Chapter IV. The History of the Lydians.

Maps. Footnotes

Charles Rollin. Born 1661. Died 1741.

[Transcriber’s Note: The French original of this work was published 1730-38. The translation was done by Robert Lynam.]

A Letter written by the Right Reverend Dr. FRANCIS ATTERBURY, late Lord Bishop of Rochester, to M. ROLLIN, in commendation of this Work.

Reverende atque Eruditissime Vir,

Cum, monente amico quodam, qui juxta ædes tuas habitat, scirem te Parisios revertisse; statui salutatum te ire, ut primùm per valetudinem liceret. Id officii, ex pedum infirmitate aliquandiu dilatum, cùm tandem me impleturum sperarem, frustrà fui; domi non eras. Restat, ut quod coràm exequi non potui, scriptis saltem literis præstem; tibique ob ea omnia, quibus à te auctus sum, beneficia, grates agam, quas habeo certè, et semper habiturus sum, maximas.

Reverà munera ilia librorum nuperis à te annis editorum egregia ac perhonorifica mihi visa sunt. Multi enim facio, et te, vir præstantissime, et tua omnia quæcunque in isto literarum genere perpolita sunt; in quo quidem Te cæteris omnibus ejusmodi scriptoribus facilè antecellere, atque esse eundem et dicendi et sentiendi magistrum optimum, prorsùs existimo; cùmque in excolendis his studiis aliquantulum ipse et operæ et temporis posuerim, liberè tamen profiteor me, tua cum legam ac relegam, ea edoctum esse à te, non solùm quæ nesciebam prorsus, sed etiam quæ anteà didicisse mihi visus sum. Modestè itaque nimiùm de opere tuo sentis, cùm juventuti tantùm instituendæ elaboratum id esse contendis. Ea certè scribis, quæ à viris istiusmodi rerum haud imperitis, cum voluptate et fructu legi possunt. Vetera quidem et satis cognita revocas in memoriam; sed ita revocas, ut illustres, ut ornes; ut aliquid vetustis adjicias quod novum sit, alienis quod omnino tuum: bonasque picturas bonâ in luce collocando efficis, ut etiam iis, à quibus sæpissimè conspectæ sunt, elegantiores tamen solito appareant, et placeant magis.

Certè, dum Xenophontem sæpiùs versas, ab illo et ea quæ à te plurimis in locis narrantur, et ipsum ubique narrandi modum videris traxisse, stylique Xenophontei nitorem ac venustam simplicitatem non imitari tantùm, sed planè assequi: ita ut si Gallicè scisset Xenophon, non aliis ilium, in eo argumento quod tractas, verbis usurum, non alio prorsùs more scripturum judicem.

Hæc ego, haud assentandi causâ, (quod vitium procul à me abest,) sed verè ex animi sententiâ dico. Cùm enim pulchris à te donis ditatus sim, quibus in eodem, aut in alio quopiam doctrinæ genere referendis imparem me sentio, volui tamen propensi erga te animi gratique testimonium proferre, et te aliquo saltem munusculo, etsi perquam dissimili, remunerari.

Perge, vir docte admodùm et venerande, de bonis literis, quæ nunc neglectæ passim et spretæ jacent, benè mereri: perge juventatem Gallicam (quando illi solummodò te utilem esse vis) optimis et præceptis et exemplis informare.

Quod ut facias, annis ætatis tuæ elapsis multos adjiciat Deus! iisque decurrentibus sanum te præstet atque incolumem. Hoc ex animo optat ac vovet

Tui observantissimus FRANCISCUS ROFFENSIS.

Pransurum te mecum post festa dixit mihi amicus ille noster qui tibi vicinus est. Cùm statueris tecum quo die adfuturus es, id illi significabis. Me certè annis malisque debilitatum, quandocunque veneris, domi invenies.

_6° Kal. Jan. 1731._

A Letter written by the Right Reverend Dr. FRANCIS ATTERBURY, late Lord Bishop of Rochester, to M. ROLLIN, in commendation of this Work.

Reverend and most Learned Sir,

When I was informed by a friend who lives near you, that you were returned to Paris, I resolved to wait on you, as soon as my health would admit. After having been prevented by the gout for some time, I was in hopes at length of paying my respects to you at your house, and went thither, but found you not at home. It is incumbent on me therefore to do that in writing, which I could not in person, and to return you my acknowledgments for all the favours you have been pleased to confer upon me, of which I beg you will be assured, that I shall always retain the most grateful sense.

And indeed I esteem the books you have lately published, as presents of exceeding value, and such as do me very great honour. For I have the highest regard, most excellent Sir, both for you, and for every thing that comes from so masterly a hand as yours, in the kind of learning you treat; in which I must believe that you not only excel all other writers, but are at the same time the best master of speaking and thinking well; and I freely confess that, though I had applied some time and pains in cultivating these studies, when I read your volumes over and over again, I was instructed in things by you, of which I was not only entirely ignorant, but seemed to myself to have learnt before. You have therefore too modest an opinion of your work, when you declare it composed solely for the instruction of youth. What you write may undoubtedly be read with pleasure and improvement by persons not unacquainted with learning of the same kind. For whilst you call to mind ancient facts and things sufficiently known, you do it in such a manner, that you illustrate, you embellish them; still adding something new to the old, something entirely your own to the labours of others: by placing good pictures in a good light, you make them appear with unusual elegance and more exalted beauties, even to those who have seen and studied them most.

In your frequent correspondence with Xenophon, you have certainly extracted from him, both what you relate in many places, and every where his very manner of relating; you seem not only to have imitated, but attained the shining elegance and beautiful simplicity of that author’s style: so that had Xenophon excelled in the French language, in my judgment he would have used no other words, nor written in any other method, upon the subject you treat, than you have done.

I do not say this out of flattery, (which is far from being my vice,) but from my real sentiments and opinion. As you have enriched me with your fine presents, which I know how incapable I am of repaying either in the same or in any other kind of learning, I was willing to testify my gratitude and affection for you, and at least to make you some small, though exceedingly unequal, return.

Go on, most learned and venerable Sir, to deserve well of sound literature, which now lies universally neglected and despised. Go on, in forming the youth of France (since you will have their utility to be your sole view) upon the best precepts and examples.

Which that you may effect, may it please God to add many years to your life, and during the course of them to preserve you in health and safety. This is the earnest wish and prayer of

Your most obedient Servant, FRANCIS ROFFEN.

P.S.—Our friend, your neighbour, tells me you intend to dine with me after the holidays. When you have fixed upon the day, be pleased to let him know it. Whenever you come, you will be sure to find one so weak with age and ills as I am, at home.

_December 26, 1731._

PREFACE.

The Usefulness of Profane History, especially with regard to Religion.

The study of profane history would little deserve to have a serious attention, and a considerable length of time bestowed upon it, if it were confined to the bare knowledge of ancient transactions, and an uninteresting inquiry into the æras when each of them happened. It little concerns us to know, that there were once such men as Alexander, Cæsar, Aristides, or Cato, and that they lived in this or that period; that the empire of the Assyrians made way for that of the Babylonians, and the latter for the empire of the Medes and Persians, who were themselves subjected by the Macedonians, as these were afterwards by the Romans.

But it highly concerns us to know, by what methods those empires were founded; by what steps they rose to that exalted pitch of grandeur which we so much admire; what it was that constituted their true glory and felicity; and what were the causes of their declension and fall.

It is of no less importance to study attentively the manners of different nations; their genius, laws, and customs; and especially to acquaint ourselves with the character and disposition, the talents, virtues, and even vices of those by whom they were governed; and whose good or bad qualities contributed to the grandeur or decay of the states over which they presided.

Such are the great objects which ancient history presents; causing to pass, as it were, in review before us, all the kingdoms and empires of the world; and at the same time, all the great men who were any ways conspicuous; thereby instructing us, by example rather than precept, in the arts of empire and war, the principles of government, the rules of policy, the maxims of civil society, and the conduct of life that suits all ages and conditions.

We acquire, at the same time, another knowledge, which cannot but excite the attention of all persons who have a taste and inclination for polite learning; I mean the manner in which arts and sciences were invented, cultivated, and improved. We there discover, and trace as it were with the eye, their origin and progress; and perceive, with admiration, that the nearer we approach those countries which were once inhabited by the sons of Noah, in the greater perfection we find the arts and sciences; whereas they seem to be either neglected or forgotten, in proportion to the remoteness of nations from them; so that, when men attempted to revive those arts and sciences, they were obliged to go back to the source from whence they originally flowed.

I give only a transient view of these objects, though so very important, in this place, because I have already treated them at some length elsewhere.(1)

But another object of infinitely greater importance, claims our attention. For although profane history treats only of nations who had imbibed all the absurdities of a superstitious worship; and abandoned themselves to all the irregularities of which human nature, after the fall of the first man, became capable; it nevertheless proclaims universally the greatness of the Almighty, his power, his justice, and above all, the admirable wisdom with which his providence governs the universe.

If the inherent conviction of this last truth raised, according to Cicero’s observation,(2) the Romans above all other nations; we may, in like manner, affirm, that nothing gives history a greater superiority to many other branches of literature, than to see in a manner imprinted, in almost every page of it, the precious footsteps and shining proofs of this great truth, _viz._ that God disposes all events as supreme Lord and Sovereign; that he alone determines the fate of kings and the duration of empires; and that he transfers the government of kingdoms from one nation to another, because of the unrighteous dealing and wickedness committed therein.(3)

We discover this important truth in going back to the most remote antiquity, and the origin of profane history; I mean, to the dispersion of the posterity of Noah into the several countries of the earth where they settled. Liberty, chance, views of interest, a love for certain countries, and similar motives, were, in outward appearance, the only causes of the different choice which men made in these various migrations. But the Scriptures inform us, that amidst the trouble and confusion that followed the sudden change in the language of Noah’s descendants, God presided invisibly over all their counsels and deliberations; that nothing was transacted but by the Almighty’s appointment; and that he alone guided(4) and settled all mankind, agreeably to the dictates of his mercy and justice: “The Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of the earth.”(5)

It is true indeed that God, even in those early ages, had a peculiar regard for that people, whom he was one day to consider as his own. He pointed out the country which he designed for them; he caused it to be possessed by another laborious nation, who applied themselves to cultivate and adorn it; and to improve the future inheritance of the Israelites. He then fixed, in that country, the like number of families, as were to be settled in it, when the sons of Israel should, at the appointed time, take possession of it; and did not suffer any of the nations, which were not subject to the curse pronounced by Noah against Canaan, to enter upon an inheritance that was to be given up entirely to the Israelites. _Quando dividebat Altissimus gentes, quando separabat filios Adam, constituit terminos populorum juxta numerum filiorum Israel._(6) But this peculiar regard of God to his future people, does not interfere with that which he had for the rest of the nations of the earth, as is evident from the many passages of Scripture, which teach us, that the entire succession of ages is present to him; that nothing is transacted in the whole universe, but by his appointment; and that he directs the several events of it from age to age. _Tu es Deus conspector seculorum. A seculo usque in seculum respicis._(7)

We must therefore consider, as an indisputable principle, and as the basis and foundation of the study of profane history, that the providence of the Almighty has, from all eternity, appointed the establishment, duration, and destruction of kingdoms and empires, as well in regard to the general plan of the whole universe, known only to God, who constitutes the order and wonderful harmony of its several parts; as particularly with respect to the people of Israel, and still more with regard to the Messiah, and the establishment of the church, which is his great work, the end and design of all his other works, and ever present to his sight; _Notum à seculo est Domino opus suum._(8)

God has vouchsafed to discover to us, in holy Scripture, a part of the relation of the several nations of the earth to his own people; and the little so discovered, diffuses great light over the history of those nations, of whom we shall have but a very imperfect idea, unless we have recourse to the inspired writers. They alone display, and bring to light, the secret thoughts of princes, their incoherent projects, their foolish pride, their impious and cruel ambition: they reveal the true causes and hidden springs of victories and overthrows; of the grandeur and declension of nations; the rise and ruin of states; and teach us, what indeed is the principal benefit to be derived from history, the judgment which the Almighty forms both of princes and empires, and consequently, what idea we ourselves ought to entertain of them.

Not to mention Egypt, that served at first as the cradle (if I may be allowed the expression) of the holy nation; and which afterwards was a severe prison, and a fiery furnace to it(9); and, at last, the scene of the most astonishing miracles that God ever wrought in favour of Israel: not to mention, I say, Egypt, the mighty empires of Nineveh and Babylon furnish a thousand proofs of the truth here advanced.

Their most powerful monarchs, Tiglath-Pileser, Shalmanezer, Sennacherib, Nebuchadnezzar, and many more, were, in God’s hand, as so many instruments, which he employed to punish the transgressions of his people. “He lifted up an ensign to the nations from far, and hissed unto them from the end of the earth, to come and receive his orders.”(10) He himself put the sword into their hands, and appointed their marches daily. He breathed courage and ardour into their soldiers; made their armies indefatigable in labour, and invincible in battle; and spread terror and consternation wherever they directed their steps.

The rapidity of their conquests ought to have enabled them to discern the invisible hand which conducted them. But, says one of these kings(11) in the name of the rest, “By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom; for I am prudent: And I have removed the bounds of the people and have robbed their treasures, and I have put down the inhabitants like a valiant man. And my hand hath found as a nest the riches of the people: and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all the earth, and there was none that moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or peeped.”(12)

But this monarch, so august and wise in his own eye, how did he appear in that of the Almighty? Only as a subaltern agent, a servant sent by his master: “The rod of his anger, and the staff in his hand.”(13) God’s design was to chastise, not to extirpate his children. But Sennacherib “had it in his heart to destroy and cut off all nations.”(14) What then will be the issue of this kind of contest between the designs of God, and those of this prince?(15) At the time that he fancied himself already possessed of Jerusalem, the Lord, with a single blast, disperses all his proud hopes; destroys, in one night, an hundred four score and five thousand of his forces; and putting “a hook in his nose, and a bridle in his lips”,(16) (as though he had been a wild beast,) he leads him back to his own dominions, covered with infamy, through the midst of those nations, who, but a little before, had beheld him in all his pride and haughtiness.

Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, appears still more visibly governed by a Providence, to which he himself is an entire stranger, but which presides over all his deliberations, and determines all his actions.

Being come at the head of his army to two highways, the one of which led to Jerusalem, and the other to Rabbah, the chief city of the Ammonites, this king, not knowing which of them it would be best for him to strike into, debates for some time with himself, and at last casts lots. God makes the lot fall on Jerusalem, to fulfil the menaces he had pronounced against that city, _viz._ to destroy it, to burn the temple, and lead its inhabitants into captivity.(17)

One would imagine, at first sight, that this king had been prompted to besiege Tyre, merely from a political view, _viz._ that he might not leave behind him so powerful and well-fortified a city; nevertheless, a superior will had decreed the siege of Tyre.(18) God designed, on one side, to humble the pride of Ithobal its king, who fancying himself wiser than Daniel, whose fame was spread over the whole East; and ascribing entirely to his rare and uncommon prudence the extent of his dominions, and the greatness of his riches, persuaded himself that he was “a god, and sat in the seat of God.”(19) On the other side, he also designed to chastise the luxury, the voluptuousness, and the pride of those haughty merchants, who thought themselves kings of the sea, and sovereigns over crowned heads; and especially, that inhuman joy of the Tyrians, who looked upon the fall of Jerusalem (the rival of Tyre) as their own aggrandizement. These were the motives which prompted God himself to lead Nebuchadnezzar to Tyre; and to make him execute, though unknowingly, his commands. _Idcirco ecce ego adducam ad Tyrum Nabuchodonosor._

To recompense this monarch, whose army the Almighty had caused “to serve a great service against Tyre”(20) (these are God’s own words;) and to compensate the Babylonish troops, for the grievous toils they had sustained during a thirteen years’ siege; “I will give,”(21) saith the Lord God, “the land of Egypt unto Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon; and he shall take her multitude, and take her spoil, and take her prey, and it shall be the wages for his army.”(22)

The same Nebuchadnezzar, eager to immortalize his name by the grandeur of his exploits, was determined to heighten the glory of his conquests by his splendour and magnificence, in embellishing the capital of his empire with pompous edifices, and the most sumptuous ornaments. But whilst a set of adulating courtiers, on whom he lavished the highest honours and immense riches, make all places resound with his name, an august senate of watchful spirits is formed, who weigh, in the balance of truth, the actions of kings, and pronounce upon them a sentence from which there lies no appeal. The king of Babylon is cited before this tribunal, in which there presides the Supreme Judge, who, to a vigilance which nothing can elude, adds a holiness that will not allow of the least irregularity. _Vigil et sanctus._ In this tribunal all Nebuchadnezzar’s actions, which were the admiration and wonder of the public, are examined with rigour; and a search is made into the inward recesses of his heart, to discover his most hidden thoughts. How will this formidable inquiry end? At the instant that Nebuchadnezzar, walking in his palace, and revolving, with a secret complacency, his exploits, his grandeur and magnificence, is saying to himself, “Is not this great Babylon that I built for the house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty?”(23) in this very instant, when, by vainly flattering himself that he held his power and kingdom from himself alone, he usurped the seat of the Almighty: a voice from heaven pronounces his sentence, and declares to him, that “his kingdom was departed from him, that he should be driven from men, and his dwelling be with the beasts of the field, until he knew that the Most High ruled in the kingdoms of men, and gave them to whomsoever he would.”(24)

This tribunal, which is for ever assembled, though invisible to mortal eyes, pronounced the like sentence on those famous conquerors, on those heroes of the pagan world, who, like Nebuchadnezzar, considered themselves as the sole authors of their exalted fortune; as independent on authority of every kind, and as not holding of a superior power.

As God appointed some princes to be the instruments of his vengeance, he made others the dispensers of his goodness. He ordained Cyrus to be the deliverer of his people; and, to enable him to support with dignity so glorious a function, he endued him with all the qualities which constitute the greatest captains and princes: and caused that excellent education to be given him, which the heathens so much admired, though they neither knew the author nor true cause of it.

We see in profane history the extent and swiftness of his conquests, the intrepidity of his courage, the wisdom of his views and designs; his greatness of soul, his noble generosity; his truly paternal affection for his subjects; and, on their part, the grateful returns of love and tenderness, which made them consider him rather as their protector and father, than as their lord and sovereign. We find, I say, all these particulars in profane history; but we do not perceive the secret principle of so many exalted qualities, nor the hidden spring which set them in motion.

But Isaiah discloses them, and delivers himself in words suitable to the greatness and majesty of the God who inspired him, He represents this all-powerful God of armies as leading Cyrus by the hand, marching before him, conducting him from city to city, and from province to province; “subduing nations before him, loosening the loins of kings, breaking in pieces gates of brass, cutting in sunder the bars of iron,” throwing down the walls and bulwarks of cities, and putting him in possession “of the treasures of darkness, and the hidden riches of secret places.”(25)

The prophet also tells us the cause and motive of all these wonderful events.(26) It was in order to punish Babylon, and to deliver Judah, that the Almighty conducts Cyrus, step by step, and gives success to all his enterprises. “I have raised him up in righteousness, and I will direct all his ways.—For Jacob my servant’s sake, and Israel mine elect.”(27) But this prince is so blind and ungrateful, that he does not know his master, nor remember his benefactor. “I have surnamed thee, though thou hast not known me.—I girded thee, though thou hast not known me.”(28)

Men seldom form to themselves a right judgment of true glory, and the duties essential to regal power. The Scripture alone gives us a just idea of them, and this it does in a wonderful manner, under the image of a very large and strong tree, whose top reaches to heaven, and whose branches extend to the extremities of the earth.(29) As its foliage is very abundant, and it is bowed down with fruit, it constitutes the ornament and felicity of the plains around it. It supplies a grateful shade, and a secure retreat to beasts of every kind: animals, both wild and tame, are safely lodged beneath it, the birds of heaven dwell in its branches, and it supplies food to all living creatures.

Can there be a more just or more instructive idea of the kingly office, whose true grandeur and solid glory does not consist in that splendour, pomp, and magnificence which surround it; nor in that reverence and exterior homage which are paid to it by subjects, and which are justly due to it; but in the real services and solid advantages it procures to nations, whose support, defence, security, and asylum it forms, (both from its nature and institution,) at the same time that it is the fruitful source of blessings of every kind; especially with regard to the poor and weak, who ought to find beneath the shade and protection of royalty, a sweet peace and tranquillity, not to be interrupted or disturbed; whilst the monarch himself sacrifices his ease, and experiences alone those storms and tempests from which he shelters all others?

I think that I observe this noble image, and the execution of this great plan (religion only excepted) realized in the government of Cyrus, of which Xenophon has given us a picture, in his beautiful preface to the history of that prince. He has there specified a great number of nations, which, though separated from each other by vast tracts of country, and still more widely by the diversity of their manners, customs, and language, were however all united, by the same sentiments of esteem, reverence, and love for a prince, whose government they wished, if possible, to have continued for ever, so much happiness and tranquillity did they enjoy under it.(30)

To this amiable and salutary government, let us oppose the idea which the sacred writings give us of those monarchs and conquerors so much boasted by antiquity, who, instead of making the happiness of mankind the sole object of their care, were prompted by no other motives than those of interest and ambition. The Holy Spirit represents them under the symbols of monsters generated from the agitation of the sea, from the tumult, confusion, and dashing of the waves one against the other; and under the image of cruel wild beasts, which spread terror and desolation universally, and are for ever gorging themselves with blood and slaughter; bears, lions, tigers, and leopards.(31) How strong and expressive is this colouring!

Nevertheless, it is often from such destructive models, that the rules and maxims of the education generally bestowed on the children of the great are borrowed; and it is these ravagers of nations, these scourges of mankind, they propose to make them resemble. By inspiring them with the sentiments of a boundless ambition, and the love of false glory, they become (to borrow an expression from Scripture) “young lions; they learn to catch the prey, and devour men—to lay waste cities, to turn lands and their fatness into desolation by the noise of their roaring.”(32) And when this young lion is grown up, God tells us, that the noise of his exploits, and the renown of his victories, are nothing but a frightful roaring, which fills all places with terror and desolation.

The examples I have hitherto mentioned, extracted from the history of the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and Persians, prove sufficiently the supreme power exercised by God over all empires; and the relation he has thought fit to establish between the rest of the nations of the earth and his own peculiar people. The same truth appears as conspicuously under the kings of Syria and Egypt, successors of Alexander the Great: between whose history, and that of the Jews under the Maccabees, every body knows the close connection.

To these incidents I cannot forbear adding another, which though universally known, is not therefore the less remarkable; I mean the taking of Jerusalem by Titus. When he had entered that city, and viewed all the fortifications of it, this prince, though a heathen, owned the all-powerful arm of the God of Israel; and, in a rapture of admiration, cried out, “It is manifest that the Almighty has fought for us, and has driven the Jews from those towers; since neither the utmost human force, nor that of all the engines in the world, could have effected it.”(33)

Besides the visible and sensible connection of sacred and profane history, there is another more secret and more distinct relation with respect to the Messiah, for whose coming the Almighty, whose work was ever present to his sight, prepared mankind from far, even by the state of ignorance and dissoluteness in which he suffered them to be immersed during four thousand years. It was to make mankind sensible of the necessity of our having a Mediator, that God permitted the nations to walk after their own ways; while neither the light of reason, nor the dictates of philosophy, could dispel the clouds of error, or reform their depraved inclinations.

When we take a view of the grandeur of empires, the majesty of princes, the glorious actions of great men, the order of civil societies, and the harmony of the different members of which they are composed, the wisdom of legislators, and the learning of philosophers, the earth seems to exhibit nothing to the eye of man but what is great and resplendent; nevertheless, in the eye of God it was equally barren and uncultivated, as at the first instant of the creation. “The earth was WITHOUT FORM AND VOID.”(34) This is saying but little: it was wholly polluted and impure, (the reader will observe that I speak here of the heathens), and appeared to God only as the haunt and retreat of ungrateful and perfidious men, as it did at the time of the flood. “The earth was corrupt before God, and was filled with iniquity.”(35)

Nevertheless the Sovereign Arbiter of the universe, who, pursuant to the dictates of his wisdom, dispenses both light and darkness, and knows how to check the impetuous torrent of human passions, would not permit mankind, though abandoned to the utmost corruptions, to degenerate into absolute barbarity, and brutalize themselves, in a manner, by the extinction of the first principles of the law of nature, as is seen in several savage nations. Such an obstacle would have too much retarded the rapid progress, promised by him to the first preachers of the doctrine of his Son.

He darted from far, into the minds of men, the rays of several great truths, to dispose them for the reception of others more important. He prepared them for the instructions of the Gospel, by those of philosophers; and it was with this view that God permitted the heathen professors to examine, in their schools, several questions, and establish several principles, which are nearly allied to religion; and to engage the attention of mankind, by the brilliancy of their disputations. It is well known, that the philosophers inculcate, in every part of their writings, the existence of a God, the necessity of a Providence that presides over the government of the world, the immortality of the soul, the ultimate end of man, the reward of the good and punishment of the wicked, the nature of those duties which constitute the band of society, the character of the virtues that are the basis of morality, as prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance, and other similar truths, which, though incapable of guiding men to righteousness, were yet of use to scatter certain clouds, and to dispel certain obscurities.

It is by an effect of the same providence, which prepared, from far, the ways of the gospel, that, when the Messiah revealed himself in the flesh, God had united together almost all nations, by the Greek and Latin tongues; and had subjected to one monarch, from the ocean to the Euphrates, all the people not united by language, in order to give a more free course to the preaching of the apostles. The study of profane history, when entered upon with judgment and maturity, must lead us to these reflections, and point out to us the manner in which the Almighty makes the empires of the earth subservient to the establishment of the kingdom of his Son.

It ought likewise to teach us how to appreciate all that glitters most in the eye of the world, and is most capable of dazzling it. Valour, fortitude, skill in government, profound policy, merit in magistracy, capacity for the most abstruse sciences, beauty of genius, delicacy of taste, and perfection in all arts: These are the objects which profane history exhibits to us, which excite our admiration, and often our envy. But at the same time this very history ought to remind us, that the Almighty, ever since the creation, has indulged to his enemies all those shining qualities which the world esteems, and on which it frequently bestows the highest eulogiums; while, on the contrary, he often refuses them to his most faithful servants, whom he endues with talents of an infinitely superior nature, though men neither know their value, nor are desirous of them. “Happy is that people that is in such a case: Yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord.”(36)

I shall conclude this first part of my preface with a reflection which results naturally from what has been said. Since it is certain, that all these great men, who are so much boasted of in profane history, were so unhappy as not to know the true God, and to displease him; we should therefore be cautious and circumspect in the praises which we bestow upon them. St. Austin, in his _Retractions_, repents his having lavished so many encomiums on Plato, and the followers of his philosophy; “because these,” says he, “were impious men, whose doctrine, in many points, was contrary to that of Jesus Christ.”(37)

However, we are not to imagine, that St. Austin supposes it to be unlawful for us to admire and praise whatever is either beautiful in the actions, or true in the maxims, of the heathens. He only advises us to correct whatever is erroneous, and to approve whatever is conformable to rectitude and justice in them.(38) He applauds the Romans on many occasions, and particularly in his books _De Civitate Dei_,(39) which is one of the last and finest of his works. He there shows, that the Almighty raised them to be victorious over nations, and sovereigns of a great part of the earth, because of the gentleness and equity of their government (alluding to the happy ages of the Republic); thus bestowing on virtues, that were merely human, rewards of the same kind, with which that people, blind on this subject, though so enlightened on others, were so unhappy as to content themselves. St. Austin, therefore, does not condemn the encomiums which are bestowed on the heathens, but only the excess of them.

Students ought to take care, and especially we, who by the duties of our profession are obliged to be perpetually conversant with heathen authors, not to enter too far into the spirit of them; not to imbibe, unperceived, their sentiments, by lavishing too great applauses on their heroes; nor to give into excesses which the heathens indeed did not consider as such, because they were not acquainted with virtues of a purer kind. Some persons, whose friendship I esteem as I ought, and for whose learning and judgment I have the highest regard, have found this defect in some parts of my work, on the _Method of Teaching and Studying the Belles Lettres_, &c.; and are of opinion, that I have gone too great lengths in the encomiums which I bestow on the illustrious men of paganism. I indeed own, that the expressions on those occasions are sometimes too strong and too unguarded: however, I imagined that I had supplied a proper corrective to this, by the hints which I have interspersed in those four volumes; and, therefore, that it would be only losing time to repeat them; not to mention my having laid down, in different places, the principles which the Fathers of the Church establish on this head, declaring, with St. Austin, that without true piety, that is, without a sincere worship of the true God, there can be no true virtue; and that no virtue can be such, whose object is worldly glory; a truth, says this Father, acknowledged universally by those who are inspired with real and solid piety. _Illud constat inter omnes veraciter pios, neminem sine verâ pietate, id est, veri Dei vero cultu, veram posse habere virtutem; nec eam veram esse, quando gloriæ servit humanæ_.(40)

When I observed that Perseus had not resolution enough to kill himself,(41) I do not thereby pretend to justify the practice of the heathens, who looked upon suicide as lawful; but simply to relate an incident, and the judgment which Paulus Æmilius passed on it. Had I barely hinted a word or two against that custom, it would have obviated all mistake, and left no room for censure.

The ostracism, employed in Athens against persons of the greatest merit; theft connived at, as it appears, by Lycurgus in Sparta; an equality of goods established in the same city, by the authority of the state, and things of a like nature, may admit of some difficulty. However, I shall pay a more immediate attention to these particulars,(42) when the course of the history brings me to them; and shall avail myself with pleasure of such lights as the learned and unprejudiced may favour me by communicating.

In a work like that I now offer the public, intended more immediately for the instruction of youth, it were heartily to be wished, that not one single thought or expression might occur that could contribute to inculcate false or dangerous principles. When I first set about writing the present history, I proposed this for my maxim, the importance of which I perfectly conceive, but am far from imagining that I have always observed it, though it was my intention to do so; and therefore on this, as on many other occasions, I shall stand in need of the reader’s indulgence.

As I write principally for young persons, and for those who do not intend to make very deep researches into ancient history, I shall not burthen this Work with a sort of erudition, that might have been naturally introduced into it, but does not suit my purpose. My design is, in giving a continued series of ancient history, to extract from the Greek and Latin authors all that I shall judge most useful and entertaining with respect to the transactions, and most instructive with regard to the reflections.

I should wish to be able to avoid, at the same time, the dry sterility of epitomes, which convey no distinct idea to the mind; and the tedious accuracy of long histories, which tire the reader’s patience. I am sensible that it is difficult to steer exactly between the two extremes; and although, in the two parts of history of which this first volume consists, I have retrenched a great part of what we meet with in ancient authors, they may still be thought too long: but I was afraid of spoiling the incidents, by being too studious of brevity. However, the taste of the public shall be my guide, to which I shall endeavour to conform hereafter.

I was so happy as not to displease the public in my first attempt.(43) I wish the present Work may be equally successful, but dare not raise my hopes so high. The subjects I there treated, _viz._ polite literature, poetry, eloquence, and curious and detached pieces of history, gave me an opportunity of introducing into it from ancient and modern authors, whatever is most beautiful, affecting, delicate, and just, with regard both to thought and expression. The beauty and justness of the things themselves which I offered the reader, made him more indulgent to the manner in which they were presented to him; and besides, the variety of the subjects supplied the want of those graces which might have been expected from the style and composition.

But I have not the same advantage in the present work, the choice of the subjects not being entirely at my discretion. In a connected history, an author is often obliged to relate a great many things that are not always very interesting, especially with regard to the origin and rise of empires; and these parts are generally overrun with thorns, and offer very few flowers. However, the sequel will furnish matter of a more pleasing nature, and events that engage more strongly the reader’s attention; and I shall take care to make use of the valuable materials which the best authors will supply. In the mean time, I must entreat the reader to remember that in a wide-extended and beautiful region, the eye does not everywhere meet with golden harvests, smiling meads, and fruitful orchards; but sees, at different intervals, wild and less cultivated tracts of land. And, to use another comparison, furnished by Pliny,(44) some trees in the spring emulously shoot forth a numberless multitude of blossoms, which by this rich dress (the splendour and vivacity of whose colours charm the eye) proclaim a happy abundance in a more advanced season: while other trees,(45) of a less gay appearance, though they bear good fruits, have not however the fragrance and beauty of blossoms, nor seem to share in the joy of reviving nature. The reader will easily apply this image to the composition of history.

To adorn and enrich my own, I will be so ingenuous as to confess, that I do not scruple, nor am ashamed, to rifle from all quarters, and that I often do not cite the authors from whom I transcribe, because of the liberty I occasionally take to make some slight alterations. I have made the best use in my power of the solid reflections that occur in the second and third parts of the bishop of Meaux’s(46) _Universal History_, which is one of the most beautiful and most useful books in our language. I have also received great assistance from the learned Dean Prideaux’s _Connection of the Old and New Testament_, in which he has traced and cleared up, in an admirable manner, the particulars relating to ancient history. I shall take the same liberty with whatever comes in my way, that may suit my design, and contribute to the perfection of my Work.

I am very sensible, that it is not so much for a person’s reputation, thus to make use of other men’s labours, and that it is in a manner renouncing the name and quality of author. But I am not over fond of that title; and shall be extremely well pleased, and think myself very happy, if I can but deserve the name of a good compiler, and supply my readers with a tolerable history; who will not be over solicitous to inquire whether it be an original composition of my own, or not, provided they are but pleased with it.

I cannot determine the exact number of volumes which this Work will make; but am persuaded there will be no less than ten or twelve.(47) Students, with a very moderate application, may easily go through this course of history in a year, without interrupting their other studies. According to my plan, my Work should be given to the highest form but one. Youths in this class are capable of pleasure and improvement from this history; and I would not have them enter upon that of the Romans till they study rhetoric.

It would have been useful, and even necessary, to have given some idea of the ancient authors from whence I have extracted the facts which I here relate. But the course itself of the history will naturally give me an opportunity of mentioning them.

In the mean time, it may not be improper to take notice of the superstitious credulity with which most of these authors are reproached, on the subject of auguries, auspices, prodigies, dreams, and oracles. And indeed, we are shocked to see writers, so judicious in all other respects, lay it down as a kind of law, to relate these particulars with a scrupulous accuracy; and to dwell gravely on a tedious detail of trifling and ridiculous ceremonies, such as the flight of birds to the right or left hand, signs discovered in the smoking entrails of beasts, the greater or less greediness of chickens in pecking corn, and a thousand similar absurdities.

It must be confessed, that a sensible reader cannot, without astonishment, see persons among the ancients in the highest repute for wisdom and knowledge; generals who were the least liable to be influenced by popular opinions, and most sensible how necessary it is to take advantage of auspicious moments; the wisest councils of princes perfectly well skilled in the arts of government; the most august assemblies of grave senators; in a word, the most powerful and most learned nations in all ages; to see, I say, all these so unaccountably weak, as to make to depend on these trifling practices and absurd observances, the decision of the greatest affairs, such as the declaring of war, the giving battle, or pursuing a victory, deliberations that were of the utmost importance, and on which the fate and welfare of kingdoms frequently depended.

But, at the same time, we must be so just as to own, that their manners, customs, and laws, would not permit men, in these ages, to dispense with the observation of these practices: that education, hereditary tradition transmitted from immemorial time, the universal belief and consent of different nations, the precepts, and even examples of philosophers; that all these, I say, made the practices in question appear venerable in their eyes: and that these ceremonies, how absurd soever they may appear to us, and are really so in themselves, constituted part of the religion and public worship of the ancients.

This religion was false, and this worship mistaken; yet the principle of it was laudable, and founded in nature; the stream was corrupted, but the fountain was pure. Man, assisted only by his own light, sees nothing beyond the present moment. Futurity is to him an abyss invisible to the most keen, the most piercing sagacity, and exhibits nothing on which he may with certainty fix his views, or form his resolutions. He is equally feeble and impotent with regard to the execution of his designs. He is sensible, that he is dependent entirely on a Supreme Power, that disposes all events with absolute authority, and which, in spite of his utmost efforts, and of the wisdom of the best concerted schemes, by raising only the smallest obstacles and slightest disappointments, renders it impossible for him to execute his measures.

This obscurity and weakness oblige him to have recourse to a superior knowledge and power: he is forced, both by his immediate wants, and the strong desire he has to succeed in all his undertakings, to address that Being who he is sensible has reserved to himself alone the knowledge of futurity, and the power of disposing it as he sees fitting. He accordingly directs prayers, makes vows, and offers sacrifices, to prevail, if possible, with the Deity, to reveal himself, either in dreams, in oracles, or other signs which may manifest his will; fully convinced that nothing can happen but by the divine appointment; and that it is a man’s greatest interest to know this supreme will, in order to conform his actions to it.

This religious principle of dependence on, and veneration of, the Supreme Being, is natural to man: it is imprinted deep in his heart; he is reminded of it, by the inward sense of his extreme indigence, and by all the objects which surround him; and it may be affirmed, that this perpetual recourse to the Deity, is one of the principal foundations of religion and the strongest band by which man is united to his Creator.

Those who were so happy as to know the true God, and were chosen to be his peculiar people, never failed to address him in all their wants and doubts, in order to obtain his succour, and to know his will. He accordingly vouchsafed to reveal himself to them; to conduct them by apparitions, dreams, oracles, and prophecies; and to protect them by miracles of the most astonishing kind.

But those who were so blind as to substitute falsehood in the place of truth, directed themselves, for the like aid, to fictitious and deceitful deities, who were not able to answer their expectations, nor recompense the homage that mortals paid them, any otherwise than by error and illusion, and a fraudulent imitation of the conduct of the true God.

Hence arose the vain observation of dreams, which, from a superstitious credulity, they mistook for salutary warnings from Heaven; those obscure and equivocal answers of oracles, beneath whose veil the spirits of darkness concealed their ignorance; and, by a studied ambiguity, reserved to themselves an evasion or subterfuge, whatever might be the event. To this are owing the prognostics with regard to futurity, which men fancied they should find in the entrails of beasts, in the flight and singing of birds, in the aspect of the planets, in fortuitous accidents, and in the caprice of chance; those dreadful prodigies that filled a whole nation with terror, and which, it was believed, nothing could expiate but mournful ceremonies, and even sometimes the effusion of human blood: in fine, those black inventions of magic, those delusions, enchantments, sorceries, invocations of ghosts, and many other kinds of divination.

All I have here related was a received usage, observed by the heathen nations in general; and this usage was founded on the principles of that religion of which I have given a short account. We have a signal proof of this in that passage of the Cyropædia,(48) where Cambyses, the father of Cyrus, gives that young prince such noble instructions; instructions admirably well adapted to form the great captain, and great king. He exhorts him, above all things, to pay the highest reverence to the gods; and not to undertake any enterprise, whether important or inconsiderable, without first calling upon and consulting them; he enjoins him to honour the priests and augurs, as being their ministers and the interpreters of their will, but yet not to trust or abandon himself so implicitly and blindly to them, as not, by his own application, to learn every thing relating to the science of divination, of auguries and auspices. The reason which he gives for the subordination and dependence in which kings ought to live with regard to the gods, and the benefit derived from consulting them in all things, is this: How clear-sighted soever mankind may be in the ordinary course of affairs, their views are always very narrow and bounded with regard to futurity; whereas the Deity, at a single glance, takes in all ages and events. “As the gods,” says Cambyses to his son, “are eternal, they know equally all things, past, present, and to come. With regard to the mortals who address them, they give salutary counsels to those whom they are pleased to favour, that they may not be ignorant of what things they ought, or ought not, to undertake. If it is observed, that the deities do not give the like counsels to all men; we are not to wonder at it, since no necessity obliges them to attend to the welfare of those persons on whom they do not vouchsafe to confer their favour.”

Such was the doctrine of the most learned and most enlightened nations, with respect to the different kinds of divination; and it is no wonder that the authors who wrote the history of those nations, thought it incumbent on them to give an exact detail of such particulars as constituted part of their religion and worship, and was frequently in a manner the soul of their deliberations, and the standard of their conduct. I therefore was of opinion, for the same reason, that it would not be proper for me to omit entirely, in the ensuing history, what relates to this subject, though I have however retrenched a great part of it.

Archbishop Usher is my usual guide in chronology. In the history of the Carthaginians I commonly set down four æras: The year from the creation of the world, which, for brevity’s sake, I mark thus, A.M.; those of the foundation of Carthage and Rome; and lastly, the year before the birth of our Saviour, which I suppose to be the 4004th year of the world; wherein I follow Usher and others, though they suppose it to be four years earlier.

We shall now proceed to give the reader the proper preliminary information concerning this Work, according to the order in which it is executed.

To know in what manner the states and kingdoms were founded, that have divided the universe; the steps whereby they rose to that pitch of grandeur related in history; by what ties families and cities were united, in order to constitute one body or society, and to live together under the same laws and a common authority; it will be necessary to trace things back, in a manner, to the infancy of the world, and to those ages in which mankind, being dispersed into different regions, (after the confusion of tongues,) began to people the earth.

In these early ages every father was the supreme head of his family; the arbiter and judge of whatever contests and divisions might arise within it; the natural legislator over his little society; the defender and protector of those, who, by their birth, education, and weakness, were under his protection and safeguard, and whose interests paternal tenderness rendered equally dear to him as his own.

But although these masters enjoyed an independent authority, they made a mild and paternal use of it. So far from being jealous of their power, they neither governed with haughtiness, nor decided with tyranny. As they were obliged by necessity to associate their family in their domestic labours, they also summoned them together, and asked their opinion in matters of importance. In this manner all affairs were transacted in concert, and for the common good.

The laws which paternal vigilance established in this little domestic senate, being dictated with no other view than to promote the general welfare; concerted with such children as were come to years of maturity, and accepted by the inferiors with a full and free consent; were religiously kept and preserved in families as an hereditary polity, to which they owed their peace and security.

But different motives gave rise to different laws. One man, overjoyed at the birth of a first-born son, resolved to distinguish him from his future children, by bestowing on him a more considerable share of his possessions, and giving him a greater authority in his family. Another, more attentive to the interest of a beloved wife, or darling daughter whom he wanted to settle in the world, thought it incumbent on him to secure their rights and increase their advantages. The solitary and cheerless state to which a wife would be reduced in case she should become a widow, affected more intimately another man, and made him provide beforehand, for the subsistence and comfort of a woman who formed his felicity. From these different views, and others of the like nature, arose the different customs of nations, as well as their rights, which are infinitely various.

In proportion as every family increased, by the birth of children, and their marrying into other families, they extended their little domain, and formed, by insensible degrees, towns and cities.

These societies growing, in process of time, very numerous; and the families being divided into various branches, each of which had its head, whose different interests and characters might interrupt the general tranquillity; it was necessary to intrust one person with the government of the whole, in order to unite all these chiefs or heads under a single authority, and to maintain the public peace by an uniform administration. The idea which men still retained of the paternal government, and the happy effects they had experienced from it, prompted them to choose from among their wisest and most virtuous men, him in whom they had observed the tenderest and most fatherly disposition. Neither ambition nor cabal had the least share in this choice; probity alone, and the reputation of virtue and equity, decided on these occasions, and gave the preference to the most worthy.(49)

To heighten the lustre of their newly-acquired dignity, and enable them the better to put the laws in execution, as well as to devote themselves entirely to the public good; to defend the state against the invasions of their neighbours, and the factions of discontented citizens; the title of king was bestowed upon them, a throne was erected, and a sceptre put into their hands; homage was paid them, officers were assigned, and guards appointed for the security of their persons; tributes were granted; they were invested with full powers to administer justice, and for this purpose were armed with a sword, in order to restrain injustice, and punish crimes.

At first, every city had its particular king, who being more solicitous to preserve his dominion than to enlarge it, confined his ambition within the limits of his native country.(50) But the almost unavoidable feuds which break out between neighbours; jealousy against a more powerful king; a turbulent and restless spirit; a martial disposition, or thirst of aggrandizement; or the display of abilities; gave rise to wars, which frequently ended in the entire subjection of the vanquished, whose cities were possessed by the victor, and increased insensibly his dominions. Thus, a first victory paving the way to a second, and making a prince more powerful and enterprising, several cities and provinces were united under one monarch, and formed kingdoms of a greater or less extent, according to the degree of ardour with which the victor had pushed his conquests.(51)

But among these princes were found some, whose ambition being too vast to confine itself within a single kingdom, broke over all bounds, and spread universally like a torrent, or the ocean; swallowed up kingdoms and nations; and fancied that glory consisted in depriving princes of their dominions, who had not done them the least injury; in carrying fire and sword into the most remote countries, and in leaving every where bloody traces of their progress! Such was the origin of those famous empires which included a great part of the world.

Princes made a various use of victory, according to the diversity of their dispositions or interests. Some, considering themselves as absolute masters of the conquered, and imagining they were sufficiently indulged in sparing their lives, bereaved them, as well as their children, of their possessions, their country, and their liberty; subjected them to a most severe captivity; employed them in those arts which are necessary for the support of life, in the lowest and most servile offices of the house, in the painful toils of the field; and frequently forced them, by the most inhuman treatment, to dig in mines, and ransack the bowels of the earth, merely to satiate their avarice; and hence mankind were divided into freemen and slaves, masters and bondmen.

Others introduced the custom of transporting whole nations into new countries, where they settled them, and gave them lands to cultivate.

Other princes again, of more gentle dispositions, contented themselves with only obliging the vanquished nations to purchase their liberties, and the enjoyment of their laws and privileges by annual tributes laid on them for that purpose; and sometimes they would suffer kings to sit peaceably on their thrones, upon condition of their paying them some kind of homage.

But such of these monarchs as were the wisest and ablest politicians, thought it glorious to establish a kind of equality betwixt the nations newly conquered and their other subjects; granting the former almost all the rights and privileges which the others enjoyed: and by this means a great number of nations, that were spread over different and far distant countries, constituted, in some measure, but one city, at least but one people.

Thus I have given a general and concise idea of mankind, from the earliest monuments which history has preserved on this subject; the particulars whereof I shall endeavour to relate, in treating of each empire and nation. I shall not touch upon the history of the Jews, nor that of the Romans.

The history of the Carthaginians, that of the Assyrians, and the Lydians, which occurs in the second volume, is supported by the best authorities; but it is highly necessary to review the geography, the manners, and customs of the different nations here treated of; and first with regard to the religion, manners, and institutions of the Persians and Grecians; because these show their genius and character, which we may call, in some measure, the soul of history. For to take notice only of facts and dates, and confine our curiosity and researches to them, would be imitating the imprudence of a traveller, who, in visiting many countries, should content himself with knowing their exact distance from each other, and consider only the situation of the several places, their buildings, and the dresses of the people; without giving himself the least trouble to converse with the inhabitants, in order to inform himself of their genius, manners, disposition, laws, and government. Homer, whose design was to give, in the person of Ulysses, a model of a wise and intelligent traveller, tells us, at the very opening of his _Odyssey_, that his hero informed himself very exactly of the manners and customs of the several people whose cities he visited; in which he ought to be imitated by every person who applies himself to the study of history.

As Asia will hereafter be the principal scene of the history we are now entering upon, it may not be improper to give the reader such a general idea of it, as may at least make him acquainted with its most considerable provinces and cities.

The northern and eastern parts of Asia are less known in ancient history.

To the north are ASIATIC SARMATIA and ASIATIC SCYTHIA, which answer to Tartary.

Sarmatia is situated between the river _Tanais_, which separates Europe and Asia, and the river _Rha_, or _Volga_. Scythia is divided into two parts; the one on this, the other on the other side of mount _Imaus_. The nations of Scythia best known to us are the _Sacæ_ and the _Massagetæ_.

The most eastern parts are, SERICA, Cathay; SINARUM REGIO, China; and INDIA. This last country was better known anciently than the two former. It was divided into two parts; the one on this side the _Ganges_, included between that river and the _Indus_, which now composes the dominions of the Great Mogul; the other part was that on the other side of the Ganges.

The remaining part of Asia, of which much greater mention is made in history, may be divided into five or six parts, taking it from east to west.

I. UPPER ASIA, which begins at the river Indus. The chief provinces are GEDROSIA, CARMANIA, ARACHOSIA, DRANGIANA, BACTRIANA, the capital of which was _Bactra_; SOGDIANA, MARGIANA, HYRCANIA, near the Caspian sea; PARTHIA, MEDIA, its chief city _Ecbatana_; PERSIA, the cities of _Persepolis_ and _Elymais_; SUSIANA, the city of _Susa_; ASSYRIA, the city of _Nineveh_, situated on the river _Tigris_; MESOPOTAMIA, between the _Euphrates_ and _Tigris_; BABYLONIA, the city of _Babylon_ on the river Euphrates.

II. ASIA BETWEEN THE PONTUS EUXINUS AND THE CASPIAN SEA. Therein we may distinguish four provinces. 1. COLCHIS, the river _Phasis_, and mount _Caucasus_. 2. IBERIA. 3. ALBANIA; which two last-mentioned provinces now form part of Georgia. 4. The greater ARMENIA. This is separated from the lesser by the Euphrates; from Mesopotamia by mount _Taurus_; and from Assyria by mount _Niphates_. Its cities are _Artaxata_ and _Tigranocerta_, and the river _Araxes_ runs through it.

III. ASIA MINOR. This may be divided into four or five parts, according to the different situation of its provinces.

1. _Northward_, on the shore of the Pontus Euxinus; PONTUS, under three different names. Its cities are, _Trapezus_, not far from which are the people called _Chalybes_ or _Chaldæi_; _Themiscyra_, a city on the river _Thermodon_, and famous for having been the abode of the Amazons. PAPHLAGONIA, BITHYNIA; the cities of which are, _Nicæa_, _Prusa_, _Nicomedia_, _Chalcedon_ opposite to Constantinople, and _Heraclea_.

2. _Westward_, going down by the shores of the Ægean sea; MYSIA, of which there are two. The LESSER, in which stood _Cyzicus_, _Lampsacus_, _Parium_, _Abydos_ opposite to Sestos, from which it is separated only by the Dardanelles; _Dardanum_, _Sigæum_, _Ilion_, or _Troy_; and almost on the opposite side, the little island of _Tenedos_. The rivers are, the _Æsepus_, the _Granicus_, and the _Simois_. Mount _Ida_. This region is sometimes called Phrygia Minor, of which _Troas_ is part.

The GREATER MYSIA. _Antandros_, _Trajanopolis_, _Adramyttium_, _Pergamus_. Opposite to this Mysia is the island of LESBOS; the cities of which are, _Methymna_, where the celebrated _Arion_ was born; and _Mitylene_, which has given to the whole island its modern name Metelin.

ÆOLIA. _Elea_, _Cumæ_, _Phocæa_.

IONIA. _Smyrna_, _Clazomenæ_, _Teos_, _Lebedus_, _Colophon_, _Ephesus_, _Priene_, _Miletus_.

CARIA. _Laodicea_, _Antiochia_, _Magnesia_, _Alabanda_. The river _Mæander_.

DORIS. _Halicarnassus_, _Cnidos_.

Opposite to these four last countries, are the islands CHIOS, SAMOS, PATHMOS, COS; and lower, towards the south, RHODES.

3. _Southward_, along the Mediterranean;

LYCIA, the cities of which are, _Telmessus_, _Patara_. The river _Xanthus_. Here begins mount _Taurus_, which runs the whole length of Asia, and assumes different names, according to the several countries through which it passes.

PAMPHYLIA. _Perga_, _Aspendus_, _Sida_.

CILICIA. _Seleucia_, _Corycium_, _Tarsus_, on the river _Cydnus_. Opposite to Cilicia is the island of _Cyprus_. The cities are, _Salamis_, _Amathus_, and _Paphos_.

4. _Along the banks of the Euphrates_, going up northward;

The LESSER ARMENIA. _Comana_, _Arabyza_, _Melitene_, _Satala_. The river _Melas_, which empties itself into the Euphrates.

5. _Inland_:

CAPPADOCIA; the cities whereof are, _Neocæsarea_, _Comana Pontica_, _Sebastia_, _Sebastopolis_, _Diocæsarea_, _Cæsarea_, otherwise called _Mazaca_, and _Tyana_.

LYCAONIA and ISAURIA. _Iconium_, _Isauria_.

PISIDIA. _Seleucia_ and _Antiochia_ of _Pisidia_.

LYDIA. Its cities are, _Thyatira_, _Sardis_, _Philadelphia_. The rivers are, _Caystrus_ and _Hermus_, into which the _Pactolus_ empties itself. Mount _Sipylus_ and _Tmolus_.

PHRYGIA MAJOR. _Synnada_, _Apamia_.

IV. SYRIA, now named _Suria_, called under the Roman emperors the _East_, the chief provinces of which are,

1. PALESTINE, by which name is sometimes understood all Judea. Its cities are, _Jerusalem_, _Samaria_, and _Cæsarea Palestina_. The river _Jordan_ waters it. The name of Palestine is also given to the land of Canaan, which extended along the Mediterranean; the chief cities of which were, _Gaza_, _Ascalon_, _Azotus_, _Accaron_, and _Gath_.

2. PHŒNICIA, whose cities are, _Ptolemais_, _Tyre_, _Sidon_, and _Berytus_. Its mountains, _Libanus_ and _Antilibanus_.

3. SYRIA, properly so called, or ANTIOCHENA; the cities whereof are, _Antiochia_, _Apamia_, _Laodicea_, and _Seleucia_.

4. COMAGENA. The city of _Samosata_.

5. CŒLESYRIA. The cities are, _Zeugma_, _Thapsacus_, _Palmyra_, and _Damascus_.

V. ARABIA PETRÆA. Its cities are, _Petra_, and _Bostra_. Mount _Casius_. DESERTA. FELIX.

Of Religion.

It is observable, that in all ages and in every country, the several nations of the world, however various and opposite in their characters, inclinations and manners, have always united in one essential point; the inherent opinion of an adoration due to a Supreme Being, and of external forms calculated to evince such a belief. Into whatever country we cast our eyes, we find priests, altars, sacrifices, festivals, religious ceremonies, temples, or places consecrated to religious worship. Among every people we discover a reverence and awe of the Divinity; an homage and honour paid to him; and an open profession of an entire dependence upon him in all their undertakings, in all their necessities, in all their adversities and dangers. Incapable of themselves to penetrate into futurity and to ensure success, we find them careful to consult the Divinity by oracles, and by other methods of a like nature; and to merit his protection by prayers, vows, and offerings. It is by the same supreme authority they believe the most solemn treaties are rendered inviolable. It is that which gives sanction to their oaths; and to it by imprecations is referred the punishment of such crimes and enormities as escape the knowledge and power of men. On all their private concerns, voyages, journeys, marriages, diseases, the Divinity is still invoked. With him their every repast begins and ends. No war is declared, no battle fought, no enterprise formed, without his aid being first implored; to which the glory of the success is constantly ascribed by public acts of thanksgiving, and by the oblation of the most precious of the spoils, which they never fail to set apart as appertaining by right to the Divinity.

No variety of opinion is discernible in regard to the foundation of this belief. If some few persons, depraved by false philosophy, presume from time to time to rise up against this doctrine, they are immediately disclaimed by the public voice. They continue singular and alone, without making parties, or forming sects: the whole weight of the public authority falls upon them; a price is set upon their heads; whilst they are universally regarded as execrable persons, the bane of civil society, with whom it is criminal to have any kind of commerce.

So general, so uniform, so perpetual a consent of all the nations of the universe, which neither the prejudice of the passions, the false reasoning of some philosophers, nor the authority and example of certain princes, have ever been able to weaken or vary, can proceed only from a first principle, which forms a part of the nature of man; from an inward sentiment implanted in his heart by the Author of his being; and from an original tradition as ancient as the world itself.

Such were the source and origin of the religion of the ancients; truly worthy of man, had he been capable of persisting in the purity and simplicity of these first principles: but the errors of the mind, and the vices of the heart, those sad effects of the corruption of human nature, have strangely disfigured their original beauty. There are still some faint rays, some brilliant sparks of light, which a general depravity has not been able to extinguish utterly; but they are incapable of dispelling the profound darkness of the gloom which prevails almost universally, and presents nothing to view but absurdities, follies, extravagancies, licentiousness, and disorder; in a word, a hideous chaos of frantic excesses and enormous vices.

Can any thing be more admirable than these principles laid down by Cicero?(52) That we ought above all things to be convinced that there is a Supreme Being, who presides over all the events of the world, and disposes every thing as sovereign lord and arbiter: that it is to him mankind are indebted for all the good they enjoy: that he penetrates into, and is conscious of, whatever passes in the most secret recesses of our hearts: that he treats the just and the impious according to their respective merits: that the true means of acquiring his favour, and of being pleasing in his sight, is not by employing of riches and magnificence in the worship that is paid to him, but by presenting him with a heart pure and blameless, and by adoring him with an unfeigned and profound veneration.

Sentiments so sublime and religious were the result of the reflections of some few who employed themselves in the study of the heart of man, and had recourse to the first principles of his institution, of which they still retained some valuable relics. But the whole system of their religion, the tendency of their public feasts and ceremonies, the essence of the Pagan theology, of which the poets were the only teachers and professors, the very example of the gods, whose violent passions, scandalous adventures, and abominable crimes, were celebrated in their hymns or odes, and proposed in some measure to the imitation, as well as adoration, of the people; these were certainly very unfit means to enlighten the minds of men, and to form them to virtue and morality.

It is remarkable, that in the greatest solemnities of the Pagan religion, and in their most sacred and venerable mysteries, far from perceiving any thing which can recommend virtue, piety, or the practice of the most essential duties of ordinary life, we find the authority of laws, the imperious power of custom, the presence of magistrates, the assembly of all orders of the state, the example of fathers and mothers, all conspire to train up a whole nation from their infancy in an impure and sacrilegious worship, under the name, and in a manner under the sanction, of religion itself; as we shall soon see in the sequel.

After these general reflections upon Paganism, it is time to proceed to a particular account of the religion of the Greeks. I shall reduce this subject, though infinite in itself, to four articles, which are, 1. The feasts. 2. The oracles, auguries, and divinations. 3. The games and combats. 4. The public shows and representations of the theatre. In each of these articles, I shall treat only of what appears most worthy of the reader’s curiosity, and has most relation to this history. I omit saying any thing of sacrifices, having given a sufficient idea of them elsewhere.(53)

Of the Feasts.

An infinite number of feasts were celebrated in the several cities of Greece, and especially at Athens, of which I shall describe only three of the most famous, the Panathenea, the feasts of Bacchus, and those of Eleusis.

The Panathenea.

This feast was celebrated at Athens in honour of Minerva, the tutelary goddess of that city, to which she gave her name,(54) as well as to the feast of which we are speaking. Its institution was ancient, and it was called at first the Athenea; but after Theseus had united the several towns of Attica into one city, it took the name of Panathenea. These feasts were of two kinds, the great and the less, which were solemnized with almost the same ceremonies; the less annually, and the great upon the expiration of every fourth year.

In these feasts were exhibited racing, the gymnastic combats, and the contentions for the prizes of music and poetry. Ten commissaries, elected from the ten tribes, presided on this occasion, to regulate the forms, and distribute the rewards to the victors. This festival continued several days.

In the morning of the first day a race was run on foot, in which each of the runners carried a lighted torch in his hand, which they exchanged continually with each other without interrupting their race. They started from the Ceramicus, one of the suburbs of Athens, and crossed the whole city. The first that came to the goal, without having put out his torch, carried the prize. In the afternoon they ran the same course on horseback.

The gymnastic or athletic combats followed the races. The place for that exercise was upon the banks of the Ilissus, a small river, which runs through Athens, and empties itself into the sea at the Piræus.

Pericles first instituted the prize of music. In this dispute were sung the praises of Harmodius and Aristogiton who, at the expense of their lives, delivered Athens from the tyranny of the Pisistratidæ; to which was afterwards added the eulogium of Thrasybulus, who expelled the thirty tyrants. The prize was warmly disputed, not only amongst the musicians, but still more so amongst the poets; and it was highly glorious to be declared victor in this contest. Æschylus is reported to have died with grief upon seeing the prize adjudged to Sophocles, who was much younger than himself.

These exercises were followed by a general procession, wherein was carried, with great pomp and ceremony, a sail, embroidered with gold, on which were curiously delineated the warlike actions of Pallas against the Titans and Giants. This sail was affixed to a vessel which bore the name of the goddess. The vessel, equipped with sails, and with a thousand oars, was conducted from the Ceramicus to the temple of Eleusis, not by horses or beasts of draught, but by machines concealed in the bottom of it, which put the oars in motion, and made the vessel glide along.

The march was solemn and majestic. At the head of it were old men, who carried olive-branches in their hands, θαλλοφόροι, and these were chosen for the symmetry of their shape, and the vigour of their complexion. Athenian matrons, of great age, also accompanied them in the same equipage.

The grown and robust men formed the second class. They were armed at all points, and had bucklers and lances. After them came the strangers that inhabited Athens, carrying mattocks, instruments proper for tillage. Next followed the Athenian women of the same age, attended by the foreigners of their own sex, carrying vessels in their hands for the drawing of water.

The third class was composed of the young persons of both sexes, selected from the best families in the city. The young men wore vests, with crowns upon their heads, and sang a peculiar hymn in honour of the goddess. The maids carried baskets, κανηφόροι, in which were placed the sacred utensils proper to the ceremony, covered with veils to keep them from the sight of the spectators. The person, to whose care those sacred things were intrusted, was bound to observe a strict continence for several days before he touched them, or distributed them to the Athenian virgins;(55) or rather, as Demosthenes says, his whole life and conduct ought to have been a perfect model of virtue and purity. It was a high honour for a young woman to be chosen for so noble and august an office, and an insupportable affront to be deemed unworthy of it. We shall see that Hipparchus offered this indignity to the sister of Harmodius, which extremely incensed the conspirators against the Pisistratidæ. These Athenian virgins were followed by the foreign young women, who carried umbrellas and seats for them.

The children of both sexes closed the pomp of the procession.

In this august ceremony, the ῥαψωδοι were appointed to sing certain verses of Homer; a manifest proof of the estimation in which the works of that poet were held, even with regard to religion. Hipparchus, son of Pisistratus, first introduced that custom.

I have observed elsewhere,(56) that in the gymnastic games of this feast a herald proclaimed, that the people of Athens had conferred a crown of gold upon the celebrated physician Hippocrates, in gratitude for the signal services which he had rendered the state during the pestilence.

In this festival the people of Athens put themselves, and the whole republic, under the protection of Minerva, the tutelary goddess of their city, and implored of her all kind of prosperity. From the time of the battle of Marathon, in these public acts of worship, express mention was made of the Platæans, and they were joined in all things with the people of Athens.

Feasts of Bacchus.

The worship of Bacchus had been brought out of Egypt to Athens, where several feasts had been established in honour of that god; two particularly more remarkable than all the rest, called the great and the less feasts of Bacchus. The latter were a kind of preparation for the former, and were celebrated in the open field about autumn. They were named Lenea, from a Greek word(57) that signifies a wine-press. The great feasts were commonly called Dionysia, from one of the names of that god,(58) and were solemnized in the spring within the city.

In each of these feasts the public were entertained with games, shows, and dramatic representations, which were attended with a vast concourse of people, and exceeding magnificence, as will be seen hereafter: at the same time the poets disputed the prize of poetry, submitting to the judgment of arbitrators, expressly chosen for that purpose, their pieces, whether tragic or comic, which were then represented before the people.

These feasts continued many days. Those who were initiated, mimicked whatever the poets had thought fit to feign of the god Bacchus. They covered themselves with the skins of wild beasts, carried a thyrsus in their hands, a kind of pike with ivy-leaves twisted round it; had drums, horns, pipes, and other instruments calculated to make a great noise; and wore upon their heads wreaths of ivy and vine-branches, and of other trees sacred to Bacchus. Some represented Silenus, some Pan, others the Satyrs, all drest in suitable masquerade. Many of them were mounted on asses; others dragged goats(59) along for sacrifices. Men and women, ridiculously dressed in this manner, appeared night and day in public; and imitating drunkenness, and dancing with the most indecent gestures, ran in throngs about the mountains and forests, screaming and howling furiously; the women especially seemed more outrageous than the men; and, quite out of their senses, in their furious(60) transports invoked the god, whose feast they celebrated, with loud cries; εὐοῖ Βάκχε, or ὦ Ἴακχε, or Ἰόβακχε, or Ἰὼ Βάκχε.

This troop of Bacchanalians was followed by the virgins of the noblest families in the city, who were called κανηφόροι, from carrying baskets on their heads, covered with vine leaves and ivy.

To these ceremonies others were added, obscene to the last excess, and worthy of the god who chose to be honoured in such a manner. The spectators gave into the prevailing humour, and were seized with the same frantic spirit. Nothing was seen but dancing, drunkenness, debauchery, and all that the most abandoned licentiousness can conceive of gross and abominable. And this an entire people, reputed the wisest of all Greece, not only suffered, but admired and practised. I say an entire people; for Plato, speaking of the Bacchanalia, says in direct terms, that he had seen the whole city of Athens drunk at once.(61)

Livy informs us,(62) that this licentiousness of the Bacchanalia having secretly crept into Rome, the most horrid disorders were committed there under cover of the night, and the inviolable secresy which all persons, who were initiated into these impure and abominable mysteries, were obliged, under the most horrid imprecations, to observe. The senate, being apprized of the affair, put a stop to those sacrilegious feasts by the most severe penalties; and first banished the practisers of them from Rome, and afterwards from Italy. These examples inform us, how far a mistaken sense of religion, that covers the greatest crimes with the sacred name of the Divinity, is capable of misleading the mind of man.(63)

The Feast of Eleusis.

There is nothing in all Pagan antiquity more celebrated than the feast of Ceres Eleusina. The ceremonies of this festival were called, by way of eminence, “the mysteries,” from being, according to Pausanias, as much above all others, as the gods are above men. Their origin and institution are attributed to Ceres herself, who, in the reign of Erechtheus, coming to Eleusis, a small town of Attica, in search of her daughter Proserpine, whom Pluto had carried away, and finding the country afflicted with a famine, invented corn as a remedy for that evil, with which she rewarded the inhabitants. She not only taught them the use of corn, but instructed them in the principles of probity, charity, civility, and humanity;(64) from whence her mysteries were called Θεσμοφόρια, and _Initia_. To these first happy lessons fabulous antiquity ascribed the courtesy, politeness, and urbanity, so remarkable amongst the Athenians.

These mysteries were divided into the less and the greater; of which the former served as a preparation for the latter. The less were solemnized in the month Anthesterion, which answers to our November; the great in the month Boëdromion, which corresponds to August. Only Athenians were admitted to these mysteries; but of them, each sex, age, and condition, had a right to be received. All strangers were absolutely excluded, so that Hercules, Castor, and Pollux, were obliged to be adopted as Athenians in order to their admission; which, however, extended only to the lesser mysteries. I shall consider principally the great, which were celebrated at Eleusis.

Those who demanded to be initiated into them, were obliged, before their reception, to purify themselves in the lesser mysteries, by bathing in the river Ilissus, by saying certain prayers, offering sacrifices, and, above all, by living in strict continence during a certain interval of time prescribed them. That time was employed in instructing them in the principles and elements of the sacred doctrine of the great mysteries.

When the time for their initiation arrived, they were brought into the temple; and to inspire the greater reverence and terror, the ceremony was performed in the night. Wonderful things took place upon this occasion. Visions were seen, and voices heard of an extraordinary kind. A sudden splendour dispelled the darkness of the place, and, disappearing immediately, added new horrors to the gloom. Apparitions, claps of thunder, earthquakes, heightened the terror and amazement; whilst the person to be admitted, overwhelmed with dread, and sweating through fear, heard, trembling, the mysterious volumes read to him, if in such a condition he was capable of hearing at all. These nocturnal rites gave birth to many disorders, which the severe law of silence, imposed on the persons initiated, prevented from coming to light, as St. Gregory Nazianzen observes.(65) What cannot superstition effect upon the mind of man, when once his imagination is heated? The president in this ceremony was called Hierophantes. He wore a peculiar habit, and was not permitted to marry. The first who served in this function, and whom Ceres herself instructed, was Eumolpus; from whom his successors were called Eumolpidæ. He had three colleagues; one who carried a torch;(66) another a herald,(67) whose office was to pronounce certain mysterious words; and a third to attend at the altar.

Besides these officers, one of the principal magistrates of the city was appointed to take care that all the ceremonies of this feast were exactly observed. He was called the king,(68) and was one of the nine Archons. His business was to offer prayers and sacrifices. The people gave him four assistants,(69) one chosen from the family of the Eumolpidæ, a second from that of the Ceryces, and the two last from two other families. He had besides ten other ministers to assist him in the discharge of his duty, and particularly in offering sacrifices, from whence they derived their name.(70)

The Athenians initiated their children of both sexes very early into these mysteries, and would have thought it criminal to have let them die without such an advantage. It was their general opinion, that this ceremony was an engagement to lead a more virtuous and regular life; that it recommended them to the peculiar protection of the goddesses (Ceres and Proserpine,) to whose service they devoted themselves; and procured to them a more perfect and certain happiness in the other world: whilst, on the contrary, such as had not been initiated, besides the evils they had to apprehend in this life, were doomed, after their descent to the shades below, to wallow eternally in dirt, filth, and excrement. Diogenes the Cynic believed nothing of the matter,(71) and when his friends endeavoured to persuade him to avoid such a misfortune, by being initiated before his death—“What,” said he, “shall Agesilaus and Epaminondas lie amongst mud and dung, whilst the vilest Athenians, because they have been initiated, possess the most distinguished places in the regions of the blessed?” Socrates was not more credulous; he would not be initiated into these mysteries, which was perhaps one reason that rendered his religion suspected.

Without this qualification none were admitted to enter the temple of Ceres;(72) and Livy informs us of two Acarnanians, who, having followed the crowd into it upon one of the feast-days, although out of mistake and with no ill design, were both put to death without mercy. It was also a capital crime to divulge the secrets and mysteries of this feast. Upon this account Diagoras the Melian was proscribed, and had a reward set upon his head. It very nearly cost the poet Æschylus his life, for speaking too freely of it in some of his tragedies. The disgrace of Alcibiades proceeded from the same cause. Whoever had violated this secresy, was avoided as a wretch accursed and excommunicated.(73) Pausanias, in several passages, wherein he mentions the temple of Eleusis, and the ceremonies practised there, stops short, and declares he cannot proceed, because he had been forbidden by a dream or vision.(74)

This feast, the most celebrated of profane antiquity, was of nine days’ continuance. It began the fifteenth of the month Boëdromion. After some previous ceremonies and sacrifices on the first three days, upon the fourth in the evening began the procession of “the Basket;” which was laid upon an open chariot slowly drawn by oxen,(75) and followed by a long train of the Athenian women. They all carried mysterious baskets in their hands, filled with several things, which they took great care to conceal, and covered with a veil of purple. This ceremony represented the basket into which Proserpine put the flowers she was gathering when Pluto seized and carried her off.

The fifth day was called the day of “the Torches:” because at night the men and women ran about with them in imitation of Ceres, who having lighted a torch at the fire at mount Ætna, wandered about from place to place in search of her daughter.

The sixth was the most famous day of all. It was called Iacchus, which is the same as Bacchus, the son of Jupiter and Ceres, whose statue was then brought out with great ceremony, crowned with myrtle, and holding a torch in its hand. The procession began at the Ceramicus, and passing through the principal places of the city, continued to Eleusis. The way leading to it was called “the sacred way,” and lay across a bridge over the river Cephisus. This procession was very numerous, and generally consisted of thirty thousand persons.(76) The temple of Eleusis, where it ended, was large enough to contain the whole of this multitude; and Strabo says, its extent was equal to that of the theatres, which every body knows were capable of holding a much greater number of people.(77) The whole way reechoed with the sound of trumpets, clarions, and other musical instruments. Hymns were sung in honour of the goddesses, accompanied with dancing, and other extraordinary marks of rejoicing. The route before mentioned, through the sacred way, and over the Cephisus, was the usual one: but after the Lacedæmonians, in the Peloponnesian war, had fortified Decelia, the Athenians were obliged to make their procession by sea, till Alcibiades reestablished the ancient custom.

The seventh day was solemnized by games, and the gymnastic combats, in which the victor was rewarded with a measure of barley; without doubt because it was at Eleusis the goddess first taught the method of raising that grain, and the use of it. The two following days were employed in some particular ceremonies, neither important nor remarkable.

During this festival it was prohibited, under very great penalties, to arrest any person whatsoever, in order to their being imprisoned, or to present any bill of complaint to the judges. It was regularly celebrated every fifth year, that is, after a revolution of four years: and history does not mention that it was ever interrupted, except upon the taking of Thebes by Alexander the Great.(78) The Athenians, who were then upon the point of celebrating the great mysteries, were so much affected with the ruin of that city, that they could not resolve, in so general an affliction, to solemnize a festival which breathed nothing but merriment and rejoicing. It was continued down to the time of the Christian emperors.(79) Valentinian would have abolished it, if Prætextatus, the proconsul of Greece, had not represented, in the most lively and affecting terms, the universal sorrow which the abrogation of that feast would occasion among the people; upon which it was suffered to subsist. It is supposed to have been finally suppressed by Theodosius the Great; as were all the rest of the Pagan solemnities.

Of Auguries, Oracles, &c.

Nothing is more frequently mentioned in ancient history, than oracles, auguries, and divinations. No war was made, or colony settled; nothing of consequence was undertaken, either public or private, without having first consulted the gods. This was a custom universally established amongst the Egyptian, Assyrian, Grecian, and Roman nations; which is no doubt a proof, as has been already observed, that it was derived from ancient tradition, and that it had its origin in the religion and worship of the true God. It is not indeed to be questioned, but that God, before the deluge, did manifest his will to mankind in different methods, as he has since done to his people, sometimes in his own person and _vivá voce_, sometimes by the ministry of angels or of prophets inspired by himself, and at other times by apparitions or in dreams. When the descendants of Noah dispersed themselves into different regions, they carried this tradition along with them, which was every where retained, though altered and corrupted by the darkness and ignorance of idolatry. None of the ancients have insisted more upon the necessity of consulting the gods on all occasions by auguries and oracles than Xenophon; and he founds that necessity, as I have more than once observed elsewhere, upon a principle deduced from the most refined reason and discernment. He represents, in several places, that man of himself is very frequently ignorant of what is advantageous or pernicious to him; that, far from being capable of penetrating the future, the present itself escapes him; so narrow and short-sighted is he in all his views, that the slightest obstacles can frustrate his greatest designs; that the Divinity alone, to whom all ages are present, can impart a certain knowledge of the future to him: that no other being has power to facilitate the success of his enterprises; and that it is reasonable to believe he will enlighten and protect those, who adore him with the purest affection, who invoke him at all times with greatest constancy and fidelity, and consult him with most sincerity and integrity.

Of Auguries.

What a reproach is it to human reason, that so luminous a principle should have given birth to the absurd reasonings, and wretched notions, in favour of the science of augurs and soothsayers, and been the occasion of espousing, with blind devotion, the most ridiculous puerilities: should have made the most important affairs of state depend upon a bird’s happening to sing upon the right or left hand; upon the greediness of chickens in pecking their grain; the inspection of the entrails of beasts; the liver’s being entire and in good condition, which, according to them, did sometimes entirely disappear, without leaving any trace or mark of its having ever subsisted! To these superstitious observances may be added, accidental rencounters, words spoken by chance, and afterwards turned into good or bad presages; forebodings, prodigies, monsters, eclipses, comets; every extraordinary phenomenon, every unforeseen accident, with an infinity of chimeras of the like nature.

Whence could it happen, that so many great men, illustrious generals, able politicians, and even learned philosophers, have actually given into such absurd imaginations? Plutarch, in particular, so estimable in other respects, is to be pitied for his servile observance of the senseless customs of the Pagan idolatry, and his ridiculous credulity in dreams, signs, and prodigies. He tells us in his works, that he abstained a great while from eating eggs, upon account of a dream, with which he has not thought fit to make us further acquainted.(80)

The wisest of the Pagans knew well how to appreciate the art of divination, and often spoke of it to each other, and even in public, with the utmost contempt, and in a manner best adapted to expose its absurdity. The grave censor Cato was of opinion, that one soothsayer could not look at another without laughing. Hannibal was amazed at the simplicity of Prusias, whom he had advised to give battle, upon his being diverted from it by the inspection of the entrails of a victim. “What,” said he, “have you more confidence in the liver of a beast, than in so old and experienced a captain as I am?” Marcellus, who had been five times consul, and was augur, said, that he had discovered a method of not being put to a stand by the sinister flight of birds, which was, to keep himself close shut up in his litter.

Cicero explains himself upon the subject of auguries without ambiguity or reserve. Nobody was more capable of speaking pertinently upon it than himself, (as M. Morin observes in his dissertation upon the same subject.) As he was adopted into the college of augurs, he had made himself acquainted with their most abstruse secrets, and had all possible opportunity of informing himself fully in their science. That he did so, sufficiently appears from the two books he has left us upon divination, in which, it may be said, he has exhausted the subject. In the second, wherein he refutes his brother Quintus, who had espoused the cause of the augurs, he combats and defeats his false reasonings with a force, and at the same time with so refined and delicate a raillery, as leaves us nothing to wish; and he demonstrates by proofs, each more convincing than the other, the falsity, contrariety, and impossibility of that art. But what is very surprising, in the midst of all his arguments, he takes occasion to blame the generals and magistrates, who on important conjunctures had contemned the prognostics; and maintains, that the use of them, as great an abuse as it was in his own opinion, ought nevertheless to be respected, out of regard to religion, and the prejudices of the people.(81)

All that I have hitherto said tends to prove, that Paganism was divided into two sects, almost equally enemies of religion; the one by their superstitious and blind regard for auguries, the other by their irreligious contempt and derision of them.

The principle of the first, founded on one side upon the ignorance and weakness of man in the affairs of life, and on the other upon the prescience of the Divinity and his almighty providence, was true; but the consequence deduced from it in favour of auguries, false and absurd. They ought to have proved that it was certain, that the Divinity himself had established these external signs to denote his intentions, and that he had obliged himself to a punctual conformity to them upon all occasions: but they had nothing of this in their system. These auguries and divinations therefore were the effect and invention of the ignorance, rashness, curiosity, and blind passions of man, who presumed to interrogate God, and to oblige him to give answers upon every idle imagination and unjust enterprise.

The others, who gave no real credit to any thing enjoined by the science of augury, did not fail, however, to observe its trivial ceremonies through policy, in order the better to subject the minds of the people to themselves, and to reconcile them to their own purposes, by the assistance of superstition: but by their contempt for auguries, and their inward conviction of their falsity, they were led into a disbelief of the Divine Providence, and to despise religion itself; conceiving it inseparable from the numerous absurdities of this kind, which rendered it ridiculous, and consequently unworthy a man of sense.

Both the one and the other behaved in this manner, because, having mistaken the Creator, and abused the light of nature, which might have taught them to know and to adore him, they were deservedly abandoned to their own darkness, and to a reprobate mind; and, if we had not been enlightened by the true religion, we, even at this day, should give ourselves up to the same superstitions.

Of Oracles

No country was ever richer in, or more productive of oracles, than Greece. I shall confine myself to those which were the most noted.

The oracle of Dodona, a city of the Molossians, in Epirus, was much celebrated; where Jupiter gave answers either by vocal oaks,(82) or doves, which had also their language, or by resounding basins of brass, or by the mouths of priests and priestesses.

The oracle of Trophonius in Bœotia, though he was nothing more than a hero, was in great reputation.(83) After many preliminary ceremonies, as washing in the river, offering sacrifices, drinking a water called Lethe, from its quality of making people forget every thing, the votaries went down into his cave, by small ladders, through a very narrow passage. At the bottom was another little cavern, the entrance of which was also exceeding small. There they lay down upon the ground, with a certain composition of honey in each hand, which they were indispensably obliged to carry with them. Their feet were placed within the opening of the little cave; which was no sooner done, than they perceived themselves borne into it with great force and velocity. Futurity was there revealed to them; but not to all in the same manner. Some saw, others heard, wonders. From thence they returned quite stupified, and out of their senses, and were placed in the chair of Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory; not without great need of her assistance to recover their remembrance, after their great fatigue, of what they had seen and heard; admitting they had seen or heard any thing at all. Pausanias, who had consulted that oracle himself, and gone through all these ceremonies, has left a most ample description of it; to which Plutarch adds some particular circumstances,(84) which I omit, to avoid a tedious prolixity.

The temple and oracle of the Branchidæ, in the neighbourhood of Miletus, so called from Branchus, the son of Apollo, was very ancient, and in great esteem with all the Ionians and Dorians of Asia.(85) Xerxes, in his return from Greece, burnt this temple, after the priests had delivered its treasures to him. That prince, in return, granted them an establishment in the remotest parts of Asia, to secure them against the vengeance of the Greeks. After the war was over, the Milesians reestablished that temple with a magnificence which, according to Strabo, surpassed that of all the other temples of Greece. When Alexander the Great had overthrown Darius, he utterly destroyed the city where the priests Branchidæ had settled, of which their descendants were at that time in actual possession, punishing in the children the sacrilegious perfidy of their fathers.

Tacitus relates something very singular, though not very probable, of the oracle of Claros, a town of Ionia, in Asia Minor, near Colophon.(86) “Germanicus,” says he, “went to consult Apollo at Claros. It is not a woman that gives the answers there, as at Delphi, but a man, chosen out of certain families, and almost always of Miletus. It is sufficient to let him know the number and names of those who come to consult him. After which he retires into a cave, and having drunk of the waters of a spring within it, he delivers answers in verse upon what the persons have in their thoughts, though he is often ignorant, and knows nothing of composing in measure. It is said, that he foretold to Germanicus his sudden death, but in dark and ambiguous terms, according to the custom of oracles.”

I omit a great number of other oracles, to proceed to the most famous of them all. It is very obvious that I mean the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. He was worshipped there under the name of the Pythian, a title derived from the serpent Python, which he had killed, or from a Greek word, that signifies to inquire, πυθέσθαι, because people came thither to consult him. From thence the Delphic priestess was called Pythia, and the games there celebrated, the Pythian games.

Delphi was an ancient city of Phocis in Achaia. It stood upon the declivity, and about the middle, of the mountain Parnassus, built upon a small extent of even ground, and surrounded with precipices, that fortified it without the help of art.

Diodorus says,(87) that there was a cavity upon Parnassus, from whence an exhalation rose, which made the goats dance and skip about, and intoxicated the brain. A shepherd having approached it, out of a desire to know the causes of so extraordinary an effect, was immediately seized with violent agitations of body, and pronounced words, which, without doubt, he did not understand himself; but which, however, foretold futurity. Others made the same experiment, and it was soon rumoured throughout the neighbouring countries. The cavity was no longer approached without reverence. The exhalation was concluded to have something divine in it. A priestess was appointed for the reception of its effects, and a tripod placed upon the vent, called by the Latins Cortina, perhaps from the skin(88) that covered it. From thence she gave her oracles. The city of Delphi rose insensibly round about this cave; and a temple was erected, which, at length, became very magnificent. The reputation of this oracle almost effaced, or at least very much exceeded, that of all others.

At first a single Pythia sufficed to answer those who came to consult the oracle, as they did not yet amount to any great number: but in process of time, when it grew into universal repute, a second was appointed to mount the tripod alternately with the first, and a third chosen to succeed in case of death, or disease. There were other assistants besides these to attend the Pythia in the sanctuary, of whom the most considerable were called prophets;(89) it was their business to take care of the sacrifices, and to inspect them. To these the demands of the inquirers were delivered by word of mouth, or in writing; and they returned the answers, as we shall see in the sequel.

We must not confound the Pythia with the Sibyl of Delphi. The ancients represent the latter as a woman that roved from country to country, venting her predictions. She was at the same time the Sibyl of Delphi, Erythræ, Babylon, Cumæ, and many other places, from her having resided in them all.

The Pythia could not prophesy till she was intoxicated by the exhalation from the sanctuary of Apollo. This miraculous vapour had not that effect at all times and upon all occasions. The god was not always in the inspiring humour. At first he imparted himself only once a year, but at length he was prevailed upon to visit the Pythia every month. All days were not proper, and upon some it was not permitted to consult the oracle. These unfortunate days occasioned an oracle’s being given to Alexander the Great worthy of remark. He went to Delphi to consult the god, at a time when the priestess pretended it was forbidden to ask him any questions, and would not enter the temple. Alexander, who was always warm and tenacious, took hold of her by the arm to force her into it, when she cried out, “Ah, my son, you are not to be resisted!” or, “My son, you are invincible!”(90) Upon which words he declared he would have no other oracle, and was contented with that he had received.

The Pythia, before she ascended the tripod, was a long time preparing for it by sacrifices, purifications, a fast of three days, and many other ceremonies. The god denoted his approach by the moving of a laurel, that stood before the gate of the temple, which shook also to its very foundations.

As soon as the divine vapour,(91) like a penetrating fire, had diffused itself through the entrails of the priestess, her hair stood upright upon her head, her looks grew wild, she foamed at the mouth, a sudden and violent trembling seized her whole body, with all the symptoms of distraction and frenzy.(92) She uttered, at intervals, some words almost inarticulate, which the prophets carefully collected, and arranged with a certain degree of order and connection. After she had been a certain time upon the tripod, she was reconducted to her cell, where she generally continued many days to recover from her fatigue; and, as Lucan says,(93) a sudden death was often either the reward or punishment of her enthusiasm:

Numinis aut pœna est mors immatura recepti, Aut pretium.

The prophets had poets under them, who made the oracles into verses, which were often bad enough, and gave occasion to remark that, it was very surprising that Apollo, who presided over the choir of the muses, should inspire his priestess no better. But Plutarch informs us, that it was not the god who composed the verses of the oracle. He inflamed the Pythia’s imagination, and kindled in her soul that living light, which unveiled all futurity to her. The words she uttered in the heat of her enthusiasm, having neither method nor connection, and coming only by starts, if that expression may be used, from the bottom of her stomach, or rather(94) from her belly, were collected with care by the prophets, who gave them afterwards to the poets to be turned into verse. These Apollo left to their own genius and natural talents; as we may suppose he did the Pythia when she herself composed verses, which, though not often, happened sometimes. The substance of the oracle was inspired by Apollo, the manner of expressing it was the priestess’s own: the oracles were however often given in prose.

The general characteristics of oracles were ambiguity,(95) obscurity, and convertibility, (if I may use that expression,) so that one answer would agree with several various, and sometimes directly opposite, events. By the help of this artifice, the dæmons, who of themselves are not capable of knowing futurity, concealed their ignorance, and amused the credulity of the Pagan world. When Crœsus was upon the point of invading the Medes, he consulted the oracle of Delphi upon the success of that war, and was answered, that by passing the river Halys, he would ruin a great empire. What empire, his own, or that of his enemies? He was to guess that; but whatever the event might be, the oracle could not fail of being in the right. As much may be said upon the same god’s answer to Pyrrhus:

Aio te, Æacida, Romanos vincere posse.

I repeat it in Latin, because the equivocality, which equally implies, that Pyrrhus could conquer the Romans, and the Romans Pyrrhus, will not subsist in a translation. Under the cover of such ambiguities, the god eluded all difficulties, and was never in the wrong.

It must, however, be confessed, that sometimes the answer of the oracle was clear and circumstantial. I have related, in the history of Crœsus, the stratagem he made use of to assure himself of the veracity of the oracle, which was, to demand of it, by his ambassador, what he was doing at a certain time prefixed. The oracle of Delphi replied, in verse, that he was causing a tortoise and a lamb to be drest in a vessel of brass, which was really the case. The emperor Trajan made a similar trial of the god at Heliopolis, by sending him a letter sealed up,(96) to which he demanded an answer.(97) The oracle made no other return, than to command a blank paper, well folded and sealed, to be delivered to him. Trajan, upon the receipt of it, was struck with amazement to see an answer so correspondent with his own letter, in which he knew he had written nothing. The wonderful facility with which dæmons can transfer themselves almost in an instant from place to place, made it not impossible for them to give the two answers, which I have last mentioned, and to foretell in one country, what they had seen in another; this is Tertullian’s opinion.(98)

Admitting it to be true, that some oracles have been followed precisely by the events foretold, we may believe that God, to punish the blind and sacrilegious credulity of the Pagans, has sometimes permitted the dæmons to have a knowledge of things to come, and to foretell them distinctly enough. Which conduct of God, though very much above human comprehension, is frequently attested in the Holy Scriptures.

It has been questioned, whether the oracles, mentioned in profane history, should be ascribed to the operations of dæmons, or only to the wickedness and imposture of men. Van dale, a Dutch physician, has maintained the latter opinion, and Monsieur Fontenelle, when a young man, adopted it, in the persuasion (to use his own words) that it was indifferent, as to the truth of Christianity, whether the oracles were the effect of the agency of spirits, or a series of impostures. Father Baltus, the Jesuit, professor of the Holy Scriptures in the university of Strasburgh, has refuted them both in a very solid treatise, wherein he demonstrates, invincibly, from the unanimous authority of the Fathers, that dæmons were the real agents in the oracles. He attacks, with equal force and success, the rashness and presumption of the Anabaptist physician; who, calling in question the capacity and discernment of those holy doctors, secretly endeavoured to efface the high idea all true believers should entertain of those great leaders of the Church, and to depreciate their venerable authority, which is so great a difficulty to all who deviate from the principles of ancient tradition. Now, if that was ever certain and uniform in any thing, it is so in this point; for all the Fathers of the Church, and ecclesiastical writers of all ages, maintain, and attest, that the devil was the author of idolatry in general, and of oracles in particular.

This opinion does not hinder our believing that the priests and priestesses were frequently guilty of fraud and imposture in the answers of the oracles. For is not the devil the father and prince of lies? In the Grecian history, we have seen more than once the Delphic priestess suffer herself to be corrupted by presents. It was from that motive, she persuaded the Lacedæmonians to assist the people of Athens in the expulsion of the thirty tyrants; that she caused Demaratus to be divested of the royal dignity, to make way for Cleomenes; and drest up an oracle to support the imposture of Lysander, when he endeavoured to change the succession to the throne of Sparta. And I am apt to believe that Themistocles, who well knew the importance of acting against the Persians by sea, inspired the god with the answer he gave, “to defend themselves with wooden walls.” Demosthenes, convinced that the oracles were frequently suggested by passion or interest, and suspecting, with reason, that Philip had instructed them to speak in his favour, boldly declared,(99) that the Pythia “philippized;” and bade the Athenians and Thebans remember that Pericles and Epaminondas, instead of listening to, and amusing themselves with, the frivolous answers of the oracle, those idle bugbears of the base and cowardly, consulted only reason in the choice and execution of their measures.

The same father Baltus examines, with equal success, a second point in dispute, namely, the cessation of oracles. Mr. Vandale, to oppose with some advantage a truth so glorious to Jesus Christ, the subverter of idolatry, had falsified the sense of the Fathers, by making them say, “that oracles ceased precisely at the moment of Christ’s birth.” The learned apologist for the Fathers shows, that they all allege that oracles ceased after our Saviour’s birth, and the preaching of his Gospel; not on a sudden, but in proportion as his salutary doctrines became known to mankind, and gained ground in the world. This unanimous opinion of the Fathers is confirmed by the unexceptionable evidence of great numbers of the Pagans, who agree with them as to the time when the oracles ceased.

What an honour to the Christian religion was this silence imposed upon the oracles by the victory of Jesus Christ! Every Christian had this power. Tertullian, in one of his _Apologies_,(100) challenges the Pagans to make the experiment, and consents that a Christian should be put to death, if he did not oblige these givers of oracles to confess themselves devils. Lactantius informs us, that every Christian could silence them by only the sign of the cross.(101) And all the world knows, that when Julian the Apostate was at Daphne, a suburb of Antioch, to consult Apollo, the god, notwithstanding all the sacrifices offered to him, continued mute, and only recovered his speech to answer those who inquired the cause of his silence, that they must ascribe it to the interment of certain bodies in the neighbourhood. Those were the bodies of Christian martyrs, amongst which was that of St. Babylas.

This triumph of the Christian religion ought to give us a due sense of our obligations to Jesus Christ, and, at the same time, of the darkness to which all mankind were abandoned before his coming. We have seen amongst the Carthaginians, fathers and mothers, more cruel than wild beasts, inhumanly giving up their children, and annually depopulating their cities, by destroying the most vigorous of their youth, in obedience to the bloody dictates of their oracles and false gods.(102) The victims were chosen without any regard to rank, sex, age, or condition. Such bloody executions were honoured with the name of sacrifices, and designed to make the gods propitious. “What greater evil,” cries Lactantius, “could they inflict in their most violent displeasure, than thus to deprive their adorers of all sense of humanity, to make them cut the throats of their own children, and pollute their sacrilegious hands with such execrable parricides?”

A thousand frauds and impostures, openly detected at Delphi, and every where else, had not opened men’s eyes, nor in the least diminished the credit of the oracles; which subsisted upwards of two thousand years, and was carried to an inconceivable height, even in the minds of the greatest men, the most profound philosophers, the most powerful princes, and generally among the most civilized nations, and such as valued themselves most upon their wisdom and policy. The estimation they were in, may be judged from the magnificence of the temple of Delphi, and the immense riches amassed in it through the superstitious credulity of nations and monarchs.

The temple of Delphi having been burnt about the fifty-eighth Olympiad, the Amphictyons, those celebrated judges of Greece, took upon themselves the care of rebuilding it.(103) They agreed with an architect for three hundred talents, which amounts to nine hundred thousand livres.(104) The cities of Greece were to furnish that sum. The inhabitants of Delphi were taxed a fourth part of it, and collected contributions in all parts, even in foreign nations, for that service. Amasis, at that time king of Egypt, and the Grecian inhabitants of his country, contributed considerable sums towards it. The Alcmæonidæ, a potent family of Athens, took upon themselves the conduct of the building, and made it more magnificent, by considerable additions of their own, than had been proposed in the model.

Gyges, king of Lydia, and Crœsus, one of his successors, enriched the temple of Delphi with an incredible number of presents. Many other princes, cities, and private persons, by their example, in a kind of emulation of each other, had heaped up in it tripods, vases, tables, shields, crowns, chariots, and statues of gold and silver of all sizes, equally infinite in number and value. The presents of gold which Crœsus alone made to this temple, amounted, according to Herodotus,(105) to upwards of 254 talents; that is, about 762,000 French livres;(106) and perhaps those of silver to as much. Most of these presents were in being in the time of Herodotus. Diodorus Siculus,(107) adding those of other princes to them, makes their amount ten thousand talents, or thirty millions of livres.(108)

Amongst the statues of gold, consecrated by Crœsus in the temple of Delphi, was placed that of his female baker, the occasion of which was this:(109) Alyattes, Crœsus’s father, having married a second wife, by whom he had children, she laid a plan to get rid of her son-in-law, that the crown might descend to her own issue. For this purpose she engaged the female baker to put poison into a loaf, that was to be served at the young prince’s table. The woman, who was struck with horror at the crime, (in which she ought to have had no part at all,) gave Crœsus notice of it. The poisoned loaf was served to the queen’s own children, and their death secured the crown to the lawful successor. When he ascended the throne, in gratitude to his benefactress, he erected a statue to her in the temple of Delphi. But, it may be said, could a person of so mean a condition deserve so great an honour? Plutarch answers in the affirmative; and with a much better title, he says, than many of the so-much-vaunted conquerors and heroes, who have acquired their fame only by murder and devastation.

It is not to be wondered at, that such immense riches should have tempted the avarice of mankind, and exposed Delphi to being frequently pillaged. Without mentioning more ancient times, Xerxes, who invaded Greece with a million of men, endeavoured to seize upon the spoils of this temple. Above an hundred years after, the Phoceans, near neighbours of Delphi, plundered it at several times. The same rich booty was the sole motive of the irruption of the Gauls into Greece under Brennus. The guardian god of Delphi, if we may believe historians, sometimes defended this temple by surprising prodigies; and at others, either from impotence or want of presence of mind, suffered himself to be plundered. When Nero made this temple, so famous throughout the universe, a visit, and found in it five hundred fine brass statues of illustrious men and gods to his liking, which had been consecrated to Apollo, (those of gold and silver having undoubtedly disappeared upon his approach,) he ordered them to be taken down, and shipping them on board his vessels, carried them with him to Rome.

Those who are desirous of more particular information concerning the oracles and riches of the temple of Delphi, may consult some dissertations upon this subject, printed in the _Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres_,(110) of which I have made good use, according to my custom.

Of the Games and Combats.

Games and combats made a part of the religion, and had a share in almost all the festivals of the ancients; and for that reason it is proper that they should find a place in this Work. Whether we consider their origin, or the design of their institution, we shall not be surprised at their being so prevalent in the best governed states.

Hercules, Theseus, Castor and Pollux, and the greatest heroes of antiquity, were not only the institutors or restorers of them, but thought it glorious to share in the exercise of them, and meritorious to succeed therein. These subduers of monsters, and of the common enemies of mankind, thought it no disgrace to them, to aspire to the victories in these combats; nor that the new wreaths with which their brows were encircled in the solemnization of these games, detracted from the lustre of those they had before acquired. Hence the most famous poets made these combats the subject of their verses; the beauty of whose poetry, whilst it immortalized themselves, seemed to promise an eternity of fame to those whose victories it celebrated. Hence arose that uncommon ardour which animated all Greece, to tread in the steps of those ancient heroes, and like them, to signalize themselves in the public combats.

A reason more solid, and originating in the very nature of these combats, and of the people who used them, may be given for their prevalence. The Greeks, by nature warlike, and equally intent upon forming the bodies and minds of their youth, introduced these exercises, and annexed honours to them, in order to prepare the younger sort for the profession of arms, to confirm their health, to render them stronger and more robust, to inure them to fatigues, and to make them intrepid in close fight, in which, the use of fire-arms being then unknown, strength of body generally decided the victory. These athletic exercises supplied the place of those in use amongst our nobility, as dancing, fencing, riding the great horse, &c.; but they did not confine themselves to a graceful mien, nor to the beauties of a shape and face; they were for joining strength to the charms of person.

It is true, these exercises, so illustrious by their founders, and so useful in the ends at first proposed from them, introduced public masters, who taught them to young persons, and from practising them with success, made public show and ostentation of their skill. This sort of men applied themselves solely to the practice of this art, and carrying it to an excess, they formed it into a kind of science, by the addition of rules and refinements; often challenging each other out of a vain emulation, till at length they degenerated into a profession of people, who, without any other employment or merit, exhibited themselves as a sight for the diversion of the public. Our dancing-masters are not unlike them in this respect, whose natural and original designation was to teach youth a graceful manner of walking, and a good address; but now we see them mount the stage, and perform ballets in the garb of comedians, capering, jumping, skipping, and making variety of strange unnatural motions. We shall see in the sequel, what opinion the wiser among the ancients had of their professed combatants and wrestling-masters.

There were four games solemnized in Greece. The _Olympic_, so called from Olympia, otherwise Pisa, a town of Elis in Peloponnesus, near which they were celebrated, after the expiration of every four years, in honour of Jupiter Olympicus. The _Pythian_, sacred to Apollo Pythius,(111) so called from the serpent Python, killed by him; they were celebrated at Delphi every four years. The _Nemæan_, which took their name from Nemæa, a city and forest of Peloponnesus, and were either instituted or restored by Hercules, after he had slain the lion of the Nemæan forest. They were solemnized every two years. And lastly, the _Isthmian_, celebrated upon the isthmus of Corinth, every four years, in honour of Neptune. Theseus(112) was the restorer of them, and they continued even after the ruin of Corinth. That persons might be present at these public sports with greater quiet and security, there was a general suspension of arms, and cessation of hostilities throughout all Greece, during the time of their celebration.

In these games, which were solemnized with incredible magnificence, and drew together a prodigious concourse of spectators and combatants from all parts, a simple wreath was all the reward of the victors. In the Olympic games, it was composed of wild olive. In the Pythian, of laurel. In the Nemæan, of green parsley;(113) and in the Isthmian, of the same herb dried. The institutors of these games wished that it should be implied from hence, that honour alone, and not mean and sordid interest, ought to be the motive of great actions. Of what were men not capable, accustomed to act solely from so glorious a principle! We have seen in the Persian war,(114) that Tigranes, one of the most considerable captains in the army of Xerxes, having heard the prizes in the Grecian games described, cried out with astonishment, addressing himself to Mardonius, who commanded in chief, “Heavens! against what men are you leading us? Insensible to interest, they combat only for glory!”(115) Which exclamation, though looked upon by Xerxes as an effect of abject fear, abounds with sense and judgment.

It was from the same principle that the Romans, whilst they bestowed upon other occasions crowns of gold of great value, persisted always in giving only a wreath of oaken leaves to him who had saved the life of a citizen.(116) “O manners, worthy of eternal remembrance!” cried Pliny, in relating this laudable custom, “O grandeur, truly Roman, that would assign no other reward but honour, for the preservation of a citizen! a service, indeed, above all reward; thereby sufficiently evincing their opinion, that it was criminal to save a man’s life from the motive of lucre and interest!” _O mores æternos, qui tanta opera honore solo donaverint; et cùm reliquas coronas auro commendarent, salutem civis in pretio esse noluerint, clarâ professione servari quidem hominem nefus esse lucri causâ!_

Amongst all the Grecian games, the Olympic held undeniably the first rank, and that for three reasons. They were sacred to Jupiter, the greatest of the gods; instituted by Hercules, the first of the heroes; and celebrated with more pomp and magnificence, amidst a greater concourse of spectators attracted from all parts, than any of the rest.

If Pausanias may be believed,(117) women were prohibited to be present at them upon pain of death; and during their continuance, it was ordained, that no woman should approach the place where the games were celebrated, or pass on that side of the river Alpheus. One only was so bold as to violate this law, and slipt in disguise amongst those who were training the wrestlers. She was tried for the offence, and would have suffered the penalty enacted by the law, if the judges, in regard to her father, her brother, and her son, who had all been victors in the Olympic games, had not pardoned her offence, and saved her life.

This law was very conformable with the manners of the Greeks, amongst whom the ladies were very reserved, seldom appeared in public, had separate apartments, called _Gynæcea_, and never ate at table with the men when strangers were present. It was certainly inconsistent with decency to admit them at some of the games, as those of wrestling and the Pancratium, in which the combatants fought naked.

The same Pausanias tells us in another place,(118) that the priestess of Ceres had an honourable seat in these games, and that virgins were not denied the liberty of being present at them. For my part, I cannot conceive the reason of such inconsistency, which indeed seems incredible.

The Greeks thought nothing comparable to the victory in these games. They looked upon it as the perfection of glory, and did not believe it permitted to mortals to desire any thing beyond it. Cicero assures us,(119) that with them it was no less honourable than the consular dignity in its original splendour with the ancient Romans. And in another place he says,(120) that to conquer at Olympia, was almost, in the estimation of the Grecians, more great and glorious, than to receive the honour of a triumph at Rome. Horace speaks in still stronger terms of this kind of victory. He is not afraid to say,(121) that “it exalts the victor above human nature; they were no longer men but gods.”

We shall see hereafter what extraordinary honours were paid the victor, of which one of the most affecting was, to date the year with his name. Nothing could more effectually stimulate their endeavours, and make them regardless of expenses, than the assurance of immortalizing their names, which, through all future ages would be enrolled in their annals, and stand in the front of all laws made in the same year with the victory. To this motive may be added the joy of knowing, that their praises would be celebrated by the most famous poets, and form the subject of conversation in the most illustrious assemblies; for these odes were sung in every house, and formed a part in every entertainment. What could be a more powerful incentive to a people, who had no other object and aim than that of human glory?

I shall confine myself upon this head to the Olympic games, which continued five days; and shall describe, in as brief a manner as possible, the several kinds of combats of which they were composed. M. Burette has treated this subject in several dissertations, printed in the _Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres_; wherein purity, perspicuity, and elegance of style are united with profound erudition. I make no scruple in appropriating to my use the riches of my brethren; and, in what I have already said upon the Olympic games, have made very free with the late Abbé Massieu’s remarks upon the _Odes_ of Pindar.

The combats which had the greatest share in the solemnity of the public games, were boxing, wrestling, the pancratium, the discus or quoit, and racing. To these may be added the exercises of leaping, throwing the dart, and that of the trochus or wheel; but as these were neither important nor of any great reputation, I shall content myself with having only mentioned them in this place. For the better methodizing the particulars of these games and exercises, it will be necessary to begin with an account of the Athletæ, or combatants.

Of the Athletæ, or Combatants.

The term Athletæ is derived from the Greek word ἆθλος, which signifies labour, combat. This name was given to those who exercised themselves with an intention to dispute the prizes in the public games. The art by which they formed themselves for these encounters, was called Gymnastic, from the Athletæ’s practising naked.

Those who were designed for this profession frequented, from their most tender age, the Gymnasia or Palæstræ, which were a kind of academies maintained for that purpose at the public expense. In these places, such young people were under the direction of different masters, who employed the most effectual methods to inure their bodies for the fatigues of the public games, and to train them for the combats. The regimen they were under was very hard and severe. At first they had no other nourishment than dried figs, nuts, soft cheese, and a coarse heavy sort of bread, called μάζα. They were absolutely forbidden the use of wine, and enjoined continence; which Horace expresses thus:(122)

Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit, Abstinuit venere et vino.

Who in th’ Olympic race the prize would gain, Has borne from early youth fatigue and pain, Excess of heat and cold has often try’d, Love’s softness banish’d, and the glass deny’d.

St. Paul, by a comparison drawn from the Athletæ, exhorts the Corinthians, near whose city the Isthmian games were celebrated, to a sober and penitent life. “Those who strive,” says he, “for the mastery, are temperate in all things: Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible.” Tertullian uses the same thought to encourage the martyrs.(123) He makes a comparison from what the hopes of victory made the Athletæ endure. He repeats the severe and painful exercises they were obliged to undergo; the continual denial and constraint, in which they passed the best years of their lives; and the voluntary privation which they imposed upon themselves, of all that was most pleasing and grateful to their passions. It is true, the Athletæ did not always observe so severe a regimen, but at length substituted in its stead a voracity and indolence extremely remote from it.

The Athletæ, before their exercises,(124) were rubbed with oils and ointments to make their bodies more supple and vigorous. At first they made use of a belt, with an apron or scarf fastened to it, for their more decent appearance in the combats; but one of the combatants happening to lose the victory by this covering’s falling off, that accident was the occasion of sacrificing modesty to convenience, and retrenching the apron for the future. The Athletæ were naked only in some exercises, as wrestling, boxing, the pancratium, and the foot-race. They practised a kind of novitiate in the Gymnasia for ten months, to accomplish themselves in the several exercises by assiduous application; and this they did in the presence of such, as curiosity or idleness conducted to look on. But when the celebration of the Olympic games drew nigh, the Athletæ who were to appear in them were kept to double exercise.

Before they were admitted to combat, other proofs were required; as to birth, none but Greeks were to be received. It was also necessary, that their manners should be unexceptionable, and their condition free. No foreigner was admitted to combat in the Olympic games; and when Alexander, the son of Amyntas, king of Macedon, presented himself to dispute the prize, his competitors, without any regard to the royal dignity, opposed his reception as a Macedonian, and consequently a barbarian and a stranger; nor could the judges be prevailed upon to admit him, till he had proved in due form his family originally descended from the Argives.

The persons who presided in the games were called _Agonothetæ_, _Athlothetæ_, and _Hellanodicæ_: they registered the name and country of each champion; and upon the opening of the games a herald proclaimed the names of the combatants. They were then made to take an oath, that they would religiously observe the several laws prescribed in each kind of combat, and do nothing contrary to the established orders and regulations of the games. Fraud, artifice, and excessive violence, were absolutely prohibited; and the maxim so generally received elsewhere,(125) that it is indifferent whether an enemy is conquered by deceit or valour, was banished from these combats. The address of a combatant, expert in all the niceties of his art, who knows how to shift and ward dexterously, to put the change upon his adversary with art and subtlety, and to improve the least advantages, must not be confounded here with the cowardly and knavish cunning of one who, without regard to the laws prescribed, employs the most unfair means to vanquish his competitor. Those who disputed the prize in the several kinds of combats, drew lots for their precedency in them.

It is time to bring our champions to blows, and to run over the different kinds of combats, in which they exercised themselves.

Of Wrestling.

Wrestling is one of the most ancient exercises of which we have any knowledge, having been practised in the time of the patriarchs, as the wrestling of the angel with Jacob proves.(126) Jacob supported the angel’s attack so vigorously, that the latter, perceiving he could not throw so rough a wrestler, was reduced to make him lame by touching the sinew of his thigh, which immediately shrunk up.

Wrestling, among the Greeks, as well as other nations, was practised at first with simplicity, little art, and in a natural manner; the weight of the body, and the strength of the muscles, having more share in it than address and skill. Theseus was the first that reduced it to method, and refined it by the rules of art. He was also the first who established the public schools, called _Palæstræ_, where the young people had masters to instruct them in it.

The wrestlers, before they began the combat, were rubbed all over in a rough manner, and afterwards anointed with oils, which added to the strength and flexibility of their limbs. But as this unction, by making the skin too slippery, rendered it difficult for them to take good hold of each other, they remedied that inconvenience, sometimes by rolling themselves in the dust of the Palæstra, sometimes by throwing a fine sand upon each other, kept for that purpose in the Xystæ, or porticoes of the Gymnasia.

Thus prepared, the wrestlers began their combat. They were matched two against two, and sometimes several couples contended at the same time. In this combat, the whole aim and design of the wrestlers was to throw their adversary upon the ground. Both strength and art were employed for this purpose: they seized each other by the arms, drew forwards, pushed backwards, used many distortions and twistings of the body; locking their limbs into each other’s, seizing by the neck, throttling, pressing in their arms, struggling, plying on all sides, lifting from the ground, dashing their heads together like rams, and twisting one another’s necks. The most considerable advantage in the wrestler’s art, was to make himself master of his adversary’s legs, of which a fall was the immediate consequence. From whence Plautus says in his _Pseudolus_, speaking of wine, “He is a dangerous wrestler, he presently trips up the heels.”(127) The Greek terms υποσκελίζειν and πτερνίζειν, and the Latin word _supplantare_, seem to imply, that one of these arts consisted in stooping down to seize the antagonist under the soles of his feet, and in raising them up to give him a fall.

In this manner the Athletæ wrestled standing, the combat ending with the fall of one of the competitors. But when it happened that the wrestler who was down, drew his adversary along with him, either by art or accident, the combat continued upon the sand, the antagonists tumbling and twining with each other in a thousand different ways, till one of them got uppermost, and compelled the other to ask quarter, and confess himself vanquished. There was a third sort of wrestling, called Ἀκροχειρισμὸς, from the Athletæ’s using only their hands in it, without taking hold of the body, as in the other kinds; and this exercise served as a prelude to the greater combat. It consisted in intermingling their fingers, and in squeezing them with all their force; in pushing one another, by joining the palms of their hands together; in twisting their fingers, wrists, and other joints of the arm, without the assistance of any other member; and the victory was his, who obliged his opponent to ask quarter.

The combatants were to fight three times successively, and to throw their antagonists at least twice, before the prize could be adjudged to them.

Homer describes the wrestling of Ajax and Ulysses; Ovid, that of Hercules and Achelous; Lucan, of Hercules and Antæus; and Statius, in his _Thebaid_, that of Tydeus and Agylleus.(128)

The wrestlers of greatest reputation amongst the Greeks, were Milo of Crotona, whose history I have related elsewhere at large, and Polydamas. The latter, alone and without arms, killed a furious lion upon mount Olympus, in imitation of Hercules, whom he proposed to himself as a model in this action. Another time having seized a bull by one of his hinder legs, the beast could not get loose without leaving his hoof in his hands. He could hold a chariot behind, while the coachman whipt his horses in vain to make them go forward. Darius Nothus, king of Persia, hearing of his prodigious strength, was desirous of seeing him, and invited him to Susa. Three soldiers of that Prince’s guard, and of that band which the Persians called “immortal,” esteemed the most warlike of their troops, were ordered to fall upon him. Our champion fought and killed them all three.

Of Boxing, or the Cestus.

Boxing is a combat at blows with the fist, from whence it derives its name. The combatants covered their fists with a kind of offensive arms, called _Cestus_, and their heads with a sort of leather cap, to defend their temples and ears, which were most exposed to blows, and to deaden their violence. The Cestus was a kind of gauntlet, or glove, made of straps of leather, and plated with brass, lead or iron. Their use was to strengthen the hands of the combatants, and to add violence to their blows.

Sometimes the Athletæ came immediately to the most violent blows, and began their onset in the most furious manner. Sometimes whole hours passed in harassing and fatiguing each other, by a continual extension of their arms, rendering each other’s blows ineffectual, and endeavouring by that sparring to keep off their adversary. But when they fought with the utmost fury, they aimed chiefly at the head and face, which parts they were most careful to defend, by either avoiding or parrying the blows made at them. When a combatant came on to throw himself with all his force and vigour upon another, they had a surprising address in avoiding the attack, by a nimble turn of the body, which threw the imprudent adversary down, and deprived him of the victory.

However fierce the combatants were against each other, their being exhausted by the length of the combat, would frequently reduce them to the necessity of making a truce; upon which the battle was suspended by mutual consent for some minutes, that were employed in recovering their fatigue, and rubbing off the sweat in which they were bathed: after which they renewed the fight, till one of them, by letting fall his arms through weakness and faintness, explained that he could no longer support the pain or fatigue, and desired quarter; which was confessing himself vanquished.

Boxing was one of the roughest and most dangerous of the gymnastic combats; because, besides the danger of being crippled, the combatants ran the hazard of their lives. They sometimes fell down dead, or dying upon the sand; though that seldom happened, except the vanquished person persisted too long in not acknowledging his defeat: yet it was common for them to quit the fight with a countenance so disfigured, that it was not easy to know them afterwards; carrying away with them the sad marks of their vigorous resistance, such as bruises and contusions in the face, the loss of an eye, their teeth knocked out, their jaws broken, or some more considerable fracture.

We find in the poets, both Latin and Greek, several descriptions of this kind of combat. In Homer, that of Epeus and Euryalus; in Theocritus, of Pollux and Amycus; in Apollonius Rhodius, the same battle of Pollux and Amycus; in Virgil, that of Dares and Entellus; and in Statius, and Valerius Flaccus, of several other combatants.(129)

Of the Pancratium.

The Pancratium was so called from two Greek words,(130) which signify that the whole force of the body was necessary for succeeding in it. It united boxing and wrestling in the same fight, borrowing from one its manner of struggling and flinging, and from the other, the art of dealing blows and of avoiding them with success. In wrestling it was not permitted to strike with the hand, nor in boxing to seize each other in the manner of the wrestlers; but in the Pancratium, it was not only allowed to make use of all the gripes and artifices of wrestling, but the hands and feet, and even the teeth and nails, might be employed to conquer an antagonist.

This combat was the most rough and dangerous. A Pancratiast in the Olympic games (called Arrichion, or Arrachion,) perceiving himself almost suffocated by his adversary, who had got fast hold of him by the throat, at the same time that he held him by the foot, broke one of his enemy’s toes, the extreme anguish of which obliged him to ask quarter at the very instant that Arrichion himself expired. The Agonothetæ crowned Arrichion, though dead, and proclaimed him victor. Philostratus has left us a very lively description of a painting, which represented this combat.

Of the Discus, or Quoit.

The Discus was a kind of quoit of a round form, made sometimes of wood, but more frequently of stone, lead, or other metal; as iron or brass. Those who used this exercise were called Discoboli, that is, flingers of the Discus. The epithet κατωμάδιος, which signifies “borne upon the shoulders,” given to this instrument by Homer, sufficiently shows, that it was of too great a weight to be carried from place to place in the hands only, and that the shoulders were necessary for the support of such a burden for any length of time.

The intent of this exercise, as of almost all the others, was to invigorate the body, and to make men more capable of supporting the weight and use of arms. In war they were often obliged to carry such loads, as appear excessive in these days, either of provisions, fascines, palisades; or in scaling of walls, when, to equal the height of them, several of the besiegers mounted upon the shoulders of each other.

The Athletæ, in hurling the Discus, put themselves into the posture best adapted to add force to their cast; that is, they advanced one foot, upon which they leaned the whole weight of their bodies. They then poised the Discus in their hands, and whirling it round several times almost horizontally, to add force to its motion, they threw it off with the joint strength of hands, arms, and body, which had all a share in the vigour of the discharge. He that flung the Discus farthest was the victor.

The most famous painters and sculptors of antiquity, in their endeavours to represent naturally the attitudes of the Discoboli, have left to posterity many masterpieces in their several arts. Quintilian exceedingly extols a statue of that kind, which had been finished with infinite care and application by the celebrated Myron: “What can be more finished,” says he, “or express more happily the muscular distortions of the body in the exercise of the Discus, than the Discobolus of Myron?”(131)

Of the Pentathlum.

The Greeks gave this name to an exercise composed of five others. It is the common opinion, that those five exercises were wrestling, running, leaping, throwing the dart, and the Discus. It is believed that this sort of combat was decided in one day, and sometimes the same morning: and that to obtain the prize, which was single, it was required that a combatant should be the victor in all those exercises.

The exercise of leaping, and throwing the javelin, of which the first consisted in leaping a certain length, and the other in hitting a mark with a javelin at a certain distance, contributed to the forming of a soldier, by making him nimble and active in battle, and expert in flinging the spear and dart.

Of Races.

Of all the exercises which the Athletæ cultivated with so much pains and industry to enable them to appear in the public games, running held the foremost rank. The Olympic games generally opened with races, and were solemnized at first with no other exercise.

The place where the Athletæ exercised themselves in running was generally called the _Stadium_ by the Greeks; as was that wherein they disputed in earnest for the prize. As the lists or course for these games was at first but one Stadium(132) in length, it took its name from its measure, and was called the Stadium, whether precisely of that extent, or of a much greater. Under that denomination was included not only the space in which the Athletæ ran, but also that which contained the spectators of the gymnastic games. The place where the Athletæ contended was called Scamma, from its lying lower than the rest of the Stadium, on each side of which, and at the extremity ran an ascent or kind of terrace, covered with seats and benches, upon which the spectators were seated. The most remarkable parts of the Stadium were its entrance, middle, and extremity.

The entrance of the course, from whence the competitors started, was marked at first only by a line drawn on the sand from side to side of the Stadium. To that at length was substituted a kind of barrier, which was only a cord strained tight in the front of the horses or men that were to run. It was sometimes a rail of wood. The opening of this barrier was the signal for the racers to start.

The middle of the Stadium was remarkable only by the circumstance of having the prizes allotted to the victors set up there. St. Chrysostom(133) draws a fine comparison from this custom. “As the judges,” says he, “in the races and other games, expose in the midst of the Stadium, to the view of the champions, the crowns which they are to receive; in like manner the Lord, by the mouth of his prophets, has placed in the midst of the course, the prizes which he designs for those who have the courage to contend for them.”

At the extremity of the Stadium was a goal, where the footraces ended, but in those of chariots and horses they were to run several times round it without stopping, and afterwards conclude the race by regaining the other extremity of the lists, from whence they started.

There were three kinds of races, the chariot, the horse, and the footrace. I shall begin with the last, as the most simple, natural, and ancient.

1. Of the Foot-race.

The runners, of whatever number they were, ranged themselves in a line, after having drawn lots for their places. Whilst they waited the signal to start, they practised, by way of prelude, various motions to awaken their activity, and to keep their limbs pliable and in a right temper.(134) They kept themselves in wind by small leaps, and making little excursions, that were a kind of trial of their speed and agility. Upon the signal being given they flew towards the goal, with a rapidity scarce to be followed by the eye, which was solely to decide the victory. For the Agonistic laws prohibited, under the penalty of infamy, the attaining it by any foul method.

In the simple race the extent of the Stadium was run but once, at the end of which the prize attended the victor, that is, he who came in first. In the race called Δίαυλος, the competitors ran twice that length; that is, after having arrived at the goal, they returned to the barrier. To these may be added a third sort, called Δολιχὸς, which was the longest of all, as its name implies, and was composed of several Diauli. Sometimes it consisted of twenty-four Stadia backwards and forwards, turning twelve times round the goal.

There were some runners in ancient times, as well among the Greeks as Romans, who have been much celebrated for their swiftness. Pliny tells us,(135) that it was thought prodigious in Phidippides to run eleven hundred and forty Stadia(136) between Athens and Lacedæmon in the space of two days, till Anystis of the latter place, and Philonides, the runner of Alexander the Great, went twelve hundred Stadia(137) in one day, from Sicyon to Elis. These runners were denominated ἡμεροδρόμους as we find in that passage of Herodotus, which mentions Phidippides.(138) In the consulate of Fonteius and Vipsanus, in the reign of Nero, a boy of nine years old ran seventy-five thousand paces(139) between noon and night. Pliny adds, that in his time there were runners, who ran one hundred and sixty thousand paces(140) in the circus. Our wonder at such a prodigious speed will increase, (continues he,)(141) if we reflect, that when Tiberius went to Germany to his brother Drusius, then at the point of death, he could not arrive there in less than four-and-twenty hours, though the distance was but two hundred thousand paces,(142) and he changed his carriage three times,(143) and went with the utmost diligence.

2. Of the Horse-races.

The race of a single horse with a rider was less celebrated among the ancients, yet it had its favourers amongst the most considerable persons, and even kings themselves, and was attended with uncommon glory to the victor. Pindar, in his first ode, celebrates a victory of this kind, obtained by Hiero, king of Syracuse, to whom he gives the title of Κέλης, that is, “Victor in the horse-race;” which name was given to the horses carrying only a single rider, Κέλητες. Sometimes the rider led another horse by the bridle, and then the horses were called _Desultorii_, and their riders _Desultores_; because, after a number of turns in the Stadium, they changed horses, by dexterously vaulting from one to the other. A surprising address was necessary upon this occasion, especially in an age unacquainted with the use of stirrups, and when the horses had no saddles, which made the leap still more difficult. Among the African troops there were also cavalry,(144) called _Desultores_, who vaulted from one horse to another, as occasion required; and these were generally Numidians.

3. Of the Chariot-races.

This kind of race was the most renowned of all the exercises used in the games of the ancients, and that from whence most honour redounded to the victors; which is not to be wondered at, if we consider whence it arose. It is plain that it was derived from the constant custom of princes, heroes, and great men, of fighting in battle upon chariots. Homer has an infinity of examples of this kind. This custom being admitted, it is natural to suppose it very agreeable to these heroes, to have their charioteers as expert as possible in driving, as their success depended, in a very great measure, upon the address of their drivers. It was anciently, therefore, only to persons of the first consideration that this office was confided. Hence arose a laudable emulation to excel others in the art of guiding a chariot, and a kind of necessity to practise it very much, in order to succeed. The high rank of the persons who made use of chariots ennobled, as it always happens, an exercise peculiar to them. The other exercises were adapted to private soldiers and horsemen, as wrestling, running, and the single horse-race; but the use of chariots in the field was always reserved to princes, and generals of armies.

Hence it was, that all those who presented themselves in the Olympic games to dispute the prize in the chariot-races, were persons considerable either for their riches, their birth, their employments, or great actions. Kings themselves eagerly aspired to this glory, from the belief that the title of victor in these games was scarce inferior to that of conqueror, and that the Olympic palm added new dignity to the splendours of a throne. Pindar’s odes inform us, that Gelon and Hiero, kings of Syracuse, were of that opinion. Dionysius, who reigned there long after them, carried the same ambition much higher. Philip of Macedon had these victories stampt upon his coins, and seemed as much gratified with them as with those obtained against the enemies of his state. All the world knows the answer of Alexander the Great on this subject.(145) When his friends asked him whether he would not dispute the prize of the races in these games? “Yes,” said he, “if kings were to be my antagonists.” Which shows, that he would not have disdained these contests, if there had been competitors in them worthy of him.

The chariots were generally drawn by two or four horses, ranged abreast; _bigæ_, _quadrigæ_. Sometimes mules supplied the place of horses, and then the chariot was called ἀπήνη. Pindar, in the fifth ode of his first book, celebrates one Psaumis, who had obtained a triple victory; one by a chariot drawn by four horses, τεθρίππῳ; another by one drawn by mules, ἀπήνη; and the third by a single horse, κέλητι, which the title of the ode expresses.

These chariots, upon a signal given, started together from a place called _Carceres_. Their places were regulated by lot, which was not an indifferent circumstance as to the victory; for as they were to turn round a boundary, the chariot on the left was nearer than those on the right, which consequently had a greater compass to take. It appears from several passages in Pindar, and especially from one in Sophocles, which I shall cite very soon, that they ran twelve times round the Stadium. He that came in first the twelfth round was victor. The chief art consisted in taking the best ground at the turning of the boundary: for if the charioteer drove too near it, he was in danger of dashing the chariot to pieces; and if he kept too wide of it, his nearest antagonist might cut between him, and get foremost.

It is obvious that these chariot-races could not be run without some danger; for as the motion(146) of the wheels was very rapid, and it was requisite to graze against the boundary in turning, the least error in driving would have broken the chariot in pieces, and might have dangerously wounded the charioteer. An example of which we find in the _Electra_ of Sophocles, who gives an admirable description of a chariot-race run by ten competitors. The pretended Orestes, at the twelfth and last round, which was to decide the victory, having only one antagonist, the rest having been thrown out, was so unfortunate as to break one of his wheels against the boundary, and falling out of his seat entangled in the reins, the horses dragged him violently forwards along with them, and tore him to pieces. But this very seldom happened. To avoid such danger, Nestor gave the following directions to his son Antilochus, who was going to dispute the prize in the chariot-race.(147) “My son,” says he, “drive your horses as near as possible to the boundary; for which reason, always inclining your body over your chariot, get the left of your competitors, and encouraging the horse on the right, give him the rein, whilst the near horse, hard held, turns the boundary so close that the nave of the wheel seems to graze upon it; but have a care of running against the stone, lest you wound your horses, and dash the chariot in pieces.”

Father Montfaucon mentions a difficulty, in his opinion of much consequence, in regard to the places of those who contended for the prize in the chariot-race. They all started indeed from the same line, and at the same time, and so far had no advantage of each other; but he, whose lot gave him the first place, being nearest the boundary at the end of the career, and having but a small compass to describe in turning about it, had less way to make than the second, third, fourth, &c. especially when the chariots were drawn by four horses, which took up a greater space between the first and the others, and obliged them to make a larger circle in coming round. This advantage twelve times together, as must happen, admitting the Stadium was to be run round twelve times, gave such a superiority to the first, as seemed to assure him infallibly of the victory against all his competitors. To me it seems, that the fleetness of the horses, joined with the address of the driver, might countervail this odds; either by getting before the first, or by taking his place; if not in the first, at least in some of the subsequent rounds; for it is not to be supposed, that in the progress of the race the antagonists always continued in the same order in which they started. They often changed places in a short interval of time, and in that variety and vicissitude consisted all the diversion of the spectators.

It was not required, that those who aspired to the victory should enter the lists, and drive their chariots in person. Their being spectators of the games, or even sending their horses thither, was sufficient; but in either case, it was previously necessary to register the names of the persons for whom the horses were to run, either in the chariot or single horse-races.

At the time that the city of Potidæa surrendered to Philip, three couriers brought him advices; the first, that the Illyrians had been defeated in a great battle by his general Parmenio; the second, that he had carried the prize of the horse-race in the Olympic games; and the third, that the queen was delivered of a son. Plutarch seems to insinuate, that Philip was equally delighted with each of these circumstances.(148)

Hiero sent horses to Olympia, to run for the prize, and caused a magnificent pavilion to be erected for them.(149) Upon this occasion Themistocles harangued the Greeks, to persuade them to pull down the tyrant’s pavilion, who had refused his aid against the common enemy, and to hinder his horses from running with the rest. It does not appear that any regard was had to this remonstrance; for we find, by one of Pindar’s odes, composed in honour of Hiero, that he won the prize in the equestrian races.

No one ever carried the ambition of making a great figure in the public games of Greece so far as Alcibiades,(150) in which he distinguished himself in the most splendid manner, by the great number of horses and chariots which he kept only for the races. There never was either private person or king that sent, as he did, seven chariots at once to the Olympic games, wherein he carried the first, second, and third prizes; an honour no one ever had before him. The famous poet Euripides celebrated these victories in an ode, of which Plutarch has preserved a fragment. The victor, after having made a sumptuous sacrifice to Jupiter, gave a magnificent feast to the innumerable multitude of spectators at the games. It is not easy to comprehend, how the wealth of a private person should suffice for so enormous an expense: but Antisthenes, the scholar of Socrates, who relates what he saw, informs us, that many cities of the allies, in emulation of each other, supplied Alcibiades with all things necessary for the support of such incredible magnificence; equipages, horses, tents, sacrifices, the most exquisite provisions, the most delicate wines; in a word, all that was necessary to the support of his table or train. The passage is remarkable; for the same author assures us, that this was not only done when Alcibiades went to the Olympic games, but in all his military expeditions and journeys by land or sea. “Wherever,” says he, “Alcibiades travelled, he made use of four of the allied cities as his servants. Ephesus furnished him with tents, as magnificent as those of the Persians; Chios took care to provide for his horses; Cyzicum supplied him with sacrifices, and provisions for his table; and Lesbos gave him wine, with whatever else was requisite for his house.”

I must not omit, in speaking of the Olympic games, that the ladies were admitted to dispute the prize in them as well as the men; and that many of them obtained it. Cynisca, sister of Agesilaus, king of Sparta, first opened this new path of glory to her sex, and was proclaimed conqueror in the race of chariots with four horses.(151) This victory, of which till then there had been no example, did not fail of being celebrated with all possible splendour.(152) A magnificent monument was erected at Sparta in honour of Cynisca;(153) and the Lacedæmonians, though otherwise very little sensible to the charms of poetry, appointed a poet to transmit this new triumph to posterity, and to immortalize its memory by an inscription in verse. She herself dedicated a chariot of brass, drawn by four horses, in the temple of Delphi;(154) in which the charioteer was also represented; a certain proof that she did not drive it herself. In process of time, the picture of Cynisca, drawn by the famous Apelles, was annexed to it, and the whole adorned with many inscriptions in honour of that Spartan heroine.(155)

Of the honours and rewards granted to the victors.

These honours and rewards were of several kinds. The acclamations of the spectators in honour of the victors were only a prelude to the prizes designed them. These prizes were different wreaths of wild olive, pine, parsley, or laurel, according to the different places where the games were celebrated. Those crowns were always attended with branches of palm, that the victors carried in their right hands; which custom, according to Plutarch,(156) arose (perhaps) from a property of the palm-tree, which displays new vigour the more endeavours are used to crush or bend it, and is a symbol of the courage and resistance of the champion who had obtained the prize. As he might be victor more than once in the same games, and sometimes on the same day, he might also receive several crowns and palms.

When the victor had received the crown and palm, a herald, preceded by a trumpet, conducted him through the Stadium, and proclaimed aloud the name and country of the successful champion, who passed in that kind of review before the people, whilst they redoubled their acclamations and applauses at the sight of him.

When he returned to his own country, the people came out in a body to meet him, and conducted him into the city, adorned with all the marks of his victory, and riding upon a chariot drawn by four horses. He made his entry not through the gates, but through a breach purposely made in the walls. Lighted torches were carried before him, and a numerous train followed to do honour to the procession.

The athletic triumph almost always concluded with feasts made for the victors, their relations, and friends, either at the expense of the public, or by private individuals, who regaled not only their families and friends, but often a great part of the spectators. Alcibiades,(157) after having sacrificed to the Olympian Jupiter, which was always the first care of the victor, treated the whole assembly. Leophron did the same, as Athenæus reports;(158) who adds, that Empedocles of Agrigentum, having conquered in the same games, and not having it in his power, being a Pythagorean, to regale the people with flesh or fish, caused an ox to be made of a paste, composed of myrrh, incense, and all sorts of spices, of which pieces were given to all who were present.

One of the most honourable privileges granted to the Athletic victors, was the right of precedency at the public games. At Sparta it was a custom for the king to take them with him in military expeditions, to fight near his person, and to be his guard; which, with reason, was judged very honourable. Another privilege, in which advantage was united with honour, was that of being maintained for the rest of their lives at the expense of their country. That this expense might not become too chargeable to the state, Solon(159) reduced the pension of a victor in the Olympic games to five hundred drachmas;(160) in the Isthmian to a hundred;(161) and in the rest in proportion. The victor and his country considered this pension, less as a relief of the champion’s indigence, than as a mark of honour and distinction. They were also exempted from all civil offices and employments.

The celebration of the games being over, one of the first cares of the magistrates, who presided in them, was to inscribe, in the public register, the name and country of the Athletæ who had carried the prizes, and to annex the species of combat in which they had been victorious. The chariot-race had the preference to all other games. Hence the historians, who date occurrences by the Olympiads, as Thucydides, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Diodorus Siculus, and Pausanias, almost always express the Olympiad by the name and country of the victors in that race.

The praises of the victorious Athletæ were amongst the Greeks one of the principal subjects of their lyric poetry. We find, that all the odes of the four books of Pindar turn upon it, each of which takes its title from the games in which the combatants signalized themselves, whose victories those poems celebrate. The poet, indeed, frequently enriches his matter, by calling in to the champion’s assistance, incapable alone of inspiring all the enthusiasm necessary, the aid of the gods, heroes, and princes, who have any relation to his subject; and to support the flights of imagination, to which he abandons himself. Before Pindar, the poet Simonides practised the same manner of writing, intermingling the praises of the gods and heroes with those of the champions, whose victories he sang. It is related upon this head,(162) that one of the victors in boxing, called Scopas, having agreed with Simonides for a poem upon his victory, the poet, according to custom, after having given the highest praises to the champion, expatiated in a long digression to the honour of Castor and Pollux. Scopas, satisfied in appearance with the performance of Simonides, paid him however only the third part of the sum agreed on, referring him for the remainder to the Tyndaridæ, whom he had celebrated so well. And in fact he was well paid by them, if we may believe the sequel; for, at the feast given by the champion, whilst the guests were at table, a servant came to Simonides, and told him, that two men, covered with dust and sweat, were at the door, and desired to speak with him in all haste. He had scarce set his foot out of the chamber, in order to go to them, when the roof fell in, and crushed the champion, with all his guests, to death.

Sculpture united with poetry to perpetuate the fame of the champions. Statues were erected to the victors, especially in the Olympic games, in the very place where they had been crowned, and sometimes in that of their birth also; which was commonly done at the expense of their country. Amongst the statues which adorned Olympia, were those of several children of ten or twelve years old, who had obtained the prize at that age in the Olympic games. They did not only raise such monuments to the champions, but to the very horses, to whose swiftness they were indebted for the Agonistic crown: and Pausanias(163) mentions one, which was erected in honour of a mare, called Aura, whose history is worth repeating. Phidolas her rider, having fallen off in the beginning of the race, the mare continued to run in the same manner as if he had been upon her back. She outstripped all the rest; and upon the sound of the trumpets, which was usual toward the end of the race to animate the competitors, she redoubled her vigour and courage, turned round the goal; and, as if she had been sensible that she had gained the victory, presented herself before the judges of the games. The Eleans declared Phidolas victor, with permission to erect a monument to himself and the mare, that had served him so well.

The different Taste of the Greeks and Romans, in regard to Public Shows.

Before I make an end of these remarks upon the combats and games so much in estimation amongst the Greeks, I beg the reader’s permission to make a reflection, that may serve to explain the difference of character between the Greeks and Romans, with regard to this subject.

The most common entertainment of the latter, at which the fair sex, by nature tender and compassionate, were present in throngs, was the combat of the gladiators, and of men with bears and lions; in which the cries of the wounded and dying, and the abundant effusion of human blood, supplied a grateful spectacle for a whole people, who feasted their cruel eyes with the savage pleasure of seeing men murder one another in cool blood; and in the times of the persecutions, with the tearing in pieces of old men and infants, of women and tender virgins, whose age and weakness are apt to excite compassion in the hardest hearts.

In Greece these combats were absolutely unknown, and were only introduced into some cities, after their subjection to the Roman people. The Athenians, however, whose distinguishing characteristics were benevolence and humanity, never admitted them into their city;(164) and when it was proposed to introduce the combats of the gladiators, that they might not be outdone by the Corinthians in that point, “First throw down,” cried out an Athenian(165) from the midst of the assembly, “throw down the altar, erected above a thousand years ago by our ancestors to Mercy.”

It must be allowed that in this respect the conduct and wisdom of the Greeks were infinitely superior to that of the Romans. I speak of the wisdom of Pagans. Convinced that the multitude, too much governed by the objects of sense to be sufficiently amused and entertained with the pleasures of the understanding, could be delighted only with sensible objects, both nations were studious to divert them with games and shows, and such external contrivances, as were proper to affect the senses; in the institution of which, each evinced and followed its peculiar inclination and disposition.

The Romans, educated in war, and accustomed to battles, always retained, notwithstanding the politeness upon which they piqued themselves, something of their ancient ferocity; and hence it was, that the effusion of blood, and the murders exhibited in their public shows, far from inspiring them with horror, formed a grateful entertainment to them.

The insolent pomp of triumphs flowed from the same source, and argued no less inhumanity. To obtain this honour, it was necessary to prove, that eight or ten thousand men had been killed in battle. The spoils, which were carried with so much ostentation, proclaimed, that an infinity of worthy families had been reduced to the utmost misery. The innumerable troop of captives had been free persons a few days before, and were often distinguishable for honour, merit, and virtue. The representation of the towns that had been taken in the war, explained that they had sacked, plundered, and burnt the most opulent cities; and had either destroyed or enslaved their inhabitants. In short, nothing was more inhuman, than to drag kings and princes in chains before the chariot of a Roman citizen, and to insult their misfortunes and humiliation in that public manner.

The triumphal arches, erected under the emperors, where the enemies appeared with chains upon their hands and legs, could proceed only from a haughty fierceness of disposition, and an inhuman pride, that took delight in immortalizing the shame and sorrow of subjected nations.

The joy of the Greeks after a victory was far more modest.(166) They erected trophies indeed, but of wood, a substance of no long duration, which time would soon consume; and these it was prohibited to renew. Plutarch’s reason for this is admirable.(167) After time had destroyed and obliterated the marks of dissension and enmity that had divided nations, it would have been the excess of odious and barbarous animosity, to have thought of reestablishing them, to perpetuate the remembrance of ancient quarrels, which could not be buried too soon in silence and oblivion. He adds, that the trophies of stone and brass, since substituted to those of wood, reflect no honour upon those who introduced the custom.

I am pleased with the grief depicted on Agesilaus’s countenance,(168) after a considerable victory, wherein a great number of his enemies, that is to say, of Greeks, were left upon the field, and to hear him utter with sighs and groans, these words, so full of moderation and humanity: “Oh unhappy Greece, to deprive thyself of so many brave citizens, and to destroy those who had been sufficient to have conquered all the Barbarians!”

The same spirit of moderation and humanity prevailed in the public shows of the Greeks. Their festivals had nothing mournful or afflictive in them. Every thing in those feasts tended to delight, friendship, and harmony: and in that consisted one of the greatest advantages which resulted to Greece, from the solemnization of these games. The republics, separated by distance of country, and diversity of interests, having the opportunity of meeting from time to time, in the same place, and in the midst of rejoicing and festivity, allied themselves more strictly with one another, stimulated each other against the Barbarians and the common enemies of their liberty, and made up their differences by the mediation of some neutral state in alliance with them. The same language, manners, sacrifices, exercises, and worship, all conspired to unite the several little states of Greece into one great and formidable nation; and to preserve amongst them the same disposition, the same principles, the same zeal for their liberty, and the same fondness for the arts and sciences.

Of the Prizes of Wit, and the Shows and Representations of the Theatre.

I have reserved for the conclusion of this head another kind of competition, which does not at all depend upon the strength, activity, and address of the body, and may be called with reason the combat of the mind; wherein the orators, historians, and poets, made trial of their capacities, and submitted their productions to the censure and judgment of the public. The emulation in this sort of dispute was so much the more lively and ardent, as the victory in question might justly be deemed to be infinitely superior to all others, because it affects the man more nearly, is founded on his personal and internal qualities, and decides upon the merit of his intellectual capacity; which are advantages we are apt to aspire after with the utmost vivacity and passion, and of which we are least of all inclined to renounce the glory to others.

It was a great honour, and at the same time a most sensible pleasure, for writers, who are generally fond of fame and applause, to have known how to unite in their favour the suffrages of so numerous and select an assembly as that of the Olympic games; in which were present all the finest geniuses of Greece, and all who were most capable of judging of the excellency of a work. This theatre was equally open to history, eloquence, and poetry.

Herodotus read his history(169) at the Olympic games to all Greece, assembled at them, and was heard with such applause, that the names of the nine Muses were given to the nine books which compose his work, and the people cried out wherever he passed, “That is he, who has written our history, and celebrated our glorious successes against the Barbarians so excellently.”

All who had been present at the games, caused afterwards every part of Greece to resound with the name and glory of this illustrious historian.

Lucian, who writes the fact which I have related, adds, that after the example of Herodotus, many of the sophists and rhetoricians went to Olympia, to read the harangues of their composing; finding that the shortest and most certain method of acquiring a great reputation in a little time.

Plutarch observes,(170) that Lysias, the famous Athenian orator, contemporary with Herodotus, pronounced a speech in the Olympic games, wherein he congratulated the Greeks upon their reconciliation with each other, and their having united to reduce the power of Dionysius the Tyrant, as upon the greatest action they had ever done.

We may judge of the eagerness of the poets to signalize themselves in these solemn games, from that of Dionysius himself.(171) That prince, who had the foolish vanity to believe himself the most excellent poet of his time, appointed readers, called in Greek, ῥαψωδοὶ (_Rhapsodists_,) to read several pieces of his composing at Olympia. When they began to pronounce the verses of the royal poet, the strong and harmonious voices of the readers occasioned a profound silence, and they were heard at first with the greatest attention, which continually decreased as they went on, and turned at last into downright horse-laughs and hooting; so miserable did the verses appear. He comforted himself for this disgrace by a victory he gained some time after in the feast of Bacchus at Athens, in which he caused a tragedy of his composition to be represented.(172)

The disputes of the poets in the Olympic games were nothing, in comparison with the ardour and emulation that prevailed at Athens; which is what remains to be said upon this subject, and therefore I shall conclude with it: taking occasion to give my readers, at the same time, a short view of the shows and representations of the theatre of the ancients.

Those who would be more fully informed on this subject, will find it treated at large in a work lately made public by the reverend father Brumoi the Jesuit; a work which abounds with profound knowledge and erudition, and with reflections entirely new, deduced from the nature of the poems of which it treats. I shall make considerable use of that piece, and often without citing it; which is not uncommon with me.

Extraordinary Fondness of the Athenians for the Entertainments of the Stage. Emulation of the Poets in disputing the Prizes in those Representations. A short Idea of Dramatic Poetry.

No people ever expressed so much ardour and eagerness for the entertainments of the theatre as the Greeks, and especially the Athenians. The reason is obvious: as no people ever demonstrated such extent of genius, nor carried so far the love of eloquence and poesy, taste for the sciences, justness of sentiments, elegance of ear, and delicacy in all the refinements of language. A poor woman, who sold herbs at Athens, discovered Theophrastus to be a stranger, by a single word which he affectedly made use of in expressing himself.(173) The common people got the tragedies of Euripides by heart. The genius of every nation expresses itself in the people’s manner of passing their time, and in their pleasures. The great employment and delight of the Athenians were to amuse themselves with works of wit, and to judge of the dramatic pieces, that were acted by public authority several times a year, especially at the feasts of Bacchus, when the tragic and comic poets disputed for the prize. The former used to present four of their pieces at a time; except Sophocles, who did not think fit to continue so laborious an exercise, and confined himself to one performance, when he disputed the prize.

The state appointed judges, to determine upon the merit of the tragic or comic pieces, before they were represented in the festivals. They were acted before them in the presence of the people; but undoubtedly with no great preparation. The judges gave their suffrages, and that performance, which had the most voices, was declared victorious, received the crown as such, and was represented with all possible pomp at the expense of the republic. This did not, however, exclude such pieces, as were only in the second or third class. The best had not always the preference; for what times have been exempt from party, caprice, ignorance, and prejudice? Ælian(174) is very angry with the judges, who, in one of these disputes, gave only the second place to Euripides. He accuses them of judging either without capacity, or of suffering themselves to be bribed. It is easy to conceive the warmth and emulation, which these disputes and public rewards excited amongst the poets, and how much they contributed to the perfection, to which Greece carried dramatic performances.

The dramatic poem introduces the persons themselves, speaking and acting upon the stage: in the epic, on the contrary, the poet only relates the different adventures of his characters. It is natural to be delighted with fine descriptions of events, in which illustrious persons and whole nations are interested; and hence the epic poem had its origin. But we are quite differently affected with hearing those persons themselves, with being the confidents of their most secret sentiments, and auditors and spectators of their resolutions, enterprises, and the happy or unhappy events attending them. To read and see an action, are quite different things; we are infinitely more moved with what is acted, than with what we merely read. Our eyes as well as our minds are addressed at the same time. The spectator, agreeably deceived by an imitation so nearly approaching life, mistakes the picture for the original, and thinks the object real. This gave birth to dramatic poetry, which includes tragedy and comedy.

To these may be added the satiric poem, which derives its name from the satyrs, rural gods, who were always the chief characters in it; and not from the “satire,” a kind of abusive poetry, which has no resemblance to this, and is of a much later date. The satiric poem was neither tragedy nor comedy, but something between both, participating of the character of each. The poets, who disputed the prize, generally added one of these pieces to their tragedies, to allay the gravity and solemnity of the one, with the mirth and pleasantry of the other. There is but one example of this ancient poem come down to us, which is the _Cyclops_ of Euripides.

I shall confine myself upon this head to tragedy and comedy; both which had their origin amongst the Greeks, who looked upon them as fruits of their own growth, of which they could never have enough. Athens was remarkable for an extraordinary appetite of this kind. These two poems, which were for a long time comprised under the general name of tragedy, received there by degrees such improvements, as at length raised them to their highest perfection.

The Origin and Progress of Tragedy. Poets who excelled in it at Athens; Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.

There had been many tragic and comic poets before Thespis; but as they had made no alterations in the original rude form of this poem, and as Thespis was the first that made any improvement in it, he was generally esteemed its inventor. Before him, tragedy was no more than a jumble of buffoon tales in the comic style, intermixed with the singing of a chorus in praise of Bacchus; for it is to the feasts of that god, celebrated at the time of the vintage, that tragedy owes its birth.

La tragédie, informe et grossière en na’ssant, N’étoit qu’un simple chœur, où chacun en dansant, Et du dieu des raisins entonnant les louanges, S’éfforçoit d’attirer de fertiles vendanges. Là, le vin et la joie éveillant les esprits, Du plus habile chantre un bouc étoit le prix.

Formless and gross did tragedy arise, A simple chorus, rather mad than wise; For fruitful vintages the dancing throng Roar’d to the god of grapes a drunken song: Wild mirth and wine sustain’d the frantic note, And the best singer had the prize, a goat.(175)

Thespis made several alterations in it, which Horace describes after Aristotle, in his _Art of Poetry_. The first(176) was to carry his actors about in a cart, whereas before they used to sing in the streets, wherever chance led them. Another was to have their faces smeared over with wine-lees, instead of acting without disguise, as at first. He also introduced a character among the chorus, who, to give the actors time to rest themselves and to take breath, repeated the adventures of some illustrious person; which recital, at length, gave place to the subjects of tragedy.

Thespis fut le premier, qui barbouillé de lie, Promena par les bourgs cette heureuse folie, Et d’acteurs mal oinés chargeant un tombereau, Amusa les passans d’un spectacle nouveau.(177)

First Thespis, smear’d with lees, and void of art, The grateful folly vented from a cart; And as his tawdry actors drove about, The sight was new, and charm’d the gaping rout.

(M1) Thespis lived in the time of Solon.(178) That wise legislator, upon seeing his pieces performed, expressed his dislike, by striking his staff against the ground; apprehending that these poetical fictions and idle stories, from mere theatrical representations, would soon become matters of importance, and have too great a share in all public and private affairs.

(M2) It is not so easy to invent, as to improve the inventions of others. The alterations Thespis made in tragedy, gave room for Æschylus to make new and more considerable of his own. He was born at Athens, in the first year of the sixtieth Olympiad. He took upon him the profession of arms, at a time when the Athenians reckoned almost as many heroes as citizens. He was at the battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Platæa, where he did his duty. (M3) But his disposition called him elsewhere, and put him upon entering into another course, where no less glory was to be acquired; and where he was soon without any competitors. As a superior genius, he took upon him to reform, or rather to create tragedy anew; of which he has, in consequence, been always acknowledged the inventor and father. Father Brumoi, in a dissertation which abounds with wit and good sense, explains the manner in which Æschylus conceived the true idea of tragedy from Homer’s epic poems. The poet himself used to say, that his works were the remnants of the feasts given by Homer in the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_.

Tragedy therefore took a new form under him. He gave masks(179) to his actors, adorned them with robes and trains, and made them wear buskins. Instead of a cart, he erected a theatre of a moderate elevation, and entirely changed their style; which from being merry and burlesque, as at first, became majestic and serious.

Eschyle dans le chœur jetta les personages: D’un masque plus honnête habilla les visages: Sur les ais d’un théâtre en public exhaussé Fit paroître l’acteur d’un brodequin chaussé.(180)

From Æschylus the chorus learnt new grace: He veil’d with decent masks the actor’s face, Taught him in buskins first to tread the stage, And rais’d a theatre to please the age.

But that was only the external part or body of tragedy. Its soul, which was the most important and essential addition of Æschylus, consisted in the vivacity and spirit of the action, sustained by the dialogue of the persons of the drama introduced by him; in the artful working up of the stronger passions, especially of terror and pity, which, by alternately afflicting and agitating the soul with mournful or terrible objects, produce a grateful pleasure and delight from that very trouble and emotion; in the choice of a subject, great, noble, interesting, and contained within due bounds by the unity of time, place, and action: in short, it is the conduct and disposition of the whole piece, which, by the order and harmony of its parts, and the happy connection of its incidents and intrigues, holds the mind of the spectator in suspense till the catastrophe, and then restores him his tranquillity, and dismisses him with satisfaction.

The chorus had been established before Æschylus, as it composed alone, or next to alone, what was then called tragedy. He did not therefore exclude it, but, on the contrary, thought fit to incorporate it, to sing as chorus between the acts. Thus it supplied the interval of resting, and was a kind of person of the drama, employed either(181) in giving useful advice and salutary instructions, in espousing the party of innocence and virtue, in being the depository of secrets, and the avenger of violated religion, or in sustaining all those characters at the same time according to Horace. The coryphæus, or principal person of the chorus, spoke for the rest.

In one of Æschylus’s pieces, called the _Eumenides_, the poet represents Orestes at the bottom of the stage, surrounded by the Furies, laid asleep by Apollo. Their figure must have been extremely horrible, as it is related, that upon their waking and appearing tumultuously on the theatre, where they were to act as a chorus, some women miscarried with the surprise, and several children died of the fright. The chorus at that time consisted of fifty actors. After this accident, it was reduced to fifteen by an express law, and at length to twelve.

I have observed, that one of the alterations made by Æschylus in tragedy, was the mask worn by his actors. These dramatic masks had no resemblance to ours, which only cover the face, but were a kind of case for the whole head, and which, besides the features, represented the beard, the hair, the ears, and even the ornaments used by women in their head-dresses. These masks varied according to the different pieces that were acted. The subject is treated at large in a dissertation of M. Boindin’s, inserted in the _Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres_.(182)

I could never comprehend, as I have observed elsewhere,(183) in speaking of pronunciation, how masks came to continue so long upon the stage of the ancients; for certainly they could not be used, without considerably deadening the spirit of the action, which is principally expressed in the countenance, the seat and mirror of what passes in the soul. Does it not often happen, that the blood, according as it is put in motion by different passions, sometimes covers the face with a sudden and modest blush, sometimes enflames it with the heat of rage and fury, sometimes retires, leaving it pale with fear, and at others diffuses a calm and amiable serenity over it? All these affections are strongly imaged and distinguished in the lineaments of the face. The mask deprives the features of this energetic language, and of that life and soul, by which it is the faithful interpreter of all the sentiments of the heart. I do not wonder, therefore, at Cicero’s remark upon the action of Roscius.(184) “Our ancestors,”’ says he, “were better judges than we are. They could not wholly approve even Roscius himself, whilst he performed in a mask.”

(M4) Æschylus was in the sole possession of the glory of the stage, with almost every voice in his favour, when a young rival made his appearance to dispute the palm with him. This was Sophocles. He was born at Colonos, a town in Attica, in the second year of the seventy-first Olympiad. His father was a blacksmith, or one who kept people of that trade to work for him. His first essay was a masterpiece. (M5) When, upon the occasion of Cimon’s having found the bones of Theseus, and their being brought to Athens, a dispute between the tragic poets was appointed, Sophocles entered the lists with Æschylus, and carried the prize against him. The ancient victor, laden till then with the wreaths he had acquired, believed them all lost by failing of the last, and withdrew in disgust into Sicily to king Hiero, the protector and patron of all the learned in disgrace at Athens. He died there soon after in a very singular manner, if we may believe Suidas. As he lay asleep in the fields, with his head bare, an eagle, taking his bald crown for a stone, let a tortoise fall upon it, which killed him. Of ninety, or at least seventy, tragedies, composed by him, only seven are now extant.

Nor have those of Sophocles escaped the injury of time better, though one hundred and seventeen in number, and according to some one hundred and thirty. He retained to extreme old age all the force and vigour of his genius, as appears from a circumstance in his history. His children, unworthy of so great a father, upon pretence that he had lost his senses, summoned him before the judges, in order to obtain a decree, that his estate might be taken from him, and put into their hands. He made no other defence, than to read a tragedy he was at that time composing, called _Œdipus at Colonos_, with which the judges were so charmed, that he carried his cause unanimously; and his children, detested by the whole assembly, got nothing by their suit, but the shame and infamy due to so flagrant ingratitude. He was twenty times crowned victor. Some say he expired in repeating his _Antigone_, for want of power to recover his breath, after a violent endeavour to pronounce a long period to the end; others, that he died of joy upon his being declared victor, contrary to his expectation. The figure of a hive was placed upon his tomb, to perpetuate the name of Bee, which had been given him, from the sweetness of his verses: whence, it is probable, the notion was derived, of the bees having settled upon his lips when in his cradle. (M6) He died in his ninetieth year, the fourth of the ninety-third Olympiad, after having survived Euripides six years, who was not so old as himself.

(M7) The latter was born in the first year of the seventy-fifth Olympiad, at Salamis, whither his father Mnesarchus and mother Clito had retired when Xerxes was preparing for his great expedition against Greece. He applied himself at first to philosophy, and, amongst others, had the celebrated Anaxagoras for his master. But the danger incurred by that great man, who was very near being made the victim of his philosophical tenets, inclined him to the study of poetry. He discovered in himself a genius for the drama, unknown to him at first; and employed it with such success, that he entered the lists with the great masters of whom we have been speaking. His works(185) sufficiently denote his profound application to philosophy. They abound with excellent maxims of morality; and it is in that view that Socrates in his time, and Cicero long after him,(186) set so high a value upon Euripides.

One cannot sufficiently admire the extreme delicacy expressed by the Athenian audience on certain occasions, and their solicitude to preserve the reverence due to morality, virtue, decency, and justice. It is surprising to observe the warmth with which they unanimously reproved whatever seemed inconsistent with them, and called the poet to an account for it, notwithstanding his having a well-founded excuse, as he had given such sentiments only to persons notoriously vicious, and actuated by the most unjust passions.

Euripides had put into the mouth of Bellerophon a pompous panegyric upon riches, which concluded with this thought: “Riches are the supreme good of the human race, and with reason excite the admiration of the gods and men.” The whole theatre cried out against these expressions; and he would have been banished directly, if he had not desired the sentence to be respited till the conclusion of the piece, in which the advocate for riches perished miserably.

He was in danger of incurring serious inconveniences from an answer he puts into the mouth of Hippolytus. Phædra’s nurse represented to him, that he had engaged himself under an inviolable oath to keep her secret. “My tongue, it is true, pronounced that oath,” replied he, “but my heart gave no consent to it.” This frivolous distinction appeared to the whole people, as an express contempt of the religion and sanctity of an oath, that tended to banish all sincerity and good faith from society and the intercourse of life.

Another maxim(187) advanced by Eteocles in the tragedy called the _Phœnicians_, and which Cæsar had always in his mouth, is no less pernicious: “If justice may be violated at all, it is when a throne is in question; in other respects, let it be duly revered.” It is highly criminal in Eteocles, or rather in Euripides, says Cicero, to make an exception in that very point, wherein such violation is the highest crime that can be committed. Eteocles is a tyrant, and speaks like a tyrant, who vindicates his unjust conduct by a false maxim; and it is not strange that Cæsar, who was a tyrant by nature, and equally unjust, should lay great stress upon the sentiments of a prince whom he so much resembled. But what is remarkable in Cicero, is his falling upon the poet himself, and imputing to him as a crime the having advanced so pernicious a principle upon the stage.

Lycurgus, the orator,(188) who lived in the time of Philip and Alexander the Great, to reanimate the spirit of the tragic poets, caused three statues of brass to be erected, in the name of the people, to Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides; and having ordered their works to be transcribed, he appointed them to be carefully preserved amongst the public archives, from whence they were taken from time to time to be read; the players not being permitted to represent them on the stage.

The reader expects, no doubt, after what has been said relating to the three poets, who invented, improved, and carried tragedy to its perfection, that I should point out the peculiar excellencies of their style and character. For that I must refer to father Brumoi, who will do it much better than it is in my power. After having laid down, as an undoubted principle, that the epic poem, that is to say Homer, pointed out the way for the tragic poets; and having demonstrated, by reflections drawn from human nature, upon what principles and by what degrees this happy imitation was conducted to its end, he goes on to describe the three poets above mentioned, in the most lively and brilliant colours.

Tragedy took at first from Æschylus its inventor, a much more lofty style than the _Iliad_; that is, the _magnum loqui_ mentioned by Horace. Perhaps Æschylus, who had a full conception of the grandeur of the language of tragedy, carried it too high. It is not Homer’s trumpet, but something more. His pompous, swelling, gigantic diction, resembles rather the beating of drums and the shouts of battle, than the noble harmony of the trumpets. The elevation and grandeur of his genius would not permit him to speak the language of other men, so that his Muse seemed rather to walk in stilts, than in the buskins of his own invention.

Sophocles understood much better the true excellence of the dramatic style: he therefore copies Homer more closely, and blends in his diction that honeyed sweetness, from whence he was denominated “the Bee,” with a gravity that gives his tragedy the modest air of a matron, compelled to appear in public with dignity, as Horace expresses it.

The style of Euripides, though noble, is less removed from the familiar; and he seems to have affected rather the pathetic and the elegant, than the nervous and the lofty.

As Corneille, says father Brumoi in another place, after having opened to himself a path entirely new and unknown to the ancients, seems like an eagle towering in the clouds, from the sublimity, force, unbroken progress, and rapidity of his flight; and, as Racine, in copying the ancients in a manner entirely his own, imitates the swan, that sometimes floats upon the air, sometimes rises, then falls again with an elegance of motion, and a grace peculiar to herself; so Æschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, have each of them a particular characteristic and method. The first, as the inventor and father of tragedy, is like a torrent rolling impetuously over rocks, forests, and precipices; the second resembles a canal,(189) which flows gently through delicious gardens; and the third a river, that does not follow its course in a continued line, but loves to turn and wind his silver wave through flowery meads and rural scenes.

This is the character which father Brumoi gives of the three poets, to whom the Athenian stage was indebted for its perfection in tragedy. Æschylus(190) drew it out of its original chaos and confusion, and made it appear in some degree of lustre; but it still retained the rude unfinished air of things in their beginning, which are generally defective in point of art and method. Sophocles and Euripides added infinitely to the dignity of tragedy. The style of the first, as has been observed, is more noble and majestic; of the latter, more tender and pathetic; each perfect in their way. In this diversity of character, it is difficult to decide which is most excellent. The learned have always been divided upon this head; as we are at this day, with respect to the two poets of our own nation,(191) whose tragedies have made our stage illustrious, and not inferior to that of Athens.

I have observed, that the tender and pathetic distinguishes the compositions of Euripides, of which Alexander of Pheræ, the most cruel of tyrants, was a proof. That barbarous man, upon seeing the _Troades_ of Euripides acted, found himself so moved with it, that he quitted the theatre before the conclusion of the play, professing that he was ashamed to be seen in tears for the distress of Hecuba and Andromache, who had never shown the least compassion for his own citizens, of whom he had butchered such numbers.

When I speak of the tender and pathetic, I would not be understood to mean a passion that softens the heart into effeminacy, and which, to our reproach, is almost alone, or at least more than any other passion received upon our stage, though rejected by the ancients, and condemned by the nations around us of greatest reputation for their genius, and taste for the sciences and polite learning. The two great principles for moving the passions amongst the ancients, were terror and pity.(192) And, indeed, as we naturally refer every thing to ourselves, or our own particular interest, when we see persons of exalted rank or virtue sinking under great evils, the fear of the like misfortunes, with which we know that human life is on all sides invested, seizes upon us, and from a secret impulse of self-love we find ourselves sensibly affected with the distresses of others: besides which, the sharing a common nature(193) with the rest of our species, makes us sensible to whatever befalls them. Upon a close and attentive inquiry into those two passions, they will be found the most deeply inherent, active, extensive, and general affections of the soul; including all orders of men, great and small, rich and poor, of whatever age or condition. Hence the ancients, accustomed to consult nature, and to take her for their guide in all things, with reason conceived terror and compassion to be the soul of tragedy; and that those affections ought to prevail in it. The passion of love was in no estimation amongst them, and had seldom any share in their dramatic pieces; though with us it is a received opinion, that they cannot be supported without it.

It is worth our trouble to examine briefly in what manner this passion, which has always been deemed a weakness and a blemish in the greatest characters, got such footing upon our stage. Corneille, who was the first who brought the French tragedy to any perfection, and whom all the rest have followed, found the whole nation enamoured with the perusal of romances, and little disposed to admire any thing not resembling them. From the desire of pleasing his audience, who were at the same time his judges, he endeavoured to move them in the manner they had been accustomed to be affected; and, by introducing love in his scenes, to bring them the nearer to the predominant taste of the age for romance. From the same source arose that multiplicity of incidents, episodes, and adventures, with which our tragic pieces are crowded and obscured; so contrary to probability, which will not admit such a number of extraordinary and surprising events in the short space of four-and-twenty hours; so contrary to the simplicity of ancient tragedy; and so adapted to conceal, by the assemblage of so many different objects, the sterility of the genius of a poet, more intent upon the marvellous, than upon the probable and natural.

Both the Greeks and Romans have preferred the iambic to the heroic verse in their tragedies; not only because the first has a kind of dignity better adapted to the stage, but, whilst it approaches nearer to prose, retains sufficiently the air of poetry to please the ear; and yet has too little of it to put the audience in mind of the poet, who ought not to appear at all in representations, where other persons are supposed to speak and act. Monsieur Dacier makes a very just reflection on this subject. He says, that it is the misfortune of our tragedy to have almost no other verse than what it has in common with epic poetry, elegy, pastoral, satire, and comedy; whereas the learned languages have a great variety of versification.

This inconvenience is highly obvious in our tragedy; which consequently is obliged to lose sight of nature and probability, as it obliges heroes, princes, kings, and queens, to express themselves in a pompous strain in their familiar conversation, which it would be ridiculous to attempt in real life. The giving utterance to the most impetuous passions in an uniform cadence, and by hemistichs and rhymes, would undoubtedly be tedious and offensive to the ear, if the charms of poetry, the elegance of expression, and the spirit of the sentiments, and perhaps, more than all of them, the resistless force of custom, had not in a manner subjected our reason, and spread a veil before our judgment.

It was not chance, therefore, which suggested to the Greeks the use of iambics in their tragedy. Nature itself seems to have dictated that kind of verse to them. Instructed by the same unerring guide, they made choice of a different versification for the chorus, better adapted to the motions of the dance, and the variations of the song; because it was necessary for poetry here to shine out in all its lustre, whilst the mere conversation between the real actors was suspended. The chorus was an embellishment of the representation, and a relaxation to the audience, and therefore required more exalted poetry and numbers to support it, when united with music and dancing.

Of the Old, Middle, and New Comedy.

Whilst tragedy was thus rising to perfection at Athens, comedy, the second species of dramatic poetry, and which, till then, had been much neglected, began to be cultivated with more attention. Nature was the common parent of both. We are sensibly affected with the dangers, distresses, misfortunes, and, in a word, with whatever relates to the lives and conduct of illustrious persons; and this gave birth to tragedy. And we are as curious to know the adventures, conduct, and defects of our equals; which supply us with occasions of laughing, and being merry at the expense of others. Hence comedy derives itself; which is properly an image of private life. Its design is to expose defects and vices upon the stage, and, by affixing ridicule to them, to make them contemptible; and, consequently, to instruct by diverting. Ridicule, therefore, (or, to express the same word by another, pleasantry,) ought to prevail in comedy.

This species of entertainment took at different times three different forms at Athens, as well from the genius of the poets, as from the influence of the government, which occasioned various alterations in it.

The old comedy, so called by Horace,(194) and which he dates after the time of Æschylus, retained something of its original rudeness, and the liberty it had been used to take of throwing out coarse jests and reviling the spectators from the cart of Thespis. Though it was become regular in its plan, and worthy of a great theatre, it had not learnt to be more reserved. It represented real transactions, with the names, dress, gestures, and likeness, in masks, of whomsoever it thought fit to sacrifice to the public derision. In a state where it was held good policy to unmask whatever carried the air of ambition, singularity, or knavery, comedy assumed the privilege to harangue, reform, and advise the people upon their most important interests. No one was spared in a city of so much liberty, or rather licentiousness, as Athens was at that time. Generals, magistrates, government, the very gods were abandoned to the poet’s satirical vein; and all was well received, provided the comedy was diverting, and the Attic salt not wanting.

In one of these comedies,(195) not only the priest of Jupiter determines to quit his service, because no more sacrifices are offered to the god; but Mercury himself comes, in a starving condition, to seek his fortune amongst mankind, and offers to serve as a porter, sutler, bailiff, guide, door-keeper; in short, in any capacity, rather than return to heaven. In another,(196) the same gods, reduced to the extremity of famine, from the birds having built a city in the air, whereby their provisions are cut off, and the smoke of incense and sacrifices prevented from ascending to heaven, depute three ambassadors in the name of Jupiter to conclude a treaty of accommodation with the birds, upon such conditions as they shall approve. The chamber of audience, where the three famished gods are received, is a kitchen well stored with excellent game of all sorts. Here Hercules, deeply smitten with the smell of roast meat, which he apprehends to be more exquisite and nutritious than that of incense, begs leave to make his abode, and to turn the spit, and assist the cook upon occasion. The other pieces of Aristophanes abound with strokes still more satirical and severe upon the principal divinities.

I am not much surprised at the poet’s insulting the gods, and treating them with the utmost contempt, as from them he had nothing fear; but I cannot help wondering at his having brought the most illustrious and powerful persons of Athens upon the stage, and presuming to attack the government itself, without any manner of respect or reserve.

Cleon having returned triumphant, contrary to the general expectation, from the expedition against Sphacteria, was looked upon by the people as the greatest captain of that age. Aristophanes, to set that bad man in a true light, who was the son of a tanner, and a tanner himself, and whose rise was owing solely to his temerity and impudence, was so bold as to make him the subject of a comedy,(197) without being awed by his power and influence: but he was obliged to play the part of Cleon himself, and appeared for the first time upon the stage in that character; not one of the comedians daring to represent it, nor to expose himself to the resentment of so formidable an enemy. His face was smeared over with wine-lees; because no workman could be found, that would venture to make a mask resembling Cleon, as was usual when persons were brought upon the stage. In this piece he reproaches him with embezzling the public treasures, with a violent passion for bribes and presents, with craft in seducing the people, and denies him the glory of the action at Sphacteria, which he attributes chiefly to the share his colleague had in it.

In the _Acharnians_, he accuses Lamachus of having been made general, rather by bribery than merit. He imputes to him his youth, inexperience, and idleness; at the same time that he, and many others, whom he covertly designates, convert to their own use the rewards due only to valour and real services. He reproaches the republic with their preference of the younger citizens to the elder, in the government of the state, and the command of their armies. He tells them plainly, that when peace shall be concluded, neither Cleonymus, Hyperbolus, nor many other such knaves, all mentioned by name, shall have any share in the public affairs; they being always ready to accuse their fellow-citizens of crimes, and to enrich themselves by such informations.

In his comedy called the _Wasps_, imitated by Racine in his _Plaideurs_, he exposes the mad passion of the people for prosecutions and trials at law, and the enormous injustice frequently committed in passing sentence and giving judgment.

The poet,(198) concerned to see the republic obstinately bent upon the unhappy expedition to Sicily, endeavours to excite in the people a thorough disgust for so ruinous a war, and to inspire them with the desire of a peace, as much the interest of the victors as the vanquished, after a war of several years’ duration, equally pernicious to each party, and capable of involving all Greece in ruin.

None of Aristophanes’s pieces explains better his boldness, in speaking upon the most delicate affairs of the state in the crowded theatre, than his comedy called _Lysistrata_. One of the principal magistrates of Athens had a wife of that name, who is supposed to have taken it into her head to compel Greece to conclude a peace. She relates, how, during the war, the women inquiring of their husbands the result of their counsels, and whether they had not resolved to make peace with Sparta, received no answers but imperious looks, and orders to mind their own business: that, however, they perceived plainly to what a low condition the government was declined: that they took the liberty to remonstrate mildly to their husbands upon the sad consequences of their rash determinations, but that their humble representations had no other effect than to offend and enrage them: that, at length, being confirmed by the general opinion of all Attica, that there were no longer any men in the state, nor heads for the administration of affairs, their patience being quite exhausted, the women had thought it proper and advisable to take the government upon themselves, and preserve Greece, whether it would or no, from the folly and madness of its resolves. “For her part, she declares, that she has taken possession of the city and treasury, in order,” says she, “to prevent Pisander and his confederates, the four hundred administrators, from exciting troubles, according to their custom, and from robbing the public as usual.” (Was ever any thing so bold?) She goes on to prove, that the women only are capable of retrieving affairs by this burlesque argument; that admitting things to be in such a state of perplexity and confusion, the sex, accustomed to untangling their threads, were the only persons to set them right again, as being best qualified with the necessary address, patience, and moderation. The Athenian politics are thus made inferior to those of the women, who are only represented in a ridiculous light, to turn the derision upon their husbands, who were engaged in the administration of the government.

These extracts from Aristophanes, taken almost word for word from father Brumoi, seemed to me very proper to give an insight into that poet’s character, and the genius of the ancient comedy, which was, as we see, a satire of the most poignant and severe kind, that had assumed to itself an independency from respect to persons, and to which nothing was sacred. It is no wonder that Cicero condemns so licentious and uncurbed a liberty. It might, he says,(199) have been tolerable, had it attacked only bad citizens, and seditious orators, who endeavoured to raise commotions in the state, such as Cleon, Cleophon, and Hyperbolus; but when a Pericles, who for many years had governed the commonwealth both in war and peace with equal wisdom and authority (he might have added, and a Socrates, declared by Apollo the wisest of mankind) is brought upon the stage to be laughed at by the public, it is as if our Plautus or Nævius had attacked the Scipios, or Cæcilius had dared to revile Marcus Cato in his plays.

That liberty is still more offensive to us, who are born, and live under a monarchical government, which is far from being favourable to licentiousness. But without intending to justify the conduct of Aristophanes, which is certainly inexcusable, I think, to judge properly of it, it would be necessary to lay aside the prejudices of birth, nations, and times, and to imagine we live in those remote ages in a state purely democratical. We must not fancy Aristophanes to have been a person of little consequence in his republic, as the comic writers generally are in our days. The king of Persia had a very different idea of him.(200) It is a known story, that in an audience of the Greek ambassadors, his first inquiry was after a certain comic poet (meaning Aristophanes) that put all Greece in motion, and gave such effectual counsels against him. Aristophanes did that upon the stage, which Demosthenes did afterwards in the public assemblies. The poet’s reproaches were no less animated than the orator’s. In his comedies he uttered the same sentiments as he had a right to deliver from the public rostrum. They were addressed to the same people, upon the same occasions of the state, the same means of success, and the same obstacles to their measures. In Athens the whole people were the sovereign, and each of them had an equal share in the supreme authority. Upon this they were continually intent, were fond of discoursing upon it themselves, and of hearing the sentiments of others. The public affairs were the business of every individual, on which they were desirous of being fully informed, that they might know how to conduct themselves on every occasion of war or peace, which frequently offered, and to decide upon their own, as well as upon the destiny of their allies or enemies. Hence rose the liberty taken by the comic poets, of discussing affairs of the state in their performances. The people were so far from being offended at it, or at the manner in which those writers treated the principal persons of the state, that they conceived their liberty in some measure to consist in it.

Three poets(201) particularly excelled in the old comedy; Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes. The last is the only one of them, whose pieces have come down to us entire; and, out of the great number which he composed, eleven are all that remain. He flourished in an age when Greece abounded with great men, and was contemporary with Socrates and Euripides, whom he survived. During the Peloponnesian war, he made his greatest figure; less as a writer to amuse the people with his comedies, than as a censor of the government, retained to reform the state, and to be almost the arbiter of his country.

He is admired for an elegance, poignancy, and happiness of expression, or, in a word, that Attic salt and spirit, to which the Roman language could never attain, and for which Aristophanes(202) is more remarkable than any other of the Greek authors. His particular excellence was raillery. None ever touched what was ridiculous in the characters whom he wished to expose with such success, or knew better how to convey it in all its full force to others. But it would be necessary to have lived in his times, to be qualified to judge of this. The subtle salt and spirit of the ancient raillery, according to father Brumoi, is evaporated through length of time, and what remains of it is become flat and insipid to us; though the sharpest part will retain its vigour throughout all ages.

Two considerable defects are justly imputed to this poet, which very much obscure, if not entirely efface, his glory. These are, low buffoonery, and gross obscenity; and it has in vain been attempted to offer, in excuse for the first of these faults, the character of his audience; the bulk of which generally consisted of the poor, the ignorant, and dregs of the people, whom, however, it was as necessary to please, as the learned and the rich. The depraved taste of the lower order of people, which once banished Cratinus and his company, because his scenes were not grossly comic enough for them, is no excuse for Aristophanes, as Menander could find out the art of changing that grovelling taste, by introducing a species of comedy, not altogether so modest as Plutarch seems to insinuate, yet much less licentious than any before his time.

The gross obscenities, with which all Aristophanes’s comedies abound, have no excuse; they only denote to what a pitch the libertinism of the spectators, and the depravity of the poet, had proceeded. Had he even impregnated them with the utmost wit, which however is not the case, the privilege of laughing himself, or of making others laugh, would have been too dearly purchased at the expense of decency and good manners.(203) And in this case it may well be said, that it were better to have no wit at all, than to make so ill a use of it.(204) F. Brumoi is very much to be commended for having taken care, in giving a general idea of Aristophanes’s writings, to throw a veil over those parts of them that might have given offence to modesty. Though such behaviour be the indispensable rule of religion, it is not always observed by those who pique themselves most on their erudition, and sometimes prefer the title of scholar to that of Christian.

The old comedy subsisted till Lysander’s time; who, upon having made himself master of Athens, changed the form or the government, and put it into the hands of thirty of the principal citizens. The satirical liberty of the theatre was offensive to them, and therefore they thought fit to put a stop to it. The reason of this alteration is evident, and confirms the reflection made before upon the privilege which the poets possessed of criticizing with impunity the persons at the head of the state. The whole authority of Athens was then invested in tyrants. The democracy was abolished. The people had no longer any share in the government. They were no more the prince; their sovereignty had expired. The right of giving their opinions and suffrages upon affairs of state was at an end; nor dared they, either in their own persons or by the poets, presume to censure the sentiments and conduct of their masters. The calling persons by their names upon the stage was prohibited: but poetical ill-nature soon found the secret of eluding the intention of the law, and of making itself amends for the restraint which was imposed upon it by the necessity of using feigned names. It then applied itself to discover what was ridiculous in known characters, which it copied to the life, and from thence acquired the double advantage of gratifying the vanity of the poets, and the malice of the audience, in a more refined manner: the one had the delicate pleasure of putting the spectators upon guessing their meaning, and the other of not being mistaken in their suppositions, and of affixing the right name to the characters represented. Such was the comedy, since called the _Middle Comedy_, of which there are some instances in Aristophanes.

It continued till the time of Alexander the Great, who, having entirely assured himself of the empire of Greece by the defeat of the Thebans, caused a check to be put upon the licentiousness of the poets, which increased daily. From thence the _New Comedy_ took its birth, which was only an imitation of private life, and brought nothing upon the stage but feigned names, and fictitious adventures.

Chacun peint avec art dans ce nouveau miroir, S’y vit avec plaisir, ou crut ne s’y pas voir. L’avare des premiers rit du tableau fidèle D’un avare souvent tracé sur son modèle; Et mille fois un fat, finement exprimé, Méconnut le portrait sur lui-mème formé.

In this new glass, whilst each himself survey’d, He sat with pleasure, though himself was play’d: The miser grinn’d whilst avarice was drawn, Nor thought the faithful likeness was his own; His own dear self no imag’d fool could find, But saw a thousand other fops design’d.(205)

This may properly be called fine comedy, and is that of Menander. Of one hundred and eighty, or rather eighty plays, according to Suidas, composed by him, all of which Terence is said to have translated, there remain only a few fragments. We may form a judgment of the merit of the originals from the excellence of the copy. Quintilian, in speaking of Menander, is not afraid to say,(206) that with the beauty of his works, and the height of his reputation, he obscured, or rather obliterated, the fame of all other writers in the same way. He observes in another passage,(207) that his own times were not so just to his merit as they ought to have been, which has been the fate of many others; but that he was sufficiently made amends by the favourable opinion of posterity. And indeed Philemon, a comic poet, who flourished about the same period, though older than Menander, was preferred before him.

The Theatre of the Ancients described.

I have already observed, that Æschylus was the first founder of a fixed and durable theatre adorned with suitable decorations. It was at first, as well as the amphitheatres, composed of wooden planks, the seats in which rose one above another; but those having one day broke down, by having too great a weight upon them, the Athenians, excessively enamoured of dramatic representations, were induced by that accident to erect those superb structures, which were imitated afterwards with so much splendour by the Roman magnificence. What I shall say of them, has almost as much relation to the Roman as the Athenian theatres; and is extracted entirely from M. Boindin’s learned dissertation upon the theatre of the ancients,(208) who has treated the subject in its fullest extent.

The theatre of the ancients was divided into three principal parts; each of which had its peculiar appellation. The division for the actors was called in general the scene, or stage; that for the spectators was particularly termed the theatre, which must have been of vast extent,(209) as at Athens it was capable of containing above thirty thousand persons; and the orchestra, which amongst the Greeks was the place assigned for the pantomimes and dancers, though at Rome it was appropriated to the senators and vestal virgins.

The theatre was of a semicircular form on one side, and square on the other. The space contained within the semicircle was allotted to the spectators, and had seats placed one above another to the top of the building. The square part in the front of it was appropriated to the actors; and in the interval, between both, was the orchestra.

The great theatres had three rows of porticoes, raised one upon another, which formed the body of the edifice, and at the same time three different stories for the seats. From the highest of those porticoes the women saw the representation, sheltered from the weather. The rest of the theatre was uncovered, and all the business of the stage was performed in the open air.

Each of these stories consisted of nine rows of seats, including the landing-place, which divided them from each other, and served as a passage from side to side. But as this landing-place and passage took up the space of two benches, there were only seven to sit upon, and consequently in each story there were seven rows of seats. They were from fifteen to eighteen inches in height, and twice as much in breadth; so that the spectators had room to sit at their ease, and without being incommoded by the legs of the people above them, no foot-boards being provided for them.

Each of these stories of benches were divided in two different manners; in their height by the landing-places, called by the Romans _Præcinctiones_, and in their circumferences by several staircases, peculiar to each story, which intersecting them in right lines, tending towards the centre of the theatre, gave the form of wedges to the quantity of seats between them, from whence they were called _Cunei_.

Behind these stories of seats were covered galleries, through which the people thronged into the theatre by great square openings, contrived for that purpose in the walls next the seats. Those openings were called _Vomitoria_, from the multitude of people crowding through them into their places.

As the actors could not be heard to the extremity of the theatre, the Greeks contrived a means to supply that defect, and to augment the force of the voice, and make it more distinct and articulate. For that purpose they invented a kind of large vessels of copper, which were disposed under the seats of the theatre, in such a manner, as made all sounds strike upon the ear with more force and distinctness.

The orchestra being situated, as I have observed, between the two other parts of the theatre, of which one was circular, and the other square, it participated of the form of each, and occupied the space between both. It was divided into three parts.

The first and most considerable was more particularly called the orchestra, from a Greek word(210) that signifies to dance. It was appropriated to the pantomimes and dancers, and to all such subaltern actors as played between the acts, and at the end of the representations.

The second was named θυλέλη, from its being square, in the form of an altar. Here the chorus was generally placed.

And in the third the Greeks disposed their band of music. They called it ὑποσκήνιον, from its being situate at the bottom of the principal part of the theatre, to which they gave the general name of the scene.

I shall describe here this third part of the theatre, called the scene; which was also subdivided into three different parts.

The first and most considerable was properly called the scene, and gave its name to this whole division. It occupied the whole front of the building from side to side, and was the place allotted for the decorations. This front had two small wings at its extremity, from which hung a large curtain, that was let down to open the scene, and drawn up between the acts, when any thing in the representation made it necessary.

The second, called by the Greeks indifferently προσκήνιον, and λοτεῖον and by the Romans _proscenium_, and _pulpitum_, was a large open space in front of the scene, in which the actors performed their parts, and which, by the help of the decorations, represented either a public square or forum, a common street, or the country; but the place so represented was always in the open air.

The third division was a part reserved behind the scenes, and called by the Greeks παρασκήνιον. Here the actors dressed themselves, and the decorations were locked up. In the same place were also kept the machines, of which the ancients had abundance in their theatres.

As only the porticoes and the building of the scene were roofed, it was necessary to draw sails, fastened with cords to masts, over the rest of the theatre, to screen the audience from the heat of the sun. But as this contrivance did not prevent the heat, occasioned by the perspiration and breath of so numerous an assembly, the ancients took care to allay it by a kind of rain; conveying the water for that use above the porticoes, which falling again in form of dew through an infinity of small pores concealed in the statues, with which the theatre abounded, did not only diffuse a grateful coolness all around, but the most fragrant exhalations along with it; for this dew was always perfumed. Whenever the representations were interrupted by storms, the spectators retired into the porticoes behind the seats of the theatre.

The fondness of the Athenians for representations of this kind cannot be expressed. Their eyes, their ears, their imagination, their understanding, all shared in the satisfaction. Nothing gave them so sensible a pleasure in dramatic performances, either tragic or comic, as the strokes which were aimed at the affairs of the public; whether pure chance occasioned the application, or the address of the poets, who knew how to reconcile the most remote subjects with the transactions of the republic. They entered by that means into the interests of the people, took occasion to soothe their passions, authorize their pretensions, justify, and sometimes condemn, their conduct, entertain them with agreeable hopes, instruct them in their duty in certain nice conjunctures; in consequence of which they often not only acquired the applauses of the spectators, but credit and influence in the public affairs and counsels: hence the theatre became so grateful and so interesting to the people. It was in this manner, according to some authors, that Euripides artfully adapted his tragedy of _Palamedes_(211) to the sentence passed against Socrates; and pointed out, by an illustrious example of antiquity, the innocence of a philosopher, oppressed by malignity supported by power and faction.

Accident was often the occasion of sudden and unforeseen applications, which from their appositeness were very agreeable to the people. Upon this verse of Æschylus, in praise of Amphiaraus,

—— ’Tis his desire Not to appear, but be the great and good,

the whole audience rose up, and unanimously applied it to Aristides.(212) The same thing happened to Philopœmen at the Nemæan games. At the instant he entered the theatre, these verses were singing upon the stage:

—— He comes, to whom we owe Our liberty, the noblest good below.

All the Greeks cast their eyes upon Philopœmen,(213) and with clapping of hands and acclamations of joy expressed their veneration for the hero.

In the same manner at Rome, during the banishment of Cicero,(214) when some verses of Accius,(215) which reproached the Greeks with their ingratitude in suffering the banishment of Telamon, were repeated by Æsop, the best actor of his time, they drew tears from the eyes of the whole assembly.

Upon another, though very different, occasion, the Roman people applied to Pompey the Great some verses to this effect:

’Tis our unhappiness has made thee great;(216)

and then addressing the people;

The time shall come when you shall late deplore So great a power confided to such hands;

the spectators obliged the actor to repeat these verses several times.

Fondness for Theatrical Representations one of the principal Causes of the Decline, Degeneracy, and Corruption of the Athenian State.

When we compare the happy times of Greece, in which Europe and Asia resounded with nothing but the fame of the Athenian victories, with the later ages, when the power of Philip and Alexander the Great had in a manner reduced it to slavery, we shall be surprised at the strange alteration in that republic. But what is most material, is the investigation of the causes and progress of this declension; and these M. de Tourreil has discussed in an admirable manner in the elegant preface to his translation of Demosthenes’s orations.

There were no longer, he observes, at Athens any traces of that manly and vigorous policy, equally capable of planning good and retrieving bad success. Instead of that, there remained only an inconsistent loftiness, apt to evaporate in pompous decrees. They were no more those Athenians, who, when menaced by a deluge of barbarians, demolished their houses to build ships with the timber, and whose women stoned the abject wretch to death that proposed to appease the great king by tribute or homage. The love of ease and pleasure had almost entirely extinguished that of glory, liberty, and independence.

Pericles, that great man, so absolute, that those who envied him treated him as a second Pisistratus, was the first author of this degeneracy and corruption. With the design of conciliating the favour of the people, he ordained that upon such days as games or sacrifices were celebrated, a certain number of oboli should be distributed amongst them; and that in the assemblies in which affairs of state were to be discussed, every individual should receive a certain pecuniary gratification in right of being present. Thus the members of the republic were seen for the first time to sell their care in the administration of the government, and to rank amongst servile employments the most noble functions of the sovereign power.

It was not difficult to foresee where so excessive an abuse would end: and to remedy it, it was proposed to establish a fund for the support of the war, and to make it a capital crime to advise, upon any account whatsoever, the application of it to other uses: but, notwithstanding, the abuse always subsisted. At first it seemed tolerable, whilst the citizen, who was supported at the public expense, endeavoured to deserve it by doing his duty in the field for nine months together. Every one was to serve in his turn, and whoever failed was treated as a deserter without distinction: but at length the number of the transgressors carried it against the law; and impunity, as it commonly happens, multiplied their number. People accustomed to the delightful abode of a city, where feasts and games were perpetually taking place, conceived an invincible repugnance for labour and fatigue, which they looked upon as unworthy of free-born men.

It was therefore necessary to find amusement for this indolent people, to fill up the great void of an unactive, useless life. Hence arose principally their fondness, or rather frenzy, for public shows. The death of Epaminondas, which seemed to promise them the greatest advantage, gave the final stroke to their ruin and destruction. “Their courage,” says Justin,(217) “did not survive that illustrious Theban. Freed from a rival, who kept their emulation alive, they sunk into a lethargic sloth and effeminacy. The funds for armaments by land and sea were soon lavished upon games and feasts. The seaman’s and soldier’s pay was distributed to the idle citizen. An indolent and luxurious mode of life enervated every breast. The representations of the theatre were preferred to the exercises of the camp. Valour and military knowledge were entirely disregarded. Great captains were in no estimation; whilst good poets and excellent comedians engrossed the universal applause.”

Extravagance of this kind makes it easy to comprehend in what multitudes the people thronged to the dramatic performances. As no expense was spared in embellishing them, exorbitant sums were sunk in the service of the theatre. “If,” says Plutarch,(218) “an accurate calculation were to be made what each representation of the dramatic pieces cost the Athenians, it would appear, that their expenses in playing the _Bacchanalians_, the _Phœnicians_, _Œdipus_, _Antigone_, _Medea_, and _Electra_, (tragedies written either by Sophocles or Euripides,) were greater than those which had been employed against the Barbarians, in defence of the liberty and for the preservation of Greece.” This gave a Spartan just reason to exclaim, on seeing an estimate of the enormous sums laid out in these contests of the tragic poets, and the extraordinary pains taken by the magistrates who presided in them,(219) “that a people must be void of sense to apply themselves in so warm and serious a manner to things so frivolous. For,” added he, “games should be only games; and nothing is more unreasonable than to purchase a short and trivial amusement at so great a price. Pleasures of this kind agree only with public rejoicings and seasons of festivity, and were designed to divert people at their leisure hours; but should by no means interfere with the affairs of the public, nor the necessary expenses of the government.”

After all, says Plutarch, in the passage which I have already cited, of what utility have these tragedies been to Athens, though so much boasted by the people, and admired by the rest of the world? I find that the prudence of Themistocles enclosed the city with strong walls; that the fine taste and magnificence of Pericles improved and adorned it; that the noble fortitude of Miltiades preserved its liberty; and that the moderate conduct of Cimon acquired it the empire and government of all Greece. If the wise and learned poetry of Euripides, the sublime diction of Sophocles, the lofty buskin of Æschylus, have obtained equal advantages for the city of Athens, by delivering it from impending calamities, or by adding to its glory, I am willing (he goes on) that dramatic pieces should be placed in competition with trophies of victory, the poetic theatre with the field of battle, and the compositions of the poets with the great exploits of the generals. But what a comparison would this be? On the one side would be seen a few writers, crowned with wreaths of ivy, and dragging a goat or an ox after them, the rewards and victims assigned them for excelling in tragic poetry: on the other, a train of illustrious captains, surrounded by the colonies which they founded, the cities which they captured, and the nations which they subjected. It is not to perpetuate the victories of Æschylus and Sophocles, but in remembrance of the glorious battles of Marathon, Salamis, Eurymedon, and many others, that so many feasts are celebrated every month with such pomp by the Grecians.

The inference which Plutarch draws from hence, in which we ought to agree with him, is,(220) that it was the highest imprudence in the Athenians thus to prefer pleasure to duty, fondness for the theatre to the love of their country, trivial shows to application to public business, and to consume, in useless expenses and dramatic entertainments, the funds intended for the support of fleets and armies. Macedon, till then obscure and inconsiderable, well knew how to take advantage of the Athenian indolence and effeminacy;(221) and Philip, instructed by the Greeks themselves, amongst whom he had for several years applied himself successfully to the art of war, was not long before he gave Greece a master, and subjected it to the yoke, as we shall see in the sequel.

I am now to open an entirely new scene to the reader’s view, not unworthy his curiosity and attention. We have seen two states of no great consideration, Media and Persia, extend themselves far and wide, under the conduct of Cyrus, like a torrent or a conflagration; and, with amazing rapidity, conquer and subdue many provinces and kingdoms. We shall see now that vast empire setting the nations under its dominion in motion, the Persians, Medes, Phœnicians, Egyptians, Babylonians, Indians, and many others; and falling, with all the forces of Asia and the East upon a little country, of very small extent, and destitute of all foreign assistance; I mean Greece. When, on the one hand, we behold so many nations united together, such preparations of war made for several years with so much diligence; innumerable armies by sea and land, and such fleets as the sea could hardly contain; and, on the other hand, two weak cities, Athens and Lacedæmon, abandoned by all their allies, and left almost entirely to themselves; have we not reason to believe, that these two little cities are going to be utterly destroyed and swallowed up by so formidable an enemy; and that no footsteps of them will be left remaining? And yet we shall find that they will prove victorious; and by their invincible courage, and the several battles they gain, both by sea and land, will make the Persian empire lay aside all thoughts of ever again turning their arms against Greece.

The history of the war between the Persians and the Greeks will illustrate the truth of this maxim, that it is not the number, but the valour of the troops, and the conduct of the generals, on which depends the success of military expeditions. The reader will admire the surprising courage and intrepidity of the great men at the head of the Grecian affairs, whom neither all the world in motion against them could deject, nor the greatest misfortunes disconcert; who undertook, with an handful of men, to make head against innumerable armies; who, notwithstanding such a prodigious inequality of forces, dared to hope for success; who even compelled victory to declare on the side of merit and virtue; and taught all succeeding generations what infinite resources are to be found in prudence, valour, and experience; in a zeal for liberty and our country; in the love of our duty; and in all the sentiments of noble and generous souls.

This war of the Persians against the Grecians will be followed by another amongst the Greeks themselves, but of a very different kind from the former. In the latter, there will scarce be any actions, but what in appearance are of little consequence, and seemingly unworthy of a reader’s curiosity who is fond of great events; in this he will meet with little besides private quarrels between certain cities, or some small commonwealths; some inconsiderable sieges, (excepting that of Syracuse, one of the most important related in ancient history,) though several of these sieges were of no short duration; some battles between armies, where the numbers were small, and but little blood shed. What is it, then, that has rendered these wars so famous in history? Sallust informs us in these words: “The actions of the Athenians doubtless were great; and yet I believe they were somewhat less than fame will have us conceive of them. But because Athens abounded in noble writers, the acts of that republic are celebrated throughout the whole world as most glorious; and the gallantry of those heroes who performed them, has had the good fortune to be thought as transcendent as the eloquence of those who have described them.”(222)

Sallust, though jealous enough of the glory the Romans had acquired by a series of distinguished actions, with which their history abounds, yet does justice in this passage to the Grecians, by acknowledging, that their exploits were truly great and illustrious, though somewhat inferior, in his opinion, to their fame. What is then this foreign and borrowed lustre, which the Athenian actions have derived from the eloquence of their historians? It is, that the whole universe agrees in looking upon them as the greatest and most glorious that ever were performed: _Per terrarum orbem Atheniensium facta_ PRO MAXIMIS CELEBRANTUR. All nations, seduced and enchanted as it were with the beauties of the Greek authors, think that people’s exploits superior to any thing that was ever done by any other nation. This, according to Sallust, is the service which the Greek authors have done the Athenians, by their excellent manner of describing their actions; and very unhappy it is for us, that our history, for want of similar assistance, has left a thousand brilliant actions and fine sayings unrecorded, which would have been put in the strongest light by the writers of antiquity, and have done great honour to our country.

But, be this as it may, it must be confessed, that we are not always to judge of the value of an action, or the merit of the persons who shared in it, by the importance of the event. It is rather in such sieges and engagements as we find recorded in the history of the Peloponnesian war, that the conduct and abilities of a general are truly conspicuous. Accordingly, it is observed, that it was chiefly at the head of small armies, and in countries of no great extent, that our best generals of the last age displayed their great capacity, and showed themselves not inferior to the most celebrated captains of antiquity. In actions of this sort chance has no share, and does not cover any oversights that are committed. Every thing is conducted and carried on by the prudence of the general. He is truly the soul of the forces, which neither act nor move but by his direction. He sees every thing, and is present every where. Nothing escapes his vigilance and attention. Orders are seasonably given, and seasonably executed. Contrivances, stratagems, false marches, real or feigned attacks, encampments, decampments; in a word, every thing depends upon him alone.

On this account, the reading of the Greek historians, such as Thucydides, Xenophon, and Polybius, is of infinite service to young officers; because those historians, who were also excellent commanders, enter into all the particulars of the events which they relate, and lead the readers, as it were by the hand, through all the sieges and battles they describe; showing them, by the example of the greatest generals of antiquity, and by a kind of anticipated experience, in what manner war is to be carried on.

Nor is it only with regard to military exploits, that the Grecian history affords us such excellent models. We shall there find celebrated legislators, able politicians, magistrates born for government, men that have excelled in all arts and sciences, philosophers that carried their inquiries as far as was possible in those early ages, and who have left us such maxims of morality, as might put many Christians to the blush.

If the virtues of those who are celebrated in history may serve us for models in the conduct of our lives; their vices and failings, on the other hand, are no less proper to caution and instruct us; and the strict regard which an historian is obliged to pay to truth will not allow him to dissemble the latter, through fear of eclipsing the lustre of the former. Nor does what I here advance contradict the rule laid down by Plutarch, on the same subject, in his preface to the life of _Cimon_.(223) He requires, that the illustrious actions of great men be represented in their full light; but as to the faults, which may sometimes escape them through passion or surprise, or into which they may be drawn by the necessity of affairs, considering them rather as a certain degree of perfection wanting to their virtue,(224) than as vices or crimes that proceed from any corruption of the heart; such imperfections as these, he would have the historian, out of compassion to the weakness of human nature, which produces nothing entirely perfect, content himself with touching very lightly; in the same manner as an able painter, when he has a fine face to draw, in which he finds some little blemish or defect, does neither entirely suppress it, nor think himself obliged to represent it with a strict exactness, because the one would spoil the beauty of the picture, and the other would destroy the likeness. The very comparison Plutarch uses, shows, that he speaks only of slight and excusable faults. But as to actions of injustice, violence, and brutality, they ought not to be concealed or disguised on any pretence; nor can we suppose, that the same privilege should be allowed in history as is in painting, which invented the profile, to represent the side-face of a prince who had lost an eye, and by that means ingeniously concealed so disagreeable a deformity.(225) History, the most essential rule of which is sincerity, will by no means admit of such indulgences, as indeed would deprive it of its greatest advantage.

Shame, reproach, infamy, hatred, and the execrations of the public, which are the inseparable attendants on criminal and brutal actions, are no less proper to excite a horror for vice, than the glory, which perpetually attends good actions, is to inspire us with the love of virtue. And these, according to Tacitus, are the two ends which every historian ought to propose to himself, by making a judicious choice of what is most extraordinary both in good and evil, in order to occasion that public homage to be paid to virtue, which is justly due to it, and to create the greater abhorrence for vice, on account of that eternal infamy that attends it.(226)

The history which I am writing furnishes but too many examples of the latter sort. With respect to the Persians, it will appear, by what is said of their kings, that those princes, whose power has no other bounds than those of their will, often abandon themselves to all their passions; that nothing is more difficult than to resist the illusions of a man’s own greatness, and the flatteries of those that surround him; that the liberty of gratifying all one’s desires, and of doing evil with impunity, is a dangerous situation; that the best dispositions can hardly withstand such a temptation; that even after having begun their career favourably, they are insensibly corrupted by softness and effeminacy, by pride, and their aversion to sincere counsels; and that it rarely happens they are wise enough to consider, that, when they find themselves exalted above all laws and restraints, they stand then most in need of moderation and wisdom, both in regard to themselves and others; and that in such a situation they ought to be doubly wise, and doubly strong, in order to set bounds within, by their reason, to a power that has none without.

With respect to the Grecians, the Peloponnesian war will show the miserable effects of their intestine divisions, and the fatal excesses into which they were led by their thirst of dominion: scenes of injustice, ingratitude, and perfidy, together with the open violation of treaties, or mean artifices and unworthy tricks to elude their execution. It will show, how scandalously the Lacedæmonians and Athenians debased themselves to the barbarians, in order to beg aids of money from them: how shamefully the great deliverers of Greece renounced the glory of all their past labours and exploits, by stooping and making their court to haughty and insolent satrapæ, and by going successively, with a kind of emulation, to implore the protection of the common enemy, whom they had so often conquered; and in what manner they employed the succours they obtained from them, in oppressing their ancient allies, and extending their own territories by unjust and violent methods.

On both sides, and sometimes in the same person, we shall find a surprising mixture of good and bad, of virtues and vices, of glorious actions and mean sentiments; and sometimes, perhaps, we shall be ready to ask ourselves, whether these can be the same persons and the same people, of whom such different things are related: and whether it be possible, that such a bright and shining light, and such thick clouds of smoke and darkness, can proceed from the same source?

The Persian history includes the space of one hundred and seventeen years, during the reigns of six kings of Persia: Darius, the first of the name, the son of Hystaspes; Xerxes the first; Artaxerxes, surnamed Longimanus; Xerxes the second; Sogdianus (these two last reigned but a very little time); and Darius the second, commonly called Darius Nothus. This history begins at the year of the world 3483, and extends to the year 3600. As this whole period naturally divides itself into two parts, I shall also divide it into two distinct books.

The first part, which consists of ninety years, extends from the beginning of the reign of Darius the first, to the forty-second year of Artaxerxes, the same year in which the Peloponnesian war began; that is, from the year of the world 3483, to the year 3573. This part chiefly contains the different enterprises and expeditions of the Persians against Greece, which never produced more great men and great events, nor ever displayed more conspicuous or more solid virtues. Here will be seen the famous battles of Marathon, Thermopylæ, Artemisium, Salamis, Platææ, Mycale, Eurymedon, &c. Here the most eminent commanders of Greece signalized their courage; Miltiades, Leonidas, Themistocles, Aristides, Cimon, Pausanias, Pericles, Thucydides, &c.

To enable the reader the more easily to recollect what passed within this space of time among the Jews, and also among the Romans, the history of both which nations is entirely foreign to that of the Persians and Greeks, I shall here set down in few words the principal epochas relating to them.

Epochas of the Jewish History.

The people of God were at this time returned from their Babylonish captivity to Jerusalem, under the conduct of Zorobabel. Usher is of opinion, that the history of Esther ought to be placed in the reign of Darius. The Israelites, under the shadow of this prince’s protection, and animated by the earnest exhortations of the prophets Haggai and Zechariah, did at last finish the building of the temple, which had been interrupted for many years by the cabals of their enemies. Artaxerxes was no less favourable to the Jews than Darius: he first of all sent Ezra to Jerusalem, who restored the public worship, and the observation of the law; then Nehemiah, who caused walls to be built round the city, and fortified it against the attacks of their neighbours, who were jealous of its reviving greatness. It is thought that Malachi, the last of the prophets, was contemporary with Nehemiah, or that he prophesied not long after him.

This interval of the sacred history extends from the reign of Darius I. to the beginning of the reign of Darius Nothus; that is to say, from the year of the world 3485, to the year 3581. After which the Scripture is entirely silent, till the time of the Maccabees.

Epochas of the Roman History.

The first year of Darius I. was the 233d of the building of Rome. Tarquin the Proud was then on the throne, and about ten years afterwards was expelled, when the consular government was substituted to that of the kings. In the succeeding part of this period happened the war against Porsenna; the creation of the tribunes of the people; Coriolanus’s retreat among the Volsci, and the war that ensued thereupon; the wars of the Romans against the Latins, the Veientes, the Volsci, and other neighbouring nations; the death of Virginia under the Decemvirate; the disputes between the people and senate about marriages and the consulship, which occasioned the creating of military tribunes instead of consuls. This period of time terminates in the 323d year from the foundation of Rome.

The second part, which consists of twenty-seven years, extends from the 43d year of Artaxerxes Longimanus, to the death of Darius Nothus; that is, from the year of the world 3573, to the year 3600. It contains the first nineteen years of the Peloponnesian war, which continued twenty-seven, of which Greece and Sicily were the seat, and wherein the Greeks, who had before triumphed over the barbarians, turned their arms against each other. Among the Athenians, Pericles, Nicias, and Alcibiades; among the Lacedæmonians, Brasidas, Gylippus, and Lysander, distinguished themselves in the most extraordinary manner.

Rome continues to be agitated by different disputes between the senate and the people. Towards the end of this period, and about the 350th year of Rome, the Romans formed the siege of Veji, which lasted ten years.

(M8) I have already observed, that eighty years after the taking of Troy, the Heraclidæ, that is, the descendants of Hercules, returned into the Peloponnesus, and made themselves masters of Lacedæmon, where two brothers, Eurysthenes and Procles, sons of Aristodemus, reigned jointly together.

Herodotus observes,(227) that these two brothers were, during their whole lives, at variance; and that almost all their descendants inherited the like disposition of mutual hatred and antipathy; so true it is, that the sovereign power will admit of no partnership, and that two kings will always be too many for one kingdom! However, after the death of these two, the descendants of both still continued to sway the sceptre jointly: and, what is very remarkable, these two branches subsisted for near nine hundred years, from the return of the Heraclidæ into the Peloponnesus, to the death of Cleomenes, and supplied Sparta with kings without interruption, and that generally in a regular succession from father to son, especially in the elder branch of the family.

The Origin and Condition of the Elotæ, or Helots.

When the Lacedæmonians first began to settle in Peloponnesus, they met with great opposition from the inhabitants of the country, whom they were obliged to subdue one after another by force of arms, or receive into their alliance on easy and equitable terms, with the imposition of a small tribute. Strabo(228) speaks of a city, called Elos, not far from Sparta, which, after having submitted to the yoke, as others had done, revolted openly, and refused to pay the tribute. Agis, the son of Eurysthenes, newly settled in the throne, was sensible of the dangerous tendency of this first revolt, and therefore immediately marched with an army against them, together with Soüs, his colleague. They laid siege to the city, which, after a pretty long resistance, was forced to surrender at discretion. This prince thought it proper to make such an example of them as should intimidate all their neighbours, and deter them from the like attempts, and yet not alienate their minds by too cruel a treatment; for which reason he put none to death. He spared the lives of all the inhabitants, but at the same time deprived them of their liberty, and reduced them all to a state of slavery. From thenceforward they were employed in all mean and servile offices, and treated with extreme rigour. These were the people who were called Elotæ, or Helots. The number of them exceedingly increased in process of time, the Lacedæmonians giving undoubtedly the same name to all the people whom they reduced to the same condition of servitude. As they themselves were averse to labour, and entirely addicted to war, they left the cultivation of their lands to these slaves, assigning every one of them a certain portion of ground, the produce of which they were obliged to carry every year to their respective masters, who endeavoured, by all sorts of ill usage, to make their yoke more grievous and insupportable. This was certainly very bad policy, and could only tend to breed a vast number of dangerous enemies in the very heart of the state, who were always ready to take arms and revolt on every occasion. The Romans acted more prudently; for they incorporated the conquered nations into their state, by associating them into the freedom of their city, and thereby converted them from enemies, into brethren and fellow-citizens.

Lycurgus, the Lacedæmonian Lawgiver

Eurytion, or Eurypon, as he is named by others, succeeded Soüs.(229) In order to gain the affection of his people, and render his government agreeable, he thought fit to recede in some points from the absolute power exercised by the kings his predecessors: this rendered his name so dear to his subjects, that all his descendants were, from him, called Eurytionidæ. But this relaxation gave birth to horrible confusion, and an unbounded licentiousness in Sparta; and for a long time occasioned infinite mischiefs. The people became so insolent, that nothing could restrain them. If Eurytion’s successors attempted to recover their authority by force, they became odious; and if, through complaisance or weakness, they chose to dissemble, their mildness served only to render them contemptible; so that order in a manner was abolished, and the laws no longer regarded. These confusions hastened the death of Lycurgus’s father, whose name was Eunomus, and who was killed in an insurrection. Polydectes, his eldest son and successor, dying soon after without children, every body expected Lycurgus would have been king. And indeed he was so in effect, as long as the pregnancy of his brother’s wife was uncertain; but as soon as that was manifest, he declared, that the kingdom belonged to her child, in case it proved a son: and from that moment he took upon himself the administration of the government, as guardian to his unborn nephew, under the title of Prodicos, which was the name given by the Lacedæmonians to the guardians of their kings. When the child was born, Lycurgus took him in his arms, and cried out to the company that was present, _Behold, my lords of Sparta, your new-born king!_ and, at the same time, he put the infant into the king’s seat, and named him Charilaus, because of the joy the people expressed upon occasion of his birth. The reader will find, in the second volume of this history, all that relates to the history of Lycurgus, the reformation he made, and the excellent laws he established in Sparta. Agesilaus was at this time king in the elder branch of the family.

War between the Argives and the Lacedæmonians.

Some time after this, in the reign of Theopompus, a war broke out between the Argives and Lacedæmonians, on account of a little country, called Thyrea, that lay upon the confines of the two states, and to which each of them pretended a right.(230) When the two armies were ready to engage, it was agreed on both sides, in order to spare the effusion of blood, that the quarrel should be decided by three hundred of the bravest men chosen from their respective armies; and that the land in question should become the property of the victorious party. To leave the combatants more room to engage, the two armies retired to some distance. Those generous champions then, who had all the courage of two mighty armies, boldly advanced towards each other, and fought with so much resolution and fury, that the whole number, except three men, two on the side of the Argives, and one on that of the Lacedæmonians, lay dead upon the spot; and only the night parted them. The two Argives, looking upon themselves as the conquerors, made what haste they could to Argos to carry the news; the single Lacedæmonian, Othryades by name, instead of retiring, stripped the dead bodies of the Argives, and carrying their arms into the Lacedæmonian camp, continued in his post. The next day the two armies returned to the field of battle. Both sides laid equal claim to the victory: the Argives, because they had more of their champions left alive than the enemy had; the Lacedæmonians, because the two Argives that remained alive had fled; whereas their single soldier had remained master of the field of battle, and had carried off the spoils of the enemy: in short, they could not determine the dispute without coming to another engagement. Here fortune declared in favour of the Lacedæmonians, and the little territory of Thyrea was the prize of their victory. But Othryades, not able to bear the thoughts of surviving his brave companions, or of enduring the sight of Sparta after their death, killed himself on the same field of battle where they had fought, resolving to have one fate and tomb with them.

Wars between the Messenians and Lacedæmonians.

There were no less than three several wars between the Messenians and the Lacedæmonians, all of them very fierce and bloody. Messenia was a country in Peloponnesus, towards the west, and not far from Sparta: it was of considerable strength, and was governed by its own kings.

The First Messenian War.

(M9) The first Messenian war lasted twenty years, and broke out the second year of the ninth Olympiad.(231) The Lacedæmonians pretended to have received several considerable injuries from the Messenians, and among others, that of having had their daughters ravished by the inhabitants of Messenia, when they went, according to custom, to a temple, that stood on the borders of the two nations; as also that of the murder of Telecles, their king, which was a consequence of the former outrage. Probably a desire of extending their dominion, and of seizing a territory which lay so convenient for them, might be the true cause of the war. But be that as it may, the war broke out in the reign of Polydorus and Theopompus, kings of Sparta, at the time when the office of archon at Athens was still decennial.

Euphaes, the thirteenth descendant from Hercules, was then king of Messenia.(232) He gave the command of his army to Cleonnis. The Lacedæmonians opened the campaign with the siege of Amphea, a small, inconsiderable city, which, however, they thought would suit them very well as a place for military stores. The town was taken by storm, and all the inhabitants put to the sword. This first blow served only to animate the Messenians, by showing them what they were to expect from the enemy, if they did not defend themselves with vigour. The Lacedæmonians, on their part, bound themselves by an oath not to lay down their arms, nor to return to Sparta, till they had made themselves masters of all the cities and lands belonging to the Messenians: so much did they rely upon their strength and valour.

Two battles were fought, wherein the loss was nearly equal on both sides.(233) But after the second, the Messenians suffered extremely through the want of provisions, which occasioned a great desertion in their troops, and at last brought a pestilence among them.

Hereupon they consulted the oracle of Delphi, which directed them, in order to appease the wrath of the gods, to offer up a virgin of the royal blood in sacrifice. Aristomenes, who was of the race of the Epytides, offered his own daughter. The Messenians then considering, that if they left garrisons in all their towns they should extremely weaken their army, resolved to abandon them all, except Ithome, a little place seated on the top of a hill of the same name, about which they encamped and fortified themselves. In this situation were seven years spent, during which nothing passed but slight skirmishes on both sides; the Lacedæmonians not daring in all that time to force the enemy to a battle.

Indeed, they almost despaired of being able to reduce them: nor was there any thing but the obligation of the oath, by which they had bound themselves, that made them continue so burthensome a war. What gave them the greatest uneasiness was, their apprehension, lest their absence from their wives for so many years, an absence which might still continue many more, should destroy their families at home, and leave Sparta destitute of citizens.(234) To prevent this misfortune, they sent home such of their soldiers as were come to the army since the forementioned oath had been taken, and made no scruple of prostituting their wives to their embraces. The children that sprung from this unlawful intercourse were called Partheniæ, a name given them to denote the infamy of their birth. As soon as they were grown up, not being able to endure such an opprobrious distinction, they banished themselves from Sparta with one consent, and, under the conduct of Phalantus, went and settled at Tarentum in Italy, after driving out the ancient inhabitants.(235)

At last, in the eighth year of the war, which was the thirteenth of Euphaes’s reign, a fierce and bloody battle was fought near Ithome.(236) Euphaes pierced through the battalions of Theopompus with too much heat and precipitation for a king. He there received a multitude of wounds, several of which were mortal. He fell, and seemed to give up the ghost. Whereupon, wonderful efforts of courage were exerted on both sides; by the one, to carry off the king; by the other, to save him. Cleonnis killed eight Spartans, who were dragging him along, and spoiled them of their arms, which he committed to the custody of some of his soldiers. He himself received several wounds, all in the fore part of his body, which was a certain proof that he had never turned his back upon his enemies. Aristomenes, fighting on the same occasion, and for the same end, killed five Lacedæmonians, whose spoils he likewise carried off, without receiving any wound. In short, the king was saved and carried off by the Messenians; and, all mangled and bloody as he was, he expressed great joy that he had not been worsted. Aristomenes, after the battle was over, met Cleonnis, who, by reason of his wounds, could neither walk by himself, nor with the assistance of those that lent him their hands. He therefore took him upon his shoulders, without quitting his arms, and carried him to the camp.

As soon as they had applied the first dressing to the wounds of the king of Messenia and of his officers, there arose a new contention among the Messenians, that was pursued with as much warmth as the former, but was of a very different kind, and yet the consequence of the other. The affair in question was the adjudging the prize of glory to him that had signalized his valour most in the late engagement. It was a custom among them, which had long been established, publicly to proclaim, after a battle, the name of the man that had showed the greatest courage. Nothing could be more proper to animate the officers and soldiers, to inspire them with resolution and intrepidity, and to stifle the natural apprehension of death and danger. Two illustrious champions entered the lists on this occasion, namely, Cleonnis and Aristomenes.

The king, notwithstanding his weak condition, attended by the principal officers of his army, presided in the council, where this important dispute was to be decided. Each competitor pleaded his own cause. Cleonnis founded his pretensions upon the great number of the enemies he had slain, and upon the multitude of wounds he had received in the action, which were so many undoubted testimonies of the courage with which he had faced both death and danger; whereas, the condition in which Aristomenes came out of the engagement, without hurt and without wound, seemed to show, that he had been very careful of his own person, or, at most, could only prove that he had been more fortunate, but not more brave or courageous, than himself. And as to his having carried him on his shoulders into the camp, that action indeed might serve to prove the strength of his body, but nothing farther; and the thing in dispute at this time, says he, is not strength, but valour.

The only thing Aristomenes was reproached for, was his not being wounded; therefore he confined himself to that point: “I am,” says he, “called fortunate because I have escaped from the battle without wounds. If that were owing to my cowardice, I should deserve another epithet than that of fortunate; and, instead of being admitted to dispute the prize, ought to undergo the rigour of the laws that punish cowards. But what is objected to me as a crime, is in truth my greatest glory. For, if my enemies, astonished at my valour, durst not venture to attack or oppose me, it is no small degree of merit that I made them fear me; or, if whilst they engaged me, I had at the same time strength to cut them in pieces, and skill to guard against their attacks, I must then have been at once both valiant and prudent. For whoever, in the midst of an engagement, can expose himself to dangers with caution and security, shows that he excels at the same time both in the virtues of the mind and the body. As for courage, no man living can reproach Cleonnis with any want of it; but, for his honour’s sake, I am sorry that he should appear to want gratitude.”

After the conclusion of these harangues, the question was put to the vote. The whole army is in suspense, and impatiently waits for the decision. No dispute could be so warm and interesting as this. It is not a competition for gold or silver, but solely for honour. The proper reward of virtue is pure disinterested glory. Here the judges are unsuspected. The actions of the competitors still speak for them. It is the king himself, surrounded with his officers, who presides and adjudges. A whole army are the witnesses. The field of battle is a tribunal without partiality and cabal. In short, all the votes concurred in favour of Aristomenes, and adjudged him the prize.

Euphaes died not many days after the decision of this affair.(237) He had reigned thirteen years, and during all that time had been engaged in war with the Lacedæmonians. As he died without children, he left the Messenians at liberty to choose his successor. Cleonnis and Damis were candidates in opposition to Aristomenes; but he was elected king in preference to them. When he was on the throne, he did not scruple to confer on his two rivals the principal offices of the state; all strongly attached to the public good, even more than to their own glory; competitors, but not enemies, these great men were actuated by a zeal for their country, and were neither friends nor adversaries to one another, but for its preservation.

In this relation, I have followed the opinion of the late Monsieur Boivin, the elder,(238) and have made use of his learned dissertation upon a fragment of Diodorus Siculus, which the world was little acquainted with. He supposes, and proves in it, that the king, spoken of in that fragment, is Euphaes; and that Aristomenes is the same that Pausanias calls Aristodemus, according to the custom of the ancients, who were often called by two different names.

Aristomenes, otherwise called Aristodemus, reigned near seven years, and was equally esteemed and beloved by his subjects. The war still continued all this time.(239) Towards the end of his reign he beat the Lacedæmonians, took their king Theopompus, and, in honour of Jupiter of Ithome, sacrificed three hundred of them, among whom their king was the principal victim. Shortly after, Aristodemus sacrificed himself upon the tomb of his daughter, in conformity to the answer of an oracle. Damis was his successor, but without taking upon him the title of king.

After his death, the Messenians never had any success in their affairs, but found themselves in a very wretched and hopeless condition.(240) Being reduced to the last extremity, and utterly destitute of provisions, they abandoned Ithome, and fled to such of their allies as were nearest to them. The city was immediately razed, and the other part of the country submitted. They were made to engage by oath never to forsake the party of the Lacedæmonians, and never to revolt from them: a very useless precaution, only proper to make them add the guilt of perjury to their rebellion. Their new masters imposed no tribute upon them; but contented themselves with obliging them to bring to the Spartan market one half of the corn they should reap every harvest. It was likewise stipulated, that the Messenians, both men and women, should attend, in mourning, the funerals of the kings and chief citizens of Sparta; which the Lacedæmonians probably looked upon as a mark of dependence, and as a kind of homage paid to their nation. (M10) Thus ended the first Messenian war, after having lasted twenty years.

The Second Messenian War.

The lenity with which the Lacedæmonians treated the Messenians at first, was of no long duration.(241) When once they found the whole country had submitted, and thought the people incapable of giving them any further trouble, they returned to their natural character of insolence and haughtiness, that often degenerated into cruelty, and sometimes even into ferocity. Instead of treating the vanquished with kindness, as friends and allies, and endeavouring by gentle methods to win those whom they had subdued by force, they seemed intent upon nothing but aggravating their yoke, and making them feel the whole weight of subjection. They laid heavy taxes upon them, delivered them up to the avarice of the collectors of those taxes, gave no ear to their complaints, rendered them no justice, treated them with contempt like vile slaves, and committed the most heinous outrages against them.

Man, who is born for liberty, can never reconcile himself to servitude: the most gentle slavery exasperates, and provokes him to rebel. What could be expected then from so cruel a one, as that under which the Messenians groaned? After having endured it with great uneasiness(242) near forty years, they resolved to throw off the yoke, and to recover their ancient liberty. (M11) This was in the fourth year of the twenty-third Olympiad: the office of archon at Athens was then made annual; and Anaxander and Anaxidamus reigned at Sparta.

The Messenians’ first care was to strengthen themselves by the alliance of the neighbouring nations. These they found well inclined to enter into their views, as very agreeable to their own interests. For it was not without jealousy and apprehensions, that they saw so powerful a city rising up in the midst of them, which manifestly seemed to aim at extending her dominion over all the rest. The people therefore of Elis, the Argives and Sicyonians, declared for the Messenians. But before their forces were joined, a battle was fought between the Lacedæmonians and Messenians. Aristomenes, the second of that name,(243) was at the head of the latter. He was a commander of intrepid courage, and of great abilities in war. The Lacedæmonians were beaten in this engagement. Aristomenes, to give the enemy at first an advantageous opinion of his bravery, knowing what influence it has on the success of future enterprises, boldly ventured to enter into Sparta by night, and upon the gate of the temple of Minerva, surnamed Chalcioecos, to hang up a shield, on which was an inscription, signifying, that it was a present offered by Aristomenes to the goddess, out of the spoils of the Lacedæmonians.

This bravado did in reality astonish the Lacedæmonians. But they were still more alarmed at the formidable league that was formed against them. The Delphic oracle, which they consulted, in order to know by what means they should be successful in this war, directed them to send to Athens for a commander, and to submit to his counsel and conduct. This was a very mortifying step to so haughty a city as Sparta. But the fear of incurring the god’s displeasure by a direct disobedience prevailed over all other considerations. They sent an embassy therefore to the Athenians. The people of Athens were somewhat perplexed at the request. On the one hand, they were not sorry to see the Lacedæmonians at war with their neighbours, and were far from desiring to furnish them with a good general: on the other, they were afraid also of disobeying the god. To extricate themselves out of this difficulty, they offered the Lacedæmonians Tyrtæus. He was a poet by profession, and had something original in the turn of his mind, and disagreeable in his person; for he was lame. Notwithstanding these defects, the Lacedæmonians received him as a general, sent them by Heaven itself. Their success did not at first answer their expectation, for they lost three battles successively.

The kings of Sparta, discouraged by so many disappointments, and out of all hopes of better success for the future, were absolutely bent upon returning to Sparta, and marching home again with their forces. Tyrtæus opposed this design very warmly, and at length brought them over to his opinion. He addressed the troops, and repeated to them some verses he had made with that intention, and on which he had bestowed great pains and application. He first endeavoured to comfort them for their past losses, which he imputed to no fault of theirs, but only to ill fortune, or to fate, which no human wisdom can surmount. He then represented to them, how shameful it would be for Spartans to fly from an enemy; and how glorious it would be for them rather to perish sword in hand, if it was so decreed by fate, in fighting for their country. Then, as if all danger was vanished, and the gods, fully satisfied and appeased with their late calamities, were entirely turned to their side, he set victory before their eyes as present and certain, and as if she herself were inviting them to battle. All the ancient authors,(244) who have made any mention of the style and character of Tyrtæus’s poetry, observe, that it was full of a certain fire, ardour, and enthusiasm, that inflamed the minds of men, that exalted them above themselves, that inspired them with something generous and martial, that extinguished all fear and apprehension of danger or death, and made them wholly intent upon the preservation of their country and their own glory.(245) Tyrtæus’s verses had really this effect on the soldiers upon this occasion. They all desired, with one voice, to march against the enemy. Being become indifferent as to their lives, they had no thoughts but to secure themselves the honour of a burial. To this end they all tied strings round their right arms, on which were inscribed their own and their fathers’ names, that, if they chanced to be killed in the battle, and to have their faces so altered through time, or accidents, as not to be distinguishable, it might certainly be known who each of them was by these marks. Soldiers determined to die are very valiant. This appeared in the battle that ensued. It was very bloody, the victory being a long time disputed on both sides; but at last the Messenians gave way. When Tyrtæus went afterwards to Sparta, he was received with the greatest marks of distinction, and incorporated into the body of citizens.

The gaining of this battle did not put an end to the war, which had already lasted three years. Aristomenes, having assembled the remains of his army, retired to the top of a mountain, of difficult access, which was called Ira. The conquerors attempted to carry the place by assault, but that brave prince defended himself there for the space of eleven years, and performed the most extraordinary actions of valour. He was at last obliged to quit it, only by surprise and treachery, after having defended it like a lion. Such of the Messenians as fell into the hands of the Lacedæmonians on this occasion were reduced to the condition of the Helots. The rest, seeing their country ruined, went and settled at Zancle, a city in Sicily, which afterwards took its name from this people, and was called Messana; the same place as is called at this day Messina. Aristomenes, after having conducted one of his daughters to Rhodes, whom he had given in marriage to the tyrant of that place, thought of passing on to Sardis, to remain with Ardys, king of the Lydians, or to Ecbatana, with Phraortes, king of the Medes; but death prevented the execution of all his designs.

(M12) The second Messenian war was of fourteen years’ duration, and ended the first year of the twenty-seventh Olympiad.

There was a third war between these people and the Lacedæmonians, which began both at the time and on the occasion of a great earthquake that happened at Sparta. We shall speak of this war in its place.

The history, of which it remains for me to treat in this work, is that of the successors of Alexander, and comprehends the space of two hundred and ninety-three years; from the death of that monarch, and the commencement of the reign of Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, in Egypt, to the death of Cleopatra, when that kingdom became a Roman province, under the emperor Augustus.

The history will present to our view a series of all the crimes which usually arise from inordinate ambition; scenes of jealousy and perfidy, treason, ingratitude, and flagrant abuses of sovereign power; cruelty, impiety, an utter oblivion of the natural sentiments of probity and honour, with the violation of all laws human and divine, will rise before us. We shall behold nothing but fatal dissensions, destructive wars, and dreadful revolutions. Men, originally friends, brought up together, and natives of the same country, companions in the same dangers, and instruments in the accomplishment of the same exploits and victories, will conspire to tear in pieces the empire they had all concurred to form at the expense of their blood. We shall see the captains of Alexander sacrifice the mother, the wives, the brother, the sisters, of that prince, to their own ambition; without sparing even those to whom they themselves either owed or gave life. We shall no longer behold those glorious times of Greece, that were once so productive of great men and great examples; or, if we should happen to discover some traces and remains of them, they will only resemble the gleams of lightning that shoot along in a rapid track, and attract attention only in consequence of the profound darkness that precedes and follows them.

I acknowledge myself to be sufficiently sensible how much a writer is to be pitied, for being obliged to represent human nature in such colours and lineaments as dishonour her, and which cannot fail of inspiring disgust and a secret affliction in the minds of those who are made spectators of such a picture. History loses whatever is most interesting and most capable of conveying pleasure and instruction, when she can only produce those effects, by inspiring the mind with horror for criminal actions, and by a representation of the calamities which usually succeed them, and are to be considered as their just punishment. It is difficult to engage the attention of a reader, for any considerable time, on objects which only raise his indignation, and it would be affronting him, to seem desirous of dissuading him from the excess of inordinate passions, of which he conceives himself incapable.

How is it possible to diffuse any interest through a narration, which has nothing to offer but an uniform series of vices and great crimes; and which makes it necessary to enter into a particular detail of the actions and characters of men born for the calamity of the human race, and whose very name should not be transmitted to posterity? It may even be thought dangerous, to familiarize the minds of the generality of mankind to uninterrupted scenes of too successful iniquity and to be particular in describing the unjust success which waited on those illustrious criminals, the long duration of whose prosperity being frequently attended with the privileges and rewards of virtue, may be thought an imputation on Providence by persons of weak understandings.

This history, which seems likely to prove very disagreeable, from the reasons I have just mentioned, will become more so from the obscurity and confusion in which the several transactions will be involved, and which it will be difficult, if not impossible, to remedy. Ten or twelve of Alexander’s captains were engaged in a course of hostilities against each other, for the partition of his empire after his death; and to secure to themselves some portion, greater or less, of that vast body. Sometimes feigned friends, sometimes declared enemies, they are continually forming different parties and leagues, which are to subsist no longer than is consistent with the interest of each individual. Macedonia changed its master five or six times in a very short space; by what means then can order and perspicuity be preserved, in so prodigious a variety of events that are perpetually crossing and breaking in upon each other?

Besides which, I am no longer supported by any ancient authors capable of conducting me through this darkness and confusion. Diodorus will entirely abandon me, after having been my guide for some time; and no other historian will appear to take his place. No proper series of affairs will remain; the several events are not to be disposed into any regular connection with each other; nor will it be possible to point out, either the motives to the resolutions formed, or the proper character of the principal actors in this scene of obscurity. I think myself happy when Polybius, or Plutarch, lend me their assistance. In my account of Alexander’s successors, whose transactions are, perhaps, the most complicated and perplexed part of ancient history, Usher, Prideaux, and Vaillant, will be my usual guides; and, on many occasions, I shall only transcribe from Prideaux; but, with all these aids, I shall not promise to throw so much light upon this history as I could desire.

After a war of more than twenty years, the number of the principal competitors was reduced to four; Ptolemy, Cassander, Seleucus, and Lysimachus; the empire of Alexander was divided into four fixed kingdoms, agreeably to the prediction of Daniel, by a solemn treaty concluded between the parties. Three of these kingdoms, Egypt, Macedonia, Syria, or Asia, will have a regular succession of monarchs, sufficiently clear and distinct; but the fourth, which comprehended Thrace, with part of the Lesser Asia, and some neighbouring provinces, will suffer a number of variations.

As the kingdom of Egypt was that which was subject to the fewest changes, because Ptolemy, who was established there as governor, at the death of Alexander, retained the possession of it ever after, and left it to his posterity: we shall, therefore, consider this prince as the basis of our chronology, and our several epochas shall be fixed from him.

The fourth volume contains the events for the space of one hundred and twenty years, under the first four kings of Egypt, _viz._ Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, who reigned thirty-eight years; Ptolemy Philadelphus, who reigned forty; Ptolemy Euergetes, who reigned twenty-five; and Ptolemy Philopator, whose reign continued seventeen.

In order to throw some light upon the history contained therein, I shall, in the first place, give the principal events of it, in a chronological abridgement.

Introductory to which, I must desire the reader to accompany me in some reflections, which have not escaped Monsieur Bossuet, with relation to Alexander. This prince, who was the most renowned and illustrious conqueror in all history, was the last monarch of his race. Macedonia, his ancient kingdom, which his ancestors had governed for so many ages, was invaded from all quarters, as a vacant succession; and after it had long been a prey to the strongest, it was at last transferred to another family. If Alexander had continued peaceably in Macedonia, the grandeur of his empire would not have excited the ambition of his captains; and he might have transmitted the sceptre of his progenitors to his own descendants; but, as he had not prescribed any bounds to his power, he was instrumental in the destruction of his house, and we shall behold the extermination of his family, without the least remaining traces of them in history. His conquests occasioned a vast effusion of blood, and furnished his captains with a pretext for murdering one another. These were the effects that flowed from the boasted bravery of Alexander, or rather from that brutality, which, under the specious names of ambition and glory, spread desolation, and carried fire and sword through whole provinces, without the least provocation, and shed the blood of multitudes who had never injured him.

We are not to imagine, however, that Providence abandoned these events to chance; but, as it was then preparing all things for the approaching appearance of the Messiah, it was vigilant to unite all the nations that were to be first enlightened with the Gospel, by the use of one and the same language, which was that of Greece: and the same Providence made it necessary for them to learn this foreign tongue, by subjecting them to such masters as spoke no other. The Deity, therefore, by the agency of this language, which became more common and universal than any other, facilitated the preaching of the apostles, and rendered it more uniform.

The partition of the empire of Alexander the Great, among the generals of that prince, immediately after his death, did not subsist for any length of time, and hardly took place, if we except Egypt, where Ptolemy had first established himself, and on the throne of which he always maintained himself without acknowledging any superior.

(M13) It was not till after the battle of Ipsus in Phrygia, wherein Antigonus, and his son Demetrius, surnamed Poliorcetes, were defeated, and the former lost his life, that this partition was fully regulated and fixed. The empire of Alexander was then divided into four kingdoms, by a solemn treaty, as had been foretold by Daniel. Ptolemy had Egypt, Libya, Arabia, Cœlesyria, and Palestine. Cassander, the son of Antipater, obtained Macedonia and Greece. Lysimachus acquired Thrace, Bithynia, and some other provinces on the other side of the Hellespont and the Bosphorus. And Seleucus had Syria, and all that part of the greater Asia which extended to the other side of the Euphrates, and as far as the river Indus.

Of these four kingdoms, those of Egypt and Syria subsisted, almost without any interruption, in the same families, through a long succession of princes. The kingdom of Macedonia had several masters of different families successively. That of Thrace was at last divided into several branches, and no longer constituted one entire body, by which means all traces of regular succession ceased to subsist.

I. The Kingdom of Egypt.

The kingdom of Egypt had fourteen monarchs, including Cleopatra, after whose death, those dominions became a province of the Roman empire. All these princes had the common name of Ptolemy, but each of them was likewise distinguished by a peculiar surname. They had also the appellation of Lagides, from Lagus the father of that Ptolemy who reigned the first in Egypt. The fourth and fifth volumes contain the histories of six of these kings, and I shall give their names a place here, with the duration of their reigns, the first of which commenced immediately upon the death of Alexander the Great.

(M14) Ptolemy Soter. He reigned thirty-eight years and some months.

(M15) Ptolemy Philadelphus. He reigned forty years including the two years of his reign in the lifetime of his father.

(M16) Ptolemy Euergetes, twenty-five years.

(M17) Ptolemy Philopator, seventeen.

(M18) Ptolemy Epiphanes, twenty-four.

(M19) Ptolemy Philometor, thirty-four.

II. The Kingdom of Syria.

The kingdom of Syria had twenty-seven kings; which makes it evident, that their reigns were often very short: and indeed several of these princes waded to the throne through the blood of their predecessors.

They are usually called the Seleucidæ, from Seleucus, who reigned the first in Syria. History reckons up six kings of this name, and thirteen who are called by that of Antiochus; but they are all distinguished by different surnames. Others of them assumed different names, and the last, Antiochus XIII., was surnamed Epiphanes, Asiaticus, and Commagenus. In his reign Pompey reduced Syria into a Roman province, after it had been governed by kings for the space of two hundred and fifty years, according to Eusebius.

The kings of Syria, the transactions of whose reigns are contained in the fourth and fifth volumes, are eight in number.

(M20) Seleucus Nicator. He reigned twenty years.

(M21) Antiochus Soter, nineteen.

(M22) Antiochus Theos, fifteen.

(M23) Seleucus Callinicus, twenty.

(M24) Seleucus Ceraunus, three.

(M25) Antiochus the Great, thirty-six.

(M26) Seleucus Philopator, twelve.

(M27) Antiochus Epiphanes, brother of Seleucus Philopator, eleven.

III. The Kingdom of Macedonia.

(M28) Macedonia frequently changed its masters, after the solemn partition had been made between the four princes. Cassander died three or four years after that partition, and left three sons. Philip, the eldest, died shortly after his father. The other two contended for the crown without enjoying it, both dying soon after without issue.

(M29) Demetrius Poliorcetes, Pyrrhus, and Lysimachus, made themselves masters of all, or the greatest part of Macedonia; sometimes in conjunction, and at other times separately.

(M30) After the death of Lysimachus, Seleucus possessed himself of Macedonia, but did not long enjoy it.

(M31) Ptolemy Ceraunus having slain the preceding prince, seized the kingdom, and possessed it but a very short time, having lost his life in a battle with the Gauls, who had made an irruption into that country.

(M32) Sosthenes, who defeated the Gauls, reigned but a short time in Macedonia.

(M33) Antigonus Gonatas, the son of Demetrius Poliorcetes, at length obtained the peaceable possession of the kingdom of Macedonia, and transmitted it to his descendants, after he had reigned thirty-four years.

(M34) He was succeeded by his son Demetrius, who reigned ten years, and then died, leaving a son named Philip, who was but two years old.

(M35) Antigonus Doson reigned twelve years in the quality of guardian to the young prince.

(M36) Philip, after the death of Antigonus, ascended the throne at the age of fourteen years, and reigned something more than forty.

(M37) His son Perseus succeeded him, and reigned about eleven years. He was defeated and taken prisoner by Paulus Emilius; and Macedonia, in consequence of that victory, was added to the provinces of the Roman empire.

IV. The Kingdom of Thrace, and Bithynia, &c.

This fourth kingdom, composed of several separate provinces very remote from one another, had not any succession of princes, and did not long subsist in its first condition; Lysimachus, who first obtained it, having been killed in a battle after a reign of twenty years, and all his family being exterminated by assassinations, his dominions were dismembered, and no longer constituted one kingdom.

Beside the provinces which were divided among the captains of Alexander, there were others which had been either formed before, or were then erected into different states, independent of the Greeks, whose power greatly increased in process of time.

Kings of Bithynia

(M38) Whilst Alexander was extending his conquests in the east, Zypethes had laid the foundations of the kingdom of Bithynia. It is not certain who this Zypethes was, unless that Pausanias,(246) from his name, conjectures that he was a Thracian. His successors, however, are better known.

(M39) Nicomedes I. This prince invited the Gauls to assist him against his brother, with whom he was engaged in a war.

Prusias I.

(M40) Prusias II., surnamed the Hunter, in whose court Hannibal took refuge, and assisted him with his counsels, in his war against Eumenes II. king of Pergamus.

Nicomedes II. was killed by his son Socrates.

Nicomedes III. was assisted by the Romans in his wars with Mithridates, and bequeathed to them at his death the kingdom of Bithynia, as a testimonial of his gratitude to them; by which means these territories became a Roman province.

Kings of Pergamus

This kingdom at first comprehended only one of the smallest provinces of Mysia, on the coast of the Ægean sea, over-against the island of Lesbos.

(M41) It was founded by Philetærus, an eunuch, who had served under Docimus, a commander of the troops of Antigonus. Lysimachus confided to him the treasures he had deposited in the castle of the city of Pergamus, and he became master both of these and the city after the death of that prince. He governed this little sovereignty for the space of twenty years, and then left it to Eumenes his nephew.

(M42) Eumenes I. enlarged his principality, by the addition of several cities, which he took from the kings of Syria, having defeated Antiochus, the son of Seleucus, in a battle. He reigned twenty-two years.

(M43) He was succeeded by Attalus I., his cousin-german, who assumed the title of king, after he had conquered the Galatians; and transmitted it to his posterity, who enjoyed it to the third generation. He assisted the Romans in their war with Philip, and died after a reign of forty-three years. He left four sons.

(M44) His successor was Eumenes II., his eldest son, who founded the famous library of Pergamus. He reigned thirty-nine years, and left the crown to his brother Attalus, in the quality of guardian to one of his sons, whom he had by Stratonice, the sister of Ariarathes, king of Cappadocia. The Romans enlarged his dominions considerably, after the victory they obtained over Antiochus the Great.

(M45) Attalus II. espoused Stratonice his brother’s widow, and took extraordinary care of his nephew, to whom he left the crown, after he had worn it twenty-one years.

(M46) Attalus III., surnamed Philometor, distinguished himself by his barbarous and extravagant conduct. He died after he had reigned five years, and bequeathed his riches and dominions to the Romans.

(M47) Aristonicus, who claimed the succession, endeavoured to defend his pretensions against the Romans; but the kingdom of Pergamus was reduced after a war of four years, into a Roman province.

Kings of Pontus.

(M48) The kingdom of Pontus in Asia Minor was anciently dismembered from the monarchy of Persia, by Darius the son of Hystaspes, in favour of Artabazus, who is said, by some historians, to have been the son of one of those Persian lords who conspired against the Magi.

Pontus is a region of Asia Minor, situated partly along the coast of the Euxine sea (_Pontus Euxinus_), from which it derives its name. It extends from the river Halys, as far as Colchis. Several princes reigned in that country since Artabazus.

(M49) The sixth monarch was Mithridates I., who is properly considered as the founder of the kingdom of Pontus, and his name was assumed by the generality of his successors.

(M50) He was succeeded by his son Ariobarzanes, who had governed Phrygia under Artaxerxes Mnemon: he reigned twenty-six years.

(M51) His successor was Mithridates II. Antigonus suspecting, in consequence of a dream, that he favoured Cassander, had determined to destroy him, but he eluded the danger by flight. This prince was called Κτισὴς, or _the Founder_, and reigned thirty-five years.

(M52) Mithridates III., who succeeded him, added Cappadocia and Paphlagonia to his dominions, and reigned thirty-six years.

After the reigns of two other kings, Mithridates IV., the great grandfather of Mithridates the Great, ascended the throne, and espoused a daughter of Seleucus Callinicus, king of Syria, by whom he had Laodice, who was married to Antiochus the Great.

(M53) He was succeeded by his son Pharnaces, who had some disagreement with the kings of Pergamus. He made himself master of Sinope, which afterwards became the capital of the kingdom of Pontus.

After him reigned Mithridates V., surnamed Euergetes, the first who was called the friend of the Romans, because he had assisted them against the Carthaginians in the third Punic war.

(M54) He was succeeded by his son Mithridates VI., surnamed Eupator. This is the great Mithridates who sustained so long a war with the Romans: he reigned sixty-six years.

Kings of Cappadocia.

Strabo informs us,(247) that Cappadocia was divided into two satrapies, or governments, under the Persians, as it also was under the Macedonians. The maritime part of Cappadocia formed the kingdom of Pontus: the other tracts constituted Cappadocia properly so called, or Cappadocia Major, which extended along mount Taurus, and to a great distance beyond it.

(M55) When Alexander’s captains divided the provinces of his empire among themselves, Cappadocia was governed by a prince named Ariarathes. Perdiccas attacked and defeated him, after which he caused him to be slain.

His son Ariarathes re-entered the kingdom of his father some time after this event, and established himself so effectually, that he left it to his posterity.

The generality of his successors assumed the same name, and will have their place in the series of the history.

Cappadocia, after the death of Archelaus, the last of its kings, became a province of the Roman empire, as the rest of Asia also did much about the same time.

Kings of Armenia.

Armenia, a vast country of Asia, extending on each side of the Euphrates, was conquered by the Persians; after which it was transferred, with the rest of the empire, to the Macedonians, and at last fell to the share of the Romans. It was governed for a great length of time by its own kings, the most considerable of whom was Tigranes, who espoused the daughter of the great Mithridates king of Pontus, and was also engaged in a long war with the Romans. This kingdom supported itself many years, between the Roman and Parthian empires, sometimes depending on the one, and sometimes on the other, till at last the Romans became its masters.

Kings of Epirus.

Epirus is a province of Greece, separated from Thessaly and Macedonia by mount Pindus. The most powerful people of this country were the Molossians.

The kings of Epirus pretended to derive their descent from Pyrrhus the son of Achilles, who established himself in that country, and called themselves Æacides, from Æacus the grandfather of Achilles.

The genealogy of the latter kings, who were the only sovereigns of this country of whom any accounts remain, is variously related by authors, and consequently must be doubtful and obscure.(248)

Arymbas ascended the throne, after a long succession of kings; and as he was then very young, the states of Epirus, who were sensible that the welfare of the people depends on the proper education of their princes, sent him to Athens, which was the residence and centre of all the arts and sciences, in order to cultivate, in that excellent school, such knowledge as was necessary to form the mind of a king. He there learned the art of reigning, and as he surpassed all his ancestors in ability and knowledge, he was in consequence infinitely more esteemed and beloved by his people than they had been.(249) When he returned from Athens, he made laws, established a senate and magistracy, and regulated the form of the government.

Neoptolemus, whose daughter Olympias had espoused Philip king of Macedon, attained an equal share in the regal government with Arymbas his elder brother, by the influence of his son-in-law. After the death of Arymbas, Æacides his son ought to have been his successor; but Philip had still sufficient influence to procure his expulsion from the kingdom by the Molossians, who established Alexander the son of Neoptolemus sole monarch of Epirus.

Alexander espoused Cleopatra the daughter of Philip, and marched with an army into Italy, where he lost his life in the country of the Brutians.

Æacides then ascended the throne, and reigned without any associate in Epirus. He espoused Phthia, the daughter of Menon the Thessalian, by whom he had two daughters, Deidamia and Troias, and one son, the celebrated Pyrrhus.

As he was marching to the assistance of Olympias, his troops mutinied against him, condemned him to exile, and slaughtered most of his friends. Pyrrhus, who was then an infant, happily escaped this massacre.

Neoptolemus, a prince of the blood, but whose particular extraction is little known, was placed on the throne by the people of Epirus.

Pyrrhus, being recalled by his subjects at the age of twelve years, first shared the sovereignty with Neoptolemus; but having afterwards divested him of his dignity, he reigned alone.

(M56) This history will treat of the various adventures of this prince. He died in the city of Argos, in an attack to make himself master of it.

Helenus his son reigned after him for some time in Epirus, which was afterwards united to the Roman empire.

Tyrants of Heraclea.

Heraclea is a city of Pontus, anciently founded by the Bœotians, who sent a colony into that country by the order of an oracle.

When the Athenians, having conquered the Persians, had imposed a tribute on the cities of Greece and Asia Minor, for the fitting out and support of a fleet intended for the defence of the common liberty, the inhabitants of Heraclea, in consequence of their attachment to the Persians, were the only people who refused to acquiesce in so just a contribution.(250) Lamachus was therefore sent against them, and he ravaged their territories; but a violent tempest having destroyed his whole fleet, he beheld himself abandoned to the mercy of that people, whose innate ferocity might naturally have been increased by the severe treatment they had lately received. But they had recourse to no other vengeance than kindness;(251) they furnished him with provisions and troops for his return, and were willing to consider the depredations which had been committed in their country as advantageous to them, if at that price they could convert the enmity of the Athenians into friendship.

(M57) Some time after this event, the populace of Heraclea excited a violent commotion against the rich citizens and senators, who having implored assistance to no effect, first from Timotheus the Athenian, and afterwards from Epaminondas the Theban, were necessitated to recall Clearchus, a senator, to their defence, whom themselves had banished; but his exile had neither improved his morals nor rendered him a better citizen than he was before. He therefore made the troubles, in which he found the city involved, subservient to his design of subjecting it to his own power. With this view he openly declared for the people, caused himself to be invested with the highest office in the magistracy, and assumed a sovereign authority in a short time. Being thus become a professed tyrant, there were no kinds of violence to which he had not recourse against the rich, and the senators, to satiate his avarice and cruelty. He proposed for his model Dionysius the Tyrant, who had established his power over the Syracusans at the same time.

After a hard and inhuman servitude of twelve years, two young citizens, who were Plato’s disciples, and had been instructed in his maxims, formed a conspiracy against Clearchus, and slew him; but, though they delivered their country from the tyrant, the tyranny still subsisted.

(M58) Timotheus, the son of Clearchus, assumed his place, and pursued his conduct for the space of fifteen years.(252)

(M59) He was succeeded by his brother Dionysius, who was in danger of being dispossessed of his authority by Perdiccas; but as this last was soon destroyed, Dionysius contracted a friendship with Antigonus, whom he assisted against Ptolemy in the Cyprian war.(253)

He espoused Amastris, the widow of Craterus, and daughter of Oxiathres, the brother of Darius. This alliance inspired him with so much courage, that he assumed the title of king, and enlarged his dominions by the addition of several places, which he seized, on the confines of Heraclea.

(M60) He died two or three years before the battle of Ipsus, after a reign of thirty-three years, leaving two sons and a daughter under the tutelage and regency of Amastris.

This princess was rendered happy in her administration, by the affection Antigonus entertained for her. She founded a city, and called it by her own name; into which she transplanted the inhabitants of three other cities, and espoused Lysimachus, after the death of Antigonus.(254)

Kings of Syracuse.

(M61) Hiero, and his son Hieronymus, reigned at Syracuse; the first fifty-four years, the second but one year.

(M62) Syracuse recovered its liberty by the death of the last, but continued in the interest of the Carthaginians, which Hieronymus had caused it to espouse. (M63) His conduct obliged Marcellus to form the siege of that city, which he took the following year. I shall enlarge upon the history of these two kings in another place.

Other Kings.

Several kings likewise reigned in the Cimmerian Bosphorus, as also in Thrace, Cyrene in Africa, Paphlagonia, Colchis, Iberia, Albania, and a variety of other places; but their history is very uncertain, and their successions have but little regularity.

These circumstances are very different with respect to the kingdom of the Parthians, who formed themselves, as we shall see in the sequel, into such a powerful monarchy, as became formidable even to the Roman empire. That of the Bactrians received its original about the same period: I shall treat of each in their proper places.

Catalogue of the Editions of the principal Greek Authors cited in this Work.

HERODOTUS. Francof. An. 1608.

THUCYDIDES. Apud Henricum Stephanum, An. 1588.

XENOPHON. Lutetiæ Parisiorum, apud Societatem Græcarum Editionum, An. 1625.

POLYBIUS. Parisiis, An. 1609.

DIODORUS SICULUS. Hanoviæ, Typis Wechelianis, An 1604.

PLUTARCHUS. Lutetiæ Parisiorum, apud Societatem Græcanum Editionum, An. 1624.

STRABO. Lutetiæ Parisiorum, Typis regiis, An. 1620.

ATHENÆUS. Lugdani, An. 1612.

PAUSANIAS. Hanoviæ, Typis Wechelianis, An. 1613.

APPIANUS ALEXANDER. Apud Henric. Stephan. An. 1592.

PLATO. Ex novâ Joannis Serrani interpretatione. Apud Henricum Stephanum, An. 1578.

ARISTOTELES. Lutetiæ Parisiorum, apud Societatem Græcarum Editionum, An. 1619.

ISOCRATES. Apud Paulum Stephanum, An. 1604.

DIOGENES LAERTIUS. Apud Henricum Stepnanum, An. 1594.

DEMOSTHENES. Francof. An. 1604.

ARRIANUS. Lugd. Batav. An. 1704.

BOOK THE FIRST. THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS.

Part The First. Description of Egypt: with an Account of whatever is most curious and remarkable in that Country.

Egypt comprehended anciently, within limits of no very great extent, a prodigious number of cities,(255) and an incredible multitude of inhabitants.

It is bounded on the east by the Red-Sea and the Isthmus of Suez; on the south by Ethiopia, on the west by Libya, and on the north by the Mediterranean. The Nile runs from south to north, through the whole country, about two hundred leagues in length. This country is enclosed on each side with a ridge of mountains, which very often leave, between the foot of the hills and the river Nile, a tract of ground, of not above half a day’s journey in length,(256) and sometimes less.

On the west side, the plain grows wider in some places, and extends to twenty-five or thirty leagues. The greatest breadth of Egypt is from Alexandria to Damietta, being about fifty leagues.

Ancient Egypt may be divided into three principal parts: Upper Egypt, otherwise called Thebais, which was the most southern part; Middle Egypt, or Heptanomis, so called from the seven Nomi or districts it contained; Lower Egypt, which included what the Greeks call Delta, and all the country as far as the Red-Sea, and along the Mediterranean to Rhinocolura, or Mount Casius. Under Sesostris, all Egypt became one kingdom, and was divided into thirty-six governments, or Nomi; ten in Thebais, ten in Delta, and sixteen in the country between both.(257)

The cities of Syene and Elephantina divided Egypt from Ethiopia; and in the days of Augustus were the boundaries of the Roman empire: _Claustra olim Romani Imperii_, Tacit. _Annal._ Lib. ii. cap. 61.