Alexander The Great And Darius

In the citadel of Gordium, an ancient town of Phrygia in Asia Minor, was

preserved an old wagon, rudely built, and very primitive in structure.

Tradition said that it had originally belonged to the peasant Gordius

and his son Midas, rustic chiefs who had been selected by the gods and

chosen by the people as the primitive kings of Phrygia. The cord which

attached the yoke of this wagon to the pole, composed of fibres from the
br /> bark of the cornel tree, was tied into a knot so twisted and entangled

that it seemed as if the fingers of the gods themselves must have tied

it, so intricate was it and so impossible, seemingly, to untie.



An oracle had declared that the man who should untie this famous knot

would become lord and monarch of all Asia. As may well be imagined, many

ambitious men sought to perform the task, but all in vain. The Gordian

knot remained tied and Asia unconquered in the year 333 B.C., when

Alexander of Macedon, who the year before had invaded Asia, and so far

had swept all before him, entered Gordium with his victorious army. As

may be surmised, it was not long before he sought the citadel to view

this ancient relic, which contained within itself the promise of what he

had set out to accomplish. Numbers followed him, Phrygians and

Macedonians, curious to see if the subtle knot would yield to his

conquering hand, the Macedonians with hope, the Phrygians with doubt.



While the multitude stood in silent and curious expectation, Alexander

closely examined the knot, looking in vain for some beginning or end to

its complexity. The thing perplexed him. Was he who had never yet failed

in any undertaking to be baffled by this piece of rope, this twisted

obstacle in the way of success? At length, with that angry impatience

which was a leading element in his character, he drew his sword, and

with one vigorous stroke severed the cord in two.



At once a shout went up. The problem was solved; the knot was severed;

the genius of Alexander had led him to the only means. He had made good

his title to the empire of Asia, and was hailed as predestined conqueror

by his admiring followers. That night came a storm of thunder and

lightning which confirmed the belief, the superstitious Macedonians

taking it as the testimony of the gods that the oracle was fulfilled.



Had there been no Gordian knot and no oracle, Alexander would probably

have become lord of the empire of Asia all the same, and this not only

because he was the best general of his time and one of the best generals

of all time, but for two other excellent reasons. One was that his

father, Philip, had bequeathed to him the best army of the age. The

Greeks had proved, nearly two centuries before, that their military

organization and skill were far superior to those of the Persians.

During the interval there had been no progress in the army of Persia,

while Epaminondas had greatly improved the military art in Greece, and

Philip of Macedon, his pupil, had made of the Macedonian army a fighting

machine such as the world had never before known. This was the army

which, with still further improvements, Alexander was leading into Asia

to meet the multitudinous but poorly armed and disciplined Persian host.



The second reason was that Alexander, while the best captain of his age,

had opposed to him the worst. It was the misfortune of Persia that a new

king, Darius Codomannus by name, had just come to the throne, and was to

prove himself utterly incapable of leading an army, unless it was to

lead it in flight. It was not only Alexander's great ability, but his

marvellous good fortune, which led to his immense success.



The Persians had had a good general in Asia Minor,--Memnon, a Greek of

the island of Rhodes. But just at this time this able leader died, and

Darius took the command on himself. He could hardly have selected a man

from his ranks who would not have made a better commander-in-chief.



Gathering a vast army from his wide-spread dominions, a host six hundred

thousand strong, the Persian king marched to meet his foe. He brought

with him an enormous weight of baggage, there being enough gold and

silver alone to load six hundred mules and three hundred camels; and so

confident was he of success that he also brought his mother, wife, and

children, and his whole harem, that they might witness his triumph over

the insolent Macedonian.



Darius took no steps to guard any of the passes of Asia Minor. Why

should he seek to keep back this foe, who was marching blindly to his

fate? But instead of waiting for Alexander on the plain, where he could

have made use of his vast force, he marched into the defile of Issus,

where there was only a mile and a half of open ground between the

mountains and the sea, and where his vanguard alone could be brought

into action. In this defile the two armies met, the fighting part of

each being, through the folly of the Persian king, not greatly different

in numbers.



The blunder of Darius was soon made fatal by his abject cowardice. The

Macedonians having made a sudden assault on the Persian left wing, it

gave way and fled. Darius, who was in his chariot in the centre, seeing

himself in danger from this flight, suddenly lost his over-confidence,

and in a panic of terror turned his chariot and fled with wild haste

from the field. When he reached ground over which the chariot could not

pass, he mounted hastily on horseback, flung from him his bow, shield,

and royal mantle, and rode in mortal terror away, not having given a

single order or made the slightest effort to rally his flying troops.



Darius had been sole commander. His flight left the great army without a

leader. Not a man remained who could give a general order. Those who saw

him flying were infected with his terror and turned to flee also. The

vast host in the rear trampled one another down in their wild haste to

get beyond the enemy's reach. The Macedonians must have looked on in

amazement. The battle--or what ought to have been a battle--was over

before it had fairly begun. The Persian right wing, in which was a body

of Greeks, made a hard fight; but these Greeks, on finding that the king

had fled, marched in good order away. The Persian cavalry, also, fought

bravely until they heard that the king had disappeared, when they also

turned to fly. Never had so great a host been so quickly routed, and all

through the cowardice of a man who was better fitted by nature to turn a

spit than to command an army.






But Alexander was not the man to let his enemy escape unscathed. His

pursuit was vigorous. The slaughter of the fugitives was frightful.

Thousands were trodden to death in the narrow and broken pass. The camp

and the family of Darius were taken, together with a great treasure in

coin. The slain in all numbered more than one hundred thousand.



The panic flight of Darius and his utter lack of ability did more than

lose him a battle: it lost him an empire. Never was there a battle with

more complete and great results. During the next two years Alexander

went to work to conquer western Persia. Most of the cities yielded to

him. Tyre resisted, and was taken and destroyed. Gaza, another strong

city, was captured and its defenders slain. These two cities, which it

took nine months to capture, gave Alexander the hardest fighting he

ever had. He marched from Gaza to Egypt, which fell without resistance

into his hands, and where he built the great city of Alexandria, the

only existing memento of his name and deeds. Thence he marched to the

Euphrates, wondering where Darius was and what he meant to do. Nearly

two years had passed since the battle of Issus, and the kingly poltroon

had apparently contented himself with writing letters begging Alexander

to restore his family. But Alexander knew too well what a treasure he

held to consent. If Darius would acknowledge him as his lord and master

he could have back his wife and children, but not otherwise.



Finding that all this was useless, Darius began to collect another army.

He now got together a vaster host than before. It was said to contain

one million infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and two hundred chariots,

each of which had a projecting pole with a sharp point, while three

sword-blades stood out from the yoke on either side, and scythes

projected from the naves of the wheels. Darius probably expected to mow

down the Macedonians in swaths with these formidable implements of war.



The army which Alexander marched against this mighty host consisted of

forty thousand foot and seven thousand horse. It looked like the extreme

of foolhardiness, like a pigmy advancing against a giant; yet Darius

commanded one army, Alexander the other, and Issus had not been

forgotten.



The affair, in fact, proved but a repetition of that at Issus. The

chariots, on which Darius had counted to break the enemy's line, proved

useless. Some of the horses were killed; others refused to face the

Macedonian pikes; some were scared by the noise and turned back; the few

that reached the Greek lines found the ranks opened to let them pass.



The chariots thus disposed of, the whole Macedonian line charged.

Alexander, at the head of his cavalry, pushed straight for the person of

Darius. He could not get near the king, who was well protected, but he

got near enough to fill his dastard soul with terror. The sight of the

serried ranks of the Macedonian phalanx, the terrific noise of their

war-cries, the failure of the chariots, all combined to destroy his late

confidence and replace it by dread. As at Issus, he suddenly had his

chariot turned round and rushed from the field in full flight.



His attendants followed. The troops around him, the best in the army,

gave way. Soon the field was dense with fugitives. So thick was the

cloud of dust raised by the flying multitude that nothing could be seen.

Amid the darkness were heard a wild clamor of voices and the noise of

the whips of the charioteers as they urged their horses to speed. The

cloud of dust alone saved Darius from capture by the pursuing horsemen.

The left of the Persian army fought bravely, but at length it too gave

way. Everything was captured,--camp, treasure, the king's equipage,

everything but the king himself. How many were killed and taken is not

known, but the army, as an army, ceased to exist. As at Issus, so at

Arbela, it was so miserably managed that three-fourths of it had nothing

whatever to do with the battle. Its dispersal ended the Persian

resistance; the empire was surrendered to Alexander almost without

another blow.



Great a soldier as Alexander unquestionably was, he was remarkably

favored by fortune, and won the greatest empire the world had up to that

time known with hardly an effort, and with less loss of men than often

takes place in a single battle. The treasure gained was immense. Darius

seemed to have been heaping up wealth for his conqueror. Babylon and

Susa, the two great capitals of the Persian empire, contained vast

accumulations of money, part of which was used to enrich the soldiers of

the victorious army. At Persepolis, the capital of ancient Persia, a

still greater treasure was found, amounting to one hundred and twenty

thousand talents in gold and silver, or about one hundred and

twenty-five million dollars. It took five thousand camels and a host of

mules to transport the treasure away. The cruel conqueror rewarded the

Persians for this immense gift, kept through generations for his hands,

by burning the city and slaughtering its inhabitants, in revenge, as he

declared, for the harm which Xerxes had done to Greece a century and a

half before.



What followed must be told in a few words. The conqueror did not feel

that his work was finished while Darius remained free. The dethroned

king was flying eastward to Bactria. Alexander pursued him with such

speed that many of his men and animals fell dead on the road. He

overtook him at last, but did not capture him, as the companions of the

Persian king killed him and left only his dead body to the victor's

hands.



For years afterwards Alexander was occupied in war, subduing the eastern

part of the empire, and marching into India, where he conquered all

before him. War, incessant war, was all he cared for. No tribe or nation

he met was able to stand against his army. In all his career he never

met a reverse in the field. He was as daring as Darius had been

cowardly, exposed his life freely, and was more than once seriously

wounded, but recovered quickly from his hurts.



At length, after eleven years of almost incessant war, the conqueror

returned to Babylon, and here, while preparing for new wars in Arabia

and elsewhere, indulged with reckless freedom in that intoxication which

was his principal form of relaxation from warlike schemes and duties. As

a result he was seized with fever, and in a week's time died, just at

the time he had fixed to set out with army and fleet on another great

career of conquest. It was in June, 323 B.C., in his thirty-third year.

He had reigned only twelve years and eight months.