4AACAH01 Introduction to Ancient History

Reading for Week 9: Alexander the Great

Background reading for the seminar

Worthington, I. (ed.) (2005), Alexander the Great: a reader, London: chapter 1

http://www.kcl.eblib.com/patron/FullRecord.aspx?p=254232

Questions for discussion

1. What do the various passages below tell us about the difficulties of using the ancient
sources to find out what Alexander actually did?
2. Is it possible to construct an accurate account of Alexander’s career?

A. Introduction and Conclusion

Arrian, Anabasis (Translation by Aubrey de Sélincourt)

Book 1

Proem [1] Wherever Ptolemy and Aristobulus in their histories of Alexander, the son of Philip, have given
the same account, I have followed it on the assumption of its accuracy; where their facts differ I have
chosen what I feel to be the more probable and interesting. [2] There are other accounts of Alexander’s life
– more of them, indeed, and more mutually conflicting than of any other historical character; it seems to
me, however, that Ptolemy and Aristobulus are the most trustworthy writers on this subject, because the
latter shared Alexander’s campaigns, and the former – Ptolemy – in addition to this advantage, was himself
a King, and it is more disgraceful for a King to tell lies than for anyone else. Moreover, Alexander was dead
when these men wrote; so there was no sort of pressure upon either of them, and they could not profit
from falsification of the facts. [3] Certain statements by other writers upon Alexander may be taken to
represent popular tradition: some of these, which are interesting in them selves and may well be true, I
have included in my work. If anyone should wonder why I should have wished to write this history when so
many other men have done the same, I would ask him to reserve judgement until he has first read my
predecessors' work and then become acquainted with my own.

Book 7

28 [1] Alexander died in the 114th Olympiad, in the archonship of Hegesias at Athens. According to the
statement of Aristobulus, he lived thirty-two years, and had reached the eighth month of his thirty-third year.
He had reigned twelve years and these eight months. He was very handsome in person, and much devoted
to exertion, very active in mind, very heroic in courage, very tenacious of honour, exceedingly fond of
incurring danger, and strictly observant of his duty to the deity. [2] In regard to the pleasures of the body, he
had perfect self-control; and of those of the mind, praise was the only one of which he was insatiable, He
was very clever in recognising what was necessary to be done, when others were still in a state of uncertainty;
and very successful in conjecturing from the observation of facts what was likely to occur. In marshalling,
arming, and ruling an army, he was exceedingly skilful; and very renowned for rousing the courage of his
soldiers, filling them with hopes of success, and dispelling their fear in the midst of danger by his own
freedom from fear. [3] Therefore even what he had to do in uncertainty of the result he did with the greatest
boldness. He was also very clever in getting the start of his enemies, and snatching from them their
advantages by secretly forestalling them, before any one even feared what was about to happen. He was
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likewise very steadfast in keeping the agreements and settlements which he made, as well as very secure
from being entrapped by deceivers. Finally, he was very sparing in the expenditure of money for the
gratification of his own pleasures; but he was exceedingly bountiful in spending it for the benefit of his
associates.
29 [1] That Alexander should have committed errors in conduct from impetuosity or from wrath, and that he
should have been induced to comport himself like the Persian monarchs to an immoderate degree, I do not
think remarkable if we fairly consider both his youth and his uninterrupted career of good fortune; likewise
that kings have associates for the gratification of pleasure, and that they will always have associates urging
them to do wrong, but caring nothing for their best interests. However, I am certain that Alexander was the
only one of the ancient kings who, from nobility of character, repented of the errors which he had committed.
[2] The majority of men, even if they have became conscious that they have committed an error, make the
mistake of thinking that they can conceal their sin by defending their error as if it had been a just action. But
it seems to me that the only cure for sin is for the sinner to confess it, and to be visibly repentant in regard
to it. Thus the suffering will not appear altogether intolerable to those who have suffered unpleasant
treatment, if the person who inflicted it confesses that he has acted dishonourably; and this good hope for
the future is left to the man himself, that he will never again commit a similar sin, if he is seen to be vexed at
his former errors. [3] I do not think that even his tracing his origin to a god was a great error on Alexander's
part, if it was not perhaps merely a device to induce his subjects to show him reverence. Nor does he seem
to me to have been a less renowned king than Minos, Aeacus, or Rhadamanthus, to whom no insolence is
attributed by the men of old because they traced their origin to Zeus. Nor does he seem at all inferior to
Theseus or Ion, the former being the reputed son of Poseidon, and the latter of Apollo. [4] His adoption of
the Persian mode of dressing also seems to me to have been a political device in regard to the foreigners,
that the king might not appear altogether alien to them; and in regard to the Macedonians, to show them
that he had a refuge from their rashness of temper and insolence. For this reason I think, he mixed the Persian
royal guards, who carried golden apples at the end of their spears, among the ranks of the Macedonians, and
the Persian peers with the Macedonian body-guards. Aristobulus also asserts that Alexander used to have
long drinking parties, not for the purpose of enjoying the wine, as he was not a great wine-drinker, but in
order to exhibit his sociality and friendly feeling to his Companions.
30 [1] Whoever therefore reproaches Alexander as a bad man, let him do so; but let him first not only bring
before his mind all his actions deserving reproach, but also gather into one view all his deeds of every kind.
Then, indeed, let him reflect who he is himself, and what kind of fortune he has experienced; and then
consider who that man was whom he reproaches as bad, and to what a height of human success he attained,
becoming without any dispute king of both continents, and reaching every place by his fame; while he himself
who reproaches him is of smaller account, spending his labour on petty objects, which, however, he does not
succeed in effecting, petty as they are. [2] For my own part, I think there was at that time no race of men, no
city, nor even a single individual to whom Alexander’s name and fame had not penetrated. For this reason it
seems to me that a hero totally unlike any other human being could not have been born without the agency
of the deity. And this is said to have been revealed after Alexander’s death by the oracular responses, by the
visions which presented themselves to various people, and by the dreams which were seen by different
individuals. It is also shown by the honour given to him by men up to the present time, and by the
remembrance which is still held of him as more than human. Even at the present time, after so long an
interval, other oracular responses in his honour have been given to the nation of the Macedonians. [3] In
relating the history of Alexander's achievements, there are some things which I have been compelled to
censure; but I am not ashamed to admire Alexander himself. Those actions I have branded as bad, both from
a regard to my own veracity, and at the same time for the benefit of mankind. For this reason I myself
undertook the task of writing this history not without the agency of god.
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B: The Amazon Queen

Diodorus Siculus 17.77.1-3 (translated by C.H. Oldfather)

77 [1] When Alexander returned to Hyrcania, there came to him the queen of the Amazons named Thallestris,
who ruled all the country between the rivers Phasis and Thermodon. She was remarkable for beauty and for
bodily strength, and was admired by her countrywomen for bravery. She had left the bulk of her army on the
frontier of Hyrcania and had arrived with an escort of three hundred Amazons in full armour. [2] The king
marvelled at the unexpected arrival and the dignity of the women. When he asked Thallestris why she had
come, she replied that it was for the purpose of getting a child. [3] He had shown himself the greatest of all
men in his achievements, and she was superior to all women in strength and courage, so that presumably
the offspring of such outstanding parents would surpass all other mortals in excellence. At this the king was
delighted and granted her request and consorted with her for thirteen days, after which he honoured her
with fine gifts and sent her home.

Quintus Curtius Rufus, Historiae Alexandri Magni 6.5.24-32 (translated by John Yardley)

5 [24] On the border of Hyrcania, as was observed above, lived a tribe of Amazons. They inhabited the plains
of Themiscyra in the area of the river Thermodon, [25] and their queen, Thalestris, held sway over all those
between the Caucasus and the river Phasis. Passionately eager to meet Alexander, she journeyed from her
realm and when she was not far off she sent messengers ahead to announce that a queen had come who
was longing to see him and make his acquaintance. [26] Granted an immediate audience, she ordered her
company to halt while she went forward attended by 300 women; as soon as she caught sight of the king she
leaped unaided from her horse, carrying two spears in her right hand. [27] The dress of the Amazons does
not entirely cover the body: the left side is bare to the breast but clothed beyond that, while the skirt of the
garment, which is gathered into a knot, stops above the knee. [28] One breast is kept whole for feeding
children of female sex and the right is cauterized to facilitate bending the bow and handling weapons.
[29] Thalestris looked at the king, no sign of fear on her face. Her eyes surveyed a physique that I no way
matched hos illustrious record—for all barbarians have respect for physical presence, believing that only
those on whom nature has thought fit to confer extraordinary appearance are capable of great
achievements. [30] When asked if she had a request to make she unhesitatingly declared that she had come
in order to share children with the king, since she was a fitting person on whom to beget heirs for his empire.
A child of the female sex she would keep, she said, but a male she would give to his father. [31] Alexander
asked if Thalestris wished to accompany him on his campaigns, but she declined on the grounds that she
had left her kingdom unprotected, and she kept asking him not to leave her disappointed in her hopes. [32]
The woman’s enthusiasm for sex was keener than Alexander’s and she pressed him to stop there a few days.
Thirteen days were devoted to serving her passion, after which Thalestirs headed for her kingdom an
Alexander for Parthiene.

Plutarch, Alexander 50-52 (translated by Bernadotte Perrin)

46 [1] Here the queen of the Amazons came to see him, as most writers say, among whom are Cleitarchus,
Polycleitus, Onesicritus, Antigenes, and Ister; but Aristobulus, Chares the royal usher, Ptolemy, Anticleides,
Philo the Theban, and Philip of Theangela, besides Hecataeus of Eretria, Philip the Chalcidian, and Duris of
Samos, say that this is a fiction. [2] And it would seem that Alexander’s testimony is in favour of their
statement. For in a letter to Antipater which gives all the details minutely he says that the Scythian king
offered him his daughter in marriage, but he makes no mention of the Amazon. And the story is told that
many years afterwards Onesicritus was reading aloud to Lysimachus, who was now king, the fourth book of
his history, in which was the tale of the Amazon, at which Lysimachus smiled gently and said: ‘And where
was I at the time?’ However, our, belief or disbelief of this story will neither increase nor diminish our
admiration for Alexander.

Arrian does not record this episode.

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Justin, Epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ Philippic History 12.3.5-7 (translated by J.S. Watson)

3 [5] Here Thalestris, or Minithya, queen of the Amazons, came to meet him, having travelled for twenty-five
days, with three hundred women in her train, and through extremely populous nations, in order to have issue
by him. [6] Her appearance and arrival was a cause of astonishment to all, both from her dress, which was
an unusual one for women, and from the object of her visit. [7] To gratify her, thirteen days’ rest was allowed
by the king; and when she thought herself pregnant, she took her leave.

C: The Death of Cleitus

Diodorus’ account is missing.

Quintus Curtius Rufus, Historiae Alexandri Magni 8.1.19-2.12

1 [19] From here they returned to Maracanda. Alexander now accepted Artabazus’ plea of advanced age and
assigned his province to Clitus. [20] It was Clitus who had used his shield to protect the king when he was
fighting bareheaded at the river Granicus, and who had lopped off Rhosaces’ hand with his sword when he
threatened Alexander’s life. He was an old soldier of Philip’s with a distinguished record in numerous
campaigns, [21] and his sister Hellanice, who had brought Alexander up, was loved like a mother by the king.
These were the reasons why he now committed to Clitus’ loyal protection the strongest section of his empire.
[22] Clitus was ordered to prepare for a march the following day, and he was then invited to one of the usual
early-starting banquets. At this, being tipsy with wine and no impartial judge of his own worth, the king began
to eulogize his exploits to the point of annoying even those of his audience who accepted the truth of his
statements. [23] However, the elder guests remained silent, until Alexander proceeded to disparage Philip’s
record and to boast that it was he himself who was responsible for Philip’s famous victory at Chaeronea. The
credit for that great achievement, he said, had been filched from him by his father’s ill-will and jealousy. [24]
A quarrel had arisen between the Macedonian forces and the Greek mercenaries, he explained, and Philip
had been put out of action by a wound he had received in the melee. He lay on the ground, finding that to
play dead was his safest course of action, and Alexander had protected him with his shield and killed with his
own hand the men attacking his father. [25] His father, he said, could never bring himself to admit this: he
resented the fact that he owed his life to his son. Then there was the campaign which he had conducted
against the Illyrians without Philip. After his victory he had written to his father that the enemy were defeated
and routed—and Philip had taken no part in the war. [26] The men who deserved credit, Alexander
continued, were not those who attended the mystery ceremonies at Samothrace at the time when Asia
should have been burned and pillaged; rather it was those whose magnificent achievements had surpassed
belief.
[27] The younger men were elated to hear these and similar remarks, but the older ones found them
offensive, mostly because of Philip, under whom they had lived most of their lives. [28] Then Clitus, who was
himself not very sober, turned to the men reclining below him and recited a passage from Euripides so that
the king could catch the tone without fully hearing the words. [29] The gist of the passage was that the Greeks
had established a bad practice in inscribing their trophies with only their kings’ names, for the kings were
thus appropriating to themselves glory that was won by the blood of others. Alexander suspected Clitus’
words were in a caustic vein and he proceeded to ask those next to him what they had heard him say. [30]
These men maintained a resolute silence, and Clitus, gradually raising his voice, now recounted Philip’s
exploits and the wars he had fought in Greece, ranking them all above their current campaigns, [31] and this
led to an argument between the younger and older soldiers. As for Alexander, while he appeared unruffled
as he heard Clitus’ disparaging remarks on his achievements, he had in fact become furiously angry. [32] It
looked as if he would control his temper if Clitus discontinued the insolent line of talk he had taken, but when
he showed no restraint whatever, Alexander’s irritation increased.
[33] By this time Clitus had the nerve to defend even Parmenion, and he favourably compared Philip’s victory
over the Athenians with the destruction of Thebes—for he was carried away not only by the drink but also
by a perverse desire to pick a quarrel. [34] Finally he said: ‘If someone has to die for you, then Clitus comes
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first. But when you come to judge the spoils of victory, the major share goes to those who pour the most
insolent insults on your father’s memory. [35] You assign to me the province of Sogdiana, which has often
rebelled and, so far from being pacified, cannot even be reduced to subjection. I am being sent against wild
animals with bloodthirsty natures. But my own circumstances I pass over. [36] You express contempt for
Philip’s men, but you are forgetting that, if old Atarrhias here had not brought the younger fellows back into
line when they refused to fight, we should still be delayed around Halicarnassus. [37] How is it then that you
have still conquered Asia with young men like that? The truth, I think, lies in what your uncle is generally
believed to have said in Italy, that he had faced men in battle and you had faced women.’
[38] Of all these ill-considered, impulsive comments, none had provoked the king more than the reference
to Parmenion, but he suppressed his resentment and was satisfied to order Clitus from the banquet. [39] His
only other comment was that, if he had gone on talking, Clitus might possibly have cast inb his teeth the
claim that he had saved the king’s life, an arrogant boast which, he said, he had often made. [40] Clitus
hesitated to get up, so those reclining next to him grabbed him, scolding and warning him as they tried to
lead him off. [41] As he was dragged away, Clitus’ anger rose, augmenting his characteristic impetuosity. In
the past, he exclaimed, his breast had had given protection to Alexander’s back, but time had passed since
he performed that valuable service and even the memory of it annoyed the king. [42] He also taunted
Alexander with the murder of Attalus, and finally ridiculed the oracle of Jupiter whom Alexander claimed as
his father, saying that he, Clitus, had been more truthful in his declarations to Alexander than his ‘father’ had
been.
[43] By now Alexander’s temper was such that even sober he could hardly have controlled it; and since his
senses had long since succumbed to the wine, he suddenly leapt from the couch. [44] His friends were
startled. They rose in a body, throwing aside rather than setting down their cups, all agog to see how the
affair he was starting so impulsively would resolve itself. [45] Alexander snatched a lance from the hands of
a guard and, while Clitus persisted with his frenzied outpourings of wild abuse, tried to run him through. He
was stopped by Ptolemy and Perdiccas, [46] who grabbed him around the waist and held him back as he
continued to struggle. Lysimachus and Leonnatus relieved him of the lance. [47] Alexander then appealed to
the loyalty of the rank and file, crying out that he was being set upon by his closest friends as had recently
happened to Darius, and he ordered a trumpet-signal to be sounded for the men to come in armour to the
royal quarters.
[48] At this, Ptolemy and Perdiccas fell to their knees and begged him not to persist with such hasty anger
but to allow himself time to consider—he would settle the matter more equitably the next day. [49] But, deaf
with anger, his ears took in nothing. He stormed into the vestibule of the royal quarters in uncontrollable
fury. There he grabbed a spear from the guard on watch and stood at the doorway by which his dinner-guests
had to exit. [50] The others had left, and Clitus was the last to come out, without a lamp. The king challenged
him, and the tone of his voice testified to the appalling nature of his criminal intent. [51] Clitus thought now
not of his own anger, but only of the king’s. He replied that he was Clitus and that he was leaving the banquet.
[52] As he said this Alexnader plunged the spear into his side and, bespattered with the dying man’s blood,
said to him: ‘Now go and join Philip, Parmenion and Attalus!’
2 [1] The human character has been ill-served by nature: we tend to consider matters carefully after the fact,
not before. When his anger had subsided and he had shaken off his intoxication, the king clearly perceived
the enormity of his crime as he reflected upon it, but all too late. [2] He could see that he had murdered a
fine soldier, even if he had taken liberties on that particular occasion, and a man who, if Alexander were not
ashamed to admit it, had saved his life. Although he was king, he had assumed the abominable role of
executioner: with a foul murder he had punished intemperate language that was attributable to wine. [3]
The vestibule was completely soaked in the gore of a man who shortly before had been his guest. Shocked
and looking dazed, the guards kept their distance from Alexander, and his isolation gave him even more
opportunity for remorse. [4] He pulled the spear from the dead man’s body and turned it on himself. He had
already put it to his chest when the guards rushed up and, despite his resistance, wrested it from his hands,
picked him up and carried him to his tent. [5] Alexander flung himself on the ground, and his entire quarters
rang with the sound of his pitiful weeping and wailing. The he tore at his face with his nails and begged the
men standing around him not to let him survive such dishonour.
[6] His entire night was spent in entreaties such as this. He wondered whether it was divine anger that had
driven him to this heinous crime, and it occurred to him that he had failed to offer the annual sacrifice to
Father Liber at the appointed time. So it was that the god’s anger had displayed itself against him—for the
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crime was committed amid drinking and feasting. [7] But what was ore distressing was that he could see the
alarm of all his friends. He felt that nobody would now hold a conversation with him; that he would be obliged
to live a solitary existence like a wild beast which terrifies other animals and is in turn terrified by them.
[8] At dawn he ordered the corpse, still covered with gore, to be taken into his tent, and when it lay before
him he said, with tears in his eyes: ‘This is how I have repaid my nurse, whose two sons fell at Miletus to win
renown for me. This is her brother, her only source of comfort after her loss, and he has been murdered by
me at the dinner-table! [9] Where will the poor woman turn now? Of all her relatives only I survive—the one
person she will be unable to look at without pain. I am the destroyer of my saviours. Shall I return home
unable to hold out my right hand to my nurse without reminding her of her personal tragedy?’ [10] And since
his tearful lamentations continued without end, the corpse was removed on his friends’ instructions.
The king shut himself away for three days. [11] When his attendants and bodyguards realized that he was
determined to die, they burst into his tent in a body and, though he long resisted their entreaties, finally
prevailed upon him to take nourishment. [12] To ease his feelings of shame over the killing, the Macedonians
formally declared that Clitus’ death was justified, and they would have refused him burial had the king not
ordered it.

Plutarch, Alexander 50-52

50 [1] Not long afterwards came the affair of Cleitus, which those who simply learn the immediate
circumstances will think more savage than that of Philotas; if we take into consideration, however, alike the
cause and the time, we find that it did not happen of set purpose, but through some misfortune of the king,
whose anger and intoxication furnished occasion for the evil genius of Cleitus. It happened on this wise. [2]
Some people came bringing Greek fruit to the king from the sea-board. He admired its perfection and beauty
and called Cleitus, wishing to show it to him and share it with him. It chanced that Cleitus was sacrificing, but
he gave up the sacrifice and came; and three of the sheep on which libations had already been poured came
following after him. [3] When the king learned of this circumstance, he imparted it to his soothsayers,
Aristander and Cleomantis the Lacedaemonian. Then, on their telling him that the omen was bad, he ordered
them to sacrifice in all haste for the safety of Cleitus. For he himself, two days before this, had seen a strange
vision in his sleep; he thought he saw Cleitus sitting with the sons of Parmenio in black robes, and all were
dead. [4] However, Cleitus did not finish his sacrifice, but came at once to the supper of the king, who had
sacrificed to the Dioscuri. After boisterous drinking was under way, verses were sung which had been
composed by a certain Pranichus, or, as some say, Pierio, to shame and ridicule the generals who had lately
been defeated by the Barbarians. [5] The older guests were annoyed at this and railed at both the poet and
the singer, but Alexander and those about him listened with delight and bade the singer go on. Then Cleitus,
who was already drunk and naturally of a harsh temper and wilful, was more than ever vexed, and insisted
that it was not well done, when among Barbarians and enemies, to insult Macedonians who were far better
men than those who laughed at them, even though they had met with misfortune. [6] And when Alexander
declared that Cleitus was pleading his own cause when he gave cowardice the name of misfortune, Cleitus
sprang to his feet and said: ‘It was this cowardice of mine, however, that saved thy life, god-born as thou art,
when thou wast already turning thy back upon the spear of Spithridates; and it is by the blood of
Macedonians, and by these wounds, that thou art become so great as to disown Philip and make thyself son
to Ammon.’
51 [1] Thoroughly incensed, then, Alexander said: ‘Base fellow, dost thou think to speak thus of me at all
times, and to raise faction among Macedonians, with impunity?’ ‘Nay,’ said Cleitus, ‘not even now do we
enjoy impunity, since such are the rewards we get for our toils; and we pronounce those happy who are
already dead, and did not live to see us Macedonians thrashed with Median rods, or begging Persians in order
to get audience with our king.’ [2] So spake Cleitus in all boldness, and those about Alexander sprang up to
confront him and reviled him, while the elder men tried to quell the tumult. Then Alexander, turning to
Xenodochus of Cardia and Artemius of Colophon, said: ‘Do not the Greeks appear to you to walk about among
Macedonians like demi-gods among wild beasts ?’ [3] Cleitus, however, would not yield, but called on
Alexander to speak out freely what he wished to say, or else not to invite to supper men who were free and
spoke their minds, but to live with Barbarians and slaves, who would do obeisance to his white tunic and
Persian girdle. Then Alexander, no longer able to restrain his anger, threw one of the apples that lay on the
table at Cleitus and hit him, and began looking about for his sword. [4] But one of his body-guards,
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Aristophanes, conveyed it away before he could lay hands on it, and the rest surrounded him and begged
him to desist, whereupon he sprang to his feet and called out in Macedonian speech a summons to his corps
of guards (and this was a sign of great disturbance), and ordered the trumpeter to sound, and smote him
with his fist because he hesitated and was unwilling to do so. This man, then, was afterwards held in high
esteem on the ground that it was due to him more than to any one else that the camp was not thrown into
commotion. But Cleitus would not give in, and with much ado his friends pushed him out of the banquet-
hall.
[5] He tried to come in again, however, by another door, very boldly and contemptuously reciting these
iambics from the Andromache of Euripides: ‘Alas! in Hellas what an evil government!’
And so, at last, Alexander seized a spear from one of his guards, met Cleitus as he was drawing aside the
curtain before the door, and ran him through. [6] No sooner had Cleitus fallen with a roar and a groan than
the king’s anger departed from him. And when he was come to himself and beheld his friends standing
speechless, he drew the spear from the dead body and would have dashed it into his own throat, had not his
body-guards prevented this by seizing his hands and carrying him by force to his chamber.
52 [1] Here he spent the night and the following day in bitter lamentations, and at last lay speechless, worn
out with his cries and wailing, heaving deep groans. Then his friends, alarmed at his silence, forced their way
in. To what the others said he would pay no attention, but when Aristander the seer reminded him of the
vision he had seen concerning Cleitus, and of the omen, assuring him that all this had long ago been decreed
by fate, he seemed to be less obdurate. [2] Therefore they brought in to him Callisthenes the philosopher,
who was a relative of Aristotle, and Anaxarchus of Abdera. Of these, Callisthenes tried by considerate and
gentle methods to alleviate the king’s suffering, employing insinuation and circumlocution so as to avoid
giving pain; but Anaxarchus, who had always taken a path of his own in philosophy, and had acquired a
reputation for despising and slighting his associates, shouted out as soon as he came in: [3] ‘Here is
Alexander, to whom the whole world is now looking; but he lies on the floor weeping like a slave, in fear of
the law and the censure of men, unto whom he himself should be a law and a measure of justice, since he
has conquered the right to rule and mastery, instead of submitting like a slave to the mastery of a vain
opinion. [4] Knowest thou not,’ said he, ‘that Zeus has Justice and Law seated beside him, in order that
everything that is done by the master of the world may be lawful and just?’ By using some such arguments
as these Anaxarchus succeeded in lightening the suffering of the king, it is true, but rendered his disposition
in many ways more vainglorious and lawless; he also made himself wonderfully liked by the king, and brought
the intercourse of Callisthenes with him, which had always been unpleasant because of the man’s austerity,
into additional disfavour.
[5] It is said that once at supper the conversation turned upon seasons and weather, and that Callisthenes,
who held with those who maintain that it is more cold and wintry there than in Greece, was stoutly opposed
by Anaxarchus, whereupon he said: ‘You surely must admit that it is colder here than there; for there you
used to go about in winter in a cloak merely, but here you recline at table with three rugs thrown over you.’
Of course this also added to the irritation of Anaxarchus.

Arrian 4.8-9

8 [1] In connexion with this I may as well relate here an incident which actually took place a little later: I mean
the death of Cleitus, son of Dropides, and its effect upon Alexander. The Macedonians used to celebrate a
festival in honour of Dionysus, and it was Alexander’s custom to offer sacrifice each year on the sacred day.
[2] The story is that on this particular occasion Alexander, for some reason best known to himself, sacrificed
not to Dionysus but to Castor and Polydeuces, the Dioscuri. There had been some pretty heavy drinking
(another innovation—in drink, too, he now tended to barbaric excess), and in the course of talk the subject
of the Dioscuri came up, together with the common attribution of their parentage to Zeus instead of to
Tyndareus. [3] Some of the company—the sort of people whose sycophantic tongues always have been and
always will be the bane of kings—declared with gross flattery that, in their opinion, Polydeuces and Castor
were not to be compared with Alexander and his achievements; others, being thoroughly drunk, extended
the invidious comparison to Heracles himself: it was only envy, they maintained, which deprived the living of
due honour from their friends.
[4] Now Cleitus for some time past had quite obviously deprecated the change in Alexander: he liked neither
his move towards the manners of the East, nor the sycophantic expressions of his courtiers. When, therefore,
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he heard what was said on this occasion (he, too, had been drinking heavily), he angrily intervened; it was
intolerable, he declared, to offer such an insult to divine beings, and he would allow no one to pay Alexander
a compliment at the expense of the mighty ones of long ago - such a compliment was not for his honour but
for his shame. [5] In any case, he continued, they grossly exaggerated the marvellous nature of Alexander’s
achievements, none of which were mere personal triumphs of his own; on the contrary, most of them were
the work of the Macedonians as a whole.
Alexander was deeply hurt - and I, for my part, feel that Cleitus’ words were ill-judged; in view of the fact
that most of the party were drunk, he could, in my opinion, have quite well avoided the grossness of joining
in the general flattery simply by keeping his thoughts to himself. [6] But there was more to come: for others
of the company, hoping, in their turn, to curry favour with Alexander, brought up the subject of Philip, and
suggested, absurdly enough, that what he had done was, after all, quite ordinary and commonplace. At this
Cleitus could control himself no longer; he began to magnify Philip’s achievements and belittle Alexander’s;
his words came pouring out - he was, by now, very drunk indeed - and, among much else, he taunted
Alexander with the reminder that he had saved his life, when they fought the Persian cavalry on the Granicus.
[7] ‘This is the hand,’ he cried, holding it out with a flourish, ‘that saved you, Alexander, on that day.’
Alexander could stand no more drunken abuse from his friend. Angrily he leapt from his seat as if to strike
him, but the others held him back. Cleitus continued to pour out his insulting remarks, [8] and Alexander
called for the Guard. No one answered.
‘What?’ he cried, ‘have I nothing left of royalty but the name? Am I to be like Darius, dragged in chains by
Bessus and his cronies?’
Now nobody could hold him; springing to his feet, he snatched a spear from one of the attendants and
struck Cleitus dead. Accounts of this incident differ. [9] Some authorities say it was not a spear but a pike;
Aristobulus does not mention the occasion of the drinking bout: according to him, Cleitus need not have
been killed but for his own action; for when Alexander sprang up in rage to kill him, Ptolemy, son of Lagus, a
member of the King’s personal guard, hurried him out of the door and over the wall and ditch of the fortress.
However, he did not stay there, but went back to the banquet room and met Alexander just at the moment
when he was calling his name.
‘Here I am, Alexander!’ he cried, and, as he spoke, the blow fell.
9 [1] Personally, I strongly deprecate Cleitus’ unseemly behaviour to his sovereign; and for Alexander I feel
pity, in that he showed himself on this occasion the slave of anger and drunkenness, two vices to neither of
which a self-respecting man should ever yield. [2] But when the deed was done, Alexander immediately felt
its horror; and for that I admire him. Some have said that he fixed the butt of the pike against the wall,
meaning to fall upon it himself, because a man who murdered his friend when his wits were fuddled with
wine was not fit to live. [3] Most writers, however, say nothing of this; they tell us that Alexander lay on his
bed in tears, calling the name of Cleitus and of his sister Lanice, who had been his nurse. ‘Ah,’ he cried, ‘a
good return I have made you for your care, now I am a man! [4] You have lived to see your sons die fighting
for me, and now with my own hand I have killed your brother.’ Again and again he called himself the murderer
of his friends, and for three days lay without food or drink, care less of all personal comfort.
[5] One result of these painful events was that soothsayers began to suggest that the god Dionysus was angry
because Alexander had failed to offer him sacrifice; and when at last he was with difficulty persuaded by his
friends to take food and attend in some measure to his bodily needs, he did offer the neglected sacrifice.
Doubtless he was not unwilling that what had happened should be attributed rather to the wrath of God
than to his own wickedness. [6] Here again, I have nothing but admiration for him: he made no attempt to
justify his crime; he never added to his guilt by becoming champion and advocate in his own defence; he
quite simply admitted that, being no more than human, he had done wrong.
[7] There is a story that Alexander sent for the sophist Anaxarchus, 1 in the hope he might give him comfort,
and was still on his bed, bewailing his fate, when he came in.
Anaxarchus laughed. ‘Don’t you know,’ he said, ‘why the wise men of old made Justice to sit by the side
of Zeus? It was to show that whatever Zeus may do is justly done. In the same way all the acts of a great king
should be considered just, first by himself, then by the rest of us.’

1
A native of Abdera in Thrace and the teacher of Pyrrhon the sceptic. His attitude is frequently
contrasted with that of Callisthenes; see, e.g., Plutarch Alexander 52-3.
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[8] This was some consolation, at any rate for a time—though in my opinion he did Alexander a wrong more
grievous than his grief, if he seriously, as a philosopher, put forward the view that a king need not act justly,
or labour, to the best of his ability, to distinguish between right and wrong—if he really meant that whatever
a king does, by whatever means, should be considered right.
[9] In this connexion it is widely believed that Alexander wished people to prostrate themselves in his
presence. This was due partly to the notion that his father was not Philip but Ammon, and partly to his
growing admiration, expressed also by the change in his dress and in the general etiquette of his court, of
Median and Persian extravagance. There were plenty of people, moreover, who, to flatter him, submitted to
this servile behaviour: Anaxarchus the sophist was one of the worst—and the Argive poet Agis.

Justin, Epitome of Pompeius Trogus’ Philippic History 12.6

6 [1] After these proceedings, he invited his friends on some particular day, to a banquet, [2] where mention
being made, when they were intoxicated, of the great things achieved by Philip, he began to prefer himself
to his father, and to extol the vastness of his own exploits to the skies, the greater part of the company
agreeing with him; [3] and when Clitus, one of the older guests, trusting to his hold on the king’s friendship,
in which he held the principal place, defended the memory of Philip, and praised his acts, he so provoked
Alexander, that he snatched a weapon from one of the guards, and slew him with it in the midst of the guests.
[4] Exulting at the murder, too, he scoffed at the dead man for his defence of Philip, and his commendation
of his mode of warfare. [5] But when his mind, satiated with the bloodshed, grew calm, and reflection took
the place of passion, he began, as he contemplated at one time the character of the dead, and at another
the occasion of his death, to feel the deepest sorrow for the deed; [6] grieving that he had listened to his
father’s praises with more anger than he ought to have listened to insults on his memory, and that an old
and blameless friend had been slain by him at a feast and carousal. [7] Driven, therefore, to repentance, with
the same vehemence with which he had before been impelled to resentment, he determined to die. [8]
Bursting into tears, he embraced the dead man, laid his hand on his wounds, and confessed his madness to
him as if he could hear; then, snatching up a weapon, he pointed it against his breast, and would have
committed suicide, had not his friends interposed. [9] His resolution to die continued even for several days
after; [10] for to his other causes of sorrow was added the remembrance of his nurse, the sister of Clitus, on
whose account, though she was far away, he was greatly ashamed of his conduct, [11] lamenting that so base
a return should be made her for rearing him; and that, in the maturity of life and conquest, he should have
requited her, in whose arms he had spent his infancy, with bloodshed instead of kindness. [12] He reflected,
too, what remarks and odium he must have occasioned, as well in his own army as among the conquered
nations; what fear and dislike of himself among his other friends; [13] and how dismal and sad he had
rendered his entertainment, appearing not less to be dreaded at a feast than when armed in the field of
battle. [14] Parmenio and Philotas, his cousin Amyntas, his murdered stepmother and brothers, with Attalus,
Eurylochus, Pausanias, and other slaughtered nobles of Macedonia, presented themselves to his imagination.
[15] He in consequence persisted in abstaining from food for four days, until he was drawn from his purpose
by the prayers of the whole army, who conjured him not to lament the death of one, [16] so far as to ruin
them all; since, after bringing them into the remotest part of the barbarians’ country, he would leave them
amidst hostile nations exasperated by war. [17] The entreaties of Callisthenes the philosopher had great
effect upon him, a man who was intimate with him from having been his fellow-student under Aristotle, [18]
and who had been subsequently sent for, by the king himself, to record his acts for the perusal of posterity.