Alexander’s unusual reverence or admiration (literally: “love”) for the founder of the Achaemenid empire – Cyrus the Great (559–5303 ) (cf. Kuhrt 2003: 648; 2007: 46–103; Liverani 2014: 568–570; Knauth, Nadjmabadi 1975). It was so striking for Alexander’s contemporaries and posterity that the young warrior was remembered, so the geographer Strabo tells us, as philocyrus (Strabo’s Geography 11. 11. 4) (Strabo; cf. Schachermeyr 1973: 315; Dye 1981: 68; Briant 2002: 852; Brosius 2003: 174; Olbrycht 2004: 72ff.; 2011: 357; Fowler, Hekster 2005: 22; Heckel 2007: 274; Romm 2010: 380–387; Burliga 2012: 39).
Alexander believed in what was already officially claimed by Philip – namely that the war against Darius III was a kind of vengeance, although postponed for 150 years5 (cf. Gehrke 2009: 26). Was this only propaganda? Of course, judged by the modern, sociological (objective, in theory) standards by which we evaluate the events, it was a perfect example of “rhetoric” and propaganda.
It was once rightly stated that Alexander did not possess a clear vision of how his conquest should look. If he had some idea at the very beginning of the war, little or nothing of it is left to us. Professor Badian seems to be near to the truth when he eloquently puts it thus: “We must not think of this boy [Alexander – B.B.] of less than twenty in terms of the great leader he turned out to be” (Badian 1962: 81). A similar sentiment appears in another of his thoughtful papers: “When Alexander invaded Asia, he almost certainly had no idea how far he would go or what the end would be” (Badian 1965: 166).
Alexander’s education in his youth and the supposed place the Cyropaedia occupied in it. There is (as usual) little agreement among experts in this respect. Some modern authorities assume Alexander’s formative years under Philip’s guidance left no trace in his later behaviour and manner; to some extent this is true but to push this argument too far is mistaken as such an expectation means to go, as I have said, in a misleading direction. There can be little doubt that Alexander was, judged by modern standards, an idealist which is most clear at the outset of the expedition, in such episodes as the sacrifice at the grave of Protesilaus in Elaeus and the visit in Troy; in the latter case he took a few “dedicated arms” that remembered the Trojan war (Arrian, Anab. 1. 11. 7). As the Bithynian philosopher reports (Anab. 1. 12. 1), “some say” that Alexander crowned the tomb of Achilles, while Hephaestion, others say, placed a wreath on Patroclus’s “tomb”. The vital dilemma still remains of how to evaluate such (and like) information? Brunt, in Appendix IV to his Loeb edition of the Anabasis Alexandrou, leaves no doubt that the modern reader must treat such and similar episodes as seriously as possible. “In general – he concludes – the Greek world did not distinguish legend from history” (Hölscher 2009: 60–61). The more difficult matter is with Alexander’s education (cf. Hammond 1989: 271; cf. Bosworth 1988a: 20–21; Cartledge 2004: 51–52) – difficult since the “inspiration” derived from books is not easy to recognize in practice and real life. Should we interpret Alexander’s reverence for Cyrus in the same way? The Macedonian court of Philip was “cosmopolitan”, we sometimes read. Greek intellectuals visited it and contact with the Macedonian elite must have been intense. There is a story that the young king read the three tragedians; Euripides was his preferred author (Arrian, Anab. 7. 16. 6).
