voluntarily the author of harm to any man. Next he quotes the instance of Zeus in Homer as being displeased with Ares, and saying— Of all the gods that on Olympus dwell I hold thee most detested; for thy joy Is ever strife and war and battle. And again the wisest of the heroes says— He is a wretch, insensible and dead To all the charities of social life, Whose pleasure is in civil broil and war. Then he goes on to allege that Euripides agrees with Homer in the lines— O well of infinite riches! O fairest of beings divine! O Peace, how alas! thou delayest; My heart for thy coming is fain. I tremble lest age overtake me, Ere thy beauty and grace I behold; Ere the maidens shall sing in their dancing, And revels be gladsome with flowers. Next he remarks that war is like disease, peace like health; for that the latter restores those that are sick, while in the former even the healthy perish. Moreover, in time of peace, the old are buried by the young as nature directs, while in war the case is reversed; and above all in war there is no security even as far as the city walls, while in peace it extends to the frontier of the territory—and so on. I wonder what other arguments would have been employed by a youth who had just devoted himself to scholastic exercises and studies in history; and who wished, according to the rules of the art, to adapt his words to the supposed speakers? Just these I think which Timaeus represents Hermocrates as using.

Again, in the same book, Timoleon is exhorting the Greeks to engage the Carthaginians; and when they are on the very point of coming to close quarters with the enemy, who are many times superior to them in number, Timaeus represents him as saying, Do not look to the numbers of the foe, but to their cowardice. For though Libya is fully settled and abounds in inhabitants, yet when we wish to express complete desolation we say more desolate than Libya, not meaning to refer to its emptiness, but to the poor spirit of its inhabitants. And after all, who would be afraid of men who, when nature gives hands as the distinctive feature of man among all living creatures, carry them about all their life inside their tunics idle? And more than all, who wear shirts under their inner tunics, that they may not even when they fall in battle show their nakedness to their enemies? . . .

When Gelo promised to help the Greeks with twenty thousand land forces and two hundred decked ships, if they would concede to him the chief command either by land or sea, they say that the congress of Greeks, sitting at Corinth, gave Gelo’s envoys a most spirited answer. They urged Gelo to come to their aid with his forces, and observed that the logic of facts would give the command to the bravest. This is not the language of men depending for succour on the Syracusans, as a last resource; but of men who felt confidence in themselves, and challenged all comers to a rivalry of courage and for the crown of valour. In spite of this, Timaeus spends such a wealth of rhetoric and earnestness on these points, in his desire to exalt the importance of Sicily above all the rest of Greece, to represent its history as the most splendid and glorious of all the world, its men as the wisest of all who have been great in philosophy, and the Syracusans as the most consummate and divine of statesmen, that he could scarcely be surpassed by the cleverest schoolboy declaimers when undertaking to prove such paradoxes as that Thersites was an excellent man, or Penelope a bad wife, or other thesis of that description.

However, the only effect of such extravagant exaggeration is to bring ridicule upon the men and the transactions which it is his intention to champion; while he himself incurs the same discredit as ill-trained disputants in the Academy; some of whom, in their desire to embarrass their opponents on all subjects, possible or impossible alike, carry their paradoxical and sophistical arguments to such a length as to dispute whether it is possible for people at Athens to smell eggs cooking at Ephesus: and to offer to maintain that, while they are discussing these points, they are lying on their couches at home and carrying on a second discussion on other subjects. This extravagance of paradox has brought the whole school into such disrepute, that even reasonable discussions have lost credit with the world. And apart from their own futility, these persons have inspired our young men with so depraved a taste, that they pay no attention whatever to questions of ethics and politics, which bring benefit to those who study them; but spend their lives in pursuit of an empty reputation for useless and paradoxical verbiage.

This is just the case with Timaeus and his imitators in history. Paradoxical and tenacious, he has dazzled the multitude by skill in words; and has forced attention to himself by a show of veracity, or has conciliated confidence by a pretence of producing proof of his assertions. The most conspicuous instances of his success in inspiring this confidence are those parts of his work which treat of colonies, founding of cities, and the relationships of nations. In these points he makes such a parade of minute accuracy, and inveighs so bitterly when refuting others, that people came to imagine that all other historians have been mere dreamers, and have spoken at random in describing the world; and that he is the only man who has made accurate investigations, and unravelled every history with intelligence.

As a matter of fact, his books contain much that is sound, but also much that is false. Those, however, who have spent much time on his earlier books, in which the passages I have alluded to occur, when the confidence which they have fully given to his exaggerated professions is disturbed by some one pointing out that Timaeus is obnoxious to the same reproaches which he has brought with such bitterness against others (as, for instance, in the misstatements as to the Locrians, and other instances lately mentioned by me), become angry and obstinate in controversy, and difficult to convince. And that, I might almost say, is all the benefit which the most diligent students of his history get from their reading. While those who devote their attention to his speeches, and generally to the didactic part of his work, become pedantic, sophistical, and wholly insensible to truth, for reasons which I have already stated.

Moreover, when he comes to deal with facts in his history, we find a combination of all the faults which I have mentioned. The reason I will now proceed to state. It will not, perhaps, to most people seem to his credit, and it is in truth the real source of his errors. For whereas he is thought to have possessed great and wide knowledge, a faculty for historical inquiry, and extraordinary industry in the execution of his work, in certain cases he appears to have been the most ignorant and indolent person that ever called himself an historian. And the following considerations will prove it. Nature has bestowed on us two instruments of inquiry and research, hearing and sight. Of these sight is, according to Heracleitus, by far the truer; for eyes are surer witnesses than ears. And of these channels of learning Timaeus has chosen the pleasanter and the worse; for he entirely retrained from looking at things with his own eyes, and devoted himself to learning by hearsay. But even the ear may be instructed in two ways, reading and answers to personal inquiries: and in the latter of these he was very indolent, as I have already shown. The reason of his preference for the other it is easy to divine. Study of documents involves no danger or fatigue, if one only takes care to lodge in a city rich in such records, or to have a library in one’s neighbourhood. You may then investigate any question while reclining on your couch, and compare the mistakes of former historians without any fatigue to yourself. But personal investigation demands great exertion and expense; though it is exceedingly advantageous, and in fact is the very corner-stone of history. This is evident from the writers of history themselves. Ephorus says, if writers could only be present at the actual transactions, it would be far the best of all modes of learning. Theopompus says, the best military historian is he who has been present at the greatest number of battles; the best speech maker is he who has been engaged in most political contests. The same might be said of the art of healing and of steering. Homer has spoken even more emphatically than these writers on this point. For when he wishes to describe what the man of light and leading should be, he introduces Odysseus in these words— Tell me, oh Muse, the man of many shifts Who wandered far and wide. and then goes on— And towns of many saw, and learnt their mind, And suffered much in heart by land and sea. and again— Passing through wars of men and grievous waves.

It is such a man that the dignity of history appears to me to require. Plato says that human affairs will not go well until either philosophers become kings or kings become philosophers. So I should say that history will never be properly written, until either men of action undertake to write it (not as they do now, as a matter of secondary importance; but, with the conviction that it is their most necessary and honourable employment, shall devote themselves through life exclusively to it), or historians become convinced that practical experience is of the first importance for historical composition. Until that time arrives there will always be abundance of blunders in the writings of historians. Timaeus, however, quite disregarded all this. He spent his life in one place, of which he was not even a citizen; and thus deliberately renounced all active career either in war or politics, and all personal exertion in travel and inspection of localities: and yet, somehow or another, he has managed to obtain the reputation of a master in the art of history. To prove that I have not misrepresented him, it is easy to bring the evidence of Timaeus himself. In the preface to his sixth book he says that some people suppose that more genius, industry, and preparation are required for rhetorical than for historical composition. And that this opinion had been formerly advanced against Ephorus. Then because this writer had been unable to refute those who held it, he undertakes himself to draw a comparison between history and rhetorical compositions: a most unnecessary proceeding altogether. In the first place he misrepresents Ephorus. For in truth, admirable as Ephorus is throughout his whole work, in style, treatment, and argumentative acuteness, he is never more brilliant than in his digressions and statements of his personal views: in fact, whenever he is adding anything in the shape of a commentary or a note. And it so happens that his most elegant and convincing digression is on this very subject of a comparison between historians and speech-writers. But Timaeus is anxious not to be thought to follow Ephorus. Therefore, in addition to misrepresenting him and condemning the rest, he enters upon a long, confused, and in every way inferior, discussion of what had been already sufficiently handled by others; and expected that no one living would detect him.

Book 12, Part 9

However, he wished to exalt history; and, in order to do so, he says that history differs from rhetorical composition as much as real buildings differ from those represented in scene-paintings. And again, that to collect the necessary materials for writing history is by itself more laborious than the whole process of producing rhetorical compositions. He mentions, for instance, the expense and labour which he underwent in collecting records from Assyria, and in studying the customs of the Ligures, Celts, and Iberians. But he exaggerates these so much, that he could not have himself expected to be believed. One would be glad to ask the historian which of the two he thinks is the more expensive and laborious,—to remain quietly at home and collect records and study the customs of Ligures and Celts, or to obtain personal experience of all the tribes possible, and see them with his own eyes? To ask questions about manœuvres on the field of battle and the sieges of cities and fights at sea from those who were present, or to take personal part in the dangers and vicissitudes of these operations as they occur? For my part I do not think that real buildings differ so much from those in stage - scenery, nor history from rhetorical compositions, as a narrative drawn from actual and personal experience differs from one derived from hearsay and the report of others. But Timaeus had no such experience: and he therefore naturally supposed that the part of an historian’s labour which is the least important and lightest, that namely of collecting records and making inquiries from those who had knowledge of the several events, was in reality the most important and most difficult. And, indeed, in this particular department of research, men who have had no personal experience must necessarily fall into grave errors. For how is a man, who has no knowledge of such things, to put the right questions as to manœuvering of troops, sieges of cities, and fights at sea? And how can he understand the details of what is told him? Indeed, the questioner is as important as the narrator for getting a clear story. For in the case of men who have had experience of real action, memory is a sufficient guide from point to point of a narrative: but a man who has had no such experience can neither put the right questions, nor understand what is happening before his eyes. Though he is on the spot, in fact, he is as good as absent.