Pyrrhus

Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the original language

Among the Thesprotians and Molossians it is recorded that after the flood Phaethon was the first to rule, being one of those who accompanied Pelasgus into Epirus; others, however, claim it was Deucalion and Pyrrha who, having founded the sanctuary at Dodona, took up residence there among the Molossians.

Later, Neoptolemus the son of Achilles brought a people there, took possession of the country himself, and left behind him a succession of kings, called the Pyrrhidae; for Pyrrhus was in fact his own boyhood nickname. And of the legitimate children born to him by Lanassa, daughter of Cleodaeus son of Hyllus, he named one Pyrrhus. From this Achilles also came to receive honors equal to a god's in Epirus, being called in the local tongue Aspetos.

After the first kings, those in between grew barbarized and became dimmer both in power and in their manner of life; but they say that Tharrhypas was the first to become renowned for arranging the cities with Greek customs, letters, and humane laws. Tharrhypas' son was Alcetas, Alcetas' son was Aryba, and of Aryba and Troas was born Aeacides.

This man married Phthia, daughter of Menon the Thessalian, a man distinguished in the Lamian War who won the greatest standing among the allies after Leosthenes. From Phthia were born to Aeacides daughters, Deidameia and Troas, and a son, Pyrrhus.

But when the Molossians rose in faction, drove out Aeacides, and installed the sons of Neoptolemus in his place, those loyal to Aeacides who fell into enemy hands were put to death; Pyrrhus, still an infant and hunted by his foes, was spirited away by Androcleides and Angelus and their companions, who fled, forced by necessity to bring along a handful of attendants and women to look after the boy.

And because their flight was thereby made difficult and slow, being overtaken they placed the child in the hands of Androcleon, Hippias, and Neander, young men who were loyal and strong, ordering them to flee with all their strength and make for Megara, a place in Macedonian territory, while they, for their own part, using persuasion in some cases and combat in others, held the pursuers back until late in the evening.

When the pursuers had at last with difficulty turned back, they hastened after those carrying Pyrrhus; but with the sun already set, just as they came near to their hope, they were suddenly cut off, coming upon the river that flows past the city, hard and wild to look at, and altogether impassable to try to cross. For a great current was pouring out, turbid from rains that had come on, and the darkness made everything more terrifying.

On their own, then, they gave up trying, carrying as they were the child and the women nursing him; but perceiving some of the local people standing on the far side, they begged them to help with the crossing, and held up Pyrrhus, shouting and entreating. But the others could not hear on account of the roughness and roar of the current,

and there was delay, the ones shouting, the others not understanding, until someone conceived the idea of peeling bark off an oak tree and scratching onto it, with the pin of a brooch, words describing the child's plight and circumstances; then, folding the bark around a stone to give the throw some weight, he flung it over to the other bank—though some say instead that they lashed the bark to a spear and hurled that across.

When those on the far side read the writing and understood the urgency of the moment, they cut timber, bound the pieces together, and crossed over. And by chance the first of them to cross, a man named Achilles, received Pyrrhus; the others were carried across as each man happened to take them.

Having thus been saved and having outrun the pursuit, they came into Illyria to King Glaucias; and discovering him at home together with his wife, they placed the child on the floor before the pair of them. Weighing the matter, and afraid of Cassander—an enemy to Aeacides—he remained wrapped in thought for a long while without speaking.

Meanwhile Pyrrhus, of his own accord, crept forward, took hold of Glaucias' cloak with his hands, and pulling himself up to his knees provoked first laughter, then pity, clinging like a suppliant and weeping. But some say he did not fall at Glaucias' feet at all, but stood grasping an altar of the gods with his hands thrown around it, and that the matter appeared divine to Glaucias.

For this reason Glaucias at once handed Pyrrhus over to his wife, bidding that he be raised together with their own children; and a little later, when the enemy demanded him and Cassander even offered two hundred talents, he did not give him up, but when the boy had reached twelve years, brought him down into Epirus with an armed force and established him as king.

Pyrrhus, in the look of his face, had something more fearsome than majestic in its kingliness; he did not have many teeth, but a single continuous bone above, marked as though with faint scratches showing where the gaps between teeth would be. He was believed able to cure those afflicted in the spleen: he would offer a white rooster in sacrifice, then, as the sufferer lay flat on his back, press lightly on the diseased organ using his right foot. No one was so poor or so obscure that he could not obtain this treatment if he asked.

He also received a fee upon sacrificing the cock, and of all gifts, none delighted him more than this one. It is said that the big toe of that foot had a divine power, so that after his death, when the rest of his body was burned, it was found unharmed and untouched by the fire. But this belongs to a later time.

When he was about seventeen and thought to hold his rule securely, a journey happened to take place—one of Glaucias's sons, a companion of his upbringing, was setting off to marry. So once more the Molossians revolted, expelled his supporters, seized his belongings for plunder, and delivered themselves up to Neoptolemus.

Pyrrhus, thus having lost his rule and left destitute of everything, attached himself to Demetrius son of Antigonus, who had his sister Deidameia—whom, while she was still a girl, they used to call the wife of Alexander son of Roxane, but after the misfortunes that befell those men, being now of marriageable age, Demetrius married her.

In the massive engagement at Ipsus where every king took part, Pyrrhus, present with Demetrius's forces, took part while still a young man, routed those opposing him, and showed himself brilliant among the fighters. And when Demetrius stumbled, he did not abandon him, but, being entrusted with the cities in Greece, kept them safe, and when a settlement was made between Demetrius and Ptolemy, he sailed to Egypt as a hostage.

To Ptolemy he gave displays of strength and endurance in hunts and gymnasium exercises, but seeing that Berenice had the greatest power and stood first in virtue and good sense among Ptolemy's wives, he courted her above all; and being clever at winning over the more powerful for his advantage, while seeming to disdain the humbler, and being orderly and temperate in his way of life, he was chosen out of many young men of royal standing to take Antigone, one of Berenice's daughters, as wife—whom she had had by Philip before she lived with Ptolemy,

and after this marriage, being held in still greater esteem, and Antigone being a good wife to him, he arranged to receive money and a force to be sent to Epirus for the kingship. And he arrived not against the wishes of the many, on account of their hatred for Neoptolemus, who ruled harshly and violently; nonetheless, fearing that Neoptolemus might turn to one of the other kings, he made a settlement and friendship with him on the basis of sharing the rule.

As time went on there were those who secretly incited them and bred suspicions against each other; but the cause said to have most stirred Pyrrhus is said to have had the following origin. The kings were accustomed at Passaron, a place in Molossia, to sacrifice to Zeus Areius and to swear oaths to the Epirotes, and to have oaths sworn to them, that they themselves would rule according to the laws, and that the people would preserve the kingship according to the laws,

This was done with both kings present, and they were together with their friends, giving many gifts and receiving others; there Gelon, a man loyal to Neoptolemus, having greeted Pyrrhus warmly, presented him with two yoke of plow-oxen. Myrtilus, the man in charge of the wine who was present, asked Pyrrhus for these; but when Pyrrhus did not give them to him, giving them to another instead, Myrtilus, taking it hard, did not escape Gelon's notice.

So calling him to dinner, and, as some say, even making use of him at the wine, being he in the bloom of youth, Gelon brought forward words urging him to side with Neoptolemus's cause and do away with Pyrrhus through poisoning. Myrtilus accepted the approach as though praising it and persuaded, but revealed it to Pyrrhus; and at Pyrrhus's command he introduced the chief cupbearer Alexicrates to Gelon, as one who would share in the deed with them, for Pyrrhus wished the proof of the wrongdoing to come through more witnesses.

So while Gelon was thus being deceived, Neoptolemus was deceived along with him, and thinking the plot was proceeding on its way, could not contain himself, but out of joy let it out to his friends; and once, reveling at his sister Cadmeia's house, he spoke freely of these matters, thinking no one else was listening, since the only person anywhere close was Phaenarete, wife of Samon, the man who oversaw Neoptolemus's flocks and herds, and she lay with her face turned toward the wall,

seemed to be sleeping on a couch. But having heard all of it without being noticed, she came by day to Antigone, Pyrrhus's wife, and told her everything Neoptolemus had said to his sister. Pyrrhus, on hearing this, held his peace for the moment, but later, at a sacrifice, he invited Neoptolemus to a meal and there killed him,

having perceived that the strongest of the Epirotes were devoted to him and were urging him to be rid of Neoptolemus, and not to be content with a small portion of the kingship, but to use his nature to lay hold of greater affairs; and with a certain suspicion arising at the same time, he moved first to destroy Neoptolemus.

Remembering Berenice and Ptolemy, he named the son born to him by Antigone Ptolemy, and having founded a city on the peninsula of Epirus he called it Berenicis. From this point, turning over in his mind many great designs, and reaching out with his hopes especially and first toward his neighbors, he found occasion to insert himself into the affairs of the Macedonians from some such pretext as this.

Of the sons of Cassander, the elder, Antipater, killed his mother Thessalonice and drove out his brother Alexander. In response Alexander appealed to Demetrius for aid and summoned Pyrrhus to his side. When Demetrius was slow because of other business, Pyrrhus came and asked as the price of his alliance Stymphaea and Parauaea of Macedonia, and, of the acquired territories, Ambracia, Acarnania, and Amphilochia.

When the young man had given these up, Pyrrhus himself took possession of them, seizing them with garrisons, and while acquiring the rest for him, cut Antipater down. King Lysimachus, being himself occupied and eager to help Antipater, but knowing that Pyrrhus was unwilling to be ungrateful to or to refuse Ptolemy anything, sent him forged letters as though from Ptolemy, bidding him withdraw from the campaign upon receiving three hundred talents from Antipater.

Opening the letter, Pyrrhus at once saw through Lysimachus's trick; for the customary greeting was not written, "the father to the son, greeting," but, "King Ptolemy to King Pyrrhus, greeting." And though he rebuked Lysimachus, he nonetheless made the peace, and they came together to swear oaths over sacrificial victims.

But when a bull, a boar, and a ram were led up for the sacrifice, and the ram dropped dead on its own, the others were moved to laugh, but the seer Theodotus stopped Pyrrhus from swearing, saying that the divine power was foretelling death for one of the three kings. So Pyrrhus in this way withdrew from the peace.

Though Alexander's affairs were already settled, Demetrius nonetheless arrived; and it was clear at once that he had come to one who did not need him, and this caused fear; after a few days together, distrusting each other, both plotted against one another, and Demetrius, seizing his moment and acting first, killed the young man, and was proclaimed king of Macedonia,

Even before this he had had grievances against Pyrrhus, and there had been raids into Thessaly by him, and greed, that malady bred into royal power, rendered their nearness to one another suspect and dangerous—a condition only worsened once Deidameia had died. And when both, holding parts of Macedonia, came into collision over the same territory and their quarrel took on greater occasions,

Demetrius, having campaigned against the Aetolians and defeated them, left Pantauchus there with a large force and himself marched against Pyrrhus, and Pyrrhus against him, as soon as he learned of it. But since they missed each other on the road, they passed by one another, and Demetrius, invading Epirus, ravaged it, while Pyrrhus, falling upon Pantauchus, engaged him in battle,

and when the soldiers clashed there was a fierce and mighty struggle, especially between the commanders, for Pantauchus, admittedly the best in courage, hand, and bodily strength among Demetrius's generals, and possessed of boldness and high spirit, challenged Pyrrhus to single combat, and Pyrrhus, yielding to no king in strength and daring, and wishing to attach to himself the glory of Achilles by valor rather than by descent, advanced through the front ranks to meet Pantauchus.

At first there was a throwing of spears, then, coming to close quarters, they used their swords with both skill and force at once. Pyrrhus, receiving one wound and giving two — one in the thigh, the other by the neck — turned and struck down Pantauchus; he did not kill him, however, for he was snatched away by his friends. The Epirotes, elated by the king's victory and marveling at his valor, pressed on and cut through the phalanx of the Macedonians, and pursuing them as they fled, killed many and took five thousand alive.

This battle did not fill the Macedonians with as much anger over what they had suffered, nor with hatred, toward Pyrrhus as it filled them with admiration and wonder at his valor, and talk of it, among those who had seen his deeds and been engaged with him in the fight. For they thought his look and his swiftness and his movement resembled Alexander's, and that in him they were seeing certain shadows and likenesses of that man's onrush and force in battle, while the other kings displayed Alexander merely in their purple robes and bodyguards and the tilt of their necks and their more grandiose way of speaking, but Pyrrhus alone displayed him through his arms and his hands.

Of his knowledge and skill in tactics and generalship one can take proofs from the writings he left behind on these matters. There is also a story that Antigonus, on being asked which general he judged finest, answered, "Pyrrhus — once age has caught up with him," thereby limiting his verdict to commanders of his own day. But Hannibal declared that of all generals together, Pyrrhus was first in experience and skill, Scipio second, and himself third, as is written in the account of Scipio.

And altogether Pyrrhus seems to have practiced this and to have devoted himself constantly to it as if it were philosophy — regarding it as the most kingly of studies, and holding all other refinements in no account. For it is said that when he was asked at a certain drinking-party whether Python the flute-player or Caphisias seemed to him the better, he said that Polyperchon was the better general, on the ground that it was fitting for a king to inquire into and know only such things.

He was also fair and mild in temper toward his familiars, but eager and vehement in his acts of kindness. When Aeropus died, for instance, he did not bear it with moderation, saying that the man had suffered what is common to humankind, but blaming and reproaching himself because, always delaying and putting it off, he had not repaid him for a kindness. For debts can be repaid even to the heirs of those who lent them, but when the repayment of kindnesses does not come to those who are aware of it, it grieves a good and just man,

and in Ambracia, when some thought it necessary to banish a man who spoke ill of him and was abusive, Pyrrhus said, "Let him rather stay here and speak ill of us before a few, than go about speaking ill of us before all mankind." And when some young men, having reviled him over wine, were afterward confronted with it, he asked them whether they had said these things; and when one of the young men answered, "Yes, O king — and we would have said still worse, had our cups been fuller," he laughed and let them go.

Once Antigone had died, he pursued power and influence through additional marriages. He wedded a daughter of the Paeonian king Autoleon, along with Bircenna, daughter of Bardyllis the Illyrian, and Lanassa, whose father was Agathocles of Syracuse; her dowry to the union was the city of Corcyra, which her father had previously captured. Antigone had already given him a son, Ptolemy; Lanassa bore him Alexander; and Bircenna produced the youngest, Helenus.

And he raised all his sons to be good and fiery in arms, sharpened for this from birth by himself. It is said that once, when a boy among them put the question of which one would inherit his throne, Pyrrhus answered, "Whichever of you keeps the sharpest sword." This is no different from that tragic curse: that the brothers should divide the household "with whetted iron" — so unsociable and beastlike is the principle of greed.

After this battle Pyrrhus returned home rejoicing in his glory and high spirit; and being addressed by the Epirotes as "Eagle," he said, "Because of you I am an eagle; for how could I not be, borne up by your arms as if by swift wings?" A little later, learning that Demetrius was dangerously ill, he suddenly invaded Macedonia, intending only to make some raid and plunder,

but he came close to seizing the whole kingdom at once and taking it without a fight, advancing as far as Edessa with no one resisting him, and many even joining him and marching with him. The danger roused Demetrius himself beyond his strength, and his friends and officers, quickly gathering many men, set out vigorously and eagerly against Pyrrhus. But Pyrrhus, who had come more in the manner of a raider, did not stand his ground, but fled, losing part of his army along the way as the Macedonians attacked.

Yet Demetrius did not, because he had so easily and quickly driven Pyrrhus from the country, neglect the matter; but having resolved to undertake great affairs and to recover his father's empire, mustering an army of a hundred thousand men along with five hundred vessels, he had no desire for a clash with Pyrrhus, nor to leave behind him a Macedonia troubled by a difficult neighbor; and since war against him was not something he had time for, he arranged terms and settled peace with him, so as to turn against the other kings.

When the agreement had been made for these reasons, and the scale of Demetrius's preparation, together with his intention, had become clear, the kings, taking fright, sent messengers and letters to Pyrrhus, saying they marveled that he, having let slip his own opportunity, was waiting to fight Demetrius only when the man had leisure and had grown great, and that though the chance had been his to push Demetrius out of Macedonia while he was distracted with many affairs and thrown into confusion, he was instead waiting to contest with him, once he had leisure and had grown powerful, over the shrines and tombs of Molossia — and this though Demetrius had recently taken Corcyra from him, together with his wife.

For Lanassa, having reproached Pyrrhus for paying more attention to his barbarian wives, had withdrawn to Corcyra, and, desiring a royal marriage, summoned Demetrius, knowing well that of all the kings he was the most disposed toward marrying women. He sailed there, took Lanassa as wife, and stationed a body of troops to hold the town.

By writing these things to Pyrrhus, the kings, together with their own actions, stirred him against Demetrius, who was still delaying and making his preparations. For Ptolemy, sailing out with a great fleet, was causing the Greek cities to revolt, while Lysimachus, invading upper Macedonia from Thrace, was ravaging it. Pyrrhus, rising up together with them, marched on Beroea, expecting — as indeed happened — that Demetrius, going to meet Lysimachus, would leave the lower country undefended.

That very night he had a vision in which Alexander the Great summoned him, and, having come before him, he found the great man lying ill on a couch, but received kind words and promises of goodwill, that he would readily help him. When Pyrrhus ventured to say, "And how, O king, being ill, could you be able to help me?" Alexander replied that he would lend him his very name, and, mounting a Nisaean horse, led the way.

Having seen this vision, he was heartened; and using great speed, running through the country between, he seized Beroea, and, stationing the greater part of his army there, brought over the rest of the region through his officers. When Demetrius heard of this and perceived a dangerous disturbance among the Macedonians in his camp, he grew fearful of pressing on any farther, worried that drawing close to a Macedonian king of such high repute would make his own troops desert to him.

For this reason he turned back against Pyrrhus, leading his men against him as against a foreigner hated by the Macedonians. But when he had encamped near him, many who came from Beroea praised Pyrrhus, saying that he was an invincible and splendid man in arms, and that he treated captives gently and humanely. There were also some whom Pyrrhus himself planted, pretending to be Macedonians, saying that now was the time to be rid of Demetrius's harshness by going over to a man who was a friend of the people and fond of his soldiers, namely Pyrrhus.

By this talk the bulk of the army was set astir, and the soldiers went about searching for Pyrrhus. It happened that he had taken off his helmet, until, realizing this and putting it on again, he was recognized by his conspicuous crest and its tragic-style horns, so that the Macedonians ran up to ask for the password, and others crowned themselves with oak branches, seeing that those around him wore such crowns;

and by now some even dared to tell Demetrius outright that the wiser course, in their judgment, would be for him to withdraw and abandon his cause. Seeing that the movement of the camp resembled these words, and afraid, he slipped away secretly, wrapping himself in a common cap and a plain cloak; and Pyrrhus, coming up, took over the camp without a fight and was proclaimed king of the Macedonians.

When Lysimachus appeared and made the overthrow of Demetrius a joint enterprise of the two of them, claiming a share in the kingdom, Pyrrhus, not yet fully trusting the Macedonians, but being uncertain of them, accepted Lysimachus's proposal, and they divided the cities and the country between themselves.

This was for the moment beneficial and put an end to the war between them, but a little later they realized that they had made, not a release from enmity, but the beginning of accusations and dispute, by their division. For men to whom no sea, no mountain, no uninhabited wilderness sets a limit to their greed, nor do the boundaries that divide Europe from Asia bound their desires,

how they could, touching and bordering upon one another, remain quiet in their present possessions without doing wrong, it is impossible to say; rather, they are always at war, having implanted in them the will to plot and to envy, and they make use of the two names, like two currencies — war and peace — as suits their advantage, not as suits justice; since indeed those who openly admit to making war are better than those who dignify the idle and inactive part of their injustice with the names of justice and friendship.

Pyrrhus showed this: for, standing again in the way of Demetrius as he grew strong, and hindering his power as it recovered as if from a great illness, he came to the aid of the Greeks and entered Athens, and going up to the Acropolis and sacrificing to the goddess and coming down the same day, he said he was glad of the goodwill and trust of the people toward him, but that, if they had any wisdom, they would henceforth bar every one of the kings from their city and keep their gates closed against them;

after this he also made peace with Demetrius, and not long after, once Demetrius had departed for Asia, he was again persuaded by Lysimachus to cause Thessaly to revolt and to make war on the Greek garrisons, finding the Macedonians better soldiers when campaigning than at leisure, and being himself altogether not made for quiet. At last, when Demetrius had been utterly defeated in Syria, Lysimachus, now free from danger and at leisure, immediately set out against Pyrrhus.

And falling upon him while he was encamped near Edessa and waiting for supplies being brought to him, and gaining the advantage, he first reduced him to difficulty, then by letters and speeches corrupted the leading Macedonians, reproaching them for choosing as master a foreign man, whose ancestors had always been slaves to Macedonians, and thrusting out the friends and companions of Alexander from Macedonia,

and when many were won over, Pyrrhus, taking fright, withdrew with his Epirote and allied force, losing Macedonia in the same way he had taken it. Hence the kings cannot blame the common people for changing sides for their own advantage; for in doing this they merely imitate the kings themselves, who are teachers of faithlessness and betrayal, and who consider that the man who makes least use of justice profits most.

At that time, then, Pyrrhus, having been driven out into Epirus and having let go of Macedonia, had it in his fortune to make use of what he had without trouble and to live at peace, ruling over his own people; but he, thinking that not to cause trouble to others nor to suffer it from others was a kind of sickening idleness, and like Achilles could not endure leisure, but "wasted away his heart, remaining there," and "longed for the war-cry and battle" — being in want, then, he found such an occasion for new undertakings.

The Romans were making war on the Tarentines. The Tarentines, unable either to sustain the war or to end it, through the recklessness and wickedness of their popular leaders, were deliberating about making Pyrrhus their commander and calling him to the war, since he had the most leisure of the kings and was the ablest general. Of the older and more sensible citizens, some who openly opposed this opinion were driven out by the shouting and violence of the war-makers, while others, seeing this, left the assemblies.

But one reasonable man, named Meton, on the very day the decree was set to become binding, once the people had taken their seats, took a wreath of withered flowers and a small torch, like men who are drunk, and, led by a flute-girl, came reveling toward the assembly. As happens in a crowd in a democracy that has no order, some clapped when they saw him, others laughed, and no one stopped him; instead they urged the woman to play and him to sing, coming forward into the middle — and he seemed about to do just that.

When silence fell, he said, "Men of Tarentum, you do well to play and revel while it is still permitted, not begrudging it to those who wish it. But if you are wise, all of you will still enjoy this freedom, since once Pyrrhus enters within these walls, other business, another kind of life, and a different manner of living altogether will be yours." This speech won over most of the Tarentines, and a murmur ran through the assembly as though he had spoken well,

but those who feared the Romans, lest, once peace was made, they should be handed over, reviled the people for tolerating so shamelessly this drunken revelry, and, banding together, drove Meton out. So, the decree having thus become law, they sent envoys to Epirus — not only their own, but also those of the Italiot Greeks — bringing gifts to Pyrrhus and telling him that they needed a wise commander

they need, and he already has one — and great forces will be available to him at once from the Lucanians, the Messapians, the Samnites, and the Tarentines: twenty thousand cavalry, and infantry together three hundred and fifty thousand. These things not only excited Pyrrhus himself, but also cast into the Epirotes eagerness and impulse for the campaign.

There was a certain Cineas, a Thessalian man, who seemed to be sufficiently intelligent, and who, having heard the orator Demosthenes, seemed alone among the speakers of that time to remind his hearers, as in an image, of that man's power and skill. Being with Pyrrhus and sent to the cities, he confirmed the line of Euripides, that speech accomplishes everything that the enemy's iron could do.

Pyrrhus, in any case, liked to remark that Cineas's eloquence had gained him more cities than his own weapons had won; and so he kept the man in the highest honor and made continual use of his services. This man, then, seeing Pyrrhus at that time set upon Italy, when he saw him at leisure, drew him into conversation of this sort: "The Romans, Pyrrhus, are said to be warlike, and rulers of many warlike nations; but if a god should grant us to overcome these men, what use shall we make of the victory?" And Pyrrhus said,

"You ask, Cineas," he said, "a thing that is obvious: once the Romans are defeated, there will be no barbarian city there, nor any Greek one, able to match us, but we shall have at once the whole of Italy — whose size and excellence and power it befits no one to be ignorant of more than you." Then Cineas, pausing a little, said, "But having taken Italy, O King, what

shall we do?" And Pyrrhus, not yet seeing his intent, said, "Sicily is near and stretches out her hands to us, a rich and populous island, and very easy to capture: for everything there, Cineas, is now faction and civil disorder in the cities and the sharp rivalry of demagogues, now that Agathocles is gone." "What you say is likely," said Cineas: "but will this be the end for us of the campaign, to take Sicily?" "God,"

said Pyrrhus, "may grant us to conquer and succeed; and these things will we use as a stepping-stone toward great affairs. For who would hold back from Libya and Carthage, once they came within reach — which Agathocles, slipping away secretly from Syracuse and crossing with a few ships, came within a hair's breadth of taking? And when we have mastered these, that none of our enemies now insulting us will be able to withstand us — who could say otherwise?"

"Nothing," said Cineas: "for it is clear that to recover Macedonia too, and to rule Greece securely, will be within our power, once we have so great a force. But once all this has come under our sway, what shall we do?" And Pyrrhus, laughing, said, "We shall have great leisure, my good man, and daily drinking, and we shall entertain one another with conversation."

Having brought Pyrrhus to this point in the conversation, Cineas said, "Then what now stands in our way, if we wish to enjoy our drinking and have leisure with one another, since we already have these things and they are at hand without trouble — the very things toward which we intend to make our way through blood and great toils and dangers, once we have first inflicted great injury on others and endured no less ourselves?"

With these words Cineas troubled Pyrrhus more than he changed his mind, for Pyrrhus, understanding how much happiness he was leaving behind, was nevertheless unable to let go of the hopes he desired.

First, then, he sent Cineas ahead to the Tarentines with three thousand soldiers; then, when many horse-transports and decked ships and ferries of all sorts had been brought from Tarentum, he embarked twenty elephants, three thousand cavalry, twenty-two thousand infantry, two thousand archers, and five hundred slingers; and when all was ready he put out to sea and sailed. And while in the middle of the Ionian sea he was caught by a north wind that broke out untimely.

And being driven by it, he himself, by the excellence and eagerness of his sailors and helmsmen, managed to bring the ship up and press toward land, though only after severe strain and peril; the remainder of the fleet, however, fell into disorder and its vessels were scattered — some, missing Italy, were driven out into the Libyan and Sicilian seas, and others, unable to round Cape Iapygia, were caught by night, and a great and violent sea, dashing them against places hard to anchor and unseen, destroyed all of them except the royal ship,

which, while the wave was still coming from the side, defended itself and, by its size and strength, escaped the assaults of the sea; but when the wind, coming round from the land, met it head on, and the ship, standing bow-on against a great swell, was in danger of being broken apart, while letting it run before the now-savage sea and a wind veering every way seemed more terrifying than the dangers already present, Pyrrhus rose and threw himself into the sea,

and at once there was a rivalry and eagerness among his friends and bodyguards around him. The night and the wave, with great noise and rough buffeting, made rescue difficult, so that it was only with difficulty, as the wind was already dying down with the coming of day, that he threw himself onto the land, altogether powerless in body, but with the boldness and strength of soul rising up against his helplessness.

At the same time the Messapians, on whose coast he had been cast up, ran together eagerly to help with what they had at hand; and some of the ships that had survived came in as well, in which there were altogether very few cavalry, fewer than two thousand infantry, and two elephants.

Taking these up, Pyrrhus marched to Tarentum. And when Cineas, on learning of this, brought the soldiers out to meet him, Pyrrhus, upon entering, did nothing against the will of the Tarentines nor by force, until his fleet had been recovered from the water and the bulk of his troops had assembled.

At that time, seeing that the multitude, without great compulsion, could neither be saved nor save others, but sat at home amid baths and social gatherings as if it were he alone who fought their war for them, he closed the gymnasiums and the walks, in which, idling, they used to conduct their strategy in words about affairs, and he abolished drinking-parties and revels and untimely feasting; he called them to arms, and in the matter of the enrollment lists of those to serve he was unyielding and harsh, so that many left the city, calling the unaccustomed rule that did not allow them to live for pleasure slavery.

But when it was reported that Laevinus, the Roman consul, was advancing against him with a large army, ravaging Lucania as he went, his allies not yet having arrived, Pyrrhus, thinking it a grave thing to send a herald to the Romans asking, as a favor, that they wait and allow the enemy to come closer, went out with his forces, having first sent word that he was willing to obtain justice for the Italiots from the Romans before war, by acting as judge and arbiter himself,

but when Laevinus answered that the Romans would neither choose Pyrrhus as arbiter nor fear him as an enemy, Pyrrhus moved his army forward and set camp on the plain lying between Pandosia and Heraclea. Learning that the Romans were near and encamped on the opposite bank of the river Siris, he rode down to the water's edge to observe them; and seeing their order, their guards, their arrangement, and the shape of their camp, he was amazed,

and addressing the nearest of his friends, he said, "This order of the barbarians, Megacles, is not barbarous — but the work we shall find out." And already turning his mind to what was to come, he decided to wait for his allies, and set a guard over the river to hinder the Romans, should they attempt to cross first.

But they, eager to forestall the very thing he had decided to wait for, attempted the crossing — the infantry by the ford, the cavalry riding across the river at many points — so that the Greeks, fearing encirclement, began to withdraw; and Pyrrhus, perceiving this and thrown into confusion, ordered the infantry commanders to form their line at once and wait under arms, while he himself rode out with the cavalry, three thousand strong, hoping to catch the Romans still crossing and scattered, in disorder.

But when he saw many shields appearing above the river and the cavalry riding up in formation, he closed ranks and charged first, being at once conspicuous by the beauty and brightness of his arms, adorned beyond measure, and showing by his deeds a reputation not falling short of his valor: and especially because, though he exposed his hands and body to the fight and warded off vigorously those before him, he was not confused in his reasoning nor did he lose his presence of mind,

but, as though watching from outside, he steered the battle, himself running to each point and bringing help to those who seemed hard-pressed. There Leonnatus the Macedonian, catching sight of an Italian man watching Pyrrhus and wheeling his horse to keep pace with him, always shifting and moving together with him, said, "Do you see, O King, that barbarian, whom the black horse with white feet carries? He seems to be intent on some great and terrible design.

For he keeps his eye on you and is bent toward you, full of spirit and rage, and lets the others be. But guard yourself against the man." And Pyrrhus answered, "What is fated, Leonnatus, is impossible to escape: but neither he nor any other Italian will come to close quarters with us gladly." While they were still speaking of this, the Italian, gripping his spear and wheeling his horse, charged at Pyrrhus.

Then at once he struck the king's horse with his spear, while Leonnatus, riding alongside, struck his. Both horses fell, and Pyrrhus's friends, surrounding him, snatched him up, while they killed the Italian as he fought. He was by birth a Frentanian, commander of a squadron, named Oplacus.

This taught Pyrrhus to keep a sharper watch over himself; and seeing his cavalry giving way, he sent for the phalanx and drew it up in order, while he himself, transferring his cloak and armor to a companion named Megacles and concealing his own identity beneath that man's gear, led the attack on the Romans. They received him and joined battle, and for a long time the fortunes of the battle stood undecided; indeed it is reported that flight and pursuit reversed direction seven times on both sides,

for the exchange of arms, made in time for the king's own safety, very nearly overturned the whole affair and destroyed the victory. For as many were making for Megacles, the one who first struck him down, named Dexous, snatched up his helmet and cloak, galloped over to Laevinus to show them off, shouting all the while that he had killed Pyrrhus.

So it was that, once the spoils had been paraded down the line of ranks for all to see, shouts of joy rose among the Romans, while despondency and consternation spread among the Greeks, until Pyrrhus, learning what was happening, rode along with his face bare, stretching out his right hand to those fighting and signaling by his voice who he was; and at last, when the beasts pressed the Romans hardest, and the horses, before even coming near, were becoming unmanageable and throwing off their riders, he brought up the Thessalian cavalry against them in their confusion and routed them with great slaughter.

Dionysius, then, records that a little fewer than fifteen thousand Romans fell, though Hieronymus puts the number at merely seven thousand; of Pyrrhus's men Dionysius says thirteen thousand, Hieronymus fewer than four thousand — and these were the best of them; and Pyrrhus lost friends and generals whom he had continued to use and trust most.

Nevertheless he also took the Roman camp when they abandoned it, and brought over cities allied to them, and ravaged much territory, and advanced to within no more than three hundred stadia of Rome. Many of the Lucanians and Samnites came to him after the battle, whom he reproached for being late, but he was clearly pleased and proud that with only his own men and the Tarentines he had overcome the great power of the Romans.

The Romans did not remove Laevinus from his command, though it is said that Gaius Fabricius remarked that it was not the Epirotes who had defeated the Romans, but Pyrrhus who had defeated Laevinus — meaning that the defeat had come about not through the army's weakness but through generalship; and by filling up their ranks eagerly and forming others, and by speaking fearless and haughty words about the war, they filled Pyrrhus with astonishment.

It seemed good to him, then, first to send and make trial of the men, to see whether they were inclined to come to terms, thinking that to take the city and master it entirely was no small task, nor one for his present force, but that friendship and reconciliation would look best for his reputation after a victory. So Cineas was sent and met with the men of influence, and sent gifts from the king to their children and wives, but no one accepted them,

but all the men and women answered that once a public treaty had been made, what came from them too would be given freely and gladly to the king. And when Cineas addressed the Senate with many winning and kindly words, they received them with no pleasure and no readiness, although Pyrrhus was releasing without ransom the men taken captive in the battle, and promising to help them subdue Italy,

asking in return only friendship for himself and immunity for the Tarentines, and nothing else. Yet it was plain that the majority were inclining toward peace, having been beaten in a great battle and expecting another from a greater force, now that the Italian peoples had joined Pyrrhus.

It was then that Appius Claudius, a distinguished man who through old age and blindness together had given up active politics and had ceased attending, could not restrain himself when word came of the king's proposals and a report was going around that the senate was about to vote for a settlement. He had his servants lift him up and carried him to the senate house in a litter through the marketplace.

When he had arrived at the doors, it was his sons and sons-in-law who lifted and supported him, surrounding him on every side as they escorted him inside, and the senate, out of respect, kept a reverent silence for the man.

Rising from where he stood, he said: "Before now, Romans, I bore the misfortune of my eyes with distress, but now I am grieved not only to be blind but also not to be deaf as well, since I hear the shameful proposals and decrees you are making, which overturn the glory of Rome. For where now is that boast of yours, forever repeated to all mankind, that if the great Alexander himself had come to Italy and clashed with us when we were young and our fathers stood at the height of their powers, he would not today enjoy fame as unconquered, but would instead either have fled or died on this very ground, leaving Rome all the more renowned?

Yet by these actions you show that this was empty boasting and bluster — you who fear the Chaonians and Molossians, the perpetual prey of the Macedonians, and tremble before Pyrrhus, who has never done anything but attend upon and court one of Alexander's own bodyguards, and who now wanders about Italy not so much helping the Greeks here as fleeing his enemies there, promising us dominion with a force that was not even enough for him to keep hold of a small part of Macedonia.

Do not think that by making him your friend you will be rid of him — rather you will be drawing on those others, who will despise you as men easily overcome by anyone, if Pyrrhus departs without paying the penalty for his insolence, and even receives a reward for having let the Tarentines and Samnites laugh at the Romans." When Appius had spoken in this way, an eagerness for war seized them, and they sent Cineas away with the answer that if Pyrrhus left Italy, then, if he wished,

he might take up talk of friendship and an alliance; but for as long as he stayed armed on Italian soil, the Romans would press war against him with every resource, even should he defeat ten thousand more men like Laevinus in battle. Cineas, so the story goes, made use of the time he spent handling this business to also observe their manner of life closely and to examine what was excellent in their political arrangements,

and having spoken with the leading men, he reported to Pyrrhus everything else, and told him that the senate had struck him as a gathering made up of many kings, and that where the common people were concerned, he feared they might end up battling something resembling a Lernaean Hydra — for already twice as many men had been gathered for the consul as had been arrayed before, and there were still that many more Romans capable of bearing arms.

After this, envoys arrived concerning the prisoners, led by Gaius Fabricius, a man whom Cineas said the Romans held in the highest regard as a good and warlike man, though extremely poor. Pyrrhus, treating him with special kindness in private, tried to persuade him to take gold, not for anything shameful, but calling it a token of friendship and hospitality.

When Fabricius refused it, Pyrrhus let the matter rest for the time; but the next day, wanting to give him a shock, seeing that Fabricius had never laid eyes on an elephant before, Pyrrhus had the largest of his beasts placed behind them as they talked, hidden by a curtain hung in front of it. The plan went forward, and on a given cue the curtain was pulled aside, whereupon the beast abruptly lifted its trunk above Fabricius' head and released a harsh, terrifying bellow.

Fabricius turned around calmly, and smiling at Pyrrhus said: "Neither did your gold move me yesterday, nor does your beast today." At dinner, when talk of all sorts arose, most of it about Greece and its philosophers, Cineas happened to mention Epicurus, and went through what they say about the gods and the constitution and the end of life — placing the end in pleasure, avoiding political life as harmful and disruptive of happiness, and removing the divine as far as possible from favor and anger and any concern for us, banishing it to a life free of trouble and full of enjoyment.

While he was still speaking, Fabricius cried out, "By Heracles," he said, "may Pyrrhus and his Samnites cling to that philosophy for as long as their war against us continues!" Pyrrhus, so struck with admiration for the man's spirit and character, desired all the more to have friendship with the city instead of war, and privately urged Fabricius, once the settlement was made, to come and live with him, first among all his companions and generals. But Fabricius, it is said, quietly replied to him, "But this, O king, would not even be to your advantage; for those who now honor and admire you, if they should have experience of me, will wish to be ruled by me rather than by you." Such a man was Fabricius.

Pyrrhus received this speech neither with anger nor tyrannically, but reported Fabricius' magnanimity to his friends, and entrusted the prisoners to him alone, so that, if the senate should not vote for peace, they might greet their relatives, keep the festival of the Cronia, and then be sent back again to him; and once the festival had ended they were duly returned to him, the senate having decreed death as the penalty for anyone left behind.

After this, when Fabricius had taken up the command, a man came to the camp bringing him a letter, which the king's physician had written, offering to kill Pyrrhus with poison, if he should be granted a reward by the Romans, thereby ending the war without risk. Fabricius, disgusted at the man's injustice, and having disposed his fellow-commander likewise, sent a letter in haste to Pyrrhus, warning him that he should watch out for the conspiracy.

The letter ran as follows: "From Gaius Fabricius and Quintus Aemilius, consuls representing Rome, to King Pyrrhus, greetings. You seem to be an unfortunate judge of both friends and enemies; once you have read what we have written to you, you will understand that the men you fight are good and just, while those you trust are wicked and unjust.

We reveal this not for your favor, but so that your misfortune may not bring reproach upon us, and so that we may not seem to have accomplished the war by treachery, as though unable to do it by valor." When Pyrrhus had read this letter and exposed the plot, he punished the physician, and as a return gift to Fabricius and the Romans he handed over the prisoners without ransom, and again sent Cineas to negotiate peace for him.

But the Romans, deeming it right to take the men without ransom neither as a favor from an enemy nor as payment for not being wronged, released to him an equal number of Tarentine and Samnite prisoners, and would allow no discussion at all of friendship and peace until he had taken up his arms and army and sailed back to Epirus in the same ships in which he had come.

After this, since circumstances called for another battle, he took up his army and advanced, and joining battle with the Romans near the city of Asculum, forcing his way through ground unsuited to cavalry and a wooded, rough river, where the elephants could not make their charge so as to engage the phalanx, many wounds were inflicted and many fell dead, and the fighting was undecided until it was broken off by nightfall.

The next day, intending to wage the engagement on open, level ground while driving the elephants forward against the enemy lines, he first seized the difficult terrain with a guard, and after mixing in a great many javelins and arrows among the beasts, brought forward his force, dense and well ordered, with strength and force. The Romans, not having the room to sidestep and maneuver as before, met him head-on on level ground: and hastening to push back the heavy infantry before the beasts could engage, they fought terrible battles of swords against the long spears, sparing themselves nothing, intent only on wounding and cutting down, counting suffering as nothing,

and after a long time it is said that the beginning of the rout occurred at the point where Pyrrhus himself pressed upon those arrayed against him, but the greater part of the victory was achieved by the strength and force of the elephants, since the Romans were unable to make use of their valor against them, but thought they must give way, as before the onrush of a wave or a collapsing earthquake, rather than stand their ground and die uselessly, suffering the worst while accomplishing nothing.

The flight was not long before reaching the camp; Hieronymus says that six thousand of the Romans died, while in Pyrrhus' own royal memoranda it is recorded that three thousand five hundred and five of his men were killed.

Dionysius, however, records neither two battles at Asculum nor an acknowledged Roman defeat, but says that they fought once until sunset and barely managed to separate, Pyrrhus having taken a javelin wound to his arm while, meanwhile, the Daunians plundered his baggage train, and that more than fifteen thousand men died on both sides, of Pyrrhus' and the Romans' alike. Both sides then withdrew: and it is said that Pyrrhus said to one of those who congratulated him, "If we win one more battle against the Romans, we shall be utterly destroyed."

For a great part of the force he had brought with him had perished, and all his friends and generals save a few were gone, and there were no others he could summon, while he saw that his allies there had grown less eager, whereas the Romans, as though from a spring flowing from home, had their camp easily and quickly refilled, and did not lose heart at their defeats, but even gained strength and rivalry from their anger for the war.

While he was in such straits, he again fell into new hopes, and into affairs that divided his judgment. For at the same time men came from Sicily offering him Agrigentum, Syracuse, and Leontini, and asking him to help drive out the Carthaginians and free the island from its tyrants; while from Greece came messengers announcing that Ptolemy Ceraunus had perished, having clashed with the Gauls along with his forces, and that now, if ever, would be the moment for a king to come to the Macedonians, who most needed one.

He complained much of fortune for bringing him the opportunities for great enterprises all at one time, and thinking that, if he had both, he would lose one of them, he wavered long in his reasoning. Then, since the Sicilian affairs seemed to promise greater undertakings, and Libya seemed close at hand,

he turned to these, and at once sent Cineas ahead to negotiate beforehand with the cities, as was his custom, while he himself, when the Tarentines grew resentful, threw a garrison into their city, and when they demanded either that he should fulfill the purpose for which he had come by fighting alongside them against the Romans, or else leave their country and their city as he had received it, he gave them no fair answer, but ordered them to keep quiet and wait for his own convenience, and sailed off.

When he set foot in Sicily, the things he had hoped for at once proved secure, and the cities gave themselves over eagerly; but where struggle and force were needed, at first nothing resisted him, but with thirty thousand infantry, two thousand five hundred cavalry, and two hundred ships he advanced and drove out the Phoenicians and overthrew their dominion; and since Eryx was the strongest of their strongholds and had many defenders, he resolved to force the walls,

and once his forces stood ready, he donned his complete suit of armor, and coming forward he vowed to Heracles that he would hold games and offer a sacrifice of first-fruits, if he should show himself a worthy champion, worthy of his lineage and his position, before the Greeks who dwelt in Sicily; and giving the signal with the trumpet and scattering the barbarians with missiles and bringing up the ladders, he was the first to mount the wall,

and when many stood against him, defending himself he thrust some off the wall on either side and cast them down, and using his sword he heaped up the greatest number of corpses around himself, while he himself suffered nothing, but even appeared terrible to look upon to his enemies, and showed that Homer was right and spoke from experience in declaring that of all the virtues, courage alone is often carried away in fits of divine frenzy and madness. When the city was captured, he made a magnificent sacrifice to the god and provided spectacles of every kind of contest.

As for the barbarians around Messene, called the Mamertines, who were troubling the Greeks greatly, having made some of them tributary payers of tribute, and being numerous and warlike (which is why they were called Arei in the Latin tongue), he seized and killed their tax collectors, and defeating them in battle he destroyed many of their strongholds.

When the Carthaginians, being inclined to come to terms and willing to pay money if there could be friendship, and to send ships, he answered — reaching for more — that there could be one settlement and friendship with them, if they would abandon all Sicily and take the Libyan sea as their boundary with the Greeks,

and lifted up by good fortune and the strength of his present position, and pursuing the hopes for which he had originally sailed, aiming first at Libya, and having many ships lacking crews, he raised rowers, dealing with the cities not with fairness or gentleness but despotically, forcing and punishing in anger — not being such from the very beginning, but rather more than others winning men over by pleasant dealing and trusting everyone and troubling no one, and then, turning from a popular leader into a tyrant, he acquired a reputation for harshness in ingratitude and for faithlessness.

Nevertheless they conceded these things as necessary, though bearing them with difficulty; but when he came to suspect Thoenon and Sosistratus, leading men in Syracuse, who had been the first to persuade him to come to Sicily, and who upon his arrival had at once put the city into his hands and had cooperated most in his Sicilian achievements, being unwilling either to take them with him or to leave them behind, he held them in suspicion, and Sosistratus withdrew out of fear,

while he killed Thoenon, charging him with holding the same views. Not by small degrees, nor in one respect only, did his position shift, but once a terrible hatred had arisen among the cities toward him, some went over to the Carthaginians, others brought in the Mamertines. Seeing everywhere revolts and uprisings and a strong combination against himself, letters reached him from the Samnites and Tarentines, who could scarcely maintain themselves any longer in their own cities amid the war, cut off from all their land and pleading for assistance.

This was a respectable pretext, so that his sailing away would not seem to be flight or despair over the state of affairs there; but the truth was that, unable to master Sicily—tossed about like a storm-battered ship—but seeking a way out, he flung himself once more into Italy. It is said that as he was already departing, looking back at the island, he said to those around him, "What a wrestling-ground, my friends, we are leaving behind for Carthaginians and Romans." And this, just as it was conjectured, came to pass not long afterward.

When the barbarians combined against him as he sailed away, he fought a sea-battle against the Carthaginians in the narrow channel; several of his ships were destroyed, but with the rest he took refuge on the coast of Italy. The Mamertines, no fewer than ten thousand, had crossed over ahead of him; though afraid to meet him in open battle, they attacked in difficult terrain, fell upon him, and threw his whole army into confusion. Two of his beasts fell, and many of his rearguard were killed.

He himself, then, rode up from the vanguard and fought back, risking danger against men trained for war and high-spirited. Struck on the head with a sword, and drawing back a little from the fighters, he only spurred the enemy on the more. One man, running out far ahead of the others, great in body and splendid in arms, spoke with a bolder voice and called on him to come forward, if he was alive.

Pyrrhus, provoked, turned back by force through his shield-bearers, and in his anger, smeared with blood and terrible to look upon in the face, thrust his way through them and, reaching the barbarian first, struck him on the head with his sword a blow that, through the strength of his arm together with the excellence of the steel's temper, ran clean down to the lower parts, so that in a single stroke the two halves of the body, cut in two, fell apart to either side.

This checked the barbarians from advancing further, as though they were marveling at and struck with awe of Pyrrhus as one of the mightier beings. He himself passed through the rest of the way without fear, arriving at Tarentum with a force of twenty thousand infantry and three thousand cavalry. Taking up the best of the Tarentines, he immediately led his army against the Romans, who were encamped in Samnite territory.

As for the Samnites, their affairs had been ruined, and their spirit had given way, having been beaten in many battles by the Romans. There was also some resentment toward Pyrrhus on account of his voyage to Sicily; hence not many of them joined him. Dividing all his forces in two, he sent some into Lucania to engage one of the consuls, so that he would not come to the aid of the other,

while he himself led the rest against Manius Curius, who was encamped in a secure position near the city of Beneventum, waiting for the reinforcement from Lucania. There were times, too, when he held back because the seers, by omens of birds and sacrifices, were dissuading him. So Pyrrhus, eager to attack these forces before the others arrived, took his best men and the most warlike of the beasts and set out by night against the camp.

But as he went around by a long road, thick with woodland, his torches did not last, and his soldiers went astray; and while time was spent over this the night ran out, and he was seen at daybreak by the enemy coming on from the heights, so that great confusion and commotion resulted. Nevertheless, since the sacrifices had turned out favorable for Manius, and the occasion compelled him to give aid, he went out and fell upon the foremost of the enemy and, routing them, put them all to flight, so that not a few fell and some of the elephants, left behind, were captured.

This victory brought Manius down to fight in the plain; and joining battle in the open he routed one part of the enemy, but in one place, forced back by the beasts and driven in toward his own camp, he called upon the guards, who stood numerous by the palisade with their arms and were fresh.

These, appearing from their fortified positions and hurling missiles at the beasts, forced them to turn back, and as they fled backward through their own allies they caused confusion and disorder, which handed the victory over to the Romans, and with it also the mastery of leadership; for indeed, having gained in spirit and power and reputation as being unconquerable from that display of valor and those struggles, they at once held Italy, and a little later Sicily as well.

Thus Pyrrhus fell from his Italian and Sicilian hopes, having spent six years on the wars there, and though worsted in his affairs, he preserved his courage unconquered amid his defeats; and he was judged, in warlike experience and in hand and in daring, to be by far the foremost of the kings of his time, but what he acquired by his actions he lost through his hopes, since through desire for what was absent he never managed, for what was needed, to secure what he already had.

For this reason Antigonus likened him to a dice-player who throws many fine casts but does not know how to make use of what has fallen. Having brought back into Epirus a force of eight thousand infantry and five hundred cavalry, with no money on hand, he went looking for a war that could support his army, and when some of the Gauls joined him, he invaded Macedonia, then ruled by Antigonus son of Demetrius, intending to use it for plunder and pillage,

but when he also took many cities and two thousand soldiers went over to him, hoping for something more he set out against Antigonus, and falling upon him near the Narrows he threw the whole enemy force into disarray. The Gaulish troops stationed in Antigonus's rearguard, numerous in number, held their ground stoutly; and after a hard-fought battle most of these were cut down, while the commanders of the elephants, being cut off, surrendered themselves and all the beasts,

Pyrrhus, having gained such an addition to his forces, and trusting more to fortune than to calculation, led his phalanx against the Macedonians, who were full of confusion and fear on account of their defeat. So they held back from any charge or fight against him, and as he stretched out his right hand and called out to the generals and captains, he drew off all the infantry of Antigonus over to himself in a body.

Antigonus himself, fleeing with a few horsemen, held on to some of the coastal cities, but Pyrrhus, amid such great good fortune, thinking that his affair with the Gauls had contributed most to his glory, set apart the finest and most magnificent among the spoils as an offering in Athena Itonis's temple, inscribing upon the shields this elegiac verse: "These shields, taken from the bold Gauls, Pyrrhus the Molossian hung as a gift to Itonian Athena, having destroyed the whole army of Antigonus—no great wonder: spearmen are the sons of Aeacus, both now and of old."

After the battle he at once recovered the cities, and having mastered the Aegae he dealt harshly with the people in other respects, and left a Gallic garrison in the city drawn from those serving with him; and the Gauls, being a race most insatiable for money, set about digging up the tombs of the kings buried there, plundering the money and scattering the bones in outrage.

Pyrrhus seemed to take this lightly and carelessly, either putting off the punishment of the barbarians on account of certain pressing business, or altogether letting it go through fear; hence he was ill spoken of by the Macedonians. But since his affairs did not yet have firmness and stable footing, his mind was again swaying toward other hopes, and, mocking Antigonus, he called him shameless for not putting on the common cloak but still wearing the purple. And when Cleonymus the Spartan arrived and invited him to Lacedaemon, he eagerly complied.

Cleonymus was of royal stock, but being thought violent and disposed to tyranny, he had neither goodwill nor trust; instead Areus was king. This was one grievance held against him by the citizens, and an older one; and Cleonymus, though already elderly, had married a beautiful woman of royal descent, Chilonis, daughter of Leotychidas. She, having become infatuated with Acrotatus son of Areus, a youth in the bloom of his prime, made the marriage painful and disgraceful for Cleonymus, who loved her, for it was no secret to any Spartan that he was scorned by his wife,

So, when these domestic vexations were added to his political grievances, in anger and heavy resentment he brought Pyrrhus against Sparta, leading a force of twenty-five thousand infantry, two thousand cavalry, and two dozen elephants, so that by the sheer size of the preparation it was at once clear that he was acquiring not Sparta for Cleonymus, but the Peloponnese for himself, since in word, even to the Lacedaemonians who came as envoys to him at Megalopolis, he denied it.

For he said he had come to free the cities under Antigonus, and, by Zeus, that he would send the younger boys to Sparta, if nothing prevented it, to be raised in the Laconian customs, so that in this respect Cleonymus would have more than all kings put together—fashioning these things and misleading those who met him along the way; but as soon as he touched Laconian soil he began plundering and pillaging.

When the envoys complained that he had brought war upon them without declaring it, he said, "But neither do you Spartans give warning of what you intend to do to others." One of those present, named Mandrocleidas, said in the Laconian dialect: "If indeed you are a god, we shall suffer no harm, for we do no wrong; but if you are a man, there will be another stronger than you."

From there he went down against Lacedaemon; and though Cleonymus urged him to attack straight from the march, Pyrrhus, as is said, worried his men would sack the city should they strike it under cover of darkness, held back, saying they could accomplish the same thing in daylight. For they themselves were few and unprepared because of the suddenness of it, and Areus happened not to be present, but was in Crete helping the Gortynians, who were at war; and this above all saved the city, being held in contempt on account of its desolation and weakness.

For Pyrrhus, thinking no one would fight, encamped for the night, while the friends and helots of Cleonymus adorned and prepared his house as though Pyrrhus were to dine there. When night came, the Lacedaemonians first resolved to send the women away to Crete, but they resisted. Archidamia, sword in hand, went to the council chamber and reproached the men on behalf of the women, if they thought it right for the women to live while Sparta perished.

Then they decided to dig a trench parallel to the enemy's camp, and on either side of it to plant the wagons, burying them up to the middle of the wheels, so that, having a firm and hard-to-dislodge footing, they might stand in the way of the beasts. As they began this work, some of the maidens and women came to them, some in cloaks, with their tunics girt up, others in a single tunic, to work alongside the elders.

They ordered those who were to fight to rest, and taking the measurements themselves they completed a third part of the trench by themselves. Its width came to six cubits, its depth to four, and it ran eight plethra in length, as Phylarchus records; according to Hieronymus, it was less.

At daybreak, as the enemy were stirring, they handed the arms to the young men, giving over to them the trench to defend and guard, telling them it was sweet to win victory before their homeland's own eyes, and a glorious thing to perish held in the embrace of mothers and wives, dying a death worthy of Sparta. Chilonis, off by herself, kept a noose ready, determined that Cleonymus should never get hold of her should the city fall.

Pyrrhus himself pressed forward face to face with his hoplites against the many shields of the Spartans drawn up against him, and against a trench that, owing to its looseness, gave neither passage nor secure footing to the combatants. His son Ptolemy, leading two thousand Gauls together with select Chaonian troops, circled around the trench and attempted a crossing by way of the wagons. But these, because of their depth and closeness, made not only his advance but also the Lacedaemonians' relief difficult to accomplish.

As the Gauls tore off the wheels and dragged the wagons down into the river, the young Acrotatus, seeing the danger, ran through the city with three hundred men and came around behind Ptolemy, unseen by him because of certain hollows in the ground, until he fell upon the rear ranks and forced them to turn and fight against him, being thrust upon each other into the trench and falling around the wagons, until with much slaughter they were at last beaten back.

The elders and the multitude of women watched Acrotatus perform this feat of valor. As he made his way back through the city to his own post, blood-covered and jubilant, elated by his victory, he seemed to the Laconian women to have grown taller and more handsome, and they envied Chilonis her love. Some of the elders followed him crying out: "Go, Acrotatus, and lie with Chilonis; only give Sparta good children."

Around Pyrrhus himself, as a fierce battle was joined, others also fought brilliantly, and Phyllius, holding out longest and killing the most of those pressing him, when he perceived himself failing from a multitude of wounds, gave way to one of those stationed near, and fell within his own line of arms, ensuring that his corpse would never fall into enemy hands.

The battle was broken off by night, and Pyrrhus, sleeping, had a vision of this sort. He dreamed that he was hurling thunderbolts at Lacedaemon and setting it all ablaze, and that he himself rejoiced. Waking from joy, he ordered his commanders to hold the army ready, and told his friends the dream, as one who would take the city by storm.

The others were wonderfully persuaded, but Lysimachus did not like the vision; rather he said he feared that, just as places struck by thunderbolts remain untrodden, the divine sign might be portending to Pyrrhus that the city would be inaccessible to him. But Pyrrhus, saying that these are the sort of things that stir up crowds at the gates and contain much folly, and that one ought instead, holding weapons in one's hands, to trust to oneself—the best omen being to defend oneself concerning Pyrrhus—rose up and led his army forward at daybreak.

The Lacedaemonians defended themselves with eagerness and valor beyond their strength; and the women were present, handing out missiles, bringing food and drink to those in need, and carrying off the wounded. For their part, the Macedonians tried to level the ditch by heaping into it vast loads of timber, and beneath this pile weapons and corpses lay concealed as it grew.

and while the Lacedaemonians were rushing to meet this attack, Pyrrhus himself was seen forcing his horse past the trench and the wagons into the city. A shout rose from those posted there, and the women fell to running about and wailing; and even as Pyrrhus rode forward, forcing back the men before him, his horse leapt up, struck under the belly by a Cretan arrow, and in its death agony threw Pyrrhus into a place that was slippery and

sloping downward. While his companions were in confusion about him, the Spartans ran up and, using their missiles, drove them all back. From this Pyrrhus also broke off the rest of the fighting, thinking that the Lacedaemonians would give way somewhat, since nearly all of them were covered with wounds and many had fallen. But the good fortune of the city — whether it was testing the men's courage, or giving proof of what power it itself possesses in desperate circumstances —

when the Lacedaemonians' hopes were already in a wretched state, brought in Ameinias the Phocian, one of Antigonus's generals, coming to their aid from Corinth with mercenaries; and hardly had they welcomed him when King Areus arrived from Crete bringing two thousand soldiers. The women at once scattered to their homes, no longer thinking it necessary to concern themselves with the fighting, and released the men who, beyond their age, had been forced under arms, and set them in order for battle.

As for Pyrrhus, some vigor and rivalry still possessed him, more from those who had newly joined him, to take the city; but when he accomplished nothing, he took blows and withdrew, and ravaged the countryside, intending to winter there. But what was fated proved inescapable. For at Argos there was factional strife between Aristeas and Aristippus. And since Aristippus seemed to be using Antigonus as a friend, Aristeas got ahead of him and called Pyrrhus into Argos,

while Pyrrhus, ever rolling hope out of hope, using his successes as starting points for other ventures, and wishing to make good with fresh undertakings whatever failures he suffered, made neither defeat nor victory the limit of his being troubled and troubling others. He immediately then marched for Argos; but Areus, laying many ambushes and seizing the most difficult parts of the road, cut off the Gauls and Molossians who were serving as his rearguard.

Now it had been foretold to Pyrrhus, from sacrifices whose livers were found without lobes, by the seer, that he would lose one of those closest to him; but at that critical moment, driven from his reasoning by the tumult and the commotion, he ordered his son Ptolemy to take the companions and go help, while he himself hurried the army out of the narrow pass more quickly.

A sharp battle broke out around Ptolemy, and the picked Lacedaemonians, led by Eualcus, closed with those fighting in front of him. A man skilled at striking and swift to run, named Oryssus, a Cretan of Aptera, ran up from the side and struck the young man as he was fighting eagerly, and brought him down.

When he had fallen and those around him had turned to flight, the Lacedaemonians, pursuing and gaining ground, unwittingly rushed as one body onto the level ground, where they found themselves boxed in by the heavy infantry; against these Pyrrhus, who had just heard of his son's death and was overcome with grief, turned the Molossian cavalry, and riding in first, glutted himself with the slaughter of the Lacedaemonians — he who always appeared invincible and terrible in arms, but then surpassed his earlier contests in daring and violence.

When he set his horse upon Eualcus, the latter, standing to the side, with his sword came close to cutting off the hand that held Pyrrhus's rein, but only struck and cut off the rein itself. Pyrrhus, at the same moment, drove his spear through him, and he slipped from his horse; and Pyrrhus, now on foot, killed all the picked men who were fighting around Eualcus. This great and needless expenditure the ambition of the commanders caused Sparta, even though the war was already at its end.

Pyrrhus, having performed something like a funeral rite for his son and having contended in a splendid funeral combat, and having vented much of his grief in his rage against the enemy, advanced on Argos, and learning that Antigonus was now encamped upon the heights above the plain, pitched his camp near Nauplia. On the next day he dispatched a herald who addressed Antigonus as a pestilence and dared him to descend to level ground and settle the kingdom's fate by combat,

and he replied that his own generalship depended more on timing than on arms, and that Pyrrhus had many roads open to death, if he was not content to live. But envoys came from Argos to both of them, asking that they withdraw and leave the city belonging to neither, since it was well-disposed to both. Antigonus was persuaded, and handed his own son over to the Argives as surety; Pyrrhus likewise agreed to pull back, yet because he offered no such pledge, he was viewed with the greater distrust.

A great sign appeared to Pyrrhus himself: for when oxen had been sacrificed, the heads, lying apart already, were seen putting out their tongues and licking up their own blood; and in the city of the Argives the prophetess of Lycean Apollo dashed out, shrieking that she beheld the city choked with corpses and carnage, and an eagle bearing down upon the fight, only to fade from sight.

Pyrrhus, approaching the walls in the thick darkness, and finding a gate which they call Diamperes opened to him by Aristeas, went unnoticed until his Gauls had slipped in and seized the marketplace. But since the gate would not admit the elephants, and because of this their towers had to be taken off them and then put on again in the dark and confusion, a delay resulted, and the Argives, becoming aware of what was happening, ran to the Aspis and the fortified places and sent to summon Antigonus.

He himself drew near and lay in wait, but sent in his generals and his son bringing substantial help. Areus too arrived with a thousand Cretans and the lightest-armed of the Spartans, and all together, falling upon the Gauls, threw them into great confusion. Pyrrhus, entering with shouting and clamor near the Cylarabis, when the Gauls answered his men's cries not boldly or confidently, guessed from their voices that they were in disorder and distress.

He therefore pressed forward more quickly, pushing on the horsemen ahead of him who were struggling and in danger amid the drainage channels with which the city is filled. There was much confusion about what was being done and ordered in the night battle, and wandering and scattering about the narrow streets, and no work of generalship was possible amid the darkness and the confused shouting and the narrowness of the passages, but both sides simply spent the time waiting for daylight.

When it was already growing light, the sight of the Aspis full of enemy arms threw Pyrrhus into confusion; and observing among the many dedications in the marketplace a bronze wolf and a bull as if coming together to fight, he was struck with alarm, recalling to himself an old oracle which had marked his death as destined for whatever hour he might witness a wolf locked in battle with a bull.

The Argives say that these figures were memorials of an ancient event that occurred among them. For when Danaus first set foot in the country, at the Pyramia of the Thyreatis, on his way to Argos, a wolf appeared fighting a bull; and Danaus, supposing that the wolf represented himself — since, being a stranger, he was attacking the natives just as the wolf was — watched the fight, and when the wolf prevailed, he prayed to Lycean Apollo and made his attempt and prevailed, Gelanor, who then was king of the Argives, being driven out by faction. This, then, was the story behind the dedication.

At this sight Pyrrhus, together with his discouragement at nothing turning out as he had hoped, thought of turning back; and fearing that the gates were too narrow, he dispatched a message to his son Helenus — stationed beyond the walls with most of the army — instructing him to breach the wall and take in those emerging, should the enemy press hard upon them,

but since the messenger, in his haste and confusion, reported nothing clearly, and moreover a mistake occurred, the young man took the rest of the beasts and the best of the soldiers and made his way in through the gates to help his father, just as Pyrrhus happened to be already turning back. As long as the marketplace afforded room for him to retreat and to fight, he defended himself against his attackers by turning about;

but when he was forced out of the marketplace onto the cramped lane that led toward the gate, he collided with those coming to his aid, advancing from the opposite direction. Some would not obey him when he shouted to them to give way, and even those who were quite eager to do so were blocked by the men pouring in behind them from the gate.

For indeed the largest elephant, fallen sideways in the gate and bellowing, lay as an obstacle to those trying to turn back; and another of those who had already gotten inside, whose name was Nicon, searching to recover his mahout who had slipped off from his wounds, and being carried against those trying to withdraw, mingled friends and enemies together, thrusting them along before him;

and they fell upon one another, until, finding his master dead, he lifted him up with his trunk, and taking him up with both tusks turned back again as though maddened, overturning and destroying all he met. So crushed and packed together against one another were they that no one man could do anything for himself, but the whole mass, like a single body bolted together, was carried in many swayings and shiftings back and forth,

and there was little actual fighting against the enemy who were from time to time caught among them or pressing from behind, but they did the greatest harm to themselves. For once a man had drawn his sword or lowered his spear he could not take it back or put it down again, but it went wherever it happened to go among all that mass, and men, falling upon one another, died.

Pyrrhus, watching the storm and surge closing around him, removed the crest that marked out his helmet and handed it to one of his companions, then, putting his trust in his horse, drove into the enemies pressing upon him; and although a spear pierced his breastplate — a wound neither fatal nor severe — he wheeled about against the one who had dealt it, an Argive, not one of the notable men, but the son of a poor and

elderly woman. She at that moment was watching the battle, like the rest of the women, from a rooftop, and when she recognized that her son was locked in combat with Pyrrhus, overcome with terror for the danger, she lifted a roof-tile with both hands and hurled it down upon Pyrrhus. It struck his head just beneath the helmet, crushing the bones joining neck to skull; his sight grew dim and the reins slipped from his hands, and he was carried down and fell near the shrine of Licymnius, unrecognized by the crowd.

But a certain Zopyrus, a soldier in the ranks of Antigonus, along with two or three companions, hurried over, recognized him, and hauled him into a doorway right as he was starting to stir back to consciousness after the blow. When Zopyrus drew an Illyrian dagger meaning to cut off his head, he gave him such a terrible look that Zopyrus, thrown into a panic, with his hands trembling yet attempting the task, full of confusion and disorder, cut not straight through but through the mouth and chin, slowly

and with difficulty tore off the head. By now the event had become known to more people, and Alcyoneus, running up, asked for the head, as if to examine it; and taking it, he rode off to his father, and cast it before him as he sat with his friends. But Antigonus, on seeing and recognizing it, drove his son away, striking him with his staff and calling him accursed and barbarous; and he himself held his cloak before his eyes and wept, remembering his grandfather Antigonus and his father Demetrius, examples close to home of the reversal of fortune.

He then had the head and body of Pyrrhus arrayed with honor and cremated. And when Alcyoneus came upon Helenus, humbled and wearing a plain little cloak, he met him kindly and brought him to his father. Antigonus, seeing him, said, "This, my son, is better than what came before; but even now it is not right, in that you have not removed this garment, which shames us more, who are thought to be the victors,"

and thereupon, treating Helenus kindly and arraying him properly, he sent him off to Epirus, and dealt gently with the friends of Pyrrhus, having become master of his camp and of his entire force.

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