The last Imperial pilgrim was his namesake Alexander—called Severus. The poet Lucan[1] hints that in course of time these precious relics would be altogether lost, and were lost before his time. He wrote, in the 1st century of the Christian Era—
"Sacratis totum spargenda per orbem
Membra viri posuere adytis."
These are the poet's words in English dress—
"They laid in sacred shrines the hero's limbs
Which would be scattered o'er the whole wide world."
No wonder, then, that, when his remains were so dispersed, St. John Chrysostom should ask[2]: Where is the tomb of Alexander? The coffin, which, according to Strabo, was made of glass, quickly disappeared; it had replaced the coffin of gold in which Ptolemy I had caused the body to be placed, and which had been stolen.
Now, although proof is altogether wanting to identify the sarcophagus in question with that of Alexander the Great, we can hardly doubt that its history had some relation to its supposed occupant. Let us examine two pieces of sculpture in high relief on the sarcophagus—those on its two parallel sides. You may remark, on the left hand edge of the carved slab that confronts you as you pass up the room, the head of a Greek horseman wearing a cap of lion's skin—the skin of a lion's head. As Alexander the Great is so represented on his coins, this has been recognised as his portrait. But it must be observed that the position of this cavalier is secondary, whereas another, also a Greek, is represented in the centre of the group, raising his sword as if ready to cut off the uplifted arm of a Persian who has dropped his weapon and is asking "quarter."
Who is this Greek? May it not be Clitus, who saved Alexander's life at the Battle of Granicus? And who is that disarmed Persian? We may suppose him to be that Spithridates who had assaulted Alexander. The sculptor, we may remark, only suggests the infliction of the wound without representing the mutilation of the limb or the blood gushing out of the wound. This treatment is in accordance with the ride of Greek art to keep out of sight all that is repulsive; that appeal to the imagination is more impressive which is addressed by the artist through suggestion, rather than by direct expression.
Why should the figure of Clitus occupy the central, the most prominent, the chief place? In his honour, possibly, both this position was assigned and moreover this monument raised. This might be the tribute offered by Alexander to the cherished memory of him who had saved his life, but whose life he had himself taken away. Inconsolable was Alexander for having, in a frenzy of intoxication, slain his friend, his comrade, his companion-in-arms, his deliverer. By day and by night those
