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GRACE & CLASS

Respect the Weak

Most reserve respect for those who hold power, I focused on respecting people no matter what their plight. Upon capturing Darius’ mother, Sisygambis, she actually prostrated before my friend and companion, Haephestion.

Instead of making a big deal about the matter, I simply let her know that “he too was Alexander,” even eventually referring to her as my mother.

In the end, I granted Darius’ mother, daughter Stateira, wife and sister clemency and freedom. Not only was this the virtuous thing to do, but it crystallized my power as their King. It was both a strategic and tactical move. It paid off dividends: despite the right to leave, his mother refused.

Respect the Dead

While I will be the first to admit that I had shown considerable brutality in my razing of Thebes earlier on in my career, some would argue that this was required to keep my father’s confederation cohesive. After all, had I let Thebes walk away upon Philip’s death, Athens would have followed suit, as would have numerous other city-states. As such, many could defend my actions as beneficial and necessary for the greater Greek good.

I stress the word could defend, for I never cared much about what advisors urged me to do. While I did admire Cyrus considerably for obtaining counsel from many advisers and following suit, I did not see a need to follow him in those footsteps.

Where I did borrow a page from Cyrus was in my treatment of the people I conquered. Especially the treatment of the opposition army’s war dead.

After my first victory against Darius’ men on Greek soil, I honored the dead Persian soldiers (as well as my own fallen men, of course). I erected statues of my men back home. I even paid a special respect to the Persian commander who had nearly killed me.

I would not do this much in the future. Years later, after a major battle in Arbela, I buried my dead but left Persians where they lay. Over time, idealism gives way to pragmatism, I suppose. War was never pretty, I would learn over time.

Such conflicting images would symbolize the paradox that would serve as my legacy. On the one hand, you have the image of someone who would crush rebellion in a heartbeat with fearsome brutality while on the other, you would have an image of someone who would honor those who were about to kill him.

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