As soon as the sad news reached the cities of Thessaly, the chief men, youths, children and priests came forth in procession to receive his body, and carried trophies and wreaths and golden armour in its honour. When the body was about to be brought home, the chiefs of the Thessalians begged the Thebans to allow them to bury him, and one of them spoke as follows: "Allies, we beg of you a favour which will prove to be an honour and a comfort to us in this our great misfortune. We Thessalians shall never again escort Pelopidas, nor render him the honours which he deserved; but if we may have his body to touch, and ourselves adorn it and bury it, we shall then be able to show you that we Thessalians truly feel this misfortune more than even you Thebans. For you have only lost a good general, while we have lost that, and our liberty too, since how can we ever have the heart to ask you for another general, after not giving you your Pelopidas back."
This proposal the Thebans agreed to.
XXXIV. No funeral was more splendid than this, not indeed in the estimation of those who think that splendour lies in ivory and gold and purple, as Philistius celebrates and praises the funeral of Dionysius, where his tyranny concluded like the pompous finale of some great tragedy. Alexander the Great, when Hephæstion died, not only cut off the manes of the horses and mules, but actually took down the battlements from the walls, that cities might seem in mourning, presenting a shorn and woeful look in contrast to their former appearance.
But these were the commands of tyrants; they were done under compulsion, and caused a feeling of dislike to the person honoured, and of absolute hatred against those who enforced them, but showed no gratitude or desire to honour the dead. They were mere displays of barbaric pride and boastful extravagance, which wastes its superfluity on vain and useless objects; whereas, here was a private citizen who died in a foreign land, without his wife, his children or his friends, and, without any one asking for it or compelling them to it, he was escorted to his grave, buried and crowned with garlands by so many provinces and cities, vying with one another in showing him honour, that he seems to have enjoyed the most blessed fate possible. For as Æsop says, the death of the fortunate is not grievous, but blessed, since it secures their felicity, and puts it out of Fortune's power. That Spartan spoke well, who, when Diagoras, the Olympic victor, was looking at his sons being in their turn crowned as victors at Olympia, with his grandchildren about him, embraced him and said, "Die, Diagoras; for you cannot rise to Olympus and be a god there." Yet I do not suppose that any one would compare all the Olympian and Pythian prizes together with one of Pelopidas's achievements, of which he performed many, and lived the most part of his life esteemed and looked up to, and at last, in his thirteenth Bœotarchy, when fighting gloriously against a tyrant, he died in defence of the liberties of Thessaly.
XXXV. His death caused great sorrow to his allies, but likewise benefited them; for the Thebans as soon as they heard of the death of Pelopidas did not delay for a moment to avenge his fall, but hastily marched with an army of seven thousand hoplites and seven hundred cavalry, under Malkitus and Diogeiton, against Alexander. Finding that he was weakened and shorn of much of his power, they compelled him to restore to the Thessalians their cities, which he held, to liberate the Achæans in Magnesia and Phthiotis, to withdraw his garrisons from those countries, and to swear to the Thebans, that he would attack, and assist them to attack, any enemy they might choose.
The Thebans were satisfied with these terms; but I will now recount how, shortly afterwards, Heaven exacted retribution from him for the death of Pelopidas. Thêbê his wife, as we have said before, had been taught by Pelopidas not to fear the outward pomp and body-guard of the tyrant, since she was within all his defences. She, dreading his suspicious nature, and hating his cruelty, made a plot with her three brothers, Tisiphonus, Pytholaus, and Lykophron, which she carried out in the following manner. The night patrol of the guard watched in the house, but their bedchamber was upstairs, and before the door there was a dog chained as a guard, very savage with every one except themselves and one of their servants who fed it. Now when Thêbê determined to make the attempt, she got her brothers concealed near at hand during the day in one of the rooms, and when she came, as usual, alone to Alexander's chamber, she found him asleep. In a little time she came out again, and ordered the servant to take away the dog, as the despot wished to sleep undisturbed. Fearing that the stairs would make a noise when the young men mounted, she covered them with wool, and then brought up her brothers, with their swords drawn. Leaving them outside she herself went in, and taking down the sword that hung over his head, showed it to them as a proof that he was in their power and asleep. The young men now were terrified, and hesitated to act; but she reproached them bitterly, and swore that she would herself awaken Alexander and tell him the whole plot. Between shame and terror she got them in and placed them round the bed, herself holding the light. One of them seized his feet, another held his head back by the hair, and the third despatched him with a stab of his sword, a death, perhaps, easier than he deserved. He was the first, or perhaps the only despot ever assassinated by his own wife. His body after death was dragged about and trodden under foot by the people of Pheræ, a recompense which his villanies deserved.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Kallikratidas, the Lacedæmonian admiral, was defeated and slain by the Athenians at the battle of Arginusæ, B.C. 406.
[2] No one seems able to identify this battle. See Grote's History, Part II., ch. lxxvii., note, s.v. Epameinondas.
[3] See Life of Titus Flamininus, p. 175, note.