In the rhetorical text he dedicated to Alexander’s glory (De Fortuna Alexandri), Plutarch tried to account for Alexander’s decision to adopt the Persian kings’ official dress. His explanation is imaginative and rich in picturesque detail:
When men hunt wild animals, they put on the skins of deer, and when they go to catch birds, they dress in tunics adorned with plumes and feathers; they are careful not to be seen by bulls when they have on red garments, nor by elephants when dressed in white; for these animals are provoked and made savage by the sight of those particular colours. But if a great king, in taming and mollifying headstrong and warring nations, just as in dealing with animals, succeeded in soothing and stilling them by wearing a garb familiar to them and following their wonted manner of life, thereby conciliating their rough natures and smoothing their sullen brows, can men impeach him? Must they not rather wonder at his wisdom, since by but a slight alteration of his apparel he made himself the popular leader of all Asia (ten Asian edemagogese), conquering their bodies by his arms but winning over their souls by his apparel? (De Fortuna Alexandri I, para. 8)
We may read in this passage Plutarch’s response to contemporary writers who heaped blame on Alexander for identifying with the conquered and introducing Achaemenid court etiquette into his own entourage.
The eulogizing language of Plutarch’s two discourses On the Fortune of Alexander is certainly not the best introduction to the history of Alexander’s relations with the peoples of his empire—this despite the fact that it has inspired historians with its idealized portrait of Alexander since at least the eighteenth century (e.g., Montesquieu), and particularly in the nineteenth (Droysen) and twentieth (Tarn) centuries. Nevertheless, the passage is interesting because, aside from giving us the author’s telling comparison of the civilizing process with the taming of wild animals, the text also illustrates nicely one of Alexander’s tactics, namely that of gaining the support of the elite of the empire he was in the process of conquering. By “imperial elites” we should understand the great Persian and Iranian families, who formed the backbone of Darius’s empire, as well as the leaders of subject communities.1 This policy, which he deployed deliberately and consistently, is one of the most crucial aspects of his strategy. His inspiration was the policy that had been developed and used by the Great Kings themselves, ever since the conquests of Cyrus.2
As we have already seen, military resistance to the Macedonian conquest was prolonged, recurrent, and tough, but it varied in its intensity and nature from place to place. Darius and those around him were defending the principle of Achaemenid sovereignty, the tradition of the Persian people, and the privileged place they held in the empire. But the resistance of the Iranian nobility was limited by the fact that their prime concern was to preserve their economic status and prestige.3 We can see an example of this in the summer of 334. When Alexander reached the boundaries of Sardis, a group consisting of local community leaders and Mithrenes, the Persian commander of the citadel, approached him. The former surrendered the city to Alexander, the latter the citadel with its treasury. We do not know why Mithrenes decided on this move at a point when Achaemenid fortunes were far from decided, but we may assume that the surrender was the outcome of negotiations with the conqueror. In return, Arrian tells us, Mithrenes obtained the following privileges from Alexander: “Mithrenes remained with him with all the honours due to his rank.”4
Here for the first time, Alexander deployed what would become his standard policy: to rally the imperial elites to his side by offering them the chance to maintain the status they had enjoyed under the Persian king. He was well aware that in order to govern the Persian empire in any lasting way, he would need the support of the king’s men, who alone could make it possible for him to mould himself to the traditions of Middle Eastern power. The case of Mithrenes shows that Alexander had already devised his Iranian policy before landing. Arrian adds that Alexander “allowed the Sardians and the other Lydians to retain their old Lydian laws and left them their freedom.” In fact, Alexander did not change the existing situation in any way: Achaemenid Sardis was a fully organized community, under the control of locally elected magistrates.
Ancient writers stress that Alexander’s task in Egypt and Babylonia was greatly eased by the fact that a large segment of the population perceived the Persians as oppressors.5 But the image of “Alexander the Liberator” must be taken with a grain of salt. Although Egypt had indeed revolted several times and had even succeeded in gaining its independence between 400 and 343, it had certainly been in the interest of the elites to collaborate with the ruling powers.6 The same factors explain their eager surrender to Alexander. Just as Cambyses and Darius I had done earlier, Alexander took pains to sacrifice to the traditional Egyptian deities, such as Apis in Memphis. He also journeyed to consult the Amun oracle at the Siwa oasis and gave orders to carry out work on the most prestigious Egyptian sanctuaries at Karnak and Luxor, where he was represented as a pharaoh (whether or not he was formally enthroned).7 This, one would imagine, brought him the support of the most influential social groups: the priests and administrators of the temples. However, at the same time, “all activity dated by a ruler in this period need not necessarily have been done on royal initiative.”8
A stela from the Bucheum at Armant in the Thebaid reflects Egyptian continuities, as it mentions both Darius and Alexander. It is dated to Alexander Year 4, and mentions the burial of the sacred Bouchis bull born (probably) in the reign of “the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Darius, may he live forever.”9 Of the three individuals mentioned—Darius, Alexander, and Bouchis—the only one to play an active role and have a real existence in this setting (albeit in death) is Bouchis. The two foreign pharaohs are simply named as chronological reference points. The document does not show that Alexander himself had given any kind of order relating to this ritual.10
The case of Babylonia provides some analogies. After Gaugamela (October 1, 331), Alexander was received with great pomp both by the Iranian officials (Mazday/Mazaeus and Bagophanes) and by the Babylonian authorities. A huge crowd, led by civil and religious authorities, came to hand over the city, the citadel, and the treasury, and Alexander, mounted in a chariot, made a triumphal entry into the city (Fig. 6). Here, too, continuities with earlier times are well marked. The victorious Cyrus was received with the same ceremonies in 539 and was portrayed as a liberator in contemporary Babylonian texts by writers who now served the new ruler (e.g., on the Cyrus Cylinder).11 Yet Arrian (III.16.4) stresses that Alexander departed from the policy of his Achaemenid predecessors:
Fig. 6. The Persian Mazday (Mazaios) advances to receive Alexander at the gates of Babylon. Mazday (at left) is preceded by Peace (the winged goddess) and by his five sons. Engraving from Bas-reliefs de Albert Thorwaldson I: Entrée d’Alexandre à Babylone en 18 planches, gravées d’après les dessins de Fr. Overbeck à Rome, d’après les dessins de P. Bettelini et D. Marchetti, et publiés par Ch. Jugel à Francfort/Main 1838, Pl. 17.
On entering Babylon, Alexander directed the Babylonians to rebuild the temples Xerxes had destroyed, and especially the temple of Bel, whom the Babylonians honour more than any other god.
That there had been revolts against Xerxes is beyond doubt, and these had certainly had consequences in Babylonia. However, the destruction of temples attributed here to the Great King and his “intolerance” rest on a very fragile basis—a tradition largely constructed to emphasize, by contrast, Alexander’s good qualities and popularity. What is undoubtedly true is that Alexander, like his Persian predecessors, took care to obtain the blessings of the local gods. The support of city and temple governors made it possible for him to impose his rule using the traditions of Babylonian kingship, by adopting its titles (“King of Lands”) as the Persian kings had done.
This cooperation between conqueror and conquered was not based on an enthusiastic and spontaneous reception offered by the latter to the former, but on an agreement drawn up after the Battle of Gaugamela. This is shown quite unambiguously by a now-famous astronomical text that clearly alludes to the period following Darius’s defeat at Gaugamela and Alexander’s entry into Babylon.12 Neither the classical nor the Babylonian texts give us any direct information on what Babylonians of diverse social standing might have felt. However, it is probably fair to say that the classical writers have a tendency to exaggerate their enthusiasm for the events of 331 and to express more hostility for those of 324/3,13 while, to use R. Van der Spek’s expression, “the opinion of the Babylonian population remains a mystery for us.” Nevertheless, it is clear that the community of interest between Persian rulers and the leading segments of Babylonian society was so strong that it was unlikely to vanish from one day to the next. In short, whether we are talking about Egypt or Babylonia, Alexander did everything he could to adopt the ideologies of Eastern conquerors, who presented themselves regularly as benefactors of the sanctuaries in the countries over which they had just established their power, in contrast to the rulers who preceded them.
Alexander’s ideological strategy of winning over local aristocracies was developed and applied from 334 on. When this pragmatic policy is set alongside his decision to destroy Persepolis in May 330, the historian is faced with an obvious paradox.14 Several explanations have been advanced, but the problem lies in determining which is the decisive one. The decision is difficult. The literary tradition (with the exception of Arrian, who is very succinct) is very voluble in describing the scene, but virtually silent on the sentiments of the inhabitants of Persis, while the archaeological publications are very incomplete and it is, in any case, not possible for them to provide the definitive conclusions that we seek.15
In order to avoid any misinterpretations and errors, we need to distinguish three phases, different in kind and importance:
(i) first, soon after the surrender of the city and the citadel (end of December 331–January 330), the soldiers looted the private houses16 and Alexander seized the treasury (phase A);17
(ii) next, four months later (May 330), Alexander ordered certain official buildings on the terrace to be burned18 (phase C);
(iii) during an intervening phase B there occurred events and episodes reported or referred to in passing by Diodorus and Quintus Curtius that may help us to understand why and how, in the space of four months, Alexander reached the decision that initiated phase C.
Phase A does not pose any particular problems; looting (the soldiers’ booty) and the seizure of treasures (the king’s share) are common acts of war. Diodorus’s and Quintus Curtius’s lengthy literary descriptions were intended to excite feelings of pity among their Greek and Roman readers,19 but they do not allow us to conclude that the brutality of the pillage was exceptional.20 The deliberate burning of the palace (phase C), however, raises obvious problems. Why did Alexander take this decision to demonstrate that Darius’s power was in all respects null and void, when his prime objective was to bring the Persian and Iranian nobility over to his side? At first, his campaign of persuasion looks as though it was fairly successful: the commanders of Persepolis (Tiridates) and Pasargadae (Gobares) opened their gates to him, and they were duly rewarded by their new master.
It is difficult to believe one of the old traditions (although it is often repeated); namely, that the burning of the palaces was decided on under the influence of drink, in the context of the war of reprisal (symbolically represented by the Athenian courtesan Thais). A different and more credible tradition suggests, by contrast, that the decision was the result of long deliberation. Alexander’s later regrets show that it was a difficult one and that he was clearly aware of the political implications and the dubious logic of the act. The destruction of Persepolis (as Arrian expresses it in the person of Parmenion)21 amounted “to destroying what was now his own property.” Above all it risked alienating the leading Persians whom Alexander was anxious to recruit, as well as seriously weakening his position and his ideological status at a moment when the real Achaemenid, Darius III, had certainly not abandoned hope of reversing the military situation but was in fact gathering new forces in Median Ecbatana.
Did Alexander wish to please the Greeks and send them a “signal”? This suggestion is based in large part on a synchronism established (or rather proposed by scholars) between Alexander’s decision in Persis and the news of Agis’s revolt and his defeat by Antipater’s troops. Neither of these suggestions is very convincing.22 For one thing, phase A (the looting and appropriation of the treasures on the terrace) was in itself a very clear act of revenge. For another, the “war of reprisal” was not the king’s chief preoccupation in the spring of 330. A variant theory has been proposed, namely that the king wished to send a message to the peoples of the Middle East, inasmuch as burning the palaces at Persepolis removed a symbol of Achaemenid imperial domination. But which populations do we mean? Neither Egypt nor Babylonia nor any of the other great states of this region posed, at that point, any major threat in terms of maintaining control. All things considered, the need to send out a positive message to Greece and/or the inhabitants of the Middle East could not have been so pressing as to justify the risk of alienating the Iranian nobility.
It is more likely that the full historical significance of the events in the spring of 330 should be understood in a purely Persian context (taking “Persian” in its narrow sense). Let us consider phase B. During the four months between his arrival in Persia and the burning of the palaces (January through May of 330), Alexander had tried both to put down military resistance in the countryside and in the strongholds in Persis, and to woo its inhabitants to his side. And he did not stint in his efforts. Although the edifying stories of his desired link with the memory of Cyrus the Great may date from his second visit to Pasargadae on his return from India, it is still likely that from 330 onwards Alexander showed his respect for the tomb of Pasargadae’s founder, where the traditional sacrifices were continued under the new regime.23 If the decision to burn the palaces was taken soon after Alexander’s return from Pasargadae, it simply shows that his piety toward Cyrus’s tomb had not diminished Persian hostility, as Diodorus and Quintus Curtius make plain.24 Under these circumstances Alexander decided to have recourse to the force of arms to impress the Persian population, which continued to be recalcitrant. The burning of the palaces was a signal to the Persians that their days of imperial glory were over, unless they came over to the side of the conqueror. The price Alexander paid for this demonstration was heavy, but he had no choice.
Alexander continued his campaign against Darius, but he did not abandon his project of recruiting the Iranian nobility—quite the contrary. Studying the relations between conquerors and conquered is a complex business: social, regional, and chronological subtleties need to be taken into account. Not all the standard-bearers of the Achaemenid order put up a sustained ideological resistance to Alexander. The aristocratic Persian caste, anxious to preserve its economic and social power, joined him fairly swiftly. The situation was the same in Eastern Iran (Bactria and Sogdiana).
Figure 7: The tomb of Cyrus the Great at Pasargadae, sixth century BC. Photo: copyright Pierre Briant.
The burning of Persepolis thus did not mark a brutal and decisive turning point in Alexander’s ideological strategy. The murder of Darius III by Bessos and his accomplices in July 330 was a gift to Macedonian propaganda, and henceforth Alexander cast himself in the role of Darius’s rightful avenger.25 He certainly never recognized Bessos’s proclamation of himself as king with the name Artaxerxes, and the campaign he conducted against Bessos was, according to Macedonian propaganda, a veritable war of vengeance. In this way, he hoped to gather around himself the Iranian aristocracy, who had always constituted the backbone of the Great King’s empire. It was a risky policy: several Iranians had ulterior motives; some took up arms to Alexander’s rear in support of Bessos, thus obliging the Macedonian king to halt his direct offensive against Bactria.
We have already seen that Alexander had in mind this policy of inclusion as early as his entry into Sardis in the summer of 334. Yet the Persian Mithrenes had not been given a high-level post in the imperial administration; such posts were reserved for Greeks and Macedonians. Alexander’s entry into Babylon (October 331) clearly marked an important turning point. For the first time, Alexander installed a Persian satrap (Mazday/Mazaeus) in a newly conquered satrapy (Babylonia).26 Afterward, other members of the old governing class were appointed—and in large numbers—in Susa, in Persepolis, and in the provinces of the Iranian Plateau. Of the twelve satrapies conquered and reorganized between 331 and 327, only one, Arachosia, was given to a Macedonian (Menon); all the others were, at least initially, bestowed on Iranians.27
In doing this, Alexander demonstrated his awareness of the realities he faced. He granted a pardon to every Persian administrator who submitted to him, even the former chiliarch Nabarzanes, who had plotted with Bessos. The result was that several Persian satraps remained in their posts, at least for the time being, including Abulites and Oxathres in Susiana, Aspates in Carmania, Autophradates among the Tapurians and Mardians, and Satibarzanes in Areia-Drangiana. Others were swiftly recalled to their old positions, such as Atropates to Media in 328/7 and Phrataphernes to Parthia-Hyrcania after 330. It would appear that one of Alexander’s major concerns was to ensure administrative continuity.
It should be stressed, at the same time, that the king took every precaution to ensure that the Iranian governors remained loyal. First, several had been in his entourage for some years. This is true of Mithrenes, who was appointed governor of Armenia in 331 (but was never able to take control) and had been with Alexander since handing over the citadel at Sardis in summer 334. Others had been in exile for a while at the Macedonian court, among them Amminapes and Artabazus (who was installed in Bactria).28 There is further the case of Oxyartes, Alexander’s father-in-law, whose daughter Roxane served, to some degree, as a guarantee of her father’s loyalty. Clearly, Alexander did not entrust his satrapies to strangers. Furthermore, these satraps did not have military powers, apart from Menon in Arachosia who was a Macedonian. This was already the arrangement established in Egypt, where all military positions were in the hands of Macedonians.29 A Macedonian general in command of the occupation forces resided in each province. Another point to note is that in the course of the conquest the number of Iranian satraps declined steadily. In Areia, the rebellious satraps Satibarzanes and Arsakes were replaced by the Greek Stasanor, and in 328 he also received the Tapurian-Mardian province, whose governor Autophradates had tried to secede. In Bactria, the aged Artabazus had to cede his position to the Macedonian Amyntas in 328/7. In fact, by the time Alexander set off for India, the most strategically important satrapies were in the hands, either directly (Bactria, Sogdiana, and Arachosia) or indirectly (Media and Parapamisadae), of Macedonians or of Iranians whose loyalty was in no way suspect (Mazday/Mazaeus, for example, who kept the satrapy of Babylonia down to his death in 328).
The same pragmatism and prudence guided Alexander’s decision to enroll Iranian military contingents.30 The guerilla tactics Alexander encountered in eastern Iran showed plainly that he would have to adopt the equipment and methods of his opponents. Accordingly, he recruited a corps of infantry and mounted archers (hippotoxotai), who amply proved their worth during the Indian campaign. General manpower was also in short supply. Despite the continuous influx of Macedonian reinforcements and Greek mercenaries, Alexander found that he needed ever larger numbers of infantry and cavalry soldiers. Thus he recruited contingents of horse in Sogdiana and Bactria, regions justly famous for their cavalry. We should note, however, that this corps served in an auxiliary role and was not integrated into the Macedonian army until the return from India. The Macedonian cavalry never lost its unique status as a part of the victorious army.
Alexander’s decision to recruit 30,000 young Iranians in the eastern satrapies was also taken just before his departure for India (probably in Bactria). They were obliged to learn Greek and to train in the Macedonian manner. According to Quintus Curtius (VIII.5.1), these young men should be regarded as hostages held by Alexander. In the short term this is a valid analysis, at least in part. The king wanted to be sure that the satrapies, which had been so hard to conquer, remained quiet during his absence. But in the mid- to long-term, Alexander undoubtedly had a larger and more positive vision, namely, to create, almost certainly on the basis of an Achaemenid institution, a new army corps, which would in time be incorporated into the phalanx.31
In the years to come Alexander’s policy with regard to those he had conquered would evolve even further. His most spectacular gesture was his marriage to Roxane, daughter of the Iranian noble Oxyartes, who had been leading the resistance of “the Sogdian Rock” (spring 327).32 What motivated Alexander? While the possibility of “love at first sight” cannot be discounted, the ancient authors make it plain that the marriage was politically motivated. Marrying Roxane was a decisive step in securing the direct collaboration of the Persian and Iranian nobility. His father-in-law Oxyartes was appointed satrap of the Parapamisadae. The union with the Sogdian family immediately brought the Iranian nobility onto his side inasmuch as it could be seen (and rightly so) as proof of Alexander’s lasting involvement with the local aristocracies. Moreover, several of his Companions followed in Alexander’s footsteps, taking local brides.
At the same time, this policy exacerbated opposition from part of the Macedonian nobility, who suspected that Alexander was planning to identify himself with the Iranian nobility. The evidence, however, suggests otherwise. Contrary to what is often said, the marriage rite picked for the ceremony was not Iranian, but Macedonian.33 This is revealing: it was not for the Macedonians to give up their identity, but for the Iranians to adopt Macedonian custom. The recruitment of the 30,000 Iranian soldiers (training in the Macedonian manner and learning Greek) was a step in the same direction.34
In this same period the policy of colonization and urbanization, which was to have such important consequences, was inaugurated and actively pursued.35 The new foundations were virtually always settled with a mix of peoples: Macedonian veterans, Greek mercenaries, and locals. According to Arrian, all were volunteers. But it is doubtful whether the local people were taken from their traditional villages, as had been done in the case of Alexandria in Egypt and Alexandria on the Tigris or Gaza (Phoenicia). In the case of Alexandria on the Jaxartes, they were prisoners-of-war redeemed (!) by Alexander, and they were certainly not in a position to choose.36 The same is true of Macedonians in several instances. Thus, in 330, soldiers of the “insubordinate battalion” were deported to far-distant garrisons, and it goes without saying that Alexander did not ask for their opinion.37 The reactions of the Greek mercenaries show plainly, right from the start, that their settlement was not voluntary: they rebelled several times while Alexander was in India.38 In spite of the measures he took on his return, trouble continued. After Alexander’s death in 323, things were so bad that an army had to be sent against them, resulting in the extermination of several thousand Greeks who had taken up arms. There was also a revolt by Greek mercenaries in India, after Alexander had left, in which the Macedonian satrap of Taxila lost his life.
Alexander’s method of colonization was only very remotely comparable to Isocrates’ ideas. When Isocrates suggested that colonies be founded for poor Greeks, he was thinking of Asia Minor, not of the eastern satrapies. The Greek colonists who rebelled were homesick, like the Macedonian soldiers on the Hyphasis or at Opis. “They longed for the Greek customs and manner of life (hellenike agoge kai diaita), and were relegated to the far bounds of the empire.”39 Further, colonization in the Greek sense presupposed the distribution of land parcels and the establishment of Greek institutions for internal government (deliberative assemblies, elected magistrates, etc.). But, as we have already observed, most of Alexander’s foundations were not strictly speaking cities. Furthermore the ancient texts show that the Greeks were vigorously opposed to any policy of fusion. Although Alexander’s aim was primarily motivated by military considerations, it is nevertheless the case that these foundations led to unions between European colonists and local women, as the Greeks and Macedonians could not normally bring their wives with them.40 The status of the children born from these unions was a problem. When the veterans returned to Macedon (323), they left several thousand children behind, whom the king promised to bring up and arm “in the Macedonian manner.”41 These examples show the limits of fusion, which it would be more appropriate to dub “assimilation,” and which tended to preserve the preferential status of the victors. We must recognize also that Alexander encountered strong resistance from Greeks and Macedonians in trying to implement his policy.
It was in the same period that the so-called three “catastrophes” occurred (330–327), which clearly revealed the opposition of an important section of the Macedonian nobility to the changes they saw taking place in their king. First, the trial and execution of Philotas (autumn 330), then the murder of Kleitos (winter 328/7), and finally the proskynesis affair and the arrest of Callisthenes (327).42 In order to grasp fully the meaning of these tragic events, we need to recall some of Alexander’s actions which had, for several years, seriously disturbed the Macedonians.
The first sign of a change in Alexander can be dated to the sojourn in Egypt, when he decided to consult the priests of the famous sanctuary of Amun in the Siwa oasis. According to ancient writers, the difficult journey was marked by miraculous and divine phenomena. The king was received by the priests and taken on his own into the “holy of holies” by the high priest. There are therefore no eyewitnesses to this “interview” between king and god, and all we have are controversial and contradictory accounts that are difficult to disentangle. The one theme common to all is that Alexander declared himself to be the son of Amun. His action and the interpretation of the interview that he himself gave seemingly served several ends. It was, first of all, a gesture towards the cities of Greece, where Sparta was fueling the flames of hatred against Macedon. In Greece Amun was assimilated to Zeus, and his sanctuary at Siwa was particularly famous. The visit was also one of several moves aimed at pleasing the Egyptians. Conversely, nothing proves that Alexander wished, at that date, to be recognized as a god by the Greeks, let alone by the Macedonians, who nonetheless disapproved of this development, their feelings a mixture of irony and ill humor.43
All the ancient writers note that from 330 onwards there was an observable change in Alexander’s personality, as the king increasingly adopted Persian customs. Obviously the behavior these writers considered proof of “the enervating effects of oriental behavior” is also explicable by the fact that the king needed to win the respect of the Iranian aristocracy. Classical authors were particularly struck by his adoption of Persian ceremonial dress. Even though Alexander only wore it on special occasions, the Macedonians disapproved.44
The trial of Philotas,45 the first incident referred to above, came to a head under the following circumstances. Philotas was a leading figure: a son of Parmenion and commander of the cavalry since the start of the expedition. In 330 he was accused in the capital of Drangiana of having fomented a plot to kill the king. The king initiated the affair, with his counsellor Craterus, a personal enemy of Philotas, playing a major role. Alexander then called an assembly of the army and during a dramatic session, Philotas presented a brilliant defense. At the end, the king had him tortured “to force a confession”; the following day, a second assembly condemned Philotas to death (or confirmed the sentence) and proceeded to stone him on the spot.
The whole business remains extremely obscure. But if one reads the ancient accounts dispassionately, the conviction grows very quickly that Philotas was not guilty of the plot of which he stood accused. What is likely is that he, like many other nobles, was opposed to Alexander’s adoption of Achaemenid customs. This seems to have constituted a pretext for the king, rather than a genuine reason for his rage against Philotas. This real motivation was probably to eliminate a family that had never been wholehearted in its support for him. This explains why in his speech he related the case of Philotas to that of the pretenders who had emerged at Philip’s death.
The timing by which Alexander chose to remove his opponents or bring them to heel is very significant. Up to this point he had tolerated Parmenion’s meddling. From 330 on, he no longer felt the same solidarity with “the old Macedonians.” He wanted to continue his campaign with those nobles only whose acceptance of his authority was unquestioning, men such as Hephaestion, Craterus, and Perdiccas. Parmenion was executed by a commando sent expressly for this purpose to Media. It was a brutal act, and it showed all too clearly that Alexander would henceforth brook no opposition.46 Further, calling together the assembly allowed him to unify the army around his person at a point when Macedonian support was becoming ever less reliable.
During a victory banquet held in Maracanda in Sogdiana in the winter of 328/7, a violent quarrel broke out between Alexander and his long-time companion Kleitos, “the Black.” Kleitos, as a brother of the royal nurse, was a close friend of the king and always near him in battle. After Philotas’s death, he, together with Hephaestion, had assumed command of the cavalry.47 Alexander’s fury was such that he pierced Kleitos with one blow of his spear.48 It is said that the guests at the banquet were drunk, and that Alexander, horrified by Kleitos’s death, was overcome with extreme remorse. But this should not let us lose sight of the central fact of the continued opposition of the Macedonian nobility to a king whose behavior departed increasingly from theirs.
The accusations that Kleitos leveled at Alexander in the course of the banquet show that Philotas’s execution and the assassination of Parmenion had driven underground rather than destroyed the opposition of the Macedonian nobles (or of some at least) to the transformation of royal power into autocracy. Kleitos had cited Euripides in order to accuse Alexander of claiming all glory for the Macedonian victories for himself, and of too readily forgetting the parts played by his father Philip and his own generals; the victories had been achieved by all the Macedonians, Kleitos insisted, glory should not redound solely to their leader. Here Kleitos articulated in public what Philotas, according to the classical writers, had expressed in private. Kleitos was also defending the traditional image of Macedonian kingship, which was not personal but contractual and regulated by custom. Alexander was obliged to respect certain usages: he could not govern by simply issuing orders, but had to use persuasion; and in their relations with the king, the Macedonians had an equal right to speak (isegoria). Kleitos was clearly accusing Alexander of taking on ever more the trappings of an absolute oriental monarch and turning his back on Macedonian traditions.49
Last there was the proskynesis affair, which came to a head in the town of Bactra in 327, some time after Alexander’s marriage to Roxane. The challenger on this occasion was Callisthenes, Aristotle’s nephew, who had shown himself up to this moment to be one of the king’s most attentive courtiers.50 On this occasion, Alexander “ordered that the Macedonians, like the Persians, should greet him prostrated on the ground and offering adoration.” According to Quintus Curtius, the king was encouraged to do this by his Greek courtiers. But in fact, as Arrian observes, Alexander had no need of anyone’s encouragement to issue this order which, as we shall see, did not have the significance that ancient authors have assigned it.51 Among the Persians, kneeling or inclining the upper part of the body (proskynesis) accompanied by a hand gesture was the regular way of acknowledging a superior; it was not an act of worship. The Persepolis reliefs illustrate this mode of paying homage to the Great King very clearly (Fig. 8). The Greeks were well aware of the meaning of this gesture, which is also depicted on seal impressions at Daskyleion, and on the shield of a soldier on the sarcophagus known as the Alexander Sarcophagus.52
Fig. 8. A royal audience. Relief panel from the Persepolis Treasury, early fifth c. BC, Tehran Museum. Original drawing by Ann Britt Tilia, Studies and Restorations at Persepolis, Rome 1972, 190–91. Copyright © Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente (IsIAO).
The Persians were in no sense honoring the king as a divinity. He was never considered to be one; he was only the earthly lieutenant of Auramazda. So for the Persians in Alexander’s entourage, this order was nothing remarkable; it was natural for them to offer Alexander the same homage as they had been accustomed to offer to the Great King. But the Greeks and Macedonians (and thus the authors who tell us about the affair) saw things quite differently, as Callisthenes explained. They regarded the gesture as a visible mark of “oriental servility.” The Greeks of Asia Minor had been obliged to humiliate themselves by performing the act of proskynesis before high Persian officers, and the same obligation when greeting the Great King had created problems of protocol for embassies. With the approval of the Macedonian leaders, Callisthenes refused to perform this form of homage which, he said, should be reserved for the gods. He stressed, just as Kleitos had, that in making this demand Alexander was violating the “unwritten law” (nomos) of the Macedonians, according to which the kings should govern “not by force, but in conformity with nomos.”53 The king did not forgive Callisthenes. He took advantage of the discovery of an obscure and dangerous affair, the “conspiracy of the pages,” to incriminate him. Callisthenes was arrested, held for several years in chains and possibly crucified in India on Alexander’s orders. (The tragic fate of Callisthenes gave rise to numerous didactic stories.)
Nowhere is there any suggestion that Alexander was trying to establish his power on a theocratic base. Alexander’s goal in 327 was to incorporate as many Iranians as possible into the court and the administration. Many Bactrian and Sogdian nobles had already rallied to his side. But what Alexander wanted was that all his companions, Macedonian and Iranian, should occupy the same position in relation to himself. This explains the organization of the ceremony of offering formal homage to the king in Bactra. The Macedonians’ refusal, whether expressed openly or concealed, was not merely a theoretical issue. It showed that they continued to regard the Iranians as beneath them, the vanquished foe, and they were intent on treating them as such. Alexander was sensible enough not to insist on the ceremony, and proskynesis was evidently not demanded again from the Macedonians.
The episode bears witness to Alexander’s pragmatism. Although by nature authoritarian, the king could admit (to himself if not in public) an error of judgment. Furthermore, from the moment he reached India, it was certainly not in his interest to create the conditions in which a breach with the Macedonian nobility would become inevitable. The affair also shows the extraordinary problems arising from the policy that Alexander was putting to the test: coming from two different cultures, the Iranians and Macedonians responded in contrasting ways to his plans. He may have hoped that the military expedition to India undertaken in common would allow the Iranian and Macedonian nobility to get to know and appreciate each other better.
On his return from India, Alexander made plain his resolve to promote the policy of collaboration with the local aristocracy. Several measures expressive of this were aimed at the satraps. The generals in charge of Media—Cleander, Sitalces, and Heracon—were executed because they had helped themselves to the property of the priestly caste and probably to that of the nobility as well.54 But we should note that the measures taken against the guilty satraps had some paradoxical consequences: by 323 only three Iranian satraps still held that post: Atropates in Media, Phrataphernes in Parthia, and Oxyartes (Alexander’s father-in-law) in the Parapamisadae. It is also the case that, in Alexander’s absence, some Persian and Iranian leaders had tried to foment revolt—or at least were accused of having done so. This suggests that one section of the Iranian nobility was no longer prepared to support its new master.55 But the situation must not be exaggerated: these “rebels” did not carry the population with them, and it would be wrong to think that because of these malcontents Alexander abandoned his Iranian policy.
At the same time, Alexander sought to install in the satrapies that had fallen vacant men he thought committed to, and capable of, applying his policy of Macedonian-Iranian collaboration. The best example of this is Peukestas, who had played an important role during the Indian campaign, once even saving the king’s life (during the siege of the town of the Mallians, 326/5), for which he was rewarded with a gold crown and the title of somatophylax (bodyguard). On his return, Alexander appointed him satrap of the important province of Persis, because Peukestas had adopted the Iranian way of life and so ran no risk of offending the “barbarians.” This is how Arrian describes it:
And of this he gave proof, as soon as he was appointed satrap of Persia, by adopting, alone of the Macedonians, the Median dress and learning the Persian language, and in all other respects assimilating himself to the Persian ways. For this Alexander commended him, and the Persians were gratified that he preferred their ways to those of his own country. (VI.30.2–3)
Alexander saw in this the only way “of keeping the subjugated nation obedient.”56 But it is worthwhile emphasizing, as does Arrian, that Peukestas was an exception and that his behavior aroused the hostility of the other Macedonian commanders; even those who were prepared to govern together with the defeated were not prepared to Persianize themselves.
If we keep in mind Alexander’s twin concerns of recruiting the Iranian nobility and persuading the Macedonians to accept them, it will help us to understand the significance of the grand ceremony held at Susa early in 324. On this occasion, Alexander (without repudiating Roxane) married two Achaemenid princesses, Darius’s daughter Stateira and Parysatis, daughter of Artaxerxes III. Simultaneously, his friend Hephaestion married Drypetis, Stateira’s sister, “because Alexander wanted Hephaestion’s children to be his own nephews and nieces.” Eventually, the king “persuaded” eighty Companions to marry daughters of the Iranian nobility. The marriages were celebrated with unprecedented pomp—the details were described by the head chamberlain, Chares of Mytilene—and in accordance with Persian ritual. Festivities were held in a giant marquee constructed on the model of the Persian apadana (audience hall), and each wife was provided with a lavish dowry by Alexander.57
This magnificent occasion extended and trumped Alexander’s marriage with the Sogdian princess Roxane in 327, and the weddings at Susa reinforced the king’s policy of governing together with his former enemies. Several women came from the Achaemenid family, such as Stateira and Drypetis (daughters of the dead ruler) and Parysatis (a daughter of Ochus/Artaxerxes III); others were daughters of nobles who had either resisted Alexander, such as Spitamenes, whose daughter Apame was married to Seleucus, or who had joined Alexander’s side, such as Artabazus and Atropates. The marriages constituted a veritable pact for governing and the inclusion of several members of the now-defunct royal family made possible a harmonious transition between Persian and Macedonian rule. But it certainly did not mean that Alexander was expecting to turn himself into the Great King—that was never his idea.58
No ancient text suggests that the Macedonians received this royal initiative with general enthusiasm. In fact Arrian (VII.6.3, 5) says bluntly that a certain number were deeply shocked.
When Alexander was faced at the Hyphasis with the refusal of the Macedonian soldiers to advance further, he realized that he would not be able to achieve his great projects by relying exclusively on the support of his compatriots. And so, in keeping with his goal of uniting Iranians and Macedonians, he determined to create an army that included both elements. The essential measures needed for achieving this were put in place on his return from India.
The first reform took place within the cavalry around the time of the weddings at Susa.59 The Iranian mounted soldiers, who had fought as auxiliaries in India, were inducted into the hetairoi (Companion) cavalry, “that is, those who seemed conspicuous for being handsome or having some other excellence.” Further, a new (fifth) hipparchy was created, made up in large part of Iranians armed with the Macedonian lance rather than the “barbarian” javelin and under the command of the Bactrian noble Hystaspes. Representatives of the flower of the Iranian aristocracy (one of Artabazus’s sons, two sons of Mazday/Mazaeus, a brother of Roxane, and more), the very people who became brothers-in-law to Macedonian nobles at the Susa wedding feast, were among his lieutenants. These two measures—matrimonial and military—combined to bring about the fusion of the two aristocracies.
The creation of a mixed phalanx met with considerable resistance. Thirty thousand young Iranians (epigonoi: successors) levied in 327 on Alexander’s orders arrived in Susa, but they were not formed into a new phalanx until 323, when Peukestas brought a further contingent of twenty thousand Iranians to the king at Babylon.60 The delay was due to the opposition from the rank and file of Alexander’s Macedonian phalanx. The young Iranians formed a totally distinct phalanx for several months, constituted on the model of the Macedonian one but commanded by Persians.
The crisis came to a head in the summer of 324 at Opis on the Tigris, when Alexander announced to the army that the men no longer fit for service (due to wounds or age) would be sent back to Macedon with substantial severance pay. The infantry took this as proof that Alexander no longer wanted their service and would, henceforth, rely exclusively on the Iranian phalanx. Although the Macedonians, as we saw, wished to return home, they wanted to go all together and with their king. Sending the veterans and the wounded home was seen as a clear indication that the king “was going to set up his kingdom in Asia, which would be the centre of his kingdom.”61 Alexander had the leaders of the mutiny executed and tried to bring the rank and file around by listing the many benefits they owed to Philip II and himself. It did not work.62
During the next few days, Alexander made no attempt to reconcile himself with his soldiers. Instead he withdrew to his tent, refused the Macedonians access, and showered the Iranians with favors.63 He even called an assembly of the Iranian soldiers, in which the Macedonians were forbidden to participate, and he put himself at the head of the Iranian army encamped outside the town as though he were preparing to fight the Macedonian army. He also granted the Iranian infantry soldiers the title of pezhetairoi (foot companions), which put them on a level of complete equality with the Macedonians, and enrolled Iranians in the agema, the royal bodyguard. By means of these and other measures, Alexander aimed to make the Macedonians believe that he could henceforth dispense with them, and this psychological blackmail had the expected result. After several days, the Macedonian soldiers presented themselves without arms before the king, and humbly begged him to permit them—like the Persians!—to bestow on him the ceremonial kiss. Alexander accepted their request and to show his forgiveness called them his “relatives.”64
Alexander’s skill is astounding: he succeeded in getting the Macedonians to accept what only a few days earlier they had obstinately refused. Henceforth, the king had license to do whatever he wished. The departure of the veterans was calm, and the king promised to take care of the children they were leaving behind, and to turn them into soldiers trained and armed in the Macedonian manner. At the same time, he ordered Antipater to send him further Macedonian reinforcements. The new phalanx was formed in Babylon in 323: each of the divisions (decades) of the Macedonian phalanx comprised four Macedonians armed in the Macedonian manner, and twelve Persians equipped with bows and javelins; but the command remained in the hands of Macedonians.
In the space of two years (324–323), Alexander succeeded in mobilizing a completely new army in which Macedonians and Iranians served cheek by jowl. In the short term, this made it possible for him to contemplate his immediate plans for further conquests with renewed optimism, as he was well aware that Macedon was exhausted by his continuous manpower levies.65 As for his chances for long-term success, the best guarantees would be seeing the territories gathered into a unified empire and Macedonians and Iranians collaborating in a combined army.
Fig. 9. Central part of a panel of the “Alexander Sarcophagus,” showing Alexander (?) and the Macedonians hunting lions alongside Persian hunters. Late fourth c. BC, Archaeological Museum, Istanbul, Turkey. Photo credit: Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY.
Did Alexander want to extend this Macedonian-Iranian collaboration and promote an ideal of “universal brotherhood”? W. W. Tarn believed so, basing his view on the account of the sacrifice performed by the king at the end of the mutiny at Opis:
Alexander in his gratitude for this, sacrificed to the gods to whom he was wont to sacrifice, and gave a general feast, sitting himself there, and all the Macedonians sitting round him; and then next to them Persians, and next any of the other tribes who had precedence in reputation or any other quality, and he himself and his comrades drank from the same bowl and poured the same libations, while the Greek seers and the magians began the ceremony. And Alexander prayed for all sorts of blessings, and especially for harmony (homonoia) and fellowship (koinonia) in the empire between Macedonians and Persians. They say that those who shared the feast were nine thousand, and that they all poured the same libation and thereat sang the song of victory. (Arrian VII.11.8–9)
On the basis of this text, Tarn concluded that Alexander “pioneered one of the greatest revolutions in world history,” namely “the brotherhood of man and the unity of mankind.” Alexander had wanted to unite all the peoples of the earth in the same spirit of brotherhood; he wanted all peoples to be involved in governing the empire rather than being subjects. Unfortunately, this image of Alexander as a Christlike bringer of peace was more a consequence of Tarn’s personal thinking than of a critical reading of the text. As Badian66 rightly argued, the Opis banquet does not permit such an interpretation. The only people around the king were the Macedonians, who alone shared the king’s wine. The chief protagonists in the ceremony of reconciliation were Alexander and the Macedonians, who had just been violently at odds for several days. Moreover there was never any question of universal brotherhood; on the contrary, the collaboration in power was limited expressly to the Macedonians and Persians.
The symbolism of the banquet at Opis illustrates well the two facets of Alexander’s policy—on the one hand he made an appeal to the Iranian contingents with the goal of consolidating the conquest, while on the other he reserved for the Macedonians the prime positions around his person. Henceforth, the boundary between rulers and ruled was not to coincide precisely with the boundary between conquerors and conquered. The division would be social rather than ethnic. Only those who had made up the ruling elite of the Achaemenid empire were called upon to take up the reins of government. While this shows that Alexander was able to rise above the traditional Greek notion of a natural opposition between Greeks and Barbarians, it also illustrates his remarkable political intelligence and his desire to ensure the durability of his work.
Given his concern to unify the empire, did Alexander also think of promoting a “cult of empire, extending to the Greek cities of Europe”?67 This question has been asked for a long time and has provoked diverse answers: “No other object of his career has been so extensively discussed and so hotly debated by modern scholars.”68
Pictorial representations of Alexander reveal the king’s desire to spread an image of himself as an unrivaled superman like the heroes of old, if not the gods themselves. Alexander had, in fact, taken official artists along on his conquests, who were commissioned to do just that: the sculptor Lysippos, the painter Apelles, and the goldsmith Pyrgoteles. Alexander is frequently shown with his eyes turned heavenward, and Plutarch makes the meaning of this pose clear: Alexander is looking at the heavens as though saying to Zeus, “Take Olympus, leave me the earth!” The artists showed him ever more frequently with his head encircled by a diadem, a royal symbol of eastern origin.69 The coins, perhaps struck after a model created by Pyrgoteles, clarify the evolution of this iconography. The artist regularly depicted Herakles with a lionskin headdress. But the “Herakles” on the obverse of Alexander’s coins is portrayed so individualistically that one is tempted to see here a portrait of Alexander in heroic guise. As these coins circulated throughout the empire, it is easy to imagine that Alexander’s assimilation to Herakles was increasingly accepted as a fact, even by the Greek cities.
On the death of Alexander’s friend Hephaestion (October 324), Alexander sent an embassy to the oracle of Amun in Egypt, asking whether it would be appropriate to offer divine honors to him. Amun “replied” that Hephaestion should be considered a hero and not a god. Alexander immediately issued orders to Cleomenes in Egypt to erect temples to the new hero in Alexandria and on Pharos.70 Hephaestion’s hero cult spread rapidly and included the Greek cities and Macedon.71 But there is no clear proof that Athens offered semidivine honors jointly to Hephaestion and Alexander (who would have been regarded as Hephaestion’s paredros).
According to several writers, in 324/3 Alexander wanted his divine character to be officially recognized and took steps to impose his cult throughout the empire. He is said to have ordered Nicanor to proclaim at Olympia in 324, along with the edict ordering the return of exiles, a command that the Greek cities render the king divine honors. This comes from late and rather untrustworthy anecdotes. What we do know is that several cities in Asia Minor honored him with a cult, which was not an exceptional occurrence: Eresos on Lesbos, for example, had raised altars to Philippic Zeus before the Macedonian conquest in 336/5. Evidence from the Greek cities of the European mainland is slight and contradictory. We hear of impassioned debates in Athens between supporters (Demades and, more hesitantly, Demosthenes) and opponents (Lycurgus and Hypereides) of such a move, and of the condemnation of Demades for presenting a decree deemed to be sacrilegious. It is not at all improbable that Alexander had made his wishes known to the leaders in the Greek cities.72
In 323 the foundations of Alexander’s authority in the various parts of his empire were extremely diverse. He was simultaneously king of the Macedonians, archon of the Thessalian League, hegemon of the League of Corinth, Pharaoh in Egypt (whether or not he had been officially recognized as such), and “King of Lands” in Babylonia. By contrast, he certainly never received an Achaemenid royal titulary of any kind. There is just one title, its meaning uncertain and neutral, which all accorded him, that of “King Alexander,” which we see in simple dating formulas (“Year X of Alexander the King”) in various regions and in different languages and scripts, from Lydia to Bactria.
Among all his titles, one retained special importance at all times, even at the most distant points of his conquests and during the fiercest disputes about the adoption of Achaemenid court practices. This was the simple “King of the Macedonians.” In that role, Alexander mediated between the gods of his country and the Macedonians.73 Throughout his expedition, we see him sacrificing to the Macedonian deities.74 His last days in Babylon are quite typical in this regard, as we know from a kind of record of the king’s doings, called the Ephemerides by the ancient writers who cite the document (either directly or indirectly). We can see it, for example, in Arrian, where the same expression recurs, day after day:
He was carried forth on a litter each day to his religious duties and he sacrificed after the usual custom (pros ta hiera thusai o nomos . . . kai ta hiera epithenta). . . . Next day, he bathed again and sacrificed the usual sacrifices. . . . Next day . . . he sacrificed the appointed sacrifices. . . . Next day he just contrived to be carried out for the usual sacrifices and offered them. . . . Next day also, being now quite ill, he yet offered the usual sacrifices. (VII.25)
It is important to recognize that Alexander never forgot his sacred obligation, that even during his last days he continued to fulfill his most fundamental duty as “King of the Macedonians.”
1 Schachermeyr’s study of this subject (“Alexander und die unterworfenen Nationen,” B4 [1976]: 47–79) is very dated; the same is true of a very dubious article by H. Berve, “Die Verschmelzungspolitik Alexanders des Grossen” (1938) = B2 (1966): 133–68.
2 On the strategy of the Great Kings vis-à-vis local elites, see Briant, History: 79–84, 302–56, 800–813.
3 For this topic, see the analyses and references in Briant, History: 842–44, 1046–60.
4 Arrian I.17.4 (the same expression is found at III.23.7); cf. Briant, “Alexandre à Sardes” in B9 (1993): 13–28, and History: 842–43.
5 For Alexander’s “triumphal” arrival in Egypt: Diodorus XVII.49.2 and Quintus Curtius IV.7.3; on the Egyptian responses, see Briant, History: 858–64, 1048–50; also 844–45 (Mazakes the satrap).
6 See Briant, History: 472–84, 858–61, 948–50, 1048–50; for the Egyptian autobiographies, see most recently B. Menu in Transeuphratène 35 (2008): 143–63, with bibliography.
7 On Alexander in Egypt and his insertion into the pharaonic ideology, see esp. B. Menu in BIFAO 98 (1998): 253–62, and S. Burstein in AchHist VIII (1994): 381–87. Burstein thinks Alexander’s formal enthronement is merely a “scholarly myth” (Ancient Society 22 [1991]: 139–45); Menu (256–58) argues the contrary.
8 Chauveau-Thiers, “L’Égypte en transition: des Perses aux Macédoniens,” in Briant and Joannès, eds., La Transition: 375–404 (p. 377); on the works dated to Alexander’s reign, see La Transition: 390–93. For a different view, see D. Schäfer, “Alexander der Grosse—Pharao und Priester,” in S. Pfeiffer, ed., Ägypten unter fremden Herrschern zwischen persischer Satrapie und römischer Provinz, Frankfurt-am-Main 2007: 54–74.
9 See the references in Briant, Darius dans l’ombre d’Alexandre (2003): 63 and 562.
10 Cf. Chauveau-Thiers, (n. 8, above) 377, n. 8, contradicting Van Voss in B9 (1993): 71–83.
11 Cf. A. Kuhrt, “Alexander in Babylon,” AchHist V (1990): 121–30.
12 For the text, see R. Van der Spek, in AchHist XIII (2003): 297–99 and A. Kuhrt, Persian Empire I (2007): 447–48.
13 See, for example, Arrian VII.17.3–4 with the commentary of Van der Spek in Briant and Joannès, eds., La Transition: 269–71 and AchHist XIII (2003): 332–42.
14 The bibliography on this is gigantic; it is partly cited and commented in Briant, History: 850–52, 1046–48.
15 See the essays on this by Hammond (1992 = B11, II [1997]: 233–34), Sancisi-Weerdenburg (B9 [1993]: 177–88), and Bloedow-Loube, Klio 79/2 (1997): 341–53.
16 Diodorus XVII.70.2–6 and Quintus Curtius V.6.8; omitted by Arrian and Plutarch.
17 Arrian III.18.10, Plutarch, Alex. 37.4, Diodorus XVII.71.1–2, Quintus Curtius V.6.9–10.
18 Arrian III.18.11 (“The Persian palace he set on fire”), Diodorus XVII.72, Quintus Curtius V.7.1–8, Plutarch, Alex. 38.
19 See also Quintus Curtius V.5.5–24; Diodorus XVII.69.2–9: the “moving” description of the Greek deportees at Persepolis.
20 The term “hooliganism” used by Brosius (B15 [2003]: 183) is completely inappropriate; the same goes for the expression “ground zero” used by Lane Fox (in C. Tuplin, ed., Persian Responses, Swansea [2007]: 276).
21 Arrian III.18.11; for the literary construction of “Parmenion” in Arrian, see E. Carney in B14 (2000): 263ff.
22 See above all Badian, “Agis,” in: I. Worthington, ed., Ventures into Greek History, Oxford 1994: 258ff., esp. 281–92, but the arguments put forward remain weak, whether they concern Alexander’s isolation at this time (pp. 285–89) or the awkward observations on the date of Agis’s death (pp. 272–77, 291). On all these issues, E. N. Borza’s studies (Makedonika 1995: 201–210, 217–38) are to be preferred.
23 On the sacrifices at the tomb of Cyrus, cf. Briant, History: 95–96, 895.
24 Diodorus XVII.71.3, Quintus Curtius V.7.2, and Briant, History: 850–52, 1046–47. The Sassanian and Arab-Persian texts are not to be included in this discussion (despite, e.g., Shahbazi, “Iranians and Alexander,” AJAH n.s. 2/1 [2003]: 5–38), as these later reconstructions are not based on any independent evidence of what actually happened in Alexander’s lifetime (cf. Briant, Darius dans l’ombre: 443–86).
25 But the return of Darius’s corpse to Persepolis (Arrian III.22.1) remains doubtful, for reasons explained elsewhere (Briant, Darius dans l’ombre: 39–52).
26 On Mazday/Mazaeus, see Briant, “Empire of Darius III,” in B20 (2009): 160–62, 168–70.
27 For a list of satraps and satrapies, see Berve, Alexanderreich I (1926): 253–73, and the biographical notes in W. Heckel, Who’s Who in the Age of Alexander (2006); see also Brosius in B15 (2003): 188–92 (whose conclusions I do not share).
28 On Artabazus and the history of his family, see Briant, Lettre ouverte à Alexandre le Grand, Arles 2008: 151–58.
29 Arrian III.5.2–7.
30 On the growing but gradual introduction of Iranian troops, see A. B. Bosworth, “Alexander and the Iranians” (1980 = B17 [2003]: 208–35; also, Bosworth, Conquest and Empire: 271ff). However, I do not share all the author’s minimalist views of Alexander’s policy.
31 See P. Briant, “The Achaemenid Empire,” in K. Raaflaub and N. Rosenstein, eds., Soldiers, Society and War in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds, Cambridge, MA 1999: 105–28.
32 Sources, bibliography, and interpretations in E. Carney, Women and Monarchy in Macedonia, Norman, OK 2001: 82–113, and B15 (2003): 242–52.
33 Cf. M. Renard and J. Servais, “À propos du mariage d’Alexandre et de Roxane,” Antiquité Classique XXIV (1955): 29–50.
34 Arrian VII.6.1.
35 On this theme, see Bosworth, Conquest and Empire: 245–50 and Fraser, Cities of Alexander the Great (1996): 171–90.
36 Arrian IV.4.1 (cf. IV.27.1, V.29.3); cf. Briant, Rois, tributs et paysans: 244–47, 253, and “Colonizzazione ellenistica e popolazioni del Vicino Oriente: dinamiche socialì e politiche di acculturazione,” in S. Settis, ed., I Greci 2/III, Turin 1998: 309–33.
37 Cf. Justin XII.5.8.
38 See Quintus Curtius IX.7.1–12 and Diodorus XVII.99.5 (much romanticized); cf. Arrian V.27.5.
39 Diodorus XVIII.7.1 (cf. XVII 99, 5–6); cf. Briant, Rois, tributs et paysans: 73–81.
40 See Arrian VII.5.8: ten thousand of Alexander’s soldiers married women in the conquered lands.
41 Arrian VII.12.1–2.
42 The bibliography here, too, is large, with many debates, which is not surprising given the lack of agreement in the sources. There are in fact so many contradictions that doubt has been cast on the factual reality of this or that episode. Apart from Bosworth, Conquest and Empire: 101–104; 114–18, see also, e.g., Badian in B14 (2000): 64–72 (Philotas/Cleitus/Callisthenes) reprinted in B17 (2003): 273–95 and in B22 (2010); as well as B16 (2003): 113–26 (Philotas/Adams), 127–46 (Cleitus/Tritle).
43 Arrian III.3–4; the other sources and discussions are presented in Bosworth, Commentary I: 269–75, and “Alexander and Ammon,” Studies Schachermeyr (1977): 51–75; the episode is endlessly discussed: “We simply cannot tell exactly what happened” (E. Badian, “Alexander between Two Thrones,” [1996]: 18 = B17 [2003]: 245–62).
44 On the negative image of Alexander, see Briant, Darius dans l’ombre: 249–84; on the adoption of Achaemenid court etiquette, see the reasoned analysis by Bosworth, “Alexander and the Iranians,” JHS 100 (1980): 4–8 [B14 (2003): 208–35].
45 See primarily Arrian III.26; Quintus Curtius VI.7–11; Plutarch, Alexander 45–49.
46 See Badian, “Conspiracies,” in B14 (2000): 67–69 (who thinks that the elimination of Parmenion was Alexander’s principal concern); cf. Badian’s “The death of Parmenio,” (1960), reprinted in B22 (2010).
47 Cf. Heckel, Marshals of Alexander’s Empire (1992): 34–37.
48 See Arrian IV.7–9; Quintus Curtius VIII.1.19–52; Plutarch, Alex. 50–52.1–2.
49 See in particular Arrian IV.8.4–6.
50 See Arrian IV.10–12; Quintus Curtius VIII.5.5–24, 6–7; Plutarch, Alex. 52.3–9, 53–55.
51 Arrian IV.10.5–7, 11–12, with Bosworth, Commentary II: 68–90, where the sources and debates are reviewed.
52 See Briant, History: 209–10; Kuhrt, Persian Empire II (2007): 534–39; S. Paspalas, Klio 87/1 (2005): 72–81. On the proskynesis ritual, see History, 222–23 and 913–14; on the relationship between the Great King and the gods, History, 240–54, 915–17.
53 Arrian IV.11.16.
54 On Alexander’s measures against satraps accused of malpractice and “poor administration,” see esp. Arrian VI.27.4–5.
55 See the list in Badian, “Conspiracies,” in B14 (2000): 90–95.
56 Diodorus XIX.14.5.
57 See esp. Arrian VII.4.4–5, and Bosworth, “Alexander and the Iranians,” JHS 100 (1980): 8–9 (B12 [1995], B17 [2003]).
58 I am not persuaded by the scenario imagined by Badian (“Subject and Ruler,” reprinted in B22 [2010]: 22–24). His idea that Alexander had planned to have himself invested at Pasargadae, but the magi showed their opposition by sacking the tomb of Cyrus, is pure speculation.
59 See esp. Arrian VII.6.3–4, and the balanced assessment of Bosworth, “Alexander and the Iranians,” JHS 100 (1980): 9–10.
60 See in particular Arrian VII.23.1–4.
61 See chapter III, n. 46.
62 The famous “mutiny at Opis” is known to all the ancient sources. Many obscurities and uncertainties remain, created in particular by the very literary nature of the ancient reconstructions, especially Alexander’s celebrated speech to his troops (Arrian VII.9–10; cf. B. Nagle, “The Cultural Context of Alexander’s Speech at Opis,” TAPhA 126 [1996]: 151–72).
63 On Alexander’s tactics during the mutiny, see the thoughts of E. Carney, “Macedonians and Mutiny: Discipline and Indiscipline in the Army of Philip and Alexander,” Classical Philology 91 (1996): 19–44; “Artifice and Alexander history,” in A. B. Bosworth & E. Baynham, eds., Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction, Oxford (2000): 263–85, esp. 278–85.
64 See Briant, Rois, tributs et paysans: 32–39.
65 On this point, the debates on how to evaluate the statistics continue, e.g., Bosworth, The Legacy of Alexander, Oxford 2002: 64–97: “Macedonian Numbers at the Death of Alexander the Great,” where he replies to the critical responses published since the appearance of his article in JHS 106 (1986): 1–12.
66 Both Tarn’s and Badian’s texts are frequently reprinted: cf. B2 (1966): 243–86 and 287–306, B3 (1974): 77–92, B8 (1992): 73–106, B12 (1995): 210–13 (extracts from Tarn), B17 (2003): 205–7 (Tarn), B22 (2010): Chapter 1 (Badian); on Badian’s position, see also his own remarks in B4 (1976): 287–96.
67 On this difficult problem, see the two studies of E. Badian, one in Ancient Macedonian Studies in Honour of Ch. F. Edson, Thessaloniki 1981: 27–71, the other in A. Small, ed., Subject and Ruler, Ann Arbor, MI 1996: 11–26 = B17 (2003): 245–62.
68 E. Fredricksmeyer in B15 (2003): 253–78, which provides a synthesis (one of many) and a bibliography (the quote is on p. 253); see also B2 (1966): 151–204, 235–42; B7 (1987) I: 309–34; B12 (1995): 165–202; B17 (2003): 236–72; B22 (2010): two articles by Badian (cf. already B17).
69 See e.g., the discussion by Stewart in B15 (2003): 34–40.
70 Cf. Arrian VII.23.6–8 (together with Arrian’s critical comments).
71 This is now proved by the dedication on a Macedonian stela (see appendix, n. 37), but nothing indicates that there existed a royal cult in Macedon of Philip and Alexander: cf. M. Mari, “The Ruler Cult in Macedonia,” Studi Ellenistici XX (2008): 219–68 (232–47).
72 Cf. Badian in Subject and Ruler (1996): 24–26 (reprinted in B17 [2003]: 245–62; cf. 256–58, B22, 2010); Fredricksmeyer in B15 (2003): 274–78.
73 Cf. Briant, Antigone le Borgne: 323 with the long footnote 2.
74 The sources are collected in Berve, Alexanderreich I (1925): 85–93.
