                                      75 AD
                                      DION
                                 408?-353 B.C.
                                  by Plutarch
                           translated by John Dryden
DION

  IF it be true, Sosius Senecio, that, as Simonides tells us-

         "Of the Corinthians Troy does not complain"

for having taken part with the Achaeans in the siege, because the
Trojans also had Corinthians (Glaucus, who sprang from Corinth)
fighting bravely on their side, so also it may be fairly said that
neither Romans nor Greeks can quarrel with the Academy, each nation
being equally represented in the following pair of lives, which will
give an account of Brutus and of Dion,- Dion, who was Plato's own
hearer, and Brutus, who was brought up in his philosophy. They came
from one and the self-same school, where they had been trained alike
to run the race of honour; nor need we wonder that in the
performance of actions often most nearly allied and akin, they both
bore evidence to the truth of what their guide and teacher said, that,
without the concurrence of power and success, with justice and
prudence, public actions do not attain their proper, great, and
noble character. For as Hippomachus the wrestling-master affirmed,
he could distinguish his scholars at a distance, though they were
but carrying meat from the shambles, so it is very probable that the
principles of those who have had the same good education should appear
with a resemblance in all their actions, creating in them a certain
harmony and proportion, at once agreeable and becoming.
  We may also draw a close parallel of the lives of the two men from
their fortunes, wherein chance, even more than their own designs, made
them nearly alike. For they were both cut off by an untimely death,
not being able to accomplish those ends which through many risks and
difficulties they aimed at. But, above all, this is most wonderful;
that by preternatural interposition both of them had notice given of
their approaching death by an unpropitious form, which visibly
appeared to them. Although there are people who utterly deny any
such thing, and say that no man in his right senses ever yet saw any
supernatural phantom or apparition, but that children only, and
silly women, or men disordered by sickness, in some aberration of
the mind or distemperature of the body, have had empty and extravagant
imaginations, whilst the real evil genius, superstition, was in
themselves. Yet if Dion and Brutus' men of solid understanding, and
philosophers, not to be easily deluded by fancy or discomposed by
any sudden apprehension, were thus affected by visions that they
forthwith declared to their friends what they had seen, I know not how
we can avoid admitting again the utterly exploded opinion of the
oldest times, that evil and beguiling spirits, out of envy to good
men, and a desire of impeding their good deeds, make efforts to excite
in them feelings of terror and distraction, to make them shake and
totter in their virtue, lest by a steady and unbiased perseverance
they should obtain a happier condition than these beings after
death. But I shall leave these things for another opportunity, and
in this twelfth book of the lives of great men compared one with
another, begin with his who was the elder.
  Dionysius the First, having possessed himself of the government,
at once took to wife the daughter of Hermocrates, the Syracusan.
She, in an outbreak which the citizens made before the new power was
well settled, was abused in such a barbarous and outrageous manner
that for shame she put an end to her own life. But Dionysius, when
he was re-established and confirmed in his supremacy, married two
wives together, one named Doris, of Locri, the other Aristomache, a
native of Sicily, and daughter of Hipparinus, a man of the first
quality in Syracuse, and colleague with Dionysius when he was first
chosen general with unlimited powers for the war. It is said he
married them both in one day, and no one ever knew which of the two he
first made his wife; and ever after he divided his kindness equally
between them, both accompanying him together at his table, and in
his bed by turns. Indeed, the Syracusans were urgent that their own
countrywoman might be preferred before the stranger; but Doris, to
compensate her for her foreign extraction, had the good fortune to
be the mother of the son and heir of the family, whilst Aristomache
continued a long time without issue, though Dionysius was very
desirous to have children by her, and, indeed, caused Doris's mother
to be put to death, laying to her charge that she had given drugs to
Aristomache to prevent her being with child.
  Dion, Aristomache's brother, at first found an honourable
reception for his sister's sake; but his own worth and parts soon
procured him a nearer place in his brother-in-law's affection, who,
among other favours, gave special command to his treasurers to furnish
Dion with whatever money he demanded, only telling him on the same day
what they had delivered out. Now, though Dion was before reputed a
person of lofty character, of a noble mind, and daring courage, yet
these excellent qualifications all received a great development from
the happy chance which conducted Plato into Sicily; not assuredly by
any human device or calculation, but some supernatural power,
designing that this remote cause should hereafter occasion the
recovery of the Sicilians' lost liberty and the subversion of the
tyrannical government, brought the philosopher out of Italy to
Syracuse, and made acquaintance between him and Dion. Dion was,
indeed, at this time extremely young in years, but of all the scholars
that attended Plato he was the quickest and aptest to learn, and the
most prompt and eager to practise, the lessons of virtue, as Plato
himself reports of him and his own actions sufficiently testify. For
though he had been bred up under a tyrant in habits of submission,
accustomed to a life on the one hand of servility and intimidation,
and yet on the other of vulgar display and luxury, the mistaken
happiness of people that knew no better thing than pleasure and
self-indulgence, yet, at the first taste of reason and a philosophy
that demands obedience to virtue, his soul was set in a flame, and
in the simple innocence of youth, concluding, from his own
disposition, that the same reason would work the same effects upon
Dionysius, he made it his business, and at length obtained the
favour of him, at a leisure hour, to hear Plato.
  At this their meeting, the subject-matter of their discourse in
general was human virtue, but, more particularly, they disputed
concerning fortitude, which Plato proved tyrants, of all men, had
the least pretence to; and thence proceeding to treat of justice,
asserted the happy estate of the just and the miserable condition of
the unjust; arguments which Dionysius would not hear out, but, feeling
himself, as it were, convicted by his words, and much displeased to
see the rest of the auditors full of admiration for the speaker and
captivated with his doctrine, at last, exceedingly exasperated, he
asked the philosopher in a rage, what business he had in Sicily. To
which Plato answered, "I came to seek a virtuous man." "It seems,
then," replied Dionysius, "you have lost your labour." Dion, supposing
that this was all, and that nothing further could come of his anger,
at Plato's request, conveyed him aboard a galley, which was
conveying Pollis, the Spartan, into Greece. But Dionysius privately
dealt with Pollis, by all means to kill Plato in the voyage; if not,
to be sure to sell him for a slave: he would, of course, take no
harm of it, being the same just man as before; he would enjoy that
happiness, though he lost his liberty. Pollis, therefore, it is
stated, carried Plato to Aegina, and there sold him; the,
Aeginetans, then at war with Athens, having made a decree that
whatever Athenian was taken on their coasts should forthwith be
exposed to sale. Notwithstanding, Dion was not in less favour and
credit with Dionysius than formerly, but was intrusted with the most
considerable employments, and sent on important embassies to Carthage,
in the management of which he gained very great reputation. Besides,
the usurper bore with the liberty he took to speak his mind freely, he
being the only man who, upon any occasion, durst boldly say what he
thought, as, for example, in the rebuke he gave him about Gelon.
Dionysius was ridiculing Gelon's government, and, alluding to his
name, said he had been the laughingstock of Sicily. While others
seemed to admire and applaud the quibble, Dion very warmly replied,
"Nevertheless, it is certain that you are sole governor here,
because you were trusted for Gelon's sake; but for your sake no man
will ever hereafter be trusted again." For, indeed, Gelon had made a
monarchy appear the best, whereas Dionysius had convinced men that
it was the worst of governments.
  Dionysius had three children by Doris, and by Aristomache four,
two of which were daughters, Sophrosyne and Arete. Sophrosyne was
married to his son Dionysius; Arete, to his brother Thearides, after
whose death Dion received his niece Arete to wife. Now when
Dionysius was sick and like to die, Dion endeavoured to speak with him
in behalf of the children he had by Aristomache, but was still
prevented by the physicians, who wanted to ingratiate themselves
with the next successor, who also, as Timaeus reports, gave him a
sleeping potion which he asked for, which produced an insensibility
only followed by his death.
  Nevertheless, at the first council which the young Dionysius held
with his friends, Dion discoursed so well of the present state of
affairs that he made all the rest appear in their politics but
children, and in their votes rather slaves than counsellors, who
timorously and disingenuously advised what would please the young man,
rather than what would advance his interest. But that which startled
them most was the proposal he made to avert the imminent danger they
feared of a war with the Carthaginians, undertaking, if Dionysius
wanted peace, to sail immediately over into Africa, and conclude it
there upon honourable terms; but, if he rather preferred war, then
he would fit out and maintain at his own cost and charges fifty
galleys ready for the service.
  Dionysius wondered much at his greatness of mind, and received his
offer with satisfaction. But the other courtiers, thinking his
generosity reflected upon them, and jealous of being lessened by his
greatness, from hence took all occasions by private slanders to render
him obnoxious to the young man's displeasure; as if he designed, by
his power at sea, to surprise the government, and by the help of those
naval forces confer the supreme authority upon his sister
Aristomache's children. But, indeed, the most apparent and the
strongest grounds for dislike and hostility existed already in the
difference of his habits, and his reserved and separate way of living.
For they, who, from the beginning by flatteries and all unworthy
artifices, courted the favour and familiarity of the prince,
youthful and voluptuously bred, ministered to his pleasures, and
sought how to find him daily some new amours and occupy him in vain
amusements, with wine or with women, and in other dissipations; by
which means, the tyranny, like iron softened in the fire, seemed,
indeed, to the subject, to be more moderate and gentle, and to abate
somewhat of its extreme severity; the edge of it being blunted, not by
the clemency, but rather the sloth and degeneracy of the sovereign,
whose dissoluteness, gaining ground daily, and growing upon him,
soon weakened and broke those "adamantine chains," with which his
father, Dionysius, said he had left the monarchy fastened and secured.
It is reported of him that, having begun a drunken debauch, he
continued it ninety days without intermission; in all which time no
person on business was allowed to appear, nor was any serious
conversation heard at court, but drinking, singing, dancing, and
buffoonery reigned there without control.
  It is likely then they had little kindness for Dion, who never
indulged himself in any youthful pleasure or diversion. And so his
very virtues were the matter of their calumnies, and were
represented under one or other plausible name as vices; they called
his gravity pride, his plain-dealing self-will, the good advice he
gave was all construed into reprimand, and he was censured for
neglecting and scorning those in whose misdemeanours he declined to
participate. And to say the truth, there was in his natural
character something stately, austere, reserved, and unsociable in
conversation, which made his company unpleasant and disagreeable not
only to the young tyrant, whose ears had been corrupted by flatteries;
many also of Dion's own intimate friends, though they loved the
integrity and generosity of his temper, yet blamed his manner, and
thought he treated those with whom he had to do less courteously and
affably than became a man engaged in civil business. Of which Plato
also afterwards wrote to him; and, as it were, prophetically advised
him carefully to avoid an arbitrary temper, whose proper helpmate
was a solitary life. And, indeed, at this very time, though
circumstances made him so important, and in the danger of the
tottering government he was recognized as the only or the ablest
support of it, yet he well understood that he owed not his high
position to any good-will or kindness, but to the mere necessities
of the usurper.
  And, supposing the cause of this to be ignorance and want of
education, he endeavoured to induce the young man into a course of
liberal studies, and to give him some knowledge of moral truths and
reasonings, hoping he might thus lose his fear of virtuous living, and
learn to take pleasure in laudable actions. Dionysius, in his own
nature, was not one of the worst kind of tyrants, but his father,
fearing that if he should come to understand himself better, and
converse with wise and reasonable men, he might enter into some design
against him, and dispossess him of his power, kept him closely shut up
at home; where, for want of other company, and ignorant how to spend
his time better, he busied himself in making little chariots,
candlesticks, stools, tables, and other things of wood. For the
elder Dionysius was so diffident and suspicious, and so continually on
his guard against all men, that he would not so much as let his hair
be trimmed with any barber's or haircutter's instruments, but made one
of his artificers singe him with a live coal. Neither were his brother
or his son allowed to come into his apartment in the dress they
wore, but they, as all others, were stript to their skins by some of
the guard, and, after being seen naked, put on other clothes before
they were admitted into the presence. When his brother Leptines was
once describing the situation of a place, and took a javelin from
one of the guard to draw the plan of it, he was extremely angry with
him, and had the soldier who gave him the weapon put to death. He
declared the more judicious his friends were the more he suspected
them; because he knew that, were it in their choice, they would rather
be tyrants themselves than the subjects of a tyrant. He slew
Marsyas, one of his captains whom he had preferred to a considerable
command, for dreaming that he killed him: without some previous waking
thought and purpose of the kind, he could not, he supposed, have had
that fancy in his sleep. So timorous was he, and so miserable a
slave to his fears, yet very angry with Plato, because he would not
allow him to be the valiantest man alive.
  Dion, as we said before, seeing the son thus deformed and spoilt
in character for want of teaching, exhorted him to study, and to use
all his entreaties to persuade Plato, the first of philosophers, to
visit him in Sicily, and when he came, to submit himself to his
direction and advice; by whose instructions he might conform his
nature to the truths of virtue, and, living after the likeness of
the Divine and glorious Model of Being, out of obedience to whose
control the general confusion is changed into the beautiful order of
the universe, so he in like manner might be the cause of great
happiness to himself and to all his subjects, who, obliged by his
justice and moderation, would then willingly pay him obedience as
their father, which now grudgingly, and upon necessity, they are
forced to yield him as their master. Their usurping tyrant he would
then no longer be, but their lawful king. For fear and force, a
great navy and standing army of ten thousand hired barbarians are not,
as his father had said, the adamantine chains which secure the regal
power, but the love, zeal, and affection inspired by clemency and
justice; which, though they seem more pliant than the stiff and hard
bonds of severity, are nevertheless the strongest and most durable
ties to sustain a lasting government. Moreover, it is mean and
dishonourable that a ruler, while careful to be splendid in his dress,
and luxurious and magnificent in his habitation, should, in reason and
power of speech, make no better show than the commonest of his
subjects, nor have the princely palace of his mind adorned according
to his royal dignity.
  Dion frequently entertaining the king upon this subject, and, as
occasion offered, repeating some of the philosopher's sayings,
Dionysius grew impatiently desirous to have Plato's company, and to
hear him discourse. Forthwith, therefore, he sent letter upon letter
to him to Athens, to which Dion added his entreaties; also several
philosophers of the Pythagorean sect from Italy sent their
recommendations, urging him to come and obtain a hold upon this
pliant, youthful soul, which his solid and weighty reasonings might
steady, as it were, upon the seas of absolute power and authority.
Plato, as he tells us himself, out of shame more than any other
feeling, lest it should seem that he was all mere theory, and that
of his own good-will he would never venture into action, hoping
withal, that if he could work a cure upon one man, the head and
guide of the rest, he might remedy the distempers of the whole
island of Sicily, yielded to their requests.
  But Dion's enemies, fearing an alteration in Dionysius, persuaded
him to recall from banishment Philistus, a man of learned education,
and at the same time of great experience in the ways of tyrants, and
who might serve as a counterpoise to Plato and his philosophy. For
Philistus from the beginning had been a great instrument in
establishing the tyranny, and for a long time had held the office of
captain of the citadel. There was a report that he had been intimate
with the mother of Dionysius the first, and not without his privity.
And when Leptines, having two daughters by a married woman who he
had debauched, gave one of them in marriage to Philistus, without
acquainting Dionysius, he, in great anger, put Leptines's mistress
in prison, and banished Philistus from Sicily. Whereupon, he fled to
some of his friends on the Adriatic coast, in which retirement and
leisure it is probable he wrote the greatest part of his history;
for he returned not into his country during the reign of that
Dionysius.
  But after his death, as is just related, Dion's enemies occasioned
him to be recalled home, as fitted for their purpose, and a firm
friend to the arbitrary government. And this, indeed, immediately upon
his return he set himself to maintain; and at the same time various
calumnies and accusations against Dion were by others brought to the
king: as that he held correspondence with Theodotes and Heraclides, to
subvert the government; as, doubtless, it is likely enough, that
Dion had entertained hopes, by the coming of Plato, to mitigate the
rigid and despotic severity of the tyranny, and to give Dionysius
the character of a fair and lawful governor; and had determined, if he
should continue averse to that, and were not to be reclaimed, to
depose him, and restore the commonwealth to the Syracusans; not that
he approved a democratic government, but thought it altogether
preferable to a tyranny, when a sound and good aristocracy could not
be procured.
  This was the state of affairs when Plato came into Sicily, who, at
his first arrival, was received with wonderful demonstration of
kindness and respect. For one of the royal chariots, richly
ornamented, was in attendance to receive him when he came on shore;
Dionysius himself sacrificed to the gods in thankful acknowledgment
for the great happiness which had befallen his government. The
citizens, also, began to entertain marvellous hopes of a speedy
reformation, when they observed the modesty which now ruled in the
banquets, and the general decorum which prevailed in all the court,
their tyrant himself also behaving with gentleness and humanity in all
their matters of business that came before him. There was a general
passion for reasoning and philosophy, insomuch that the very palace,
it is reported, was filled with dust by the concourse of the
students in mathematics who were working their problems there. Some
few days after, it was the time of one of the Syracusan sacrifices,
and when the priest, as he was wont, prayed for the long and safe
continuance of the tyranny, Dionysius, it is said, as he stood by,
cried out, "Leave off praying for evil upon us." This sensibly vexed
Philistus and his party, who conjectured, that if Plato, upon such
brief acquaintance, had so far transformed and altered the young man's
mind, longer converse and greater intimacy would give him such
influence and authority that it would be impossible to withstand him.
  Therefore, no longer privately and apart, but jointly and in public,
all of them, they began to slander Dion, noising it about that he
had charmed and bewitched Dionysius by Plato's sophistry, to the end
that when he was persuaded voluntarily to part with his power, and lay
down his authority, Dion might take it up, and settle it upon his
sister Aristomache's children. Others professed to be indignant that
the Athenians, who formerly had come to Sicily with a great fleet
and a numerous land army, and perished miserably without being able to
take the city of Syracuse, should now, by means of one sophister,
overturn the sovereignty of Dionysius; inveighing him to cashier his
guard of ten thousand lances, dismiss a navy of four hundred
galleys, disband an army of ten thousand horse and many times over
that number of foot, and go seek in the schools an unknown and
imaginary bliss, and learn by the mathematics how to be happy;
while, in the meantime, the substantial enjoyments of absolute
power, riches, and pleasure would be handed over to Dion and his
sister's children.
  By these means, Dion began to incur at first suspicion, and by
degrees more apparent displeasure and hostility. A letter, also, was
intercepted and brought to the young prince which Dion had written
to the Carthaginian agents, advising them that, when they treated with
Dionysius concerning the peace, they should not come to their audience
without communicating with him: they would not fail to obtain by
this means all that they wanted. When Dionysius had shown this to
Philistus, and consulted with him, as Timaeus relates, about it, he
overreached Dion by a feigned reconciliation, professing, after some
fair and reasonable expression of his feelings, that he was at friends
with him, and thus, leading him alone to the seaside, under the castle
wall, he showed him the letter, and taxed him with conspiring with the
Carthaginians against him. And when Dion essayed to speak in his own
defence, Dionysius suffered him not; but immediately forced him aboard
a boat, which lay there for that purpose, and commanded the sailors to
set him ashore on the coast of Italy.
  When this was publicly known, and was thought very hard usage, there
was much lamentation in the tyrant's own household on account of the
women, but the citizens of Syracuse encouraged themselves, expecting
that for his sake some disturbance would ensue; which, together with
the mistrust others would now feel, might occasion a general change
and revolution in the state. Dionysius seeing this, took alarm, and
endeavoured to pacify the women and others of Dion's kindred and
friends, assuring them that he had not banished, but only sent him out
of the way for a time, for fear of his own passion, which might be
provoked some day by Dion's self-will into some act which he should be
sorry for. He gave also two ships to his relations, with liberty to
send into Peloponnesus for him whatever of his property or servants
they thought fit.
  Dion was very rich, and had his house furnished with little less
than royal splendour and magnificence. These valuables his friends
packed up and conveyed to him, besides many rich presents which were
sent him by the women and his adherents. So that, so far as wealth and
riches went, he made a noble appearance among the Greeks, and they
might judge, by the affluence of the exile, what was the power of
the tyrant.
  Dionysius immediately removed Plato into the castle, designing,
under colour of an honourable and kind reception, to set a guard
upon him, lest he should follow Dion, and declare to the world, in his
behalf, how injuriously he had been dealt with. And, moreover, time
and conversation (as wild beasts by use grow tame and tractable) had
brought Dionysius to endure Plato's company and discourse, so that
he began to love the philosopher, but with such an affection as had
something of the tyrant in it, requiring of Plato that he should, in
return of his kindness, love him only, and attend to him above all
other men; being ready to permit to his care the chief management of
affairs, and even the government, too, upon condition that he would
not prefer Dion's friendship before his. This extravagant affection
was a great trouble to Plato, for it was accompanied with petulant and
jealous humours, like the fond passions of those that are
desperately in love; frequently he was angry and fell out with him,
and presently begged and entreated to be friends again. He was
beyond measure desirous to be Plato's scholar, and to proceed in the
study of philosophy, and yet he was ashamed of it with those who spoke
against it and professed to think it would ruin him.
  But a war about this time breaking out, he sent Plato away,
promising him in the summer to recall Dion, though in this he broke
his word at once; nevertheless, he remitted to him his revenues,
desiring Plato to excuse him as to the time appointed, because of
the war, but, as soon as he had settled a peace, he would
immediately send for Dion, requiring him in the interim to be quiet,
and not raise any disturbance, nor speak ill of him among the
Grecians. This Plato endeavoured to effect, by keeping Dion with him
in the academy, and busying him in philosophical studies.
  Dion sojourned in the Upper Town of Athens, with Callippus, one of
his acquaintance; but for his pleasure he bought a seat in the
country, which afterwards, when he went into Sicily, he gave to
Speusippus, who had been his most frequent companion while he was at
Athens, Plato so arranging it, with the hope that Dion's austere
temper might be softened by agreeable company, with an occasional
mixture of seasonable mirth. For Speusippus was of the character to
afford him this; we find him spoken of in Timon's Silli, as "good at a
jest." And Plato himself, as it happened, being called upon to furnish
a chorus of boys, Dion took upon him the ordering and management of
it, and defrayed the whole expense, Plato giving him this
opportunity to oblige the Athenians, which was likely to procure his
friend more kindness than himself credit. Dion went also to see
several other cities, visiting the noblest and most statesmanlike
persons in Greece, and joining in their recreations and entertainments
in their times of festival. In all which, no sort of vulgar ignorance,
or tyrannic assumption, or luxuriousness was remarked in him; but,
on the contrary, a great deal of temperance, generosity, and
courage, and a well-becoming taste for reasoning and philosophic
discourses. By which means he gained the love and admiration of all
men, and in many cities had public honours decreed him; the
Lacedaemonians making him a citizen of Sparta, without regard to the
displeasure of Dionysius, though at that time he was aiding them in
their wars against the Thebans.
  It is related that once, upon invitation, he went to pay a visit
to Ptoeodorus, the Megarian, a man, it would seem, of wealth and
importance; and when, on account of the concourse of people about
his door, and the press of business, it was very troublesome and
difficult to get access to him, turning about to his friends, who
seemed concerned and angry at it, "What reason," said he, "have we
to blame Ptoeodorus, when we ourselves used to do no better when we
were at Syracuse?"
  After some little time, Dionysius, envying Dion, and jealous of
the favour and interest he had among the Grecians, put a stop upon his
incomes, and no longer sent him his revenues, making his own
commissioners trustees of the estate. But, endeavouring to obviate the
ill-will and discredit which, upon Plato's account, might accrue to
him among the philosophers, he collected in his court many reputed
learned men; and ambitiously desiring to surpass them in their
debates, he was forced to make use, often incorrectly, of arguments he
had picked up from Plato. And now he wished for his company again,
repenting he had not made better use of it when he had it, and had
given no greater heed to his admirable lessons. Like a tyrant,
therefore, inconsiderate in his desires, headstrong and violent in
whatever he took a will to, on a sudden he was eagerly set on the
design of recalling him, and left no stone unturned, but addressed
himself to Archytas, the Pythagorean (his acquaintance and friendly
relations with whom owed their origin to Plato), and persuaded him
to stand as surety for his engagements, and to request Plato to
revisit Sicily.
  Archytas, therefore, sent Archedemus and Dionysius, some galleys,
with divers friends, to entreat his return; moreover, he wrote to
himself expressly and in plain terms, that Dion must never look for
any favour or kindness if Plato would not be prevailed with to come
into Sicily; but if Plato as often declined, Aristippus, the
Cyrenaean, then present, said that received letters full of
solicitations from his sister and his wife, urging him to beg Plato to
gratify Dionysius in this request, and not give him an excuse for
further ill-doing. So that, as Plato says to himself, the third time
he set sail for the Strait of Scylla-

        "Venturing again Charybdis's dangerous gulf."

This arrival brought great joy to Dionysius, and no less hopes to
the Sicilians, who were earnest in their prayers and good wishes
that Plato might get the better of Philistus, and philosophy triumph
over tyranny. Neither was he unbefriended by the women, who studied to
oblige him; and he had with Dionysius that peculiar credit which no
man else ever obtained, namely, liberty to come into his presence
without being examined or searched. When he would have given him a
considerable sum of money, and, on several repeated occasions, made
fresh offers, which Plato did come Dion should be assured of
whatever he desired. Dion also Dionysius was very safe in his
munificence, he gave little to those who were ready to take all they
could get, and a great deal to Plato, who would accept of nothing.
  After the first compliments of kindness were over, when Plato
began to discourse of Dion, he was at first diverted by excuses for
delay, followed soon after by complaints and disgusts, though not as
yet observable to others, Dionysius endeavouring to conceal them, and,
by other civilities and honourable usage, to draw him off from his
affection to Dion. And for some time Plato himself was careful not
to let anything of this dishonesty and breach of promise appear, but
bore with it, and dissembled his annoyance. While matters stood thus
between them, and, as they thought, they were unobserved and
undiscovered, Helicon, the Cyzicenian, one of Plato's followers,
foretold an eclipse of the sun, which happened according to his
prediction; for which he was much admired by the tyrant, and
rewarded with a talent of silver; whereupon Aristippus, jesting with
some others of the philosophers, told them, he also could predict
something extraordinary; and on their entreating him to declare it, "I
foretell," said he, "that before long there will be a quarrel
between Dionysius and Plato."
  At length, Dionysius made sale of Dion's estate, and converted the
money to his own use, and removed Plato from an apartment he had in
the gardens of the palace to lodgings among the guards he kept in pay,
who from the first had hated Plato, and sought opportunity to make
away with him, supposing he advised Dionysius to lay down the
government and disband his soldiers.
  When Archytas understood the danger he was in, he immediately sent a
galley with messengers to demand him of Dionysius; alleging that he
stood engaged for his safety, upon the confidence of which Plato had
come to Sicily. Dionysius, to palliate his secret hatred, before Plato
came away, treated him with great entertainments and all seeming
demonstrations of kindness, but could not forbear breaking out one day
into the expression, "No doubt, Plato, when you are at home among
the philosophers, your companions, you will complain of me, and reckon
up a great many of my faults." To which Plato answered with a smile,
"The Academy will never, I trust, be at such a loss for subjects to
discuss as to seek one in you." Thus, they say, Plato was dismissed;
but his own writings do not altogether agree with this account.
  Dion was angry at all this, and not long after declared open
enmity to Dionysius, on hearing what had been done with his wife; on
which matter Plato, also, had had some confidential correspondence
with Dionysius. Thus it was. After Dion's banishment, Dionysius,
when he sent Plato back, had desired him to ask Dion privately, if
he would be averse to his wife's marrying another man. For there
went a report, whether true, or raised by Dion's enemies, that his
marriage was not pleasing to him, and that he lived with his wife on
uneasy terms. When Plato therefore came to Athens, and had mentioned
the subject to Dion, he wrote a letter to Dionysius speaking of
other matters openly, but on this in language expressly designed to be
understood by him alone, to the effect that he had talked with Dion
about the business, and that it was evident he would highly resent the
affront, if it should be put into execution. At that time,
therefore, while there were yet great hopes of an accommodation, he
took no new steps with his sister, suffering her to live with Dion's
child. But when things were come to that pass, that no
reconciliation could be expected, and Plato, after his second visit,
was again sent away in displeasure, he then forced Arete, against
her will, to marry Timocrates, one of his favourites; in this action
coming short even of his father's justice and lenity; for he, when
Polyxenus, the husband of his sister, Theste, became his enemy, and
fled in alarm out of Sicily, sent for his sister, and taxed her, that,
being privy to her husband's flight, she had not declared it to him.
But the lady, confident and fearless, made him this reply: "Do you
believe me, brother, so bad a wife, or so timorous a woman, that
having known my husband's flight, I would not have borne his
company, and shared his fortunes? I knew nothing of it; since
otherwise it had been my better lot to be called the wife of the exile
Polyxenus than the sister of the tyrant Dionysius." It is said, he
admired her free and ready answer, as did the Syracusans also her
courage and virtue, insomuch that she retained her dignity and
princely retinue after the dissolution of the tyranny, and when she
died, the citizens, by public decree, attended the solemnity of her
funeral. And the story, though a digression from the present
purpose, was well worth the telling.
  From this time, Dion set his mind upon warlike measures; with
which Plato, out of respect for past hospitalities, and because of his
age, would have nothing to do. But Speusippus and the rest of his
friends assisted and encouraged him, bidding him deliver Sicily, which
with lift-up hands implored his help, and with open arms was ready
to receive him. For when Plato was staying at Syracuse, Speusippus,
being oftener than he in company with the citizens, had more
thoroughly made out how they were inclined; and though at first they
had been on their guard, suspecting his bold language, as though he
had been set on by the tyrant to trepan them, yet at length they
trusted him. There was but one mind and one wish or prayer among
them all, that Dion would undertake the design, and come, though
without either navy, men, horse, or arms; that he would simply put
himself aboard any ship, and lend the Sicilians his person and name
against Dionysius. This information from Speusippus encouraged Dion,
who, concealing his real purpose, employed his friends privately to
raise what men they could; and many statesmen and philosophers were
assisting him, as, for instance, Eudemus the Cyprian, on whose death
Aristotle wrote his Dialogue of the Soul, and Timonides the Leucadian.
They also engaged on his side Miltas the Thessalian, who was a
prophet, and had studied in the Academy. But of all that were banished
by Dionysius, who were not fewer than a thousand, five and twenty only
joined in the enterprise; the rest were afraid, and abandoned it.
The rendezvous was in the island Zacynthus, where a small force of not
quite eight hundred men came together, all of them, however, persons
already distinguished in plenty of previous hard service, their bodies
well trained and practised, and their experience and courage amply
sufficient to animate and embolden to action the numbers whom Dion
expected to join in Sicily.
  Yet these men, when they first understood the expedition was against
Dionysius, were troubled and disheartened, blaming Dion, that, hurried
on like a madman by mere passion and despair, he rashly threw both
himself and them into certain ruin. Nor were they less angry with
their commanders and muster-masters that they had not in the beginning
let them know the design. But when Dion in his address to them had set
forth the unsafe and weak condition of arbitrary government, and
declared that he carried them rather for commanders than soldiers, the
citizens of Syracuse and the rest of the Sicilians having been long
ready for a revolt, and when, after him, Alcimenes, an Achaean of
the highest birth and reputation, who accompanied the expedition,
harangued them to the same effect, they were contented.
  It was now the middle of summer, and the Etesian winds blowing
steadily on the seas the moon was at the full, when Dion prepared a
magnificent sacrifice to Apollo, and with great solemnity marched
his soldiers to the temple in all their arms and accoutrements. And
after the sacrifice, he feasted them all in the race-course of the
Zacynthians, where he had made provisions for their entertainment. And
when here they beheld with wonder the quantity and the richness of the
gold and silver plate, and the tables laid to entertain them, all
far exceeding the fortunes of a private man, they concluded with
themselves that a man now past the prime of life, who was master of so
much treasure, would not engage himself in so hazardous an
enterprise without good reason of hope, and certain and sufficient
assurances of aid from friends over there. Just after the libations
were made, and the accompanying prayers offered, the moon was
eclipsed; which was no wonder to Dion, who understood the
revolutions of eclipses, and the way in which the moon is overshadowed
and the earth interposed between her and the sun. But because it was
necessary that the soldiers, who were surprised and troubled at it,
should be satisfied and encouraged, Miltas the diviner, standing up in
the midst of the assembly, bade them be of good cheer, and expect
all happy success, for that the divine powers foreshowed that
something at present glorious and resplendent should be eclipsed and
obscured; nothing at this time being more splendid than the
sovereignty of Dionysius, their arrival in Sicily should dim this
glory, and extinguish this brightness. Thus Miltas, in public,
descanted upon the incident. But concerning a swarm of bees which
settled on the poop of Dion's ship, he privately told him and his
friends that he feared the great actions they were like to perform,
though for a time they should thrive and flourish, would be of short
continuance, and soon suffer a decay. It is reported, also, that
many prodigies happened to Dionysius at that time. An eagle, snatching
a javelin from one of the guard, carried it aloft, and from thence let
it fall into the sea. The water of the sea that washed the castle
walls was for a whole day sweet and potable, as many that tasted it
experienced. Pigs were farrowed perfect in all their other parts,
but without ears. This the diviners declared to portend revolt and
rebellion, for that the subjects would no longer give ear to the
commands of their superiors. They expounded the sweetness of the water
to signify to the Syracusans a change from hard and grievous times
into easier and more happy circumstances. The eagle being the bird
of Jupiter, and the spear an emblem of power and command, this prodigy
was to denote that the chief of the gods designed the end and
dissolution of the present government. These things Theopompus relates
in his history.
  Two ships of burden carried all Dion's men; a third vessel, of no
great size, and two galleys of thirty oars attended them. In
addition to his soldiers' own arms, he carried two thousand shields, a
very great number of darts and lances, and abundant stores of all
manner of provisions, that there might be no want of anything in their
voyage; their purpose being to keep out at sea during the whole
voyage, and use the winds, since all the land was hostile to them, and
Philistus, they had been told, was in Iapygia with a fleet, looking
out for them. Twelve days they sailed with a fresh and gentle
breeze; on the thirteenth, they made Pachynus, the Sicilian cape.
There Protus, the chief pilot, advised them to land at once and
without delay, for if they were forced again from the shore, and did
not take advantage of the headland, they might ride out at sea many
nights and days, waiting for a southerly wind in the summer season.
But Dion, fearing a descent too near his enemies, and desirous to
begin at a greater distance, and further on in the country, sailed
on past Pachynus. They had not gone far, before stress of weather, the
wind blowing hard at north, drove the fleet from the coast; and it
being now about the time that Arcturus rises, a violent storm of
wind and rain came on, with thunder and lightning; the mariners were
at their wits' end, and ignorant what course they ran, until on a
sudden they found they were driving with the sea on Cercina, the
island on the coast of Africa, just where it is most craggy and
dangerous to run upon. Upon the cliffs there they escaped narrowly
of being forced and staved to pieces; but, labouring hard at their
oars, with much difficulty they kept clear until the storm ceased.
Then, lighting by chance upon a vessel, they understood they were upon
the Heads, as it is called, of the Great Syrtis; and when they were
now again disheartened by a sudden calm, and beating to and fro
without making any way, a soft air began to blow from the land, when
they expected anything rather than wind from the south, and scarce
believed the happy change of their fortune. The gale gradually
increasing, and beginning to blow fresh, they clapped on all their
sails, and, praying to the gods, put out again into the open seas,
steering right from Africa for Sicily. And, running steady before
the wind, the fifth day they arrived at Minoa, a little town of
Sicily, in the dominion of the Carthaginians, of which Synalus, an
acquaintance and friend of Dion's, happened at that time to be
governor; who, not knowing it was Dion and his fleet, endeavoured to
hinder his men from landing; but they rushed on shore with their
swords in their hands, not slaying any of their opponents (for this
Dion had forbidden, because of his friendship with the Carthaginians),
but forced them to retreat, and, following close, pressed in a body
with them into the place, and took it. As soon as the two commanders
met, they mutually saluted each other; Dion delivered up the place
again to Synalus, without the least damage done to any one therein,
and Synalus quartered and entertained the soldiers, and supplied
Dion with what he wanted.
  They were most of all encouraged by the happy accident of Dionysius'
absence at this nick of time; for it appeared that he was lately
gone with eighty sail of ships to Italy. Therefore, when Dion was
desirous that the soldiers should refresh themselves there, after
their tedious and troublesome voyage, they would not be prevailed
with, but earnest to make the best use of that opportunity, they urged
Dion to lead them straight on to Syracuse. Leaving, therefore, their
baggage, and the arms they did not use, Dion desired Synalus to convey
them to him as he had occasion, and marched directly to Syracuse.
  The first that came in to him upon his march were two hundred
horse of the Agrigentines who were settled near Ecnomum, and, after
them, the Geloans. But the news soon flying to Syracuse, Timocrates,
who had married Dion's wife, the sister of Dionysius, and was the
principal man among his friends now remaining in the city, immediately
despatched a courier to Dionysius, with letters announcing Dion's
arrival; while he himself took all possible care to prevent any stir
or tumult in the city, where all were in great excitement, but as
yet continued quiet, fearing to give too much credit to what was
reported. A very strange accident happened to the messenger who was
sent with the letters; for being arrived in Italy, as he travelled
through the land of Rhegium, hastening to Dionysius at Caulonia, he
met one of his acquaintance, who was carrying home part of a
sacrifice. He accepted a piece of the flesh, which his friend
offered him, and proceeded on his journey with all speed; having
travelled a good part of the night, and being, through weariness,
forced to take a little rest, he laid himself down in the next
convenient place he came to, which was in a wood near the road. A
wolf, scenting the flesh, came and seized it as it lay fastened to the
letter-bag, and with the flesh carried away the bag also, in which
were the letters to Dionysius. The man, awaking and missing his bag,
sought for it up and down a great while, and, not finding it, resolved
not to go to the king without his letters, but to conceal himself, and
keep out of the way.
  Dionysius, therefore, came to hear of the war in Sicily from other
hands, and that a good while after. In the meantime, as Dion proceeded
in his march, the Camarineans joined his forces, and the country
people in the territory of Syracuse rose and joined him in a large
body. The Leontines and Campanians, who, with Timocrates, guarded
the Epipolae, receiving a false alarm which was spread on purpose by
Dion, as if he intended to attack their cities first, left Timocrates,
and hastened off to carry succour to their own homes. News of which
being brought to Dion, where he lay near Macrae, he raised his camp by
night, and came to the river Anapus which is distant from the city
about ten furlongs; there he made a halt, and sacrificed by the river,
offering vows to the rising sun. The soothsayers declared that the
gods promised him victory; and they that were present, seeing him
assisting at the sacrifice with a garland on his head, one and all
crowned themselves with garlands. There were about five thousand
that had joined his forces in their march; who, though but
ill-provided, with such weapons as came next to hand, made up by
zeal and courage for the want of better arms; and when once they
were told to advance, as if Dion were already conqueror, they ran
forward with shouts and acclamations, encouraging each other with
the hopes of liberty.
  The most considerable men and better sort of the citizens of
Syracuse, clad all in white, met him at the gates. The populace set
upon all that were of Dionysius's party, and principally searched
for those they called setters or informers, a number of wicked and
hateful wretches, who made it their business to go up and down the
city, thrusting themselves into all companies, that they might
inform Dionysius what men said, and how they stood affected. These
were the first that suffered, being beaten to death by the crowd.
  Timocrates, not being able to force his way to the garrison that
kept the castle, took horse, and fled out of the city, filling all the
places where he came with fear and confusion, magnifying the amount of
Dion's forces that he might not be supposed to have deserted his
charge without good reason for it. By this time, Dion was come up, and
appeared in the sight of the people; he marched first in a rich suit
of arms, and by him on one hand his brother, Megacles, on the other,
Callippus the Athenian, crowned with garlands. Of the foreign
soldiers, a hundred followed as his guard, and their several
officers led the rest in good order; the Syracusans looking on and
welcoming them, as if they believed the whole to be a sacred and
religious procession, to celebrate the solemn entrance, after an
absence of forty-eight years, of liberty and popular government.
  Dion entered by the Menitid gate, and having by sound of trumpet
quieted the noise of the people, he caused proclamation to be made,
that Dion and Megacles, who were come to overthrow the tyrannical
government, did declare the Syracusans and all other Sicilians to be
free from the tyrant. But, being desirous to harangue the people
himself, he went up through the Achradina. The citizens on each side
the way brought victims for sacrifice, set out their tables and
goblets, and as he passed by each door threw flowers and ornaments
upon him, with vows and acclamations, honouring him as a god. There
was under the castle and the Pentapyla a lofty and conspicuous
sun-dial, which Dionysius had set up. Getting up upon the top of that,
he made an oration to the people, calling upon them to maintain and
defend their liberty; who, with great expressions of joy and
acknowledgment, created Dion and Megacles generals, with plenary
powers, joining in commission with them, at their desire and entreaty,
twenty colleagues, of whom half were of those that had returned with
them out of banishment. It seemed also to the diviners a most happy
omen that Dion, when he made his address to the people, had under
his feet the stately monument which Dionysius had been at such pains
to erect; but because it was a sun-dial on which he stood when he
was made general, they expressed some fears that the great actions
he had performed might be subject to change, and admit some rapid turn
and declination of fortune.
  After this, Dion, taking the Epipolae, released the citizens who
were imprisoned there, and then raised a wall to invest the castle.
Seven days after, Dionysius arrived by sea, and got into the
citadel, and about the same time came carriages, bringing the arms and
ammunition which Dion had left with Synalus. These he distributed
among the citizens; and the rest that wanted furnished themselves as
well as they could, and put themselves in the condition of zealous and
serviceable men-at-arms.
  Dionysius sent agents, at first privately, to Dion, to try what
terms they could make with him. But he declaring that any overtures
they had to make must be made in public to the Syracusans as a free
people, envoys now went and came between the tyrant and the people,
with fair proposals, and assurances that they should have abatements
of their tributes and taxes, and freedom from the burdens of
military expeditions, all which should be made according to their
own approbation and consent with him. The Syracusans laughed at
these offers, and Dion returned answer to the envoys, that Dionysius
must not think to treat with them upon any other terms but resigning
the government; which if he would actually do, he would not forget how
nearly he was related to him, or be wanting to assist him in procuring
oblivion for the past, and whatever else was reasonable and just.
Dionysius seemed to consent to this, and sent his agents again,
desiring some of the Syracusans to come into the citadel and discuss
with him in person the terms to which on each side they might be
willing, after fair debate, to consent. There were, therefore, some
deputed, such as Dion approved of; and the general rumour from the
castle was, that Dionysius would voluntarily resign his authority, and
rather do it himself as his own good deed than let it be the act of
Dion. But this profession was a mere trick to amuse the Syracusans.
For he put the deputies that were sent to him in custody, and by break
of day, having first to encourage his men made them drink
plentifully of raw wine, he sent the garrison of mercenaries out to
make a sudden sally against Dion's works. The attack was quite
unexpected, and the barbarians set to work boldly with loud cries to
pull down the cross-wall, and assailed the Syracusans so furiously
that they were not able to maintain their post. Only a party of Dion's
hired soldiers, on first taking the alarm, advanced to the rescue;
neither did they at first know what to do, or how to employ the aid
they brought, not being able to hear the commands of their officers,
amidst the noise and confusion of the Syracusans, who fled from the
enemy and ran in among them, breaking through their ranks, until Dion,
seeing none of his orders could be heard, resolved to let them see
by example what they ought to do, and charged into the thickest of the
enemy. The fight about him was fierce and bloody, he being as well
known by the enemy as by his own party, and all running with loud
cries to the quarters where he fought. Though his time of life was
no longer that of the bodily strength and agility for such a combat,
still his determination and courage were sufficient to maintain him
against all that attacked him; but, while bravely driving them back,
he was wounded in the hand with a lance, his body armour also had been
much battered, and was scarcely any longer serviceable to protect him,
either against missiles or blows hand-to-hand. Many spears and
javelins had passed into it through the shield, and, on these being
broken back, he fell to the ground, but was immediately rescued, and
carried off by his soldiers. The command-in-chief he left to
Timonides, and, mounting a horse, rode about the city, rallying the
Syracusans that fled; and, ordering up a detachment of the foreign
soldiers out of Achradina, where they were posted on guard, he brought
them as a fresh reserve, eager for battle, upon the tired and
failing enemy, who were already well inclined to give up their design.
For having hopes at their first sally to take the whole city, when
beyond their expectation they found themselves engaged with bold and
practised fighters, they fell back towards the castle. As soon as they
gave ground, the Greek soldiers pressed the harder upon them, till
they turned and fled within the walls. There were lost in this
action seventy-four of Dion's men, and a very great number of the
enemy. This being a signal victory, and principally obtained by the
valour of the foreign soldiers, the Syracusans rewarded them in honour
of it with a hundred minae, and the soldiers on their part presented
Dion with a crown of gold.
  Soon after, there came heralds from Dionysius bringing Dion
letters from the women of his family, and one addressed outside, "To
his father, from Hipparinus;" this was the name of Dion's son,
though Timaeus says, he was, from his mother Arete's name, called
Aretaeus; but I think credit is rather to be given to Timonides's
report, who was his father's fellow-soldier and confidant. The rest of
the letters were read publicly, containing many solicitations and
humble requests of the women; that professing to be from his son,
the heralds would not have them open publicly, but Dion, putting force
upon them, broke the seal. It was from Dionysius, written in the terms
of it to Dion, but in effect to the Syracusans, and so worded that,
under a plausible justification of himself and entreaty to him,
means were taken for rendering him suspected by the people. It
reminded him of the good service he had formerly done the usurping
government, it added threats to his dearest relations, his sister,
son, and wife, if he did not comply with the contents, also passionate
demands mingled with lamentations, and, most to the purpose of all,
urgent recommendations to him not to destroy the government, and put
the power into the hands of men who always hated him, and would
never forget their old piques and quarrels; let him take the
sovereignty himself, and so secure the safety of his family and his
friends.
  When this letter was read, the Syracusans were not, as they should
have been, transported with admiration at the unmovable constancy
and magnanimity of Dion, who withstood all his dearest interests to be
true to virtue and justice, but, on the contrary, they saw in this
their reason for fearing and suspecting that he lay under an
invincible necessity to be favourable to Dionysius; and they began,
therefore, to look out for other leaders, and the rather because to
their great joy they received the news that Heraclides was on his way.
This Heraclides was one of those whom Dionysius had banished, a very
good soldier, and well known for the commands he had formerly had
under the tyrant; yet a man of no constant purpose, of a fickle
temper, and least of all to be relied upon when he had to act with a
colleague in any honourable command. He had had a difference
formerly with Dion in Peloponnesus, and had resolved, upon his own
means, with what ships and soldiers he had, to make an attack upon
Dionysius. When he arrived at Syracuse, with seven galleys and three
small vessels, he found Dionysius already close besieged, and the
Syracusans high and proud of their victories. Forthwith, therefore, he
endeavoured by all ways to make himself popular; and, indeed, he had
in him naturally something that was very insinuating and taking with a
populace that loves to be courted. He gained his end, also, the
easier, and drew the people over to his side, because of the dislike
they had taken to Dion's grave and stately manner, which they
thought overbearing and assuming; their successes having made them
so careless and confident that they expected popular arts and
flatteries from their leaders before they had in reality secured a
popular government.
  Getting, therefore, together in an irregular assembly, they chose
Heraclides their admiral; but when Dion came forward, and told them
that conferring this trust upon Heraclides was in effect to withdraw
that which they had granted him, for he was no longer their
generalissimo if another had the command of the navy, they repealed
their order, and, though much against their wills, cancelled the new
appointment. When this business was over, Dion invited Heraclides to
his house, and pointed out to him, in gentle terms, that he had not
acted wisely or well to quarrel with him upon a punctilio of honour,
at a time when the least false step might be the ruin of all; and
then, calling a fresh assembly of the people, he there named
Heraclides admiral, and prevailed with the citizens to allow him a
life-guard, as he himself had.
  Heraclides openly professed the highest respect for Dion, and made
him great acknowledgments for this favour, attending him with all
deference, as ready to receive his commands but underhand he kept up
his dealings with the populace and the unrulier citizens, unsettling
their minds and disturbing them with his complaints, and putting
Dion into the utmost perplexity and disquiet. For if he advised to
give Dionysius leave to quit the castle, he would be exposed to the
imputation of sparing and protecting him; if, to avoid giving
offence or suspicion, he simply continued the siege, they would say he
protracted the war to keep his office of general the longer and
overawe the citizens.
  There was one Sosis, notorious in the city for his bad conduct and
his impudence, yet a favourite with the people, for the very reason
that they liked to see it made a part of popular privileges to carry
free speech to this excess of licence. This man, out of a design
against Dion, stood up one day in an assembly, and, having
sufficiently railed at the citizens as a set of fools that could not
see how they had made an exchange of a dissolute and drunken for a
sober and watchful despotism, and thus having publicly declared
himself Dion's enemy, took his leave. The next day he was seen running
through the streets, as if he fled from some that pursued him,
almost naked, wounded in the head, and bloody all over. In this
condition, getting people about him in the market-place, he told
them that he had been assaulted by Dion's men; and, to confirm what he
said, showed them the wounds he had received in his head. And a good
many took his part, exclaiming loudly against Dion for his cruel and
tyrannical conduct, stopping the mouths of the people by bloodshed and
peril of life. Just as an assembly was gathering in this unsettled and
tumultuous state of mind, Dion came before them, and made it appear
how this Sosis was brother to one of Dionysius's guard, and that he
was set on by him to embroil the city in tumult and confusion;
Dionysius having now no way left for his security but to make his
advantage of their dissensions and distractions. The surgeons, also,
having searched the wound, found it was rather raised than cut with
a downright blow; for the wounds made with a sword are, from their
mere weight, most commonly deepest in the middle, but this was very
slight, and all along of an equal depth; and it was not one
continued wound, as if cut at once, but several incisions, in all
probability made at several times, as he was able to endure the
pain. There were credible persons, also, who brought a razor, and
showed it in the assembly, stating that they met Sosis, running in the
street, all bloody, who told them that he was flying from Dion's
soldiers, who had just attacked and wounded him; they ran at once to
look after them, and met no one, but spied this razor lying under a
hollow stone near the place from which they observed he came.
  Sosis was now likely to come by the worst of it. But, when to back
all this, his own servants came in, and gave evidence that he had left
his house alone before break of day, with the razor in his hand,
Dion's accusers withdrew themselves, and the people by a general
vote condemned Sosis to die, being once again well satisfied with Dion
and his proceedings.
  Yet they were still as jealous as before of his soldiers, and the
rather because the war was now carried on principally by sea;
Philistus being come from Iapygia with a great fleet to Dionysius's
assistance. They supposed, therefore, that there would be no longer
need of the soldiers, who were all landsmen and armed accordingly;
these were rather, indeed, they thought, in a condition to be
protected by themselves, who were seamen, and had their power in their
shipping. Their good opinion of themselves was also much enhanced by
an advantage they got in an engagement by sea, in which they took
Philistus prisoner, and used him in a barbarous and cruel manner.
Ephorus relates that when he saw his ship was taken, he slew
himself. But Timonides, who was with Dion from the very first, and was
present at all the events as they occurred, writing to Speusippus
the philosopher, relates the story thus: that Philistus's galley
running aground, he was taken prisoner alive, and first disarmed, then
stripped of his corselet, and exposed naked, being now an old man,
to every kind of contumely; after which they cut off his head, and
gave his body to the boys of the town, bidding them drag it through
the Achradina, and then throw it into the Quarries. Timaeus, to
increase the mockery, adds further, that the boys tied him by his lame
leg, and so drew him through the streets, while the Syracusans stood
by laughing and jesting at the sight of that very man thus tied and
dragged about by the leg, who had told Dionysius that, so far from
flying on horseback from Syracuse, he ought to wait till he should
be dragged out by the heels. Philistus, however, has stated that
this was said to Dionysius by another, and not by himself.
  Timaeus avails himself of this advantage, which Philistus truly
enough affords against himself in his zealous and constant adherence
to the tyranny, to vent his own spleen and malice against him, They,
indeed, who were injured by him at the time, are perhaps excusable, if
they carried their resentment to the length of indignities to his dead
body; but they who write history afterwards, and were noways wronged
by him in his lifetime, and have received assistance from his
writings, in honour should not with opprobrious and scurrilous
language upbraid him for those misfortunes which may well enough
befall even the best of men. On the other side, Ephorus is as much out
of the way in his encomiums. For, however ingenious he is in supplying
unjust acts and wicked conduct with fair and worthy motives, and in
selecting decorous and honourable terms, yet when he does his best, he
does not himself stand clear of the charge of being the greatest lover
of tyrants, and the fondest admirer of luxury and power and rich
estates and alliances of marriage with absolute princes. He that
neither praises Philistus for his conduct, nor insults over his
misfortunes, seems to me to take the fittest course.
  After Philistus's death, Dionysius sent to Dion, offering to
surrender the castle, all the arms, provisions, and garrison soldiers,
with full pay for them for five months, demanding in return that he
might have safe conduct to go unmolested into Italy, and there to
continue, and also to enjoy the revenues of Gyarta, a large and
fruitful territory belonging to Syracuse, reaching from the seaside to
the middle of the country. Dion rejected these proposals, and referred
him to the Syracusans. They, hoping in a short time to take
Dionysius alive, dismissed his ambassadors summarily. But he,
leaving his eldest son, Apollocrates, to defend the castle, and
putting on board his ships the persons and the property that he set
most value upon, took the opportunity of a fair wind, and made his
escape, undiscovered by the admiral Heraclides and his fleet.
  The citizens loudly exclaimed against Heraclides for this neglect;
but he got one of their public speakers, Hippo by name, to go among
them, and make proposals to the assembly for a redivision of lands,
alleging that the first beginning of liberty was equality, and that
poverty and slavery were inseparable companions. In support of this,
Heraclides spoke, and used the faction in favour of it to overpower
Dion, who opposed it; and in fine, he persuaded the people to ratify
it by their vote, and further to decree that the foreign soldiers
should receive no pay, and that they would elect new commanders, and
so be rid of Dion's oppression. The people, attempting, as it were,
after their long sickness of despotism, all at once to stand on
their legs, and to do their part, for which they were yet unfit, of
freemen, stumbled in all their actions; and yet hated Dion, who,
like a good physician, endeavoured to keep the city to a strict and
temperate regimen.
  When they met in the assembly to choose their commanders, about
the middle of summer, unusual and terrible thunders, with other
inauspicious appearances, for fifteen days together, dispersed the
people, deterring them, on grounds of religious fear, from creating
new generals. But, at last, the popular leaders, having found a fair
and clear day, and having got their party together, were proceeding to
an election, when a draught-ox, who was used to the crowd and noise of
the streets, but for some reason or other grew unruly to his driver,
breaking from his yoke, ran furiously into the theatre where they were
assembled, and set the people flying and running in all directions
before him in the greatest disorder and confusion; and from thence
went on, leaping and rushing about, over all that part of the city
which the enemies afterwards made themselves masters of. However,
the Syracusans, not regarding all this, elected five-and-twenty
captains, and, among the rest, Heraclides, and underhand tampered with
Dion's men, promising, if they would desert him, and enlist themselves
in their service, to make them citizens of Syracuse, with all the
privileges of natives. But they would not hear the proposals, but,
to show their fidelity and courage, with their swords in their
hands, placing Dion for his security in the midst of their
battalion, conveyed him out of the city, not offering violence to
any one, but upbraiding those they met with their baseness and
ingratitude. The citizens, seeing they were but few, and did not offer
any violence, despised them; and, supposing that with their large
numbers they might with ease overpower and cut them off before they
got out of the city, fell upon them in the rear.
  Here Dion was in a great strait, being necessitated either to
fight against his own countrymen or tamely suffer himself and his
faithful soldiers to be cut in pieces. He used many entreaties to
the Syracusans, stretching out his hands towards the castle that was
full of their enemies, and showing them the soldiers, who in great
numbers appeared on the walls and watched what was doing. But when
no persuasions could divert the impulse of the multitude, and the
whole mass, like the sea in a storm, seemed to be driven before the
breath of the demagogues, he commanded his men, not to charge them,
but to advance with shouts and clashing of their arms; which being
done, not a man of them stood his ground; all fled at once through the
streets, though none pursued them. For Dion immediately commanded
his men to face about, and led them towards the city of the Leontines.
  The very women laughed at the new captains for this retreat; so,
to redeem their credit, they bid the citizens arm themselves again,
and followed after Dion, and came up with him as he was passing a
river. Some of the light-horse rode up and began to skirmish. But when
they saw Dion no more tame and calm, and no signs in his face of any
fatherly tenderness towards his countrymen, but with an angry
countenance, as resolved not to suffer their indignities any longer,
bidding his men face round and form in their ranks for the onset, they
presently turned their backs more basely than before, and fled to
the city, with the loss of some few of their men.
  The Leontines received Dion very honourably, gave money to his
men, and made them free of their city; sending envoys to the
Syracusans, to require them to do the soldiers justice, who, in
return, sent back other agents to accuse Dion. But when a general
meeting of the confederates met in the town of the Leontines, and
the matter was heard and debated, the Syracusans were held to be in
fault. They, however, refused to stand to the award of their allies,
following their own conceit, and making it their pride to listen to no
one, and not to have any commanders but those who would fear and
obey the people.
  About this time, Dionysius sent in a fleet, under the command of
Nypsius the Neapolitan, with provisions and pay for the garrison.
The Syracusans fought him, had the better, and took four of his ships;
but they made very ill use of their good success, and for want of good
discipline, fell in their joy to drinking and feasting in an
extravagant manner, with so little regard to their main interest that,
when they thought themselves sure of taking the castle, they
actually lost their city. Nypsius, seeing the citizens in this general
disorder, spending day and night in their drunken singing and
revelling, and their commanders well pleased with the frolic, or at
least not daring to try and give any orders to men in their drink,
took advantage of this opportunity, made a sally, and stormed their
works; and having made his way through these, let his barbarians loose
upon the city, giving up it and all that were in it to their pleasure.
  The Syracusans quickly saw their folly and misfortune, but could
not, in the distraction they were in, so soon redress it. The city was
in actual process of being sacked, the enemy putting the men to the
sword, demolishing the fortifications, and dragging the women and
children, with lamentable shrieks and cries, prisoners into the
castle. The commanders, giving all for lost, were not able to put
the citizens in any tolerable posture of defence, finding them
confusedly mixed up and scattered among the enemy. While they were
in this condition, and the Achradina in danger to be taken, every
one was sensible who he was in whom all their remaining hopes
rested, but no man for shame durst name Dion, whom they had so
ungratefully and foolishly dealt with. Necessity at last forcing them,
some of the auxiliary troops and horsemen cried out, "Send for Dion
and his Peloponnesians from the Leontines." No sooner was the
venture made and the name heard among the people, but they gave a
shout for joy, and, with tears in their eyes, wished him there, that
they might once again see that leader at the head of them, whose
courage and bravery in the worst of dangers they well remembered,
calling to mind not only with what an undaunted spirit he always
behaved himself, but also with what courage and confidence he inspired
them when he led them against the enemy. They immediately,
therefore, despatched Archonides and Telesides of the confederate
troops, and of the horsemen Hellanicus and four others. These,
traversing the road between at their horses' full speed, reached the
town of the Leontines in the evening. The first thing they did was
to leap from their horses and fall at Dion's feet, relating with tears
the sad condition the Syracusans were in. Many of the Leontines and
Peloponnesians began to throng about them, guessing by their speed and
the manner of their address that something extraordinary had occurred.
  Dion at once led the way to the assembly, and the people being
gathered together in a very little time, Archonides and Hellanicus and
the others came in among them, and in short declared the misery and
distress of the Syracusans, begging the foreign soldiers to forget the
injuries they had received, and assist the afflicted, who had suffered
more for the wrong they had done than they themselves who received
it would (had it been in their power) have inflicted upon them. When
they had made an end, there was a profound silence in the theatre;
Dion then stood up, and began to speak, but tears stopped his words;
his soldiers were troubled at his grief, but bade him take good
courage and proceed. When he had recovered himself a little,
therefore, "Men of Peloponnesus," he said, "and of the confederacy,
I asked for your presence here, that you might consider your own
interests. For myself, I have no interests to consult while Syracuse
is perishing, and though I may not save it from destruction, I will
nevertheless hasten thither, and be buried in the ruins of my country.
Yet if you can find in your hearts to assist us, the most
inconsiderate and unfortunate of men, you may to your eternal honour
again retrieve this unhappy city. But if the Syracusans can obtain
no more pity nor relief from you, may the gods reward you for what you
have formerly valiantly done for them, and for your kindness to
Dion, of whom speak hereafter as one who deserted you not when you
were injured and abused, nor afterwards forsook his fellow-citizens in
their afflictions and misfortunes."
  Before he had yet ended his speech, the soldiers leapt up, and
with a great shout testified their readiness for the service, crying
out, to march immediately to the relief of the city. The Syracusan
messengers hugged and embraced them, praying the gods to send down
blessings upon Dion and the Peloppnnesians. When the noise was
pretty well over, Dion gave orders that all should go to their
quarters to prepare for their march, and having refreshed
themselves, came ready armed to their rendezvous in the place where
they now were, resolving that very night to attempt the rescue.
  Now at Syracuse, Dionysius's soldiers, as long as day continued,
ransacked the city, and did all the mischief they could; but when
night came on, they retired into the castle, having lost some few of
their number. At which the factious ringleaders taking heart, and
hoping the enemy would rest content with what they had done and make
no further attempt upon them, persuaded the people again to reject
Dion, and, if he came with the foreign soldiers, not to admit him;
advising them not to yield, as inferior to them in point of honour and
courage, but to save their city and defend their liberties and
properties themselves. The populace, therefore, and their leaders,
sent messengers to Dion to forbid him to advance, while the noble
citizens and the horse sent others to him to desire to hasten his
march; for which reason he slacked his pace, yet did not remit his
advance. And in the course of the night, the faction that was
against him set a guard upon the gates of the city to hinder him
from coming in. But Nypsius made another sally out of the castle
with a far greater number of men, and those far more bold and eager
than before, who quite ruined what of the rampart was left standing,
and fell in, pell-mell, to sack and ravage the city. The slaughter was
now very great, not only of the men, but of the women, also, and
children; for they regarded not so much the plunder, as to destroy and
kill all they met. For Dionysius, despairing to regain the kingdom,
and mortally hating the Syracusans, resolved to bury his lost
sovereignty in the ruin and desolation of Syracuse. The soldiers,
therefore, to anticipate Dion's succours, resolved upon the most
complete and ready way of destruction, to lay the city in ashes,
firing all at hand with torches and lamps, and at distance with
flaming arrows, shot from their bows. The citizens fled every way
before them; they who, to avoid the fire, forsook their houses, were
taken in the streets and put to the sword; they who betook
themselves for refuge into the houses were forced out again by the
flames, many buildings being now in a blaze, and many falling in ruins
upon them as they fled past.
  This fresh misfortune by general consent opened the gates for
Dion. He had given up his rapid advance, when he received advice
that the enemies were retreated into the castle, but, in the
morning, some horse brought him the news of another assault, and, soon
after, some of those who before opposed his coming fled now to him, to
entreat him he would hasten his relief. The pressure increasing,
Heraclides sent his brother and after him his uncle, Theodotes, to beg
him to help them; for that now they were not able to resist any
longer; he himself was wounded, and the greatest part of the city
either in ruins in or flames. When Dion met this sad news, he was
about sixty furlongs distant from the city. When he had acquainted the
soldiers with the exigency, and exhorted them to behave themselves
like men, the army no longer marched but ran forwards, and by the
way were met by messengers upon messengers entreating them to make
haste. By the wonderful eagerness of the soldiers, and their
extraordinary speed, Dion quickly came to the city, and entered what
is called the Hecatompedon, sending his light-armed men at once to
charge the enemy, that, seeing them, the Syracusans might take
courage. In the meantime, he drew up in good order his full-armed
men and all the citizens that came in and joined him; forming his
battalions deep, and distributing his officers in many separate
commands, that he might be able to attack from many quarters at
once, and so be more alarming to the enemy.
  So, having made his arrangements and offered vows to the gods,
when he was seen in the streets advancing at the head of his men to
engage the enemy, a confused noise of shouts, congratulations, vows,
and prayers was raised by the Syracusans, who now called Dion their
deliverer and tutelar deity, and his soldiers their friends, brethren,
and fellow-citizens. And, indeed, at that moment, none seemed to
regard themselves, or value their safeties, but to be concerned more
for Dion's life than for all their own together, as he marched at
the head of them to meet the danger, through blood and fire and over
heaps of dead bodies that lay in his way.
  And indeed the posture of the enemy was in appearance terrible;
for they were flushed and ferocious with victory, and had posted
themselves very advantageously along the demolished works, which
made the access to them very hazardous and difficult. Yet that which
disturbed Dion's soldiers most was the apprehension they were in of
the fire, which made their march very troublesome and difficult; for
the houses being in flames on all sides, they were met everywhere with
the blaze, and, treading upon burning ruins and every minute in danger
of being overwhelmed with falling houses, through clouds of ashes
and smoke they laboured hard to keep their order and maintain their
ranks. When they came near to the enemy, the approach was so narrow
and uneven that but few of them could engage at a time; but at length,
with loud cheers and much zeal on the part of the Syracusans,
encouraging them and joining with them, they beat off Nypsius's men,
and put them to flight. Most of them escaped into the castle, which
was near at hand; all that could not get in were pursued and picked up
here and there by the soldiers, and put to the sword. The present
exigency, however, did not suffer the citizens to take immediate
benefit of their victory in such mutual congratulations and embraces
as became so great a success; for now all were busily employed to save
what houses were left standing, labouring hard all night, and scarcely
so could master the fire. The next day, not one of the popular
haranguers durst stay in the city, but all of them, knowing their
own guilt, by their flight confessed it, and secured their lives. Only
Heraclides and Theodotes went voluntarily and surrendered themselves
to Dion, acknowledging that they had wronged him, and begging he would
be kinder to them than they had been just to him, adding how much it
would become him who was master of so many excellent accomplishments
to moderate his anger and be generously compassionate to ungrateful
men, who were here before him, making their confession that, in all
the matter of their former enmity and rivalry against him they were
now absolutely overcome by his virtue. Though they thus humbly
addressed him, his friends advised him not to pardon these turbulent
and ill-conditioned men, but to yield them to the desires of his
soldiers, and utterly root out of the commonwealth the ambitious
affectation of popularity, a disease as pestilent and pernicious as
the passion for tyranny itself. Dion endeavoured to satisfy them,
telling them that other generals exercised and trained themselves
for the most part in the practices of war and arms; but that he had
long studied in the Academy how to conquer anger, and not let
emulation and envy conquer him; that to do this it is not sufficient
that a man be obliging and kind to his friends, and those that have
deserved well of him, but, rather, gentle and ready to forgive in
the case of those who do wrong; that he wished to let the world see
that he valued not himself so much upon excelling Heraclides in
ability and conduct, as he did in outdoing him in justice and
clemency; herein to have the advantage is to excel indeed; whereas the
honour of success in war is never entire; fortune will be sure to
dispute it, though no man should pretend to have a claim. What if
Heraclides be perfidious, malicious. and base, must Dion therefore
sully or injure his virtue by passionate concern for it? For, though
the laws determine it juster to revenge an injury than to do an
injury, yet it is evident that both, in the nature of things,
originally proceed from the same deficiency and weakness. The
malicious humour of men, though perverse and refractory, is not so
savage and invincible but it may be wrought upon by kindness, and
altered by repeated obligations. Dion, making use of these
arguments, pardoned and dismissed Heraclides and Theodotes.
  And now, resolving to repair the blockade about the castle, he
commanded all the Syracusans to cut each man a stake and bring it to
the works; and then, dismissing them to refresh themselves, and take
their rest, he employed his own men all night, and by morning had
finished his line of palisade; so that both the enemy and the citizens
wondered, when day returned, to see the work so far advanced in so
short a time. Burying, therefore, the dead, and redeeming the
prisoners, who were near two thousand, he called a public assembly,
where Heraclides made a motion that Dion should be declared general,
with full powers at land and sea. The better citizens approved well of
it, and called on the people to vote it so. But the mob of sailors and
handicraftsmen would not yield that Heraclides should lose his command
of the navy; believing him, if otherwise an ill man, at any rate to be
more citizen-like than Dion, and readier to comply with the people.
Dion therefore submitted to them in this, and consented Heraclides
should continue admiral. But when they began to press the project of
the redistribution of lands and houses, he not only opposed it, but
repealed all the votes they had formerly made upon that account, which
sensibly vexed them. Heraclides, therefore, took a new advantage of
him, and, being at Messene, harangued the soldiers and ships' crews
that sailed with him, accusing Dion that he had a design to make
himself absolute. And yet at the same time he held private
correspondence for a treaty with Dionysius by means of Pharax the
Spartan. Which, when the noble citizens of Syracuse had intimation of,
there arose a sedition in the army, and the city was in great distress
and want of provisions; and Dion now knew not what course to take,
being also blamed by all his friends for having thus fortified against
himself such a perverse and jealous and utterly corrupted man as
Heraclides was.
  Pharax at this time lay encamped at Neapolis, in the territory of
Agrigentum. Dion, therefore, led out the Syracusans, but with an
intent not to engage him till he saw a fit opportunity. But Heraclides
and his seamen exclaimed against him, that he had delayed fighting
on purpose that he might the longer continue his command; so that,
much against his will, he was forced to an engagement and was
beaten, his loss, however, being inconsiderable, and that occasioned
chiefly by the dissension that was in the army. He rallied his men,
and, having put them in good order and encouraged them to redeem their
credit, resolved upon a second battle. But in the evening, he received
advice that Heraclides with his fleet was on his way to Syracuse, with
the purpose to possess himself of the city and keep him and his army
out. Instantly, therefore, taking with him some of the strongest and
most active of his men, he rode off in the dark, and about nine the
next morning was at the gates, having ridden seven hundred furlongs
that night. Heraclides, though he strove to make all the speed he
could, yet, coming too late, tacked and stood out again to sea; and,
being unresolved what course to steer, accidentally he met Gaesylus
the Spartan, who told him he was come from Lacedaemon to head the
Sicilians, as Gylippus had formerly done. Heraclides was only too glad
to get hold of him and fastening him as it might be a sort of amulet
to himself, he showed him to the confederates, and sent a herald to
Syracuse to summon them to accept the Spartan general. Dion returned
answer that they had generals enough, and, if they wanted a Spartan to
command them, he could supply that office, being himself a citizen
of Sparta. When Gaesylus saw this, he gave up all pretensions, and
sailed in to Dion, and reconciled Heraclides to him, making Heraclides
swear the most solemn oaths to perform what he engaged, Gaesylus
himself also undertaking to maintain Dion's right and inflict
chastisement on Heraclides if he broke his faith.
  The Syracusans then laid up their navy, which was at present a great
charge and of little use to them, but an occasion of differences and
dissensions among the generals, and pressed on the siege, finishing
the wall of blockade with which they invested the castle. The
besieged, seeing no hopes of succour and their provisions failing,
began to mutiny; so that the son of Dionysius, in despair of holding
out longer for his father, capitulated, and articled with Dion to
deliver up the castle with all the garrison soldiers and ammunition;
and so, taking his mother and sisters and manning five galleys, he set
out to go to his father, Dion seeing him safely out, and scarce a
man in all the city not being there to behold the sight, as indeed
they called even on those that were not present, out of pity, that
they could not be there, to see this happy day and the sun shining
on a free Syracuse. And as this expulsion of Dionysius is even now
always cited as one of the greatest and most remarkable examples of
fortune's vicissitudes, how extraordinary may we imagine their joy
to have been, and how entire their satisfaction, who had totally
subverted the most potent tyranny that ever was by very slight and
inconsiderable means!
  When Apollocrates was gone, and Dion coming to take possession of
the castle, the women could not stay while he made his entry, but
ran to meet him at the gate. Aristomache led Dion's son and Arete
followed after weeping, fearful and dubious how to salute or address
her husband, after living with another man. Dion first embraced his
sister, then his son; when Aristomache bringing Arete to him, "O
Dion," said she, "your banishment made us all equally miserable;
your return and victory has cancelled all sorrows, excepting this poor
sufferer's, whom I, unhappy, was compelled to be another's while you
were yet alive. Fortune has now given you the sole disposal of us; how
will you determine concerning her hard fate? In what relation must she
salute you, as her uncle, or as her husband?" This speech of
Aristomache's brought tears from Dion, who with great affection
embraced his wife, gave her his son, and desired her to retire to
his own house, where he continued to reside when he had delivered up
the castle to the Syracusans.
  For though all things had now succeeded to his wish, yet he
desired not to enjoy any present advantage of his good fortune, except
to gratify his friends, reward his allies, and bestow upon his
companions of former time in Athens, and the soldiers that had
served him, some special mark of kindness and honour, striving
herein to outdo his very means in his generosity. As for himself, he
was content with a very frugal and moderate competency, and was indeed
the wonder of all men, that when not only Sicily and Carthage, but all
Greece looked to him as in the height of prosperity, and no man living
greater than he, no general more renowned for valour and success,
yet in his guard, his attendance, his table, he seemed as if he rather
commoned with Plato in the Academy than lived among hired captains and
paid soldiers, whose solace of their toils and dangers it is to eat
and drink their fill, and enjoy themselves plentifully every day.
Plato indeed wrote to him that the eyes of all the world were now upon
him; but it is evident that he himself had fixed his eye upon one
place in one city, the Academy, and considered that the spectators and
judges there regarded not great actions, courage, or fortune, but
watched to see how temporately and wisely he could use his prosperity,
how evenly he could behave himself in the high condition he now was
in. Neither did he remit anything of his wonted stateliness in
conversation or serious charge to the people; he made it rather a
point to maintain it, notwithstanding that a little condescension
and obliging civility were very necessary for his present affairs; and
Plato, as we said before, rebuked him, and wrote to tell him that
self-will keeps house with solitude. But certainly his natural
temperament was one that could not bend to complaisance; and, besides,
he wished to work the Syracusans back the other way, out of their
present excess of license and caprice.
  Heraclides began again to set up against him, and, being invited
by Dion to make one of the Council, refused to come, saying he would
give his opinion as a private citizen in the public assembly. Next
he complained of Dion because he had not demolished the citadel, and
because he had hindered the people from throwing down Dionysius's tomb
and doing despite to the dead; moreover, he accused him for sending to
Corinth for counsellors and assistants in the government, thereby
neglecting and slighting his fellow-citizens. And indeed he had sent
messages for some Corinthians to come to him, hoping by their means
and presence the better to settle that constitution he intended; for
he designed to suppress the unlimited democratic government, which
indeed is not a government, but, as Plato calls it, a market-place
of governments, and to introduce and establish a mixed polity, on a
Spartan and Cretan model, between a commonwealth and a monarchy,
wherein an aristocratic body should preside, and determine all matters
of greatest consequence; for he saw also that the Corinthians were
chiefly governed by something like an oligarchy, and the people but
little concerned in public business.
  Now knowing that Heraclides would be his most considerable
adversary, and that in all ways he was a turbulent, fickle, and
factious man, he gave way to some whom formerly he hindered when
they designed to kill him, who, breaking in, murdered Heraclides in
his own house. His death was much resented by the citizens.
Nevertheless, when Dion made him a splendid funeral, followed the dead
body with all his soldiers, and then addressed them, they understood
that it would have been impossible to have kept the city quiet, as
long as Dion and Heraclides were competitors in the government.
  Dion had a friend called Callippus, an Athenian, who, Plato says,
first made acquaintance and afterwards obtained familiarity with
him, not from any connection with his philosophic studies, but on
occasion afforded by the celebration of the mysteries, and in the
way of ordinary society. This man went with him in all his military
service, and was in great honour and esteem; being the first of his
friends who marched by his side into Syracuse, wearing a garland
upon his head, having behaved himself very well in all the battles,
and made himself remarkable for his gallantry. He, finding that Dion's
principal and most considerable friends were cut off in the war,
Heraclides now dead, and the people without a leader, and that the
soldiers had a great kindness for him, like a perfidious and wicked
villain, in hopes to get the chief command of Sicily as his reward for
the ruin of his friend and benefactor, and, as some say, being also
bribed by the enemy with twenty talents to destroy Dion, inveigled and
engaged several of the soldiers in a conspiracy against him, taking
this cunning and wicked occasion for his plot. He daily informed
Dion of what he heard or what he feigned the soldiers said against
him; whereby he gained that credit and confidence, that he was allowed
by Dion to consort privately with whom he would, and talk freely
against him in any company, that he might discover who were his secret
and factious maligners. By this means, Callippus in a short time got
together a cabal of all the seditious malcontents in the city; and
if any one who would be drawn in advised Dion that he was tampered
with, he was not troubled or concerned at it, believing Callippus
did it in compliance with his directions.
  While this conspiracy was afoot, a strange and dreadful apparition
was seen by Dion. As he sat one evening in a gallery in his house,
alone and thoughtful, hearing a sudden noise he turned about, and
saw at the end of the colonnade, by clear daylight, a tall woman, in
her countenance and garb like one of the tragical Furies, with a broom
in her hand, sweeping the floor. Being amazed and extremely
affrighted, he sent for some of his friends, and told them what he had
seen, entreating them to stay with him and keep him company all night;
for he was excessively discomposed and alarmed, fearing that if he
were left alone the spectre would again appear to him. He saw it no
more. But a few days after, his only son, being almost grown up to
man's estate, upon some displeasure and pet he had taken upon a
childish and frivolous occasion, threw himself headlong from the top
of the house and broke his neck.
  While Dion was under this affliction, Callippus drove on his
conspiracy, and spread a rumour among the Syracusans that Dion,
being now childless, was resolved to send for Dionysius's son,
Apollocrates, who was his wife's nephew and sister's grandson, and
make him his heir and successor. By this time, Dion and his wife and
sister began to suspect what was doing, and from all hands information
came to them of the plot. Dion being troubled, it is probable, for
Heraclides's murder, which was like to be a blot and stain upon his
life and actions, in continual weariness and vexation, he had rather
die a thousand times, and open his breast himself to the assassin,
than live not only in fear of his enemies but suspicion of his
friends. But Callippus, seeing the women very inquisitive to search to
the bottom of the business, took alarm, and came to them, utterly
denying it with tears in his eyes, and offering to give them
whatever assurances of his fidelity they desired. They required that
he should take the Great Oath, which was after this manner. The
juror went into the sanctuary of Ceres and Proserpine, where, after
the performance of some ceremonies, he was clad in the purple vestment
of the goddess, and, holding a lighted torch in his hand, took his
oath. Callippus did as they required, and forswore the fact. And
indeed he so little valued the goddesses that he stayed but till the
very festival of Proserpine, by whom he had sworn, and on that very
day committed his intended murder; as truly he might well enough
disregard the day, since he must at any other time as impiously offend
her, when he who had acted as her initiating priest should shed the
blood of her worshipper.
  There were a great many in the conspiracy; and as Dion was at home
with several of his friends in a room with tables for entertainment in
it, some of the conspirators beset the house around, others secured
the doors and windows. The actual intended murderers were some
Zacynthians, who went inside in their under-dresses without swords.
Those outside shut the doors upon them and kept them fast. The
murderers fell on Dion, endeavouring to stifle and crush him; then,
finding they were doing nothing, they called for a sword, but none
durst open the door. There were a great many within with Dion, but
every one was for securing himself, supposing that by letting him lose
his life he should save his own, and therefore no man ventured to
assist him. When they had waited a good while, at length Lycon the
Syracusan reached a short sword in at the window to one of the
Zacynthians, and thus, like a victim at a sacrifice, this long time in
their power and trembling for the blow, they killed him. His sister,
and wife big with child, they hurried to prison, who, poor lady, in
her unfortunate condition was there brought to bed of a son, which, by
the consent of the keepers, they intended to bring up, the rather
because Callippus began already to be embroiled in troubles.
  After the murder of Dion, he was in great glory, and had the sole
government of Syracuse in his hands; and to that effect wrote to
Athens, a place which, next the immortal gods, being guilty of such an
abominable crime, he ought to have regarded with shame and fear. But
true it is, what is said of that city, that the good men she breeds
are the most excellent, and the bad the most notorious; as their
country also produces the most delicious honey and the most deadly
hemlock. Callippus, however, did not long continue to scandalize
fortune and upbraid the gods with his prosperity, as though they
connived at and bore with the wretched man, while he purchased
riches and power by heinous impieties, but quickly received the
punishment he deserved. For, going to take Catana, he lost Syracuse;
whereupon they report he said, he had lost a city and got a bauble.
Then attempting Messene, he had most of his men cut off, and, among
the rest, Dion's murderers. When no city in Sicily would admit him,
but all hated and abhorred him, he went into Italy and took Rhegium;
and there, being in distress and not able to maintain his soldiers, he
was killed by Leptines and Polysperchon, and, as fortune would have
it, with the same sword by which Dion was murdered, which was known by
the size, being but short, as the Spartan swords, and the
workmanship of it very curious and artificial. Thus Callippus received
the reward of his villainies.
  When Aristomache and Arete were released out of prison, Hicetes, one
of Dion's friends, took them to his house, and seemed to intend to
entertain them well and like a faithful friend. Afterwards, being
persuaded by Dion's enemies, he provided a ship and pretended to
send them into Peloponnesus, but commanded the sailors, when they came
out to sea, to kill them and throw them overboard. Others say that
they and the little boy were thrown alive into the sea. This man
also escaped not the due recompense of his wickedness, for he was
taken by Timoleon and put to death, and the Syracusans, to revenge
Dion, slew his two daughters: of all which I have given a more
particular account in the life of Timoleon.


                                THE END
