Plutarch: Lives of the noble Grecians and Romans
Spartans, his regard was heightened, and, truly acting like a king, he
openly showed the respect that he felt for him; and this the other
ambassadors perceived. Of all other Greeks he had been thought to have
done Antalcidas, the Spartan, the greatest honor, by sending him that
garland dipped in an unguent, which he himself had worn at an
entertainment. Indeed, he did not deal so delicately with Pelopidas,
but, according to the custom, gave him the most splendid and considerable
presents, and granted him his desires, that the Grecians should be free,
Messenia inhabited, and the Thebans accounted the king's hereditary
friends. With these answers, but not accepting one of the presents,
except what was a pledge of kindness and good-will, he returned. This
behavior of Pelopidas ruined the other ambassadors: the Athenians
condemned and executed their Timagoras, and, indeed, if they did it for
receiving so many presents from the king, their sentence was just and
good; as he not only took gold and silver, but a rich bed, and slaves to
make it, as if the Greeks were unskillful in that art; besides eighty
cows and herdsmen, professing he needed cow's milk for some distemper;
and, lastly, he was carried in a litter to the seaside, with a present of
four talents for his attendants. But the Athenians, perhaps, were not so
much irritated at his greediness for the presents. For Epicrates the
baggage-carrier not only confessed to the people that he had received
gifts from the king, but made a motion, that instead of nine archons,
they should yearly choose nine poor citizens to be sent ambassadors to
the king, and enriched by his presents, and the people only laughed at
the joke. But they were vexed that the Thebans obtained their desires,
never considering that Pelopidas's fame was more powerful than all their
rhetorical discourse, with a man who still inclined to the victorious in
arms. This embassy, having obtained the restitution of Messenia, and the
freedom of the other Greeks, got Pelopidas a great deal of good-will at
his return.
At this time, Alexander the Pheraean falling back to his old nature, and
having seized many of the Thessalian cities, and put garrisons upon the
Achaeans of Phthiotis, and the Magnesians, the cities, hearing that
Pelopidas was returned, sent an embassy to Thebes, requesting succors,
and him for their leader. The Thebans willingly granted their desire;
and now when all things were prepared, and the general beginning to
march, the sun was eclipsed, and darkness spread over the city at
noonday. Now when Pelopidas saw them startled at the prodigy, he did not
think it fit to force on men who were afraid and out of heart, nor to
hazard seven thousand of his citizens; and therefore with only three
hundred horse volunteers, set forward himself to Thessaly, much against
the will of the augurs and his fellow-citizens in general, who all
imagined this marked portent to have reference to this great man. But he
was heated against Alexander for the injuries he had received, and hoped
likewise, from the discourse which formerly he had with Thebe, that his
family by this time was divided and in disorder. But the glory of the
expedition chiefly excited him; for he was extremely desirous at this
time, when the Lacedaemonians were sending out military officers to
assist Dionysius the Sicilian tyrant, and the Athenians took Alexander's
pay, and honored him with a brazen statue as a benefactor, that the
Thebans should be seen, alone, of all the Greeks, undertaking the cause
of those who were oppressed by tyrants, and destroying the violent and
illegal forms of government in Greece.
When Pelopidas was come to Pharsalus, he formed an army, and presently
marched against Alexander; and Alexander understanding that Pelopidas had
few Thebans with him, and that his own infantry was double the number of
the Thessalians, faced him at Thetidium. Some one told Pelopidas, "The
tyrant meets us with a great army;" "So much the better," he replied,
"for then we shall overcome the more." Between the two armies lay some
steep high hills about Cynoscephalae, which both parties endeavored to
take by their foot. Pelopidas commanded his horse, which were good and
many, to charge that of the enemies; they routed and pursued them through
the plain. But Alexander, meantime, took the hills, and charging the
Thessalian foot that came up later, and strove to climb the steep and
craggy ascent, killed the foremost, and the others, much distressed,
could do the enemies no harm. Pelopidas, observing this, sounded a
retreat to his horse, and gave orders that they should charge the enemies
that kept their ground; and he himself, taking his shield, quickly
joined those that fought about the hills, and, advancing to the front,
filled his men with such courage and alacrity, that the enemies imagined
they came with other spirits and other bodies to the onset. They stood
two or three charges, but finding these come on stoutly, and the horse,
also, returning from the pursuit, gave ground, and retreated in order.
Pelopidas now perceiving, from the rising ground, that the enemy's army
was, though not yet routed, full of disorder and confusion, stood and
looked about for Alexander; and when he saw him in the right wing,
encouraging and ordering his mercenaries, he could not moderate his
anger, but inflamed at the sight, and blindly following his passion,
regardless alike of his own life and his command, advanced far before his
soldiers, crying out and challenging the tyrant who did not dare to
receive him, but retreating, hid himself amongst his guard. The foremost
of the mercenaries that came hand to hand were driven back by Pelopidas,
and some killed; but many at a distance shot through his armor and
wounded him, till the Thessalians, in anxiety for the result, ran down
from the hill to his relief, but found him already slain. The horse came
up, also, and routed the phalanx, and, following the pursuit a great way,
filled the whole country with the slain, which were above three thousand.
No one can wonder that the Thebans then present, should show great grief
at the death of Pelopidas, calling him their father, deliverer, and
instructor in all that was good and commendable. But the Thessalians and
the allies out-doing in their public edicts all the just honors that
could be paid to human courage, gave, in their display of feeling, yet
stronger demonstrations of the kindness they had for him. It is stated,
that none of the soldiers, when they heard of his death, would put off
their armor, unbridle their horses, or dress their wounds, but, still hot
and with their arms on, ran to the corpse, and, as if he had been yet
alive and could see what they did, heaped up spoils about his body. They
cut off their horses' manes and their own hair, many kindled no fire in
their tents, took no supper, and silence and sadness was spread over all
the army; as if they had not gained the greatest and most glorious
victory, but were overcome by the tyrant, and enslaved. As soon as it
was known in the cities, the magistrates, youths, children, and priests,
came out to meet the body, and brought trophies, crowns, and suits of
golden armor; and, when he was to be interred, the elders of the
Thessalians came and begged the Thebans, that they might give the
funeral; and one of them said, "Friends, we ask a favor of you, that will
prove both an honor and comfort to us in this our great misfortune. The
Thessalians shall never again wait on the living Pelopidas, never give
honors, of which he can be sensible, but if we may have his body, adorn
his funeral, and inter him, we shall hope to show that we esteem his
death a greater loss to the Thessalians than to the Thebans. You have
lost only a good general, we both a general and our liberty. For how
shall we dare to desire from you another captain, since we cannot restore
Pelopidas?"
The Thebans granted their request, and there was never a more splendid
funeral in the opinion of those, who do not think the glory of such
solemnities consists only in gold, ivory, and purple; as Philistus did,
who extravagantly celebrates the funeral of Dionysius, in which his
tyranny concluded like the pompous exit of some great tragedy. Alexander
the Great, at the death of Hephaestion, not only cut off the manes of his
horses and his mules, but took down the battlements from the city walls,
that even the towns might seem mourners, and, instead of their former
beauteous appearance, look bald at his funeral. But such honors, being
commanded and forced from the mourners, attended with feelings of
jealousy towards those who received them, and of hatred towards those who
exacted them, were no testimonies of love and respect, but of the
barbaric pride, luxury, and insolence of those who lavished their wealth
in these vain and undesirable displays. But that a man of common rank,
dying in a strange country, neither his wife, children, nor kinsmen
present, none either asking or compelling it, should be attended, buried,
and crowned by so many cities that strove to exceed one another in the
demonstrations of their love, seems to be the sum and completion of happy
fortune. For the death of happy men is not, as Aesop observes, most
grievous, but most blessed, since it secures their felicity, and puts it
out of fortune's power. And that Spartan advised well, who, embracing
Diagoras, that had himself been crowned in the Olympic Games, and saw his
sons and grandchildren victors, said, "Die, Diagoras, for thou canst not
be a god." And yet who would compare all the victories in the Pythian
and Olympian Games put together, with one of those enterprises of
Pelopidas, of which he successfully performed so many? Having spent his
life in brave and glorious actions, he died at last in the chief command,
for the thirteenth time, of the Boeotians, fighting bravely and in the
act of slaying a tyrant, in defense of the liberty of the Thessalians.
His death, as it brought grief, so likewise it produced advantage to the
allies; for the Thebans, as soon as they heard of his fall, delayed not
their revenge, but presently sent seven thousand foot and seven hundred
horse, under the command of Malcitas and Diogiton. And they, finding
Alexander weak and without forces, compelled him to restore the cities he
had taken, to withdraw his garrisons from the Magnesians and Achaeans of
Phthiotis, and swear to assist the Thebans against whatsoever enemies
they should require. This contented the Thebans, but punishment overtook
the tyrant for his wickedness, and the death of Pelopidas was revenged by
Heaven in the following manner. Pelopidas, as I have already mentioned,
had taught his wife Thebe not to fear the outward splendor and show of
the tyrant's defenses, since she was admitted within them. She, of
herself, too, dreaded his inconstancy, and hated his cruelty; and,
therefore, conspiring with her three brothers, Tisiphonus, Pytholaus, and
Lycophron, made the following attempt upon him. All the other apartments
were full of the tyrant's night guards, but their bed-chamber was an
upper room, and before the door lay a chained dog to guard it, which
would fly at all but the tyrant and his wife and one servant that fed
him. When Thebe, therefore, designed to kill her husband, she hid her
brothers all day in a room hard by, and she, going in alone, according to
her usual custom, to Alexander who was asleep already, in a little time
came out again, and commanded the servant to lead away the dog, for
Alexander wished to rest quietly. She covered the stairs with wool, that
the young men might make no noise as they came up; and then, bringing up
her brothers with their weapons, and leaving them at the chamber door,