at court, was the contriver of this treason; and the motive of it was, some private disgust which he had received. He had communicated his execrable design to a young man, Nicomachus by name, who revealed it to Cebalinus, his brother. The latter immediately whispered it to Philotas, earnestly entreating him to acquaint the king with it, because every moment was of the utmost consequence, and that the conspirators were to execute their horrid deed in three days. Philotas, after applauding his fidelity, waited immediately upon the king, and discoursed on a great variety of subjects, but without taking the least notice of the plot. In the evening Cebalinus meeting him as he was com ing out, and asking whether he had done as requested, he answered, that he had not found an opportunity of mentioning it to his majesty, and went away. The next day this young man went up to him as he was going into the palace, and conjured him not to forget what he had told him the day before. Philotas replied, that he would be sure not to forget it; and however did not perform his promise. This made Cebalinus suspect him; and fearing, that in case the conspiracy should be discovered by any other person, his si lence would be interpreted as criminal, he therefore got another person to disclose it to Alexander. The prince having heard the whole from Cebalinus himself, and being told how many times he had conjured Philotas to acquaint him with it, first commanded Dymnus to be brought before him. The latter guessing upon what account he was sent for by the king, ran himself through with his sword; but the guards having prevented this wretch from completing the deed, he was carried to the palace. The king asked him why he thought Philotas more worthy than he was of the kingdom of Macedon? But he was quite speechless; so that, after fetching a deep sigh, he turned his head aside, and breathed

his last.

The king afterwards sent for Philotas, and speaking to him (having first commanded every body to withdraw,) he asked whether Cebalinus had really urged him several times to tell him of a plot which was carrying on against him. Philotas, without discovering the least confusion in his countenance, confessed ingenuously that he had; but made his apology, by saying, that the person who had whispered this, did not appear to him worthy of the least credit. He confessed, however, that Dymnus's death plainly showed he had acted very imprudently, in concealing so long a design of so black a nature. Upon which, acknowledging his fault, he fell at the king's feet, which he embraced, and besought him to consider his past life, rather than the fault he had

now committed, which did not proceed from any bad design, but from the fear he was under of alarming, very unseasonably, the king, should he communicate a design which he really supposed was without foundation. It is no easy matter to say, whether Alexander believed what Philotas said or only dissembled his anger. But however this be, he gave him his hand, in token of reconciliation; and told him, that he was persuaded he had despised rather than concealed the affair.

Philotas was both envied and hated by a great number of courtiers; and indeed it was hardly possible it should be otherwise, because none of them was more familiar with the king, or more esteemed by him. Instead of softening and moderating the lustre of the distinguished favour he had enjoyed by an air of sweetness and humanity, he seemed, on the contrary, to endeavour nothing so much as to excite the envy of others, by affecting a silly pride, which generally dis played itself in his dress, his retinue, his equipage, and his table; and still more so, by the haughty airs he assumed, which made him universally hated. Parmenio, his father, disgusted at his lofty behaviour, said one day to him*, "my son, make thyself less." The strongest sense is couched under these words; and it is evident, that the man who ut tered them was perfectly acquainted with the genius of courts. He used often to give Philotas advice to this effect but too exalted a prosperity is apt to make men both deaf and blind; ond they cannot persuade themselves that favour, which is established on so seemingly solid a foundation, can ever change; the contrary of which Philotas found to his sorrow.

."

"

tHis former conduct, with regard to Alexander, had given the latter, just reason to complain of him; for he used to take the liberty to speak disrespectfully of the king, and applaud himself in the most haughty terms. Opening one day his heart to a woman, Antigona by name, with whom he was in love, he began to boast, in a very insolent manner, his father's services and his own: "What would Philip," said he, "have been, had it not been for Parmenio? And "what would Alexander be, were it not for Philotas? What "would become of his pretended divinity, and his father Ammon, should we undertake to expose this fiction "? All these things were repeated to Alexander, and Antigona herself made oath that such words had been spoken. The king had nevertheless taken no notice of all this, nor so much

* O pai cheiron mai ginou.

Plut, de fortun, Alex, c. 2. p. 339.

as once let drop the least word which showed his resentment upon that occasion, even when he was most intoxicated with liquor; he had not so much as hinted it to his friends, nor even to bephæstion, from whom he scarce concealed any thing. But the crime Philotas was now accused of recalled to his memory the disgust he had formerly entertained.

Immediately after the conversation he had with Philotas, he held a council composed of his chief confidents. Craterus, for whom Alexander had a great esteem, and who envied Philotas the more upon that very account, looked upon this as a very happy occasion for supplanting his rival. Concealing therefore his hatred, under a specious pretence of zeal, he suggested to the king, "the apprehensions he might "justly be under, both from Philotas himself, because mercy "is not apt to work any change in a heart which could be "corrupt enough to entertain so detestable a crime, and "from Parmenio, his father, who, said he, will never be "able to bear the thoughts of his owing his son's life to the "king's clemency. Some beneficial acts are so great that "they become a burden to those on whom they are confer"red, for which reason they do all in their power to erase "them from their memory. And further, who can assure us, that both father and son are not engaged in the con❝spiracy? When a prince's life is in danger every thing is "of importance; and all things, even to the slightest suspi"cions, are so many proofs. Can we conceive it possible, "that a favourite, on whom his sovereign has bestowed the "most shining marks of his beneficence, should be calm and "undisturbed upon his being told an affair of such mighty importance? But we are told, that this design was com"municated by young people, who deserved very little credit. "Wherefore then did he keep them in suspence two days, "as if he really believed what they told him, and still prom"ised them that he would reveal the whole affair to the "king? Who does not see that he did this merely to pre"vent their having access by another way to his majesty ? "Sir," continued he, "it is necessary, for your own sake and "that of the state, for us to put Philotas to the torture; in "order to force from his own mouth an account of this plot, "and the several persons who are his accomplices in it." This being the opinion of all the members of the council, the king came into it. He then dismissed the assembly, having first enjoined them secrecy; and the better to conceal his resolution, gave orders for the army's marching the next day, and even invited Phiilotas to supper with him.

In the beginning of the night, various parties of guards having been posted in the several places necessary, some entered the tent of Philotas, who was then in a deep sleep; when starting from his slumbers, as they were putting manacles on his hands, he cried, "Alas! my sovereign, the in "veteracy of my enemies has got the better of your good46 ness." After this, they covered his face, and brought him to the palace without uttering a single word. The next morning, the Macedonians, according to an order published for that purpose, came thither under arms, being about 6000. It was a very ancient custom for the army, in war-time, to take cognisance of capital crimes; and, in times of peace, for the people to do so; so that the prince had no power of these occasions, unless a sanction were given to it by the consent of one of these bodies; and the king was forced to have recourse to persuasion*, before he employed his au thority.

First, the body of Dymnus was brought out; very few then present knowing either what he had done, or how he came by his death. Afterwards the king came into the as sembly; an air of sorrow appearing in his countenance, as well as in his whole court, every one waiting with impa tience the issue of this gloomy scene. Alexander continued a long time with his eyes cast on the ground; but at last, having recovered his spirits, he made the following speech: "I narrowly escaped, O soldiers, being torn from you, by "the treachery of a small number of wretches; but by the "providence and mercy of the gods, I now again appear be "fore you alive; and I protest to you, that nothing encour ages me more to proceed against the traitors, than the "sight of this assembly, whose lives are much dearer to me "than my own; for I desire to live for your sakes only; "and the greatest happiness I should find in living (not to "say the only one) would be the pleasure I shall receive, in "having it once in my power to reward the services of so many brave men, to whom I owe all things." Here he was interrupted by the cries and groans of the soldiers, who all burst into tears. "Alas! how will you behave when I "shall name the persons who formed so execrable an at tempt? I myself cannot think of it without shuddering. "They, on whom I have been most lavish of my kindnesses;

16

་་

"6 on

whom I had bestowed the greatest marks of friendship; "in whom I had put my whole confidence, and in whose "breasts I lodged my greatest secrets-Parmenio and

*Nihil poteftas regum valebat, niß prius valuiffet auctoritas. Q Curt.

"Philotas." At these names, all the soldiers gazed one upon the other, not daring to believe their eyes or ears, nor any thing they saw or heard. Then Nicomachus, Metron, and Cebalinus, were sent for, who made the several depositions of what they knew. But as not one of them charged Philotas with engaging in the plot, the whole assembly, being sei. zed with a trouble and confusion easier conceived than expressed, continued in a sad and gloomy silence.

Philotas was then brought in, his hands tied behind him, and his head covered with a coarse worn-out piece of cloth. How shocking a sight was this! Lost to himself, he did not dare to look up, or open his lips; but the tears streaming from his eyes, he fainted away in the arms of the man who held him. As the standers-by wiped off the tears in which his face was bathed, recovering his spirits and his voice by insensible degrees, he seemed desirous of speaking. The king then told him, that he should be judged by the Macedo Hians, and withdrew. Philotas might have justified himself very easily; for not one of the witnesses, and those who had been put on the rack, had accused him of being an ac. complice in the plot. Dymnus, who first formed it, had not named him to any of the conspirators; and had Philotas been concerned in it, and the ringleader, as was pretended, Dymnus would certainly have named him, at the head of all the rest, in order to engage them the more strongly. Had Philotas been conscious to himself of guilt in this particular, as he was sensible that Cebalinus, who knew the whole, sought earnestly to acquaint the king of it, is it any way probable, that he could have lain quiet two days together, without once endeavouring, either to dispatch Cebalinus, or to put his dark design in execution, which he might very easily have done? Philotas set these proofs, and a great many more, in the strongest light; and did not omit to mention the reasons which had made him dispise the information that had been given him, as groundless and imaginary. Then directing, on a sudden, himself to Alexander, as if he had been present, "O king," says he, "wheresoever you may be" (for it is thought Alexander heard all that passed from behind a curtain), "if I have committed a fault in not ac"quainting you with what I heard, I confessed it to you, and you pardoned me. You gave me your royal hand as a "pledge of this; and you did me the honour to admit me "to your table. If you believed me, I am innocent; if you "pardoned me, I am cleared: I refer all this to your own "judgment. What new crime have I committed since? I "was in a deep sleep when my enemies waked me, and "loaded me with chains. It is natural for a man, who is