UC-NRLF $B 7 710 1 SeitlCELEY LIBRARY mitv^sm or /r^.^.^^, ^^^>c /- ^v4 CONTENTS. AFFECTION, PARENTAL. Page Sentiments - - - - 1 EXAMPLES. In Zaleucus prince of the Locrians - - ih* Agesilaus king of Sparta - - - 2 Cambalus, a wealthy citizen of Mulgentum - 2l\ Cornelia, the mother of the Gracchi - 3 Cato - . - - 4 Paulus ^milius - - - z^. The late queen Caroline - -* - ib» Character of a good father - - 7 AFFECTION, FILIAL. Sentiments - - - - 8 EXAMPLES. In young Manlius, son of the Roman dictator - g The -son of Quintus, brother to Cicero the Roman orator - - -. - lo The conduct of young Appius, and that of ^neas referred to - - - 1 1 Pompey to his father Cinna - - 12 Cyrus the Great, king of Persia - - 13 The son of Metellus - - - il;, Alexander to Olympias, his own mother - 14 Epaminondas the Grecian general - - 1 5 Reflections from Rollin on the preceding example il\ XU CONTENTS. Page In Servilia to her father Soranus - - 16 A singular example related by V. Maximus - id, Character of a good son - - - 17 AFFECTION, FRATERNAL. Sentiments - - - - 18 EXAMPLES. In the noble contention of two brothers Vhich should die to save the other's life - - 1() Titus the Roman emperor - - 23 Darius king of Persia - - - 24 AMBITION. Sentiments - - - - 27 EXAMPLES. In Tullia, who plots the death of her husband and sister, then marries her brother-in-law, whom she instigates to murder her father, in order to obtain the crown of Rome - il;. The various fortunes of Marius the famous Roman 32 BENEFICENCE. Sentiments - - - - 37 EXAMPLES. In Acaces bishop of Amida - - 38 A certain cardinal - - - ib. Pisistratus the Athenian - - 40 Cyrus the Great ... 2^. Pliny - , - - 41 Alfred the Great - - - 41 Lady Burleigh - - - 42 The honourable Mr. Boyle - - 46 Julius Caesar - - - 48 Marcus Aurelius ^ ^ - n^. CONTENTS. Xlir . Page In Mark Antony - . - - - 48 Cato - - - • ib. CHASTITY. Sentiments - - - - 49 EXAMPLES. In Phocais, an Ionian lady - - - H), In Elizabeth, the young widow of Sir John Grey 60 Lucretia - - - - 52 Reflections on her death - - - 54 Chiomara, the wife of Ortiagon, a Gaulish prince, treated in the same manner as Lucretia, but more prudent in her revenge - -55 CLEMENCY. Sentiments - - - - 57 EXAMPLES. In Marcus Aurelius - - - i^, Seleucus - - - - 58 Thrasybulus, after the defeat of the council of Athens - - - - 59 Pausanias - - , - - 62 The Syracusians towards Deucetius, the Sicilian chief - - - - 63 The noble speech of Nicolaus - -65,66 COMPASSION. Sentiments - - « - 6? EXAMPLES. In the daughter of Damophilus - - 68 Vespasian - - • - 70 Alexander the Great - - - 2^. The Czarina - < - - - 72 XIV CONTENTS. CONSCIENCE. Page Sentimeats - - - - 73 EXAMPLES. In the caliph Montasir - - " il. A Jeweller - - - - 74 Herod - - - - 76 Alexander the Great « - • ih. CONSTANCY. Sentiments - - - - 76 EXAMPLES. In Regulus the Roman general - - 77 Agis king of Sparta, and his mother Agesistrata 80 CONTINENCE. Sentiments - - - - 84 EXAMPLES. In Scipio - - - - f^. Alexander the Great - - - 89 Hannibal the Carthaginian - - 90 Nicocles king of Salamin - - ih* Antiochus king of Macedon - - '^. A yeoman of the guard of king Charles the Se- cond - - - - 91 COURAGE. Sentiments - - - - 92 EXAMPLES. 'In P- Horatius - - - ^ ih. Young Manlius - - -94 Cyrus . - - - 95 CONTENTS. XV Page 111 Leoiiidas and his 300 men - - g6 Lord Ciive, at the siege of Arcot in India - 102 CRUELTY. Sentiments - - - - 107 EXAMPLES. In Olympias - - - - j^; Com mod us, the Roman Emperor - - 108 Odo, archbishop of Canterbury - - 110 Alexander, high priest of the Jews - - 112 The Carthaginian worship - - ib. Reflections - - - ^ 113 Francis I. of France - - - 114 Mary I. of England - - - 2^. The Parisian massacre of St. Bartholomew - 115 DISINTERESTEDNESS. Sentiments - - * - 117 EXAMPLES. In Epaminondas - - - - ib. The ambassadors of Ptolemy Philadelphus - 121 Phocion - - - - 122 Two brothers who refused the kingdom of Sidonia, when offered it by Hephaestion, the friend of Alexander the Great, as being contrary to the laws of their country - - 123 Quintus Cincinnatus - - - 125 Chevalier Bayard . - - 129 A door-keeper at Milan - - - 130 DRUNKENNESS. Sentiments - - - - 131 EXAMPLES. Very agreeably exposed by Cyrus the Great, when a youth - » - • ih. XVi CONTENTS, lu Clitus, the friend of Alexander the Great - 134 Alexander himself - - 2^.136,7 Anachonis the philosopher • . - )38 Dionysius king of Syracuse - - 139 EDUCATION. Sentiments - - - - 139 EXAMPLES. A very remarkable instance of the untoward manage- ment of two children. Taken from Fordyce on Education - - - 142 A fine example in Eugenio. From Dr. Watts - 145 Phronissa and her daughters. From Dr. Watts - 156 EQUITY. Sentiments • - - - ]6l EXAMPLES. In the Roman Senate - - - l62 Brutus - - - - 2^1. Trajan the Roman emperor - - l6s Mysias, brother of Antigonus - - l64 Phocion - - - -' ih. The Persians - - - - ib. FAITH, PUBLIC. Sentiments - - - - ](j6 EXAMPLES. In Bracides, general of the Lacedemonians - ib. Shameful conduct of Philip king of Macedon - 167 Reflections - - - - l68 FIDELITY IN SERVANTS. Sentiments .- -- - - ^^9 CONTENTS. XVU ♦ EXAMPLES. Page In two slaves towards their mistress at the siege of Grumentum in Lucania - - 170 The slave of M. Antonius the orator - 171 The servants of Cornutus - - 17^ FLATTERY. Sentiments - - - - 173 EXAMPLES, In Conon to Ptolemy - • - il. The Persians to their king - - 174 Prusias king of Bithynia - • - 175 The courtiers of Dionysius - - ib, Antiochus Sidetes - . - i^. The courtiers of Canute the Great - - 176 Timoleon - - - - 177 FREEDOM WITH GREAT MEN DAN- GEROUS. Sentiments - - - - 177 EXAMPLES. In Dionysius, tjrrant of Syracuse - - 178 Cambyses, king of Persia - - - id, Alexander the Great - - - 179 Darius - - - - 183 The banishment of Plato - » 185 FRIENDSHIP. Sentiments - - - - 187 EXAMPLES. Between Caius Gracchus, Licinius Crassus, and Pomponius - - - 189 Scipio and Laelius - - 1^1 Damon and Pythias - - 193 XVUl CONTEiSTS. GAMING. Page Sentiments • - -, - i^ EXAMPLES. In Mira - -, . - 197 The late colonel Daniel - - - 200 GENEROSITY. Sentiments • , - - 203 EXAMPLES. In Camillus . - - . - ih, Licinius Crassvjs • « . 206 Brutus - .- - - ib. Scipio Africanus - - - 207 ^schines and Demosthenes • • 209 HAPPINESS^ Sentiments - - * - 210 EXAMPLES. In Croesus . - - . 212 Monima - - - • 2 It) Perseus, king of Macedon - - 218 Lysimachus - • • » 219 Damocles - - - - 221 Dionysius • • * • 222 HONOUR. Sentiments - - - 225 EXAMPLES. In a Moorish story - - - il. Arabs and Saracens - , • 226 Spanish story - - - - 227 CONTENTS. X^ In African story Cleomenes Wilfred HUMANITY. Page - 228 - 229 - ib. Sentiments EXAMPLES. - po In Q. Caecilius Metellus The late M. Keith M. Brutus Czar of Muscovy Pyrrhus Alexander - - - Admiral Watson - 232 - il;. - 233 - 236 . il;. 237,8 * 238 INCONTINENCE. Sentiments EXAMPLES. - 24a In Appius Osbert king of the Northumbrians - • 248 INDOLENCE. Sentiments EXAMPLE. - 250 In Theodosius INDUSTRY. - id. Sentiments EXAMPLES. - 2*1 In Demosthenes Alfred Pliny " ~ - - 252 - 255 ih. XX CONTENTS. INGRATITUDE. Sentiments - . . . g|| EXAMPLES. In a Macedonian soldier - . - H. Calippus . . - . 258 JUSTICE. Sentiments - . . . 260 EXAMPLES. InAristides . . . ih.2Q3,A Artaxerxes, king of Persia - - 265 KING. Sentiments . . . • 2^5 EXAMPLES. In Cyrus, king of Persia - - - 267 Gelon of Syracuse - - -271 LUXURY. Sentiments .... 274 EXAMPLES. In the Persians - _ . » id, Athenians • • - - 277 Romans - - . - - il\ MAGISTRATE - Sentiments - - - - 278 EXAMPLES. In Cicero - - . - 279 Glauco and Socrates - - - 280 Sentiments PATIENCE. EXAMPLES. Socrates Sentiments POLITENESS. Sentiments CONTENTS. Xxi MAGNANIMITY. Page Sentiments .... 2g3 EXAMPLES. In a Privernian prisoner - . . H, Socrates - - . . 284 Porus, an Indian prince - * - ei. Sc5'thian ambassador - - - 285 Tnesta, sister to Dionysius - . 287 Bertram de Gourdon - . j^. Sir William Gascoign - - - 289 Caractacus - - . , f^. 290 In Ep.»3tetus - - - - 291 292 Philip, king of Macedon - - - sgs PATRIOTISM. 296 EXAMPLES. In Alexander the Roman emperor - - 297 The Fabii . , - _^ ggg The Corsicans - - - ^ ^0% Eustace St. Pierre - - . ^q^ §09 EXAMPLES. In Dante - . - - - 3 1 xxii CONTENTS. In the character of a fine gentleman Dr. Delany - - - Page - 313 - 314 PRIDE. Sentiments EXAMPLES. - 315 In Demetrius Timotheus Menecrates Alcibiades Xerxes * ~ " PRODIGALITV. - 316 - 318 ib. - 319 . ib. Sentiments EXAMPLES. - 320 In Heliogabalus Cleopatra Lucullus PRUDENCE. . 321 - 322 . 323 Sentiments EXAMPLE. - 324 In Henry Vth RELIGION. 325 Sentiments EXAMPLES. - 328 In Cyrus Constantius - " " Cicero Seneca Emperor Aurelius - 329 - 330 - ib. - 331 ib. CONTENTS. XXIU In Socrates - . - Mr. Boyle Mr. Locke - - - Sir Isaac Newton Mr Addison - - » Cardinal Wolsey Cardinal Richelieu Sir Philip Sidney Page - 331 - 332 - 334 - 335 - 336 - 337 - id. - ib. REVENGE. Sentiments ... . - 337 EXAMPLES. In Xerxes - . . Alverdi - . * - 338 - 342 TREACHERY. Sentiments . . - - 344 EXAMPLES. In Caracalla . - - Offa, king of Mercia Ethelwold Rhynsault - . - - 345 - 347 - 348 WEALTH, CONTEMPT OF. Sentiments - - . , 353 EXAMPLES. In Philopoemen - - id, Fabricius - - - - 355 Valerius Publicola - - - 359 THE BEAUTIES OF HISTORY. AFFECTION PARENTAL. SENTIMENTS. As the vexations which parents receive from their children hasten the approach of age, and double the force of years, so the comforts which they reap from them, are balm to all other sorrows, and disappoint the injuries of time. Parents repeat their lives in their offsprings 3 and their concern for them is so near, that they feel all their sufferings, and ta^te all their enjoyments, as much as if they regarded their own persons. However strong we may suppose the fondness of a father for his children, yet they will find more lively marks of tenderness in the bosom of a mother. There are no ties in nature to compare with those which unite an affectionate mother to her children, when they repay her tenderness with obedience and love, EXAMPLES. Zaleucus, prince of the Locrians, made a de- cree, that whoever was convicted of adultery, should be punished with the loss of both his eyes. Soon 2 AFFECTION PARENTAL, after this establishment^ the legislator's own soti was apprehended in the very fact, and brought to a pub- lic trial. How could the father acquit himself in so tender and delicate a conjuncture } Should he execute the law in all its rigour;, this would be worse thaa^ death to the unhappy youth : should he pardon so notorious a delinquent, this would defeat the design of his salutary institution. To avoid both these in- conveniences, he ordered one of his own eyes to be pulled out, and one of his son's. — /Elian, Lib. 13. Agesilaus, king of Sparta, was of all mankind one of the most tender and indulgent fathers to his children. It is reported of him, that when they were little he would play with them and divert him- self and them with riding upon a stick : and that having been surprised by a friend in that action, he desijed him not to tell any body of it till he himself was a father. — Rollings Ant. Hist, Cambalus, a young gentleman of character and fortune, in the city of Mulgeatum, being one day out a coursing, was way-laid, and very near being robbed and murdered by the banditti who infested that part of the country. Gorgus, the young gentle- man's fattier, happened to come by at the very in- stant, to whom Cambalus related the danger he was in. The son was on foot, the father on horseback j but no sooner had he heard the melancholy tale> than he leapt from his horse, desired his son ta Xnount^ and make the best of his way into the city : but Cambalus, preferring his father's safety to his own, would by no means consent to it^ on the con- trary, coDJured his father to leave him, and take care of himself. The fatb^, struck with the generosity AFFECTION PARENTAL. S and affection of his son, added tears to entreaties, but all to no purpose. The contest between them is better conceived than described — ^while bathed in tears, and beseeching each other to preserve his own life, the banditti approached and stabbed them both. Diod. Sic. Lib. 34. Cornelia, the illustrious mother of the Gracclii, after the death of her husband, who left her twelve children, applied herself to the care of her family^ with a wisdom and prudence that acquired her uni"- versal esteem. Only three out of the twelve lived to years of maturity 5 one daughter, Sempronia, whom she married to the second Scipio Africanus 3 and two sons, Tiberius and Caius, whom she brought up w ith so much care, that, though they were ge- nerally acknowledged to have been born with the most happy geniuses and dispositions, it was judged that they were still more indebted to education than nature. The answer she gave a Campanian lady concerning them is very famous, and includes in it great instructions for ladies and mothers. That lady, who was very rich, and still fonder of pomp and shew, after having displayed in a visit she made her, her diamonds, pearls, and richest jewels, earnestly desired Cornelia to let her see her jewels also, Cornelia dexterously turned the conversation to another subject, to wait the return of her sons, who were gone to the public schools. When they returned, and entered their mother's apartment, she said to the Campanian lady, pointing to them with her hand. These are my jewels ^ and the only ornaments I admire. And such ornaments^ which are the strength and support of society, add a brighter lustre to the fair than ail the jewels of the East. 3 2 4 AFFECTION PARENTAL, Cato, though he kept a master expressly for his son in his own house, yet he frequently examined him as to the progress he made in his learning; and, when time permitted, would take great plea- sure in teaching him himself. Paulus ^Emilius, after the expiration of his first consulship, substituted the sweets of repose for the splendour of employments. As augur, he ap- plied himself to the affairs of religion ; and as a father, to the education of his children. He was very reserved, and frugal in every thing that tended only to luxury and pomp, but noble and magnifi- cent in respect to expenses of honour and duty -, in consequence of which, he spared nothing to procure them an education worthy of their birth. Gram- marians, rhetoricians, philosophers, sculptors, paint- ers, masters expert in breaking and managing horses J hunters, who taught youth the exercises of the chase : in a word, he gave his sons all the aids and masters that were necessary in forming both their minds and bodies. When he was not employed in public affairs, he would be present at their studies and exercises -, by these assiduous cares evincing that of all the Ro- mans, he was the father who had most love and tenderness for his children. — Flut in ^mil. But our own court supplies us with an example of parental affection, equal, if not superior, to any other on record, and which commands the imitation of every family in the kingdom ; I mean in the tender, but prudent, conduct of the late queen Caroline. Authority, which is lost in almost every ojher house^ was carefully preserved in the royal AFFECttON PARENTAL; S palace j where it was rightly judged that affection and education without government and restraint, as planting without pruning and lopping off luxurious branches, would produce minds void of strength and beauty, and unable to bring forth the fruits of useful and reasonable action. The queen knew how absolutely necessary it was to teach youth very early> to refuse whatever was hurtful or dishonourable * and to prefer the constant and durable good, before momentary and fleeting pleasures. She knew that in the practice of this doctrine of refusing, lay all the seeds of virtue, and the foundation of every thing great and truly noble 5 for wliich reason she never gratified her children with what was improper for her to give, or them to receive. The best proof undoubtedly which parents can give of their affection to their children, is to endea- vour to make them wise and good. The first class of duties which parents owe their children respects their natural life ; and this comprehends protection, nurture, provision, introducing them into the world in a manner suitable to their rank and fortune, and the like. The second order of duties regards the intellectual and moral life of their children, or their education in such arts and accomplishments as are necessary to qualify them for performing the duties they owe to themselves and others. As this was found to be the principal design of the matrimonial alliance, so the fulfilling that design is the most important and dignified of all the parental duties. I n order, therefore, to fit the child for acting his part wisely and worthily as a man, a citizen, and a creature of God, both parents ought to combine their joint wisdom, authority and power, and each 6 AFFECTION PARENTAL, apart to employ those talents which are the peculiar excellency and ornament of their respective sex. The father ought to lay out and superintend their education ; the mother to execute and manage the detail of which she is capable. The former should direct the manly exertion of the intellectual and moral powers of his child ; his imagination and the manner of those exertions, are the peculiar province of the latter. The former should advise, protect, command -, and by his experience, masculine vigour^ and that superior authority which is commonly as- cribed to his sex, brace and strengthen his pupil for active life, for gravity, integrity, and firmness in suffering. The business of the latter is to bend and soften her male pupil, by the charms of her conver- sation and the softness and decency of her manners, for social life, for politeness of taste, and the elegant decorum and enjoyments af humanity 5 and to im- prove and refine the tenderness and modesty of her female pupil, and form her to all those mild do- mestic virtues, which are the peculiar characteristics and ornaments of her sex. To conduct the opening minds of their sweet charge through the several periods of their progress, to assist them in each period in throwing out the latent seeds of reason and ingenuity, and in giving fresh accessions of light and virtue j and, at length, with all these advantages, to produce the young ad- venturers upon the great theatre of human life, to act their several parts in the sight of their friends, of society, and mankind -, how gloriously does hea- ven reward the task where the parents behold those dear images and representations of themselves in- heriting their virtues as well as fortunes, sustaining AFFLICTION PAHENTAL. t their respective characters gracefully and worthily, and giving ther^ the agreeable prospect of trans- mitting their names with growing honours and advantage to a race yet unborn ! THE CHAKACTER OF A GOOD FATHER. The good father is ever humane^ tender and af- fectionate to his children 3 he treats them, therefore, with lenity and kindness 5 corrects with prudence^ rebukes with temper, and chastises with reluctance^ : he never suffers his indulgence to degenerate into weakness, nor his affection to be biassed by parti'- ality : as he rejoices in their joy, and participates in their afflictions, he never suffers them to want Ji blessing which he can bestow, nor lament an evil which he can prevent: whilst he continues witH them, he administers to their present happiness, and provides for their future felicity when he shall be removed from them 3 he is doubly cautious in pre- serving his own character, because theirs depend upon it : he is prudent, therefore, that they may be happy 5 industrious, that they may be rich 5 good and virtuous that they may be respected : he in- structs by his life, and teaches by his example : as he is thoroughly satisfied that piety is the source and foundation of every virtue, he takes care to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord J that they may be good men, he endeavours to make them good Christians : and after having done every thing in his power to make them easy and happy here, he points out to them the only infallible means of securing eternal bliss ^nd tran- quillity hereafter. 8 A.FFECTION PILIAL. AFFECTION FILIAL. SENTIMENTS. It may he truly said, that if persons are undutiful to their parents, they seldom prove good to any other relations. The honour which children are required to giv€ to their father and mother, includes in it love, reve- rence, obedience, and relief. It is usual with Provi- dence to retaliate men's disobedience to their parents in kind : commonly our own children shall pay us home for it. Where shall we find the person who hath re- ceived from any one benefits so great, or so many, as children from their parents ? To them it is they owe their very existence, and consequently all the pleasures and enjoyments of life. No one will expect a return of kindness, how- ever considerable, from him who can shew himself unmindful of what he owes his parents. To see a father treating his sons like an elder brother, and to see sons covet their father's com- pany and conversation, because they think him the wisest and most agreeable man of their acquaintance, is the most amiable picture the eye can behold j it is a transplanted self-love, as sacred as friendship, as pleasurable as love, and as happy as religion can make it. If every father remembered his own thoughts and inclinations when he was a son, and every son remembered what he expected from his father, when he himself was in a state of dependency 5 this one reflection would keep fathers from being rigid, or sons dissolute. Al'rECTlON FILIAL* EXAMPLES. T. Manlius, the Roman dictator, having exer-* cised great violence and cruelty over the citizens j was cited at the expiration of his office to answer for his conduct. Among other things that were laid to his charge, he was accused of treating with barbarity one of his own sons. Manlius, it seems> had no other cause of complaint against his son than his having an impediment in his speech. For this reason he was banished far from the city, from his home, and the company of those of his own age and fortune, and condemned to servile works, and a prison like a slave. All were highly exasperated against so severe a dictator, and so inhuman a father, except the son himself, who, moved with filial piety, and under the greatest concern that he should furnish matter of accusation against his father, resolved upon a most extraordinary method to relieve him. One morning, without apprising any body, he came to the city, armed with a dagger^ and went directly to the house of the tribune Pom- ponius, who had accused his father. Pomponius was yet in bed. He sent up his name, and was immediately admitted by the tribune, who did not doubt but he was come to discover to him some new instances of his fathier's severity. After they had saluted each other, young Manlius desired a private conference ; and as soon as he saw himself alone with the tribune, he drew out his dagger, presented it to his breast, and declared he would stab him that, moment, if he did not swear in the form he should dictate, '' Never to hold the assembly of the people for accusing his father." Pomponius, who saw the B 5 10 APFECTIOK FILIAL, dagger glittering at his breast, himself alone with- out arms, and attacked by a robust young man, full of a bold confidence in his own strength, took the oath demanded of him, and afterwards confessed, with a kind of complacency in the thing, and a sin- cerity which sufficiently argued he was not sorry for what he had done, that it was that violence which obliged him to desist from his enterprise. Liv. I. 7. c. 4, 5. Among the incredible number of persons who were proscribed under the second triumvirate of Rome, were the celebrated orator Cicero, and his brother Quintus. When the news of the proscrip- tion was brought to them, they endeavoured to make their escape to Brutus in Macedon. They travelled together some time, mutually condoling their bad fortune : but as their departure had been very precipitate, and they were not furnished with money and other necessaries for their voyage, it was agreed that Cicero should make what haste he could to the sea-side to secure their passage, and Quintus return home to make more ample provision. But as in most houses, there were as many inform- ers as domestics, his return was immediately known, and the house of course filled with soldiers and as- sassins. Quintus concealed himself so effectually, that the soldiers could not find him: enraged at their disappointment, they put his son to the tor- ture, in order to make him discover the place of his father's concealment j but filial affection was proof in the young Roman against the most exquisite torments. An involuntary sigh, and sometimes a deep groan, was all that could be extorted from the AFFECTION FILIAL. 11 generous ycruth. His agonies were increased j but with amazing fortitude he still persisted in his reso- lution of not betraying his father. Quintus was not far off, and the reader may imagine, better than can be expressed, how the heart of a father must have been affected with the sighs and groans of a sou expiring in tortures to save his life. He could bear it no longer ; but quitting the place of his concealment, he presented himself to the assassins, begging them with a flood of tears to put him to death, and dismiss the innocent child, whose ges nerous behaviour the triumvirs themselves, if in- formed of the fact, would judge worthy of the highest approbation and reward. But the inhuman monsters, without being the least affected with the tears either of the father or the son, answered, that they both must die j the father because he was pro- scribed, and the son because he had concealed his father. Then a new contest of tenderness arose who should die first; but this the assassins soon decided, by beheading them both at the same time. Appian, Dio. Plut. Vol. Max. 3re. The conduct of young Appius during the pro- scription above mentioned, renewed the example of . the piety of ^neas, and with the like success. His father Appius, aged and infirm,, seeing himself pro- scribed, did not think that what remained of a lan- guishing life was worth the pains of preserving, and was willing to wait for the murderers quietly at his own house. He could not, however, resist the pressing instances and zeal of his son, who took him on his shoulders, and loaded with this precious bur- den, went through the city unknown to some, and 1^ AFFECTION FILIAL. commanding the respect of others by the beauty of so commendable and generous an action. As soon as they got out of Rome> the son, sometimes assist- ing his father to walk, and sometimes carrying him, when the fatigue was too great, conducted him to the sea, and conveyed him safe into Sicily. The people preserved the remembrance of this affectionate conduct, and on his return to Rome, after the trium- virs had put a stop to the proscription, all the tribes unanimously concurred in raising him to the aedile- ship. But the goods of his father having been con- fiscated, he had not money to defray the expenses of the shews belonging to that office 5 on which ac- count, the artificers charged nothing for their la- bour, and the people taxing themselves willingly,^ each according to his ability, not only enabled him to defray the expense of the usual sports, but to purchase an estate twice the value of that which he had lost. — Jppian, CiNNA, the Roman Con&ul, who scrupled no^ attempt, how villainous soever, which could serve his purpose, undertook to get Pomponius Straba murdered in his tent- but his son saved his life, which was the first remarkable action of Pompey the Great. The treacherous Cinna, by many allur- ing promises, had gained over oneTerentius, a con- fident of Pompey's, to his interest, and prevailed on him to assassinate the general, and seduce his troops. Young Pompey being informed of this design a few hours before it was to be put in execution, placed a faithful guard round the praetorium, so that none of the conspirators could come near it. He then watched all the motions of the camp, and endea-. AFFECTION FILIAL. 13 voured to appease the fury of the soldiers^ who hated the general his father, by such acts of prudence as were worthy of the oldest commanders. However, some of the mutineers having forced open one of the gates of the camp, in order to desert to Cinna, the general's son threw himself flat on his back in their way, crying out, that they should not break their oath, and desert their commander, without treading his body to death. By this means he put a stop to their desertion, and afterwards wrought so effectually upon them by his affecting speeches and engaging carriage, that he reconciled them to his father. — Pint, in Pomp, Cyaxares, uncle of Cyrus the Great, having been an eye-witness of the courage, conduct, and many amiable qualities of his nephew, was desirous of giving a signal testimony of the value he had for his merit. Cyaxares had no male issue, and but one daughter. This favourite princess he offered in marriage to Cyrus, with an assurance of the king- dom of Media for her portion. Cyrus, who loved the princess, had a grateful sense of the offer ; but did not think himself at liberty to accept it, till he had first obtained the consent of his father and mother 3 leaving therein a noble example to all fu- ture ages of the respectful submission and depen- dence which all children ought to show to their parents on the like occasion, of what age soever they be, or to whatever degree of power and great- ness they may have arrived. — Xenoph. Cyrop. I. 6. While Octavius was at Samos, after the famous battle of Actium, which made him master of the 14 AFFECTION FILIAL, world, he held a council to examine the prisoners which had been engaged in Antony's party. Among the rest there was brought before him an old man named Metellus, oppressed with years and infir- mities, disfigured with a long beard, and a neglected head of hair, but especially by his clothes, which by his ill fortune were become very ragged. The son of this Metellus was one of the judges, and he had great difficulty to recollect his father in the deplor- able condition in which he saw him. At last, how- ever, having recollected his features, instead of being ashamed to own him, he ran to embrace him^, crying bitterly. Afterwards, turning towards the tribunal, " Caesar," says he, '' my father has been your enemy, and I your officer j he deserves to be punished, and I to be rewarded. The favour I desire of you is either to save him on my account, or to order me to be put to death with him." All the judges were touched with compassion at this af- fecting scene ', Octavius himself relented, and granted to old Metellus his life and liberty. — Appian. Olympias, Alexander's own mother, was of such an unhappy disposition, that he would never let her have any concern in the affairs of the govern- ment. She used frequently to make very severe complaints on that account j but he always sub- mitted to her ill-humour with great mildness and patience. Antipater, one of his friends, having one day written a long letter against her, the king, after reading it, replied, Antipater does not know that one single tear shed by a mother vnll obliterate ten thou- sand such letters as this. A behaviour like this, Jtnd such an answer^ shew at one and the same time, AFFECTION FILIAL. 15 that Alexander was both an affectionate son and an able politician.-^Q. Curt. Epaminondas, without all doubt, was one of the greatest generals, and one of the best men which Greece ever produced. Before him the city of Thebes was not distinguished by any memorable action, and after him it was not famous for its vir- tues, but its misfortunes, till it sunk into its original obscurity 5 so that it saw its glory take birth, and expire with this great man. The victory he ob- tained at Leuctra had drawn the eyes and admiration of all the neighbouring people upon Epaminondas, who looked upon him as the support of Thebes, as the triumphant conqueror of all Sparta, as the de- liverer of all Greece : in a word, as the greatest man, and the most excellent captain that ever was in the world. In the midst of this univet'sal ap- plause, so capable of making the general of an army forget the man for the victor, Epaminondas, little sensible to so affecting and so deserved a glory. My joy, said he, arises from my sense of that which the neios of my victory will give my father and my mother. — Pint, in Coriol. p. 215. Nothing in history seems so valuable to me, says Rollin, as tliose sentiments which do honour to human nature, and proceed from a heart which neither false gloiy, nor false greatness, have cor- rupted. I confess it with grief, 1 see these noble sentiments daily expire amongst us, especially in persons whose birth and rank raise them above others, who too frequently are neither good fathers, good sons^ good husbands, nor goc^ friends 3 and 16 AFFECTION FILIAL, who would think it a disgrace to express fbr a father and mother the tender regard of which we have here so fine an example from a pagan. Among an incredible number of illustrious men who were falsely accused and put to death by Nero, the cruel emperor of Rome, was one Bareas Soranus, a man, as Tacitus informs us, of singular vigilance and justice in the discharge of his duty. During his confinement, his daughter Servilia was appre- hended and brought into the senate, and there ar- raigned. The crime laid to her charge was, that she had turned into money all her ornaments and jewels, and the most valuable part of her dress, to defray the expense of consulting magicians. To this the young Servilia, with a flood of tears, re- plied, " That she had indeed consulted magicians, but the whole of her inquiry was to know whether the emperor and senate would afiford protection and safety to her dear and indulgent parent against his accusers. '^ With this view," said she, ** 1 presented the diviners, men till now utterly unknown to me, with my jewels, apparel, and the other ornaments peculiar to my quality, as I would have presented my blood and life, could my blood and life have procured my father's liberty. But whatever this my proceeding was, my unfortunate father was an utter stranger to it, and if it is a crime, I alone am the delinquent." She was, however, together with her father, condemned to die, but in what manner history is silent. — Tacit. Ann. I. 16. c. 20. Valerius Maximus likewise relates a very sin- gular fact upon this subject. A woman of iUus- AFFECTION FILIAL. 17 trious birtli had been condemned to be strangled. The Roman praetor delivered her up to the triumvir^ who caused her to be carried to prison, in order to ' her being put to death. The gaoler, who was or- dered to execute her, was struck with compassion, and could not resolve to kill her. He chose, there- fore, to let her die of hunger. Besides which, he suiFered her daughter to see her in prison 5 taking care, however, that she brought her nothing to eat. As this continued many days, he was surprised that the prisoner lived so long without eating 3 and sus- pected the daughter : upon watching her, he dis- covered that she nourished her mother with her own milk. Amazed at so pious, and at the same time so ingenious an invention, he told the fact to the tri- umvir, and the triumvir to the praetor, who believed the thing merited relating in the assembly of the people. The criminal was pardoned : a decree was passed that the mother and daughter should be sub- sisted for the rest of their lives at the expense of the public, and that a temple sacred to piety should be erected near the prison. Fal. Max, I. 5. 4. Plin. Hist. I. 7. 36. THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD SON. The good and dutiful Son is one who honours his parents, by paying them the utmost deferenice and respect) by a reverential awe and veneration for them j a filial affection for their persons, and a tender regard for their safety and preservation 3 a constant and cheerful attention to their advice, and a ready and implicit obedience to their commands. IS AFFECTION FRATERNAL* As he becomes every day more sensible of his obli- gations to them^ he grows every day more willing and solicitous to repay them. He employs his youth to support, their age 5 his abundance to relieve their wants ', his knowledge and strength to supply their infirmities and decay. He is more careful of his character and reputation in the worlds because theirs depend upon it. Ever anxious for their welfare, and attentive to their happiness, he endeavours, by every method in his power, to prolong their days, that his own may be long in the land. He rests as- sured, that God will not only bless obedient chil- dren here, but will reward them with the blessing of heaven, where it shall be icell with him for ever; where we shall all join — son and father, daughter and mother, wife and husband, servant and master 5 all the relations and connections of this life, to ho- nour one great parent, protector, lord, and master of us all. AFFECTION FRATERNAL. SENTIMENTS. Though all mankind spring from the same head, and are bound to cultivate a mutual good will to each other 5 yet this duty is not so obvious and striking as that which is incumbent on those who belong to the same family. Nothing can approach nearer to self-love than fraternal affection : and there is but a short remove from our own concerns and happiness to theirs who AFFECTION FRATEUNAL. IQ come from the same stock, and are partakers of the same blood. Nothing*, therefore, can be more hor- rible than discord and animosity among members so allied 3 and nothing so beautiful as harmony and love. This relation is formed by nature, not by choice 5 and though it has many things in common with, yet it is prior to the obligations of friendship • con- sequently nature and reason dictate that there should be a peculiar affection between brethren. We are not obliged, however, to make a brother or sister an intimate or bosom friend in preference to one who is not akini Diversity of temper, and want of suit- able qualifications may render it unsafe and impro- per. But where friendship and fraternity meet in the same persons, such a conjunction adds a lustre to the relation. Among brethren an hearty love of benevolence, an ardent concern for each other's welfare, a readi ness to serve and promote it, are the peculiar offices of this relation 3 and though friends are to have their share, yet the claim of kindred is first and generally the strongest. EXAMPLES. In the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Portuguese carracks sailed from Lisbon to Goa, a very great, rich, and flourishing colony of that na- tion in the East Indies. There were no less than twelve hundred souls, mariners, passengers, priests, and friars, on board one of these vessels. The be- ginning of their voyage was prosperous 3 they had doubled the southern extremity of the great Con- tinent of Africa, called the Cape of Good Hope, and were steering their course north-east, to the great ^0 AFFECTION FRATERNAL, continent of India, when some gentlemen on boards Avho had studied geography and navigation (arts which reflect honour on the possessors) found in the latitude in which they were then sailing a large ridge of rocks laid down in the sea charts. They no sooner made this discovery, than they acquainted the captain of the ship with the affair, desiring him to communicate the same to the pilot 5 which re- quest he immediately granted, recommended him to lie by in the night, and slacken sail by day, until they should be past the danger. It is a custom always among the Portuguese absolutely to commit the sailing part, or the navigation of the vessel, to the pilot, who is answerable with his head for the safe conduct or carriage of the king's ships, or those belonging to private traders ; and he is under no manner of direction from the captain, who com* mands in every other respect. The pilot being one of those self-sufficient men who think every hint given them from others in the way of their profession derogatory from their under- standings, took it as an affront to be taught his art, and instead of complying with the captain's request^ actually crowded more sail than the vessel had car- ried before. They had not sailed many hoUrs, but just about the dawn of day a terrible disaster befel them, which would have been prevented if they had lain by. The ship struck upon a rock. I leave to the reader's imagination, what a scene of horror this dreadful accident must occasion among twelve hun- dred persons, all in the same inevitable danger j beholding, with fearful astonishment, that instan- taneous death which now stared them in the face ! In this distress, the captain ordered the pinnace AFFECTION FRATERNAL. 21 to ht launched, into which having tossed a small quantity of biscuit, and some boxes of marmalade, he jumped in himself with nineteen others, who, with their swords, prevented the coming in of any more, lest the boat should sink. In this condition they put off into the great Indian ocean, without a compass to steer by, or any fresh water, but what might happen to fall from the heavens, whose mercy alone could deliver them. After they had rowed to and fro four days in this miserable con- dition, the captain, who had been for some time very sick and weak, died : this added, if possible^ to their misery, for as they now fell into confusion, every one would govern, and none would obey. This obliged them to elect one of their own company to command them, whose orders they implicitly agreed to follow. This person proposed to the company to draw lots, and to cast every fourth man overboard, as their small stock of provisions was so far spent, as not to be able, at a very short allowance, to sus- tain life above three days longer. They were now nineteen persons in all : in this number were a friar and a carpenter, both of whom they would exempt, as the one was useful to absolve and comfort them in their last extremity, and the other to repair the pinnace in case of a leek, or other accident. The same et mpliment they paid to their new captain, he being the odd man, and his life of much consequence. He refused their indulgence a great while 5 but at last they obliged him to acquiesce, so there were four to die out of the sixteen remaining persons. The three first, after having confessed and re- ceived absolution, submitted to their fate. The fourth, whom fortune condemned, was a Portuguese gentleman that had a younger brother in the boat^ 22 AFFECTION FRATERNAL. who seeing him about to be thrown overboard, most tenderly embraced him, and with tears in his eyes besought him to let him die in his room, enforcing his arguments by telling him that he was a married man, and had a wife and children at Goa, besides the care of three sisters, who absolutely depended upon him j that as for himself, he was single, and his life of no great importance : he therefore con- jured him to suffer him to supply his place. The elder brother, astonished and melting with this ge- nerosity, replied, that since the divine Providence had appointed him to suffer, it would be wicked and unjust to permit any other to die for him, especially a brother, to whom he was so infinitely obliged. The younger persisting in his purpose, would take no denial : but throwing himself on his knees, held his brother so fast, that the company could not dis- engage them. Thus they disputed for a while, the elder brother bidding him be a father to his children, and recommending his wife to his protection, and as he would inherit his estate, to take care of their com- mon sisters 3 but all he could say could not make the younger desist. This was a scene of tenderness that must fill every breast susceptible of generous impressions with pity. At last the constancy of the elder brother yielded to the piety of the other. He acquiesced, and suffered the gallant youth to supply his place, who being cast into the sea, and a good swimmer, soon got to the stern of the pinnace, and laid hold of the rudder with his right hand, which being perceived by one of the sailors, he cut off his hand with his sword : then dropping into the sea, he presently caught hold again with his left, which received the same fate by a second blow : thus dis- membered of both hands, he made a shift uotwithr AFFECTION FRATERNAL. 23 standing to keep himself above water with his feet and two stumps, which he held bleeding upwards. This moving spectacle so raised the pity of the whole company, that they cried out, ' He is but one man, let us endeavour to save his life 5' and he was accordingly taken into the boat, where he had liis hands bound up as well as the place and circum- stances would permit. They rowed all that night and the next morning : when the sun arose, as if heaven would reward the gallantry and piety of this young man, they descried land, which proved to be the mountains Mosambique, in Africa, not far from a Portuguese colony. Thither they all safe arrived^ where they remained until the next ship from Lis- bon passed by and carried them to Goa. At that city, Linschoten, a writer of good credit and esteem, assures us, that he himself saw them land, supped with the two brothers that very night, beheld the younger with his stumps, and had the story from both their mouths as well as from the rest of the company. Huighen Fan Linschoten* s Voyages^ A.D. 1598« Vespasian, the Roman emperor, being informed that Domitian had abandoned himself to all manner of debauchery, and assumed more authority than was suitable to a son only, was highly incensed against him : upon this, Titus, his eldest son, pleaded with great affection and earnestness in favour of his brother, entreating the emperor to beware of being rashly incensed by intelligence from such as bring criminal accusations. ^* To your own son," said he, "^ it is but just you should bear a spirit of gentle- ness, free from all prejudice. Not from fleets, not from legions, are such powerful bulwarks formed 24 AFFECTION FRATERNAL, for the support of the imperial dignity, as from a numerous issue in the imperial house. The number of our friends is diminished with time : they often desert us to follow fortune -, or because we cannot gratify their desires. But from our own blood we may always promise ourselves ready assistance, and unshaken fidelity. In our good fortune many wiU partake with us 5 but our nearest in kindred alone will bear us company in our adversities. Even be- tween brothers," added he, " concord and una- nimity will not prove lasting, if their common parent sets them not an example." Vespasian, though not entirely reconciled to Domitian by this reasoning, was nevertheless charmed with the tender affection of Titus. Upon the death of the emperor, the go- ^vernment fell to Titus 3 but Domitian pretended to an equal share in it, and raised great disturbances in the city, by giving out, and arrogantly maintaining, that his father had left him partner in the empire, but that the will had been falsified 5 yet Titus could not prevail upon himself either to punish or banish him : but, on the contrary, treated him as his col- league in the Empire, conjuring him often in private not to hate a brother, who bore him a sincere and tender affection, and was willing to allow him a due share in the administration. , Suet, in Dom. c. 9 S; 9\ Darius, king of Persia, had three sons by his first wife, the daughter of Gabrias, all three born before their father came to the crown 3 and four more by Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus, who were all born after the father's accession to the throne. Artabazanes, called by Justin, Artimenes, was the eldest of the former, and Xerxes of the latter. AFFECTION FRATERNAL. 25 Ai'tabazanes alleged, in his own behalf, that the right of succession, according to the custom and practice of all nations, belonged to him preferably to all the rest. Xerxes's argument for succeeding his father was, that as he was the son of Atossa^ the daughter of Cyrus, who founded the Persian empire, it was more just that the crown of Cyrus should devolve upon one of his descendants, than upon one that was not. Demaratus, a Spartan king, at that time at the court of Persia, secretly suggested to Xerxes another argument to support his pretensions 3 that Artabazanes was indeed the eldest son of Darius 5 but he, Xerxes, was the eldest son of the king 5 and therefore Artabazanes being born when his father was but a private person, all he could pretend to, on account of his seniority, was ojily to inherit his private estate ; but that he, Xerxes, beitig the first-born son of the king, had the best right to succeed to the crown. He further sup- ported this argument by the example of the Lacede- monians, who admitted none to inherit the kingdom, but those children that were born after their father*s accession. I'he right of succession was accordingly determined in favour of Xerxes, Both Justin and Plutarch take notice of the prudent conduct of these two brothers on so nice an occasion. According to their manner of relating this fact, Artabazanes was absent when the king died 3 and Xerxes immedi- ately assumed all the marks, and exercised all the functions of the sovereignty, But upon his bro- ther's returning home, he quitted the diadem, and the tiara, which he wore in such a manner as only suited the king, went out to meet him, and shewed him all imaginable respect. They agreed to njake C 26 AFFECTION FRATERNAL, their uncle Artabanes the arbitrator of their differ- ence ; and without any further appeal, to acquiesce in his decisions. All the while this dispute lasted, the two bro- thers shewed one another all the demonstrations of a truly fraternal affection, by keeping up a con- tinual intercourse of presents and entertainments ; whence their mutual esteem and confidence for each other banished all fears and suspicions on both sides; and introduced an unconstrained cheerfulness, and a perfect security. This is a spectacle, says Justin, highly worthy of our admiration : to see, whilst most brothers are at daggers-drawing with one another about a small patrimony, with what moderation and tem- per both waited for a decision, which was to dis- pose of the greatest empire then in the universe. When Artabanes gave judgment in favour of Xerxes, Artabazanes the same instant prostrated himself before him, acknowledging him for his master, and placed him upon the throne with his own hand ; by which proceeding he shewed a greatness of soul truly royal, and infinitely supe- rior to all human dignities. This ready acqui- escence in a sentence so contrary to his interest^ was not the effect of an artful policy, that knows how to dissemble upon occasion, and to receive honour to itself from what it could not prevent : no 3 it proceeded from a real respect for the laws^ a sincere affection for his brother, and an indiffer- ence for that which so warmly inflames the am- bition of mankind, and so frequently arms the jaearest relations against each other. For his part^ i^urjBg Ms whole life, he continued firmly attached AMBITION. 27 ivo the interests of Xerxes^ and prosecuted them with so much ardour and zeal, that he lost his life in his service at the battle of Salamis. Plut. defrat. Amove, p. 448. — Just. I. 2. c. 10. AMBITION. SENTIMENTS. Ambition to rule is more vehement than malice to revenge. It must be confessed that no passion has produced more dreadful effects than ambition j and yet, methinks, ambition is not a vice but in a vicious mind. In a virtuous mind it is a virtue, and w^ill be found to take its colour from the character in which it is mixed. Ambition is at distance A goodly prospect, tempting to the view : The height delights us, and the mountain top Looks beautiful, because 'tis nigh to heaven ; But we ne'er look how sandy 's the foundation, What storms will batter, and what tempests shake us ! EXAMPLES. Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome, had two daughters by Tarquinia, daughter of Tarquinius Priscus. When they were marriageable he gave them to their cousins-german, that prince's two grandsons. His sons-in-law met in each of their wives, dispositions -entirely opposite to their own genius and tempers. Lucius, the elder brother, a man, daring, haughty and cruel, had a wife of a meek, reasonable spirit, full of tenderness and re- spect for her father, Arcius, the younger brother, c2 28 AMBITION. much more humane and tractable, found in young Tullia, one of those bold enterprising women, who are capable of the blackest deeds. Perceiving nei- ther ambition nor daringness in her husband, she bore with uneasiness his peaceable temper, by her called indolence and cowardice. Inclined entirely to the other Tarquin, she ceased not to praise, ad- mire, extol him, as a man of spirit, as a prince wor- thy his birth. She spoke with contempt of her sister, for so ill seconding such a husband. Likeness of temper and inclinations quickly united Lucius Tar- quin and young Tullia. In the private conversations which she often procured with her brother-in-law, she used the most injurious and contumelious lan- guage to inspire him with contempt for her husband and sister. She said, " It would have been much better for them both to remain unmarried than to be joined to tempers contrary to their own ; and forced by the stupidity of others shamefully to lan- guish away their time. If the gods had given her the husband she deserved, she would soon behold in her family the crown she saw in her father's." It was not difficult to infuse her sentiments into the prince, and bend him to her designs. They immedi- ately plotted the death, the one of her husband, the other of his wife : and after the execution of the double murder, they joineti together their fortunes and furious tempers in marriage, which Servius dared not oppose, though he dreaded the fatal con- sequences of it. As they now saw no other obstacle to their am- bition but Servius's life, the thirst of dominion quickly carried them from their first crime to an- pi\eT still more horrible 5 that fury which Tarquin AMBITION. 29 had always by his side not letting him rest night or day, for fear of losing the fruit of her first parricides. What words did she not use ! *' She had indeed found a man that was called her husband, and with whom ehe might live in a private and dishonourable ser%d- tude j not a prince who thought himself worthy a throne, who remembered he was grandson to king Tarquin, and chose rather to seize the sceptre than wait for it. If you are the man I imagine myself married to, I call you my husband, my lord, and my king. But if not, my condition is so far altered for the worse, as I find here wickedness joined to cowardice. Dare only, and you will meet no obstacle. You need not, like your grandfather, cross the seas, or travel to Rome from Corinth or Tar- quinii to acquire with difficulty a foreign kingdom. Your household gods, the image of your grandfather, the palace you are in, the throne you daily behold, the name of Tarquin, all create and salute you king. If you want courage for these things, why do you still disappoint the city > Why do you appear like a prince that expects to reign ? Begone from hence to Tarquinii or Corinth : return back to your first original, more like your brother than grandfather." Tarquin, encouraged and incessantly spurred oh by this domestic fury, throws off all restraint, and resolvedly pursues the wicked design He labours to gain the senators, especially of the new creation : he engages the youth by presents -, and daily in- creases his party by his affability, and by promising wonders of himself, whilst he loads the king with the blackest aspersions. When he thought the proper hour was come to discover his intentions, surrounded with a guard, he so AMBITION. abruptly enters the Forum. Fear seizing all, he advances to the Senate-house;, seats himself upon the throne, and orders the senators to be convened in King Tarquin's name. They instantly assemble, some prepared before-hand, others for fear their ab- sence should be deemed a crime 3 the greatest part surprised and troubled at so strange and unexpected an event, and believing Servius was undone. Upon information of what passed in the senate, the king comes in whilst Tarquin was in the midst of an harangue -, and with a loud voice cries out the mo- ment he sees him on the throne, '^ What ! Tarquin, dare you while I am alive to call the senate, and sit OH my throne ?" Tarquin fiercely replied, *' He sat in his grandfather's seat, to which a grandson had more right than a slave ; Servius had too long in- sulted his betters, and abused their patience." Their favourers on both sides made a great noise, the peo- ple at the same time rushed into the senate, and it appeared the quarrel was to be decided by force. Tarquin seeing a necessity of coming to extre- mities, as he was young and vigorous, takes the old man by the waist, carries him out of the assembly, and throws him down the steps into the Forum ^ then returns into the senate. Servius, all over bruis- ed, and more dead than alive, was led towards his palace by a few officers that had not deserted him out of fear. He had scarce reached the street called Vicus Cyprius, when he was overtaken and murder- ed by persons sent after him by Tarquin. It is be- lieved, and with great probability, that the deed was done by Tullia's advice. It is certain she hastily came forth at the first noise, and crossing the Forum in her chariot, without any regard to the decencies AMBITION. 51 of her sexj or the manners of the time^ drove to the senate, called out to her husband, and first saluted him king. He ordered her immediately to withdraw out of the tumult. When in her return she came to the end of the Cyprian-street, the coachman turning to the left to go up the Esquiline-hill, stopt short, struck with horror, and shewed his mistress Servius's body covered with blood. The- sight served only to exasperate and harden Tullia. " The furies, aven- gers of her sister and her husband (says Livy) quite bereaved her at that instant of her reason : so that, forgetting not only the sentiments of nature, biit even of humanity, she ordered the chariot to be driven over her father's body, which occasioned the street to be called Ficus SceleratuSf the Street of Wicked- ness." She entered her house as in triumph, sure of reigning for the future, and rejoicing for the happy success of her villanies. So many horrors would seem incredible if the effects of ambition were not known. Servius was an excellent prince, and had reigned forty years. Tarquin carried his inhumanity so far as to deny him the funeral solemnities of a king. His body was, by his widow Tarquinia, conveyed in the night to a tomb with a few friends only -, and, as if she had survived her husband but to pay him these Isist duties, she died soon after. As for Tarquin, after a cruel and tyrannical reign of many years, he, his wife, and family, were driven from the city into per- petual banishment. In the disorder and tumult that attended the expulsion of her husband, Tullia fled out of the palace, and was pursued wherever she went with the cries and curses of the people. Dionys. I. iv, p, 232. — Liv. I, I. c, 46 — i8. 32 AMBITION. Marius, so famous in the Roman History, was a man that had but one passion, the desire of ag- grandizing himself^ to which he never made any Scruple to sacrifice every thing -, for he never knew either integrity, sincerity or gratitude, when the pur- suit of his views were in question. It was this am- bition that made him quit the plough, and take up the profession of arms^ by which he was in hopes of making his fortune. He succeeded beyond all ex- pectations : but after having passed through every honour in the Roman government 5 having acquired a considerable fortune, and made a good alliance, by marrying Julia, Caesar's aunt, instead of being satisfied with his uncommon success, and enjoying the fruits of his toils and dangers, at the age of seventy, when he was become exceedingly gross and heavy, and oppressed with many infirmities, he was determined to take on him the war against Mithri- dates, king of Pontus. He imagined that this war furnished an occasion of acquiring great glory and riches, without much danger. But Sylla, as consul, was general of the Roman armies 5 and had a just right to appropriate the first and most glorious pro- vince to himself : he was likewise appointed to this command by the Senate. Marius opposed him. The contest ran high 5 and a civil war ensued. Sylla besieges the city of Rome, and Marius is obliged to save himself by flight. Sylla makes an alteration in the government, and an order is issued out in all the cities of Italy, to seize and kill Marius wherever he should be found. After wandering from place to place, and suffering a variety of diffi- culties, dangers, and distresses, both by sea and land, he is at last treacherously set on shore in the pro- vince of an enemy, without aid, without defence. AMBITION. 33 and abandoned by all the world. He however did not abandon himself : but crossing marshes, ditches full of water, and muddy grounds, he came at length to a poor wood -cleaver's cottage. He threw himself at his feet, and conjured him to save a man, who, if he escaped danger, would reward him be- yond his hopes. The peasant, whether he knew him, or was struck with the loftiness and majesty of his appearance, which his misfortunes had not effaced, answered, ''That if he only wanted rest, he might find it in his cottage 5 but if he fled from enemies, he would shew him a safer retreat." Marius having accepted the last offer, the man conducted him to a hollow place, near a marsh, where he covered him with leaves, reeds, and rushes. Marius had scarce entered this dismal retreat, before he heard his enemies in pursuit of him. They ques-' tioned, pressed, and menaced the woodman, for concealing an enemy of the public, condemned to die by the Roman senate. Marius had no resource left: he quitted his retreat, undressed himself, and plunged into the black and muddy water of the marsh. This dirty asylum could not conceal him. Hjs pursuers ran to him 5 and having drawn him out of the water naked and all covered with mud, they put a cord about his neck, and dragged him to Minturnae, where they delivered him to the Ma- gistrates. May I be allowed here to desire the reader to consider Marius attentively in his deplorable state at this moment? What might then be his thoughts! How much ought he to have abhorred a fatal ambition that, from the height of great- ness and glory^ had plunged him into an abyss of c5 34 AMBITION, misery below the condition of mankind ! And what a lesson is this to those who are never contented with their condition ; and who imagine they want all things, when but a single object is wanting to their insatiable avidity ! But such are the vicissitudes of human life, that even when hope forsook him, and while the hand was lifted up, he escaped the blow. From the low- est state of misery he yet rose to the pinnacle of what is, falsely, called honour and greatness. By the intrigues of a faction, he returned to Rome 5 where he gave the most melancholy proofs that his misfortunes had neither made him wiser nor better, had neither taught him humility, compassion, nor moderation. Being at first, as it were, only pro- tected by Cinna, who was then master of Rome, he affected an air of dejection 5 but his unextin- guished ambition soon rendered him the soul of the party. Having now the sword in his hand, and burning with revenge and indignation, he cut down all before him : naturally merciless and cruel, he spared neither age, dignity, nor virtue -, a look, a nod, determined at once the fate of the most illus- trious persons 3 every one whom he in the least sus- pected or disliked was put to deatli without the least form or ceremony. The slaughter, attended with plundering of houses, and the most criminal vio- lences, continued five days and five nights in Rome, which became one general scene of horror ^ un- pitied shrieks and cries were every where heard, the streets were defiled with human blood, while the lifeless bodies, even of the most eminent senators, were trampled under foot 3 for it was prohibited to give them burial. These were the glorious fruits AMBITION. 55 of ambition ! by these, without doubt, Marius in- tended to render himself great and happy 3 but he found it quite otherwise. The state of prosperity in which he was, did not calm the disquiets occasioned by the fear of Sylla's return, who was carrying on the war with Mithridates. So formidable an aven- ger made Marius tremble ; and he could not even dissemble his fears. These thoughts tormented him continually, and occasioned his nights to pass with- out sleep, which began to affect his health and spirits. He therefore abandoned himself to the ex- cesses of the table ; and spent all his nights in drink- ing with his friends and dependants. By this means he soon inflamed his blood, lie was attacked with a fever, which presently seized his head -, and, in his delirium, he raved of nothing but the war with Mithridates : he imagined he had the command of it 5 and not only spoke, but made gestures, and as- sumed the attitude of a man that fights, or of a general giving orders : so violent and incurable was the passion, and so deeply had it taken root in his heart, with which ambition and jealousy uniting had inspired him for that command. Thus, says Plutarch, at the age of seventy, the only man who had been seven times consul, and possessing riches that might have sufldiced for several kings, he la- mented as one suffering indigence, and died before he could put his views in execution. Wretch ! that instead of enjoying the gifts of fortune with grati- tude, suffered himself to be deprived of the present, in being wholly engrossed by a chimerical future. And yet Marius Was one of the most famous Romans. But surely when Marius, or Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, or^ in modern times. S6 AMBITION. Lewis XIV. are treated as great men, or as heroes; it holds forth the most flagrant example of the weakness of mankind, who so little understand their interests, as to annex the idea of greatness and heroism to the fatal art of destroying their spe- cies ; and who can admit, that such heroism can subsist with vices most pernicious to society. To the foregoing examples 1 will only add that of Rome itself, of which Marius was both the pre- server and executioner. What a dreadful situation was she in amidst all her prosperity and greatness ! She is victorious over all her enemies, and tyran- nized over by her own citizens. She puts to flight and cuts to pieces foreign armies, and is drowned in her own blood. Ambition prompts her to give laws to all nations -, at the same time she cannot support her own, which change every instant with the ca- price of the tyrants that oppress her : and it is even this prosperity that gives birth to all her calamities; Modest and happy as long as she was weak and low -, it is good fortune that introduces the most horrid of vices and calamities into her bosom. Such is the error and uncertainty of human things. So ignorant are men of what constitutes their real happiness ! Let us conclude then, that there is no solid felicity, either for states or private persons but in the prac- tice of virtue; and that virtue is much more the friend and companion of mediocrity, than of too jgreat an elevation of fortune. BENEFICENCE. 37 BENEFICENCE. SENTIMENTS. Man is naturally a beneficent creature. The great- est pleasure wealth can afford is that of doing good. All men of estates are in effect but trustees for the benefit of the distressed ; and will be so reckoned when they are to give an account. Defer not charities till death. He that doth so, is rather liberal of another man's substance than of his own. To reliere the oppressed is the most glorious act a man is capable of; it is in some measure doing the business of God and Providence. No object is more pleasing to the eye than the sight of a man whom you have obliged ; nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the voice of one that owns you for his benefactor. When we would exercise this virtue, we ought to deliberate with ourselves whether our circum- stances will answer our intended bounty -, for there are some who are generous to strangers, to the prejudice of themselves, their friends and re- lations. We ought to consult the worth of the person whom we have chosen for the object of our libe- rality. The wicked, debauched and extravagant, are neither entitled to pity nor relief : but the cry of virtue in distress ought to be irresistible. That which is given with pride and ostentation, is rather an ambition than a bounty. Let a benefit be ever so considerable, the manner of conferring it ie the noblest part. 3S J3ENEFICENCE. It was well said of him that called a good office that was done harshly, a stony piece of bread: it is necessary for him that is hungry to receive it 3 but it almost choaks him in the going down. EXAMPLES. When the province of Azazene was ravaged by the Romans, seven thousand Persians were brought prisoners to the city of Amida, where they fell into extreme want. Acases, bishop of that place, having assembled his clergy, represented to them, in the most pathetic terms, the misery of those unhappy prisoners He then observed, that as the Almighty preferred mercy to sacrifice, he would certainly be better pleased with the relief of these his creatures, than with being served with gold and silver vessels in their churches. The clergy entertained this no- tion not only with readiness, but with applause 5 sold ail the consecrated vessels j and having main- tained the Persians during the war, sent the seven thousand home at the conclusion of the peace, with money in their pockets. Veranes, the Persian mo- narch, was so charmed with this action, that he sent to invite the bishop to his capital, where he received him with the utmost reverence, and did the Christ- ians many favours at his request. Socrat. Hist. Eccles. lib. vii. c. 7. A CERTAIN cardinal, by the multitude of his generous actions, gave occasion ff*r the world to call him, The Patron of the P' or. This ecclesiastical prince had a constant custom c nee a week to give public audience to all indigent people in the hall of his palace^ and to relieve every one according to BENEFICENCE. 39 tlielr various necessities, or the motions .of his own bounty. One day a poor widow, encouraged by the fame of his bounty, came into the hall of this cardinal, with her only daughter, a beautiful maid, about fifteen years of age. When her turn came to be heard among a crowd of petitioners, the car- dinal observing the marks of an extraordinary mo- desty in her face, and carriage, as also in her daugh- ter, encouraged her to tell her wants freely. She blushing, and not without tears, thus addressed herself to him ; '' My lord, I owe for the rent of my house five crowns, and such is my misfortune, that 1 have no way left to pay it, save what would break my heart (and my landlord threatens to force me to it), that is, to prostitute this my only daugh- ter, whom I have hitherto with great care educated in the paths of virtue. What I beg of your emi- nence is, that you would be pleased to interpose your authority, and protect us from the violence of this cruel man, till by honest industry we can pro- cure the money for him." The cardinal, moved with admiration of the woman's virtue and modest request, bid her be of good courage : then he im- mediately wrote a billet, and giving it into the woman's hand, '' Go,'* said he, '' to my steward, and he shall deliver thee five crowns to pay thy rent." The widow, overjoyed, and returning the cardinal a thousand thanks, w^ent directly to the steward, and gave him the note. When he had read it, he told out fifty crowns. She, astonished at the meaning of it, and not knowing what the cardinal had wrote, refused to take above five crowns, say- ing, she mentioned no more to his eminence, and she was sure it was some mistake. On the other 40 BXNEFICENCE. hand the steward insisted on his master's order, not daring to call it in ([uestion. But all the arguments he could use were insufficient to prevail on her to take any more than five crowns. Wherefore, to end the controversy, he ofifered to go back with her to the cardinal, and refer it to him. When they came before that munificent prince, and he was fully informed of the business, '* It is true," said he, *' I mistook in writing fifty crowns, give me the paper and I will rectify it." Upon which he wrote again, saying to the woman, '* So much candour and virtue deserve a recompence. Here, I have ordered you five hundred crowns ! what you can spare of it, lay up as a dowry to give with your daughter in marriage." Pi SI STRATUS, the Athenian, was exceedingly courteous and affable, and as he was blest with a fair estate, so he was generous without profusion, and beneficent without ostentation. He had always a servant near him with a bag of silver coin -, when he saw a man look sickly, or heard that any were dead or insolvent, he comforted the one with a pro- per sum, and buried the other at his own expense. If he perceived people melancholy, he enquired the cause 5 and if it was poverty, he furnished them with what might enable them to get bread, but not to live idly. In a word, he had, or seemed to have, all the virtues that could adorn a nobleman. Dacier Not. in Fit Solon. Plut. ** I have prodigious riches," says Cyrus to his friends, '* and I am glad the world knows it 3 but you may assure yourselves they are as much yours as mine. For to what end should I heap up wealth ? BENEFICENCE. 41 For my own use, and consume it myself 3 that were impossible, if I desired it. No, the chief end I aim at is to have it in my power to reward those who serve the public faithfully ; and to succour and re- lieve those that will acquaint me with their wants and necessities. — Xenoph. Cyr. 209. Pliny, that excellent Roman orator, will be ever admired for his disinterested generosity, and benevolent heart : though he was not possessed of a large estate, yet by frugal management he was able to bestow a great deal on his friends. The reader will find in his letters innumerable instances of his beneficence and good nature : I shall, how- ever, only mention the following. An intimate friend of his was very much involved in debt, and by that means brought into great trouble. Pliny took the management of his affairs into his own hands, satisfied every body else, and became his sole creditor. When his friend died, his daughter Calvina would have given up her fathers effects 3 but Pliny, excellent man ! generously forgave her what her father owed him, and even contributed a consider- able sum as an addition to her fortune when she was married. Alfred the Great, who was one of the best princes our nation ever produced, divided his reve- nue into two parts ; one of which he dedicated to sacred uses, and the other to secular. That moiety which was dedicated to sacred uses he subdivided into four parts, one of which was dispensed to the poor in general j another dedicated for religious houses of his own founding 3 a third w^as given to the public schools j and the fourth employed in re- building and repairing monasteries, and other public 4^ BENEFICENCE, foundations both at home and abroad. The other moiety, devoted to secular uses, was likewise sub- divided into three parts, one for the support of his household 5 the other for the payment of his work- men ', and the third for the entertainment and relief of strangers who resorted to his court. — Hist, E?ig, But we cannot, I think, have a more amiable example of beneficence, than in the conduct of Lady Burleigh, wife of the famous Lord Burleigh, lord high-treasurer of England, and privy counsellor to Queen Elizabeth. As it may be thought curious, I shall take the liberty to give this example in his lordship's ov/n words, from a discourse which he calls a meditation on the death of his lady. The original is, or was lately, in the possession of the Honourable James West, Esq. from which the following is transcribed • ^^ This is no cogitation to be used with an intent to recover that which never can be had ageyn, that is, to have my wiff to lyve ageyn in her mortall body, which is separated from the sowle, and resteth in the erth deade, and the sowle taken up to heaven, and there to remayne in the fruition of blessedness unspeakable untill the generall resurrec- tion of the flesh ; when by the almighty power of God (wlio made all thyngs of nothyng) her body shall be rais'd upp and joyned wyth hir sowle, in an everlasting unspeakable joye, such as no tongue can express nor heart conceive. Therefor my cogitations ought to be occupied in these things following. ^' I ought to thank almighty God for his favor in permittyng hir to have lived so manny yers togi- ther wyth me, and to have given iiir grace to have had the true knowledge of hir salvation by the death BENEF1CE?3CE. 43 of his son Jesus, oppeiied to liir by the knowledge of the gospell : whereof she w as a professor from hir youth. *' 1 ought to comfort myself with the remem- brance of hir many virtuouss and godly actions, wherein she continued all hir liff, and especially in that she did of late yers soundry charitable dedes/ whereof she determined to have no outward know- ledg whylst she lyved, insomuch, as when I had litel understandyng thereof, and asked hir wherein she had dispos'd any charitable gift accordyng to hir often wyshi ng that she was able to do some special act for mayntenance of learnyng and relifF of the poor ; she would allways only shew herself rather" desiroose so to do than ever confess any such act 5 as sence hir deth is manifestly known to me 3 and confessed by sondry good men, whose names and niinestryes she secretly used, that she did charg them most stryctly that whylest she lyved they should never declare the same to me nor to any other. And so now I have seen hir earnest wrj'- tyngs to that purpose in hir own hand. '' The particulars of many of these hereafter do follow whych I do with my own handwrytyng re- cite for my comfort in the memory thereof wyth assurance that God hath accepted the same in such favourable sort, as she findeth now the fruits there- of in heaven. " About — yers since she caused exhibitions to secretly be given by the hands of the master of St. John's, in Cambridge, for the mayntenance of twO' scholars, for a perpetuite whereof to contynue. '^ She did cause some lands to be purchased in the name of the deane of Westmynster j who also 44 BENEFICENCE. in his own name did assure the same to that colledg^ for a perpetual mayntenance of the said scholars in that colledg. All which was done without signifi- cation of her act or charge to any manner of person, but only of the deane, and one William Walter of Wymbleton, whose advice was us'd, for the wrytyng of the purchase and assurance. '^ She also did with the privity of Mr. Deanes of Powles and Westmynster, and Mr. Alderly, being free of the haberdashers in London, give to the company of the sayd haberdashers a good sume of moneys whereby is provyded, that every two yers there is lent to six poor men of certain special occu- pations, as Smyths, caipynters, weavers, and such like, in Romford in Essex, twenty pounds a-piece, in the whole one hundred and twenty pounds. And in Chesthunt and Wootham to other six like per- sons, twenty marks a-piece, in the whole fourscore pounds. Which reliff by way of loane is to con- tynew. By the same means is provided for twenty poor people in Chesthunt, the first Sonday in every month, a meass of meate in flesh and bread, and money for drynk. And lykewise is provided four marks yerly for four sermons to be preach'd quar- terly by one of the preachers of St. John's colledg. And these distributions have been made a long time, whylst she lyved, by some of my servants, without gy ven me knoUedg thereof ; tho indeed I had cause to thynk that she did sometymes bestow suck kynd of alms 5 not that I knew of any order taken for contynuance thereof j for she would rather comenly use speeches with me, how she was disposed to give all that she cold to some such uses, if she cold devise to have the same faythfuUy perform'd after her lyfF, BENEFICENCE. 45 whereof she always pretended many doubts. And for that she used the advice of Mr. Deanes of Powles and Westmynster 5 and would have hir actions kept secret, she forc'd upon them small peces of plate to be us*d in ther chambres, as remembrances of hir good will for ther paynes. *' She did also four times in the yer secretly send to all the prisons in London money to buy bread, chese, and drynk comenly for four hundred persons, and many tymes more, without knowledg from whom the same came. '^ She did lykewise sundry times in the yer send shyrts and smokks to the poor people both in Lon- don and at Chesthunt. *^ She also gave a sume of money to the master of St. John's colledg, to procure to have fyres in the hall of that colledg uppon all Sondays and hollydays betwixt the feast of All Santes and Candlesmas, when ther was no ordinary fyres at the cliarge of that colledg. ^* She also gave a sume of money towards a buyldyng for a new way at Cambridge to the comen scolles. ** She also provyded a great number of books, whereof she gave some to the university of Cam- bridge, namely, the great Bible in Hebrew and four other tongs ; and to the colle Ig of St. John's very many books in Greek, of divinite and physic, and of other sciences. The lyke she did to Christ-church and St. John's colledg in Oxford. The lyke she did to the colledg of Westmynster. ^*. She did also yerly provide woole and flaxe, and did distribute it to women in Chesthunt parish, w^Uyng them to work the same into yarn, and bring 45 BENEFICENCE. it to hir, to see the manner of working 3 and for the most part she gave them the stuff by way of almes. Sometimes she caus'd the same to be wrought into cloth, and gave it to the poore, paying first for the spynning more than it was worth. '' Not long afore her deth, she caus'd secretly to be brought a large quantity of wheat and rye to be dysposed amongst the poor in time of derth, which remained unspent at hir death -, but the same confess'd by such as provyded it secretly : and there- for in conscience to be so distributed according to hir mind. *' April 9th, 1589. Wrytten at Collyn-lodg, by me in sorrow, Th^ honourable Mr. Boyle was a man of exten- sive learning, one of the most exact enquirers into the works of nature that any age has known -, and what reflects the greatest honour on himself and upon Christianity is, that while he was an accurate reasoner, he was also a firm believer. His religion was not a mere profession by which he was distin- guished from an Atheist, a Jew, or a Turk, but he suffered it to have its due and genuine influence on his life and actions. He did not only wish well to the cause he espoused, but endeavoured to diffuse that light and knowledge even in the most distant parts, which he saw so absolutely necessary for the present and future welfare of mankind. This indeed is the noblest kind of charity, and therefore discovers the warmest benevolence. But Mr. Boyle's gene- Tosity and beneficence did not stop here; it was discovered in innumerable instances relating to the BENEFICENCE. 4/ external wants and distresses of his fellow-creatures; and conferred too in such a manner as enhanced their value. But these I shall omit, and represent him only as an example of beneficence in the propa- gation of Christianity. '' He was at the charge of the translation and impression of the New Testa- ment into the Malayan language, which he sent over all the East-Indies. He gave a noble reward to him that translated Grotius's incomparable book of the Truth of the Christian Religion into Arabic ; and was at the expense of a whole impression, which he took care to order to be distributed in all the coun- tries where that language is understood. He was resolved to have carried on the impression of the New Testament in the Turkish language j but the company thought it became them to be the doers of it, and so suffered him only to give a share towards it. He was at seven hundred pounds charge in the edition of the Irish Bible, which he onicred to 6c distributed in Ireland j and he contributed largely both to the impression of the Welsh Bible, and of the Irish Bible in Scotland. He gave during his life three hundred pounds to advance the design of propagating the Christian religion in America : and as soon as he heard that the East- India company were entertaining propositions for the like design in the East, he presently sent an hundred pounds for a beginning and an example 3 but intended to carry it much farther when it should be set on foot to purpose. He had designed, though some accidents did upon great consideration divert him from settling* it during his life, but not from ordering it by his will, that a liberal provision should be made for one, who should, in a very few well-digested ser- 48 BENEFICENCE. mons, every year set forth the truth of the Christian religion, in general, without descending to the sub- divisions amongst Christians; and who should be changed every third year, that so this noble study and employment might pass through many hands, by which means many might become masters of the argument. — Life of Mr. Boyle, p. 36, 37. It was a common saying of Julius Ca;sar, that no music was so charming in his ears, as the re- quests of his friends, and the supplications of those in want of his assistance. Marcus Aureltus tells us, that he could not relish a happiness which nobody shared in but himself. Mark Antony when depressed, and at the ebb of fortune, cried out, '^ That he had lost all, except what he had given away.'* When Cato was drawing near the close of life, he declared to his friends, that the greatest comfort of his old age, and that which gave him the highest satisfaction, was the pleasing remembrance of the many benefits and friendly offices he had done to others. To see them easy and happy by his means made him truly so. Persons conscious of their own integrity, satisfied with themselves, and their con- dition, and full of confidence in a Supreme Being, and the hopes of immortality, survey all about them with a flow of good will 3 like trees which love their 8oil^ they shoot out in expressions of kindness, and bend beneath their own precioiis load to the hjiiid of the gatherer, CHASTITY. 49 CHASTITY. SENTIMENTS. There is no charm in the female sex that can sup- ply the place of virtue. Without innocence, beauty is unlovely, and quality contemptible 3 good-breed- ing degenerates into wantonness, and wit into impudence. When young women arrive at a certain age, they hqar themselves called mistresses 5 and are made to believe that their only business is to please the men : they immediately begin to dress, and place all their hopes in the adorning of their persons 5 it is, there- fore, worth the while to endeavour by all means to make them sensible that the honour paid to them is only upon account of their conducting themselves with virtue, modesty, and discretion. The best preservative of female honour is female delicacy : modesty is the handmaid of virtue, ap- pointed to tend, to dress, and serve her : it is, as it were a kind of armour, which the sex should always "t>ear, both to adorn and to defend them ; and whea that is laid aside, they are neither beautiful nor safe. Make it your great care to refine your senti- Tinents 5 let them be reasonable and full of honour 5 'be sur^ always to keep well with yourself, it is SI certain income of pleasure; and will gain you praise, and a good reputation to boot. In a word, be but truly virtuous, and you will f^sA plenty of admirers. EXAMPLES. Phocais, an Ionian lady, among many others^ was invited to sup with Cyrus, king of Persia. 50 CHASTITY. While the rest of the ladies seemed highly pleased with the king's wanton jests, and permitted such freedoms as were inconsistent with the delicacy due to a virtuous character, she removed at a distance^ and remained silent 3 nor would she approach nearer to join the company, though desired, and much im- portuned even by the king himself. Some of the officers of the bed-chamber attempting to pull her forward, she gave them a severe reprimand, protest- ing she would make the first who offered to lay hands on her repent their offence. Upon this the ladies present upbraided her with being rude, and uhpolite : but Cyrus, though somewhat surprised^ seemed perfectly satisfied with her behaviour, and turning U. the person who introduced her, said, with a smile on his countenance, ** Don't you perceive that this is the only innocent and virtuous lady in the company.** From that time the king held her in great es- teem, loved her sincerely, and ever after called her the Wise Lady. — Eras, Apoph. Ant. Jaqueline of Luxemburg, duchess of Bedford, had, after her first husband's death, so far sacrificed her ambition to love, that she married Sir Kichard Woodville, a private gentleman (afterwards ho- noured with the title of Lord Rivers), to whom she bore several children, and among the rest, Elizabeth, who was no less distinguished by the beauty and elegance of her person than the amiable disposition of her (r)ind. Elizabeth espoused Sir John Grey of Groby; but her husband being slain in the second battle c^ St. Alban's, fighting for the family ©f Lancaster^ and CHASTITV. 51 Im estate being on that account confiscated, tlie young widow retired to her father's seat at Grafton, in Northamptonshire, where she lived for some time in privacy and retirement. Edward the Fourth, king of England, happening to hunt in that county, went to pay a visit to the Duchess of Bedford, and Elizabeth resolved to embrace such a favourable opportunity of obtaining some grace from this gal- lant monarch. Accordingly she came into his pre- sence, and throwing herself at his feet, implored a maintenance for herself and children. The sight of so much beauty in distress made a deep impression on tiie amorous mind of Edward. Love stole insensibly into his heart under the guise of compassion : and her sorrow and affliction, so graceful in a virtuous matron, recommended her no less to his esteem and veneration, than her personal beauty made her the object of his affection. He raised her from the ground with assurances of fa- vour. He found his passion daily strengthened by the company and conversation of the lovely widow 3 and in a short time became the suppliant of the woman whom he had lately seen on her knees be- fore him. But such was the resolute virtue of Eliza- beth, that she positively refused to gratify his passion in a dishonourable manner. All the entreaties, pro- mises, and endearments of the young and amiable Edward, were not sufficient to gain her consent. At last, she plainly told him, that though she was unworthy of being his wife, yet she thought herself too good to be his concubine j and would therefore remain in the humbljp situation to which Providence had reduced her. This opposition served but the more to inflame the passions of the young monarch. 52 CHASTITY. and heighten his esteem for such exalted sentiments 5 he therefore offered to share his throne as well as his heart, with the woman whose personal and men- tal accomplishments rendered her so deserving of both. The nuptials were accordingly solemnized at Grafton in the year 1465. — Rapiu, LucRETiA was a lady of great beauty and noble extraction: she married CoUatinus, a relation of Tarquinius Superbus, king of Rome. During the siege of Ardea, which lasted much longer than was expected, the young princes passed their time in entertainment and diversions. One day as they were at supper (the principal meal among the Ro- mans) at Sextus Tarquin's, the king's eldest son, with CoUatinus, Lucretia*s husband, the conver- sation turned on the merit of their wives : every one gave his own the preference. "^ What signify so many words ! " says Collatinus 5 *' you may in a few hours, if you please, be convinced by your own eyes how much my Lucretia excels the rest. We are young: let us mount our horses, and go and surprise them. Nothing can better decide our dis- pute than the state we shall find them in at a time when, most certainly, they will not expect us." They were a little warmed with wine : " Come on, let us go ! " they all cried together. They quickly galloped to Rome, which was about twenty miles from Ardea, where they find the princesses, wives of the young Tarquins, surrounded with company, and in every circumstance of the highest mirth and plea- sure. From thence they ride to CoUatia, where they saw Lucretia in a very different situation. With her maids about her, she was at work in the inner CttASTITY. 5S part of hier house, talking on the dangers to which her husband was exposed. The victory was adjudged to her unanimously. She received her guests with all possible politeness and civility. Lucretia*s vir- tue, which should have commanded respect, was the very thing which kindled in the breast of Sextus Tarquin a strong and detestable passion. Within a few days he returned to CoUatiaj and upon the plausible excuse he made for his visit, he was re- ceived with all the politeness due to a near relation, ?ind the eldest son of a king. Watching the fittest opportunity, he declares the passion she had excited ^t his last visit, and employed the most tender en- treaties, and all the artifices possible to touch a woman's hearty but all to no purpose. He then endeavoured to extort her compliance by the most terrible threatenings. It was in vain. She still per- sisted in her resolution) nor could she be moved even by the fear of death. But, when the monster told her that he would first dispatch her, and then having murdered a slave, would lay him by her side, after which he would spread a report, that having caught them in the act of adultery, he had punished them as they deserved j this seemed to shake her re- solution. She hesitated, not knowing which of these dreadful alternatives to take, whether by consenting, to dishonour the bed of her husband, whom she ten- derly loved ', or, by refusing, to die under the odious character of having prostituted her person to the lust of a slave. He saw the struggle of her soul ; and seizing the unlucky moment, obtained an inglo- rious conquest. Thus Lucretia's virtue, which had been proof against the fear of death, could not hold out against the fear of infamy. The young prince. 54 CHASTITY. having gratified his passion, returned home as In triumph. On the morrow, Lucretia, overwhelmed with grief and despair, sent early in the morning to desire her father and her husband to come to her,, and bring with them each a trusty friend, assuring them there was no time to lose. They came with all speed, the one accompanied by Valerius (so famous after under the name of Publicola), and the other by Brutus. The moment she saw them come, she could not com- mand her tears ; and when her husband asked her if all was well : '' By no means, ' said she 5 ^' it cannot be well with a woman after she has lost her honour. Yes, Collatinus, thy bed has been defiled by a stranger : but my body only is polluted ; my mind is innocent, as my death shall witness. Promise me only, not to suffer the adulterer to go unpunished : it is Sextus Tarquinius, who last night, treacherous guest, or rather cruel foe, offered me violence, and reaped a joy fatal to me ; but, if you are men, it will be still more fatal to him." All promised to re- venge her : and, at the same time, tried to comfort her with representing, '' That the mind only sins, not the body -, and where the consent is wanting there can be no guilt." — *' What Sextus deserves," i«eplies Lucretia, " I leave you to judge ; but for xne, though 1 declare myself innocent of the crime, I exempt not myself from punishment. No immo- dest woman shall plead Lucretia's example to out- live her dishonour " Thus saying, she plunged into her breast a dagger she had concealed under her Tobe, and expired at their feet. Lucretia's tragical death has been praised and extolled by Fagan writers^ as the highest and most CHASTITY. 06 npble act of heroism. The gospel thinks not so ; it is murder, even according to Lucretia's own prin- ciples, sipce she punished with death an innocent person, at least, acknowledged as such by herself. She was ignorant that our life is not in our own power, but in his disposal from whom we receive it. St. Austin, who carefully examines in his boot De c'witate Dei (lib. i, c. 19) what we are to think of Lucretia's death, considers it, not as a courageous action, flowing from a true love of chastity, but as an infirmity of a woman too sensible of worldly fame and glory 5 and who from a dread of appear- ing in the eyes of men an accomplice of the violence she abhorred, and of a crime to which she was entirely a stranger, commits a real crime upon her- self voluntarily and designedly. But what cannot be sufficiently admired in this Roman lady is her abhor- rence of adultery, which she seems to have held so detestable, as to be unable tp bear the thoughts of it. In this sense, she is a n/oble example for all her sex.— Liu. I. u c. 56. 60. Dionys. I ir. p. 261— 277. Flor. I. Hi. 9. Chiomara, the wife of Ortiagon, a Gaulish prince, was equally admirable for her beauty and chzistity. During the war between the Romans and the Gauls, a. r. 563, the latter were totally defeated on Mount Olympus. Chiomara, among many other ladies, was taken prisoner, and committed to the care of a centurion, no less pjissionate for money than women. He at first endeavoured to gain her consent t his iaiUmous desires.; but no b singable to prevail opon her and subvert her con-ilancy, he thought he might employ force with a woman whom misfprtune had reduced to slavery. Afterwards^ tQ 56 CHASTlTlr. make her amends for that treatment^ he offered to restore her liberty 5 but not without ransom. He agreed with her for a certain sum, and to conceal this design from the other Romans, he permitted her to ?end any of the prisoners she should choose to her relations, and assigned a place near the river where the lady should be exchanged for gold. By accident there was one of her own slaves amongst the prisoners. Upon him she fixed : and the cen- turion soon after carried her beyond the advanced posts, under cover of a dark night. The next even- ing two of the relations of the princess came to the place appointed, whither the centurion also carried his captive. When they had delivered him the Attic talent they had brought, which was the sum they had agreed on, the lady, in her own language, or- dered those who came to receive her to draw their swords, and kill the centurion, who was then amus- ing himself with weighing the gold. Then, charmed with having revenged the injury done her chastity^ she took the head of the officer, which she had cut off with her own hands, and hiding it under her robe, went to her husband Ortiagon, who had returned home after the defeat of his troops. As soon as she came into his presence, she threw the centurion's head at his feet. He was strangely surprised at such a sight 5 and asked her whose head it was, and what had induced her to do an act so uncommon to her sex > With a face covered with a sudden blush, and at the same time expressing her fierce indig- nation, she declared the outrage which had been done her, and the revenge she had taken for it. This lady was much more prudent than Lucretia, in revenging her injured honour by the death of her ravisher, rather than by her own. Plutarch relates CLEMENCY. 57 this fact, in his treatise upon the virtue and great actions of women ; and it is from him we have the name of this, which is well worthy of being trans- mitted to posterity. CLEMENCY. SENTIMENTS. Clemency is not only the privilege, the honour, and the duty of a prince, but it is also his security, and better than all his garrisons, forts, and guards, to preserve liimself and his dominions in safety. It is the brightest jewel in a monarch's crown. As meekness moderates anger, so clemency mo- derates punishment. That prince is truly royal who masters himself 5 looks upon all injuries as below him j and governs by equity and reason, not by passion. Clemency is profitable for all j does well in pri- vate persons, but is much more beneficial in princes. Mischiefs contemned, lose their force. EXAMPLES. AviDius Cassius having revolted from the Em- peror Marcus Aurelius, and attempted to seize the government, the empress Faustina, in a letter which she wrote to her husband, pressed him to pursue the accomplices of Cassius with the utmost severity. But the emperor, hearkening only to the impulse of his own good-nature, returned her the following answer : "I have read your letter, my dear Faustina, wherein you advise me to treat the accomplices of D 5 ^ . CLEMENCY. Cassius with the Utmost severity, which you think they well deserve. This I look upon as a pledge of the love you bear to your husband and children : but give me leave, my dear Faustina, to spare the children of Cassius, his son-in-law, and his wife 5 and to write to the senate in their behalf. Nothing can more recommend a Roman emperor to the esteem of the world than clemency j this placed Caesar among the gods 3 this consecrated Augustus 3 this procured to your father the title of Pius. I am grieved even for the death of Cassius 3 and wish it had been in my power to save him. Be therefore satisfied, and do not abandon yourself to revenge. Marcus Aurelius Antoninus is protected by the gods." Some of his friends openly blaming his clemency, and taking the liberty to tell him that Cassius would not have been so generous, had fortune proved fa- vourable to him, the emperor immediately replied, '' We have not lived nor served the gods so ill as to think they would favour Cassius.'* He added, '* The misfortunes of some of his predecessors were entirely owing to their own ill conduct and cruelties, and that no good prince had ever been overcome or slain by an usurper. Nero, Caligula, and Domitian (said he), deserved the doom that overtook them 3 neither Otho nor Vitellius were equal to the empire 3 and the downfal of Galba was occasioned by his avarice, an unpardonable fault in a prince." Fulcat Gallp,S^, When Seleucus was informed of the resolution which Demetrius had taken, viz. of resigning him- self his prisoner, he was exceedingly pleased, and having given the necessary directions for the recep- CLEMENCY. 59 tion of so great a person, he could not help^ even in the presence of his whole court, breaking out into these words : '' It is not the fortune of Demetrius which has thus provided for his safety, but mine, which hath been watchful for my glory. I thank her more for this, than for all the favours ehe hath done me, because 1 esteem an act of clemency more honourable than any victory." Accordingly, after he had provided for his own security, he did all that could be thought of to make confinement easy to Demetrius. Me ordered him royal entertainments within doors, a fine stable of horses, and the use of a noble park without. To give him a relish for these pleasures, hopes were cherished, and promis^^ of iiberty intermixed ; and Seleucus seemed inclined to have done much more for hioi, had he not been over-ruled by the insinuations of his ministers. Flut. in Demet, The Council of Thirty, established at Athens by Lysander, committed the most execrable cruelties. Upon pretence of restraining the multitude within their duty, and to prevent seditions, they had caused guards to be assigned them, had armed three thou- sand of the citizens for that purpose, and at the same time disarmed all the rest. The whole city was in the utmost terror and dismay. Whoever op- posed their injustice and violence, fell a victim to their resentment. Riches were a crime that never failed of drawing a sentence upon their owners, always followed with death, and the confiscation of estates j which the thirty tyrants divided among themselves. They put more people to death, says Xenophon, in eight months of a peace, than their 60 CLEMENCY, enemies had done in a war of thirty years. All the citizens of any consideration in Athens, and who re- tained a love of liberty, quitted a place reduced to so hard and shameful a slavery, and sought else- where an asylum and retreat, where they might live in safety. At tlie head of these was Thrasybulus, a person of extraordinary merit, and who beheld, with the most lively affliction, the miseries of his country. The Lacedemonians had the inhumanity to en- deavour to deprive those unhappy fugitives of this last resource. They published an edict to prohibit the cities of Greece from giving them refuge, decreed that they should be delivered up to the thirty tyrants, and condemned all such as should contravene the execution of this edict, to pay a fine of five talents. Only two cities rejected with disdain so unjust an ordinance, Megara and Thebes 5 the latter of which made a decree to punish all persons whatsoever, that should see an Athenian attacked by his enemies^ without doing his utmost to assist him. Lysias, an orator of Syracuse, who had been banished by the thirty, raised five hundred soldiers at his own ex- pense, and si&nt them to the aid of the common country of eloquence. Thrasybulus lost no time. After having taken Phyta, a small fort in Attica, he inarched to Piraeus, of which he made himself mas- ter. The thirty flew thither with their troops, and a battle ensued. The tyrants were overthrown. Critias, the most savage of them all, was killed on the spot : and as the army were taking to flight, Thrasybulus xried out, '' Wherefore do you fly from me as from a victor, rather than assist me as the avenger of yoiir liberty } We are not enemies but fellow-citizens 3 CLEMENCY. 6l nor have we declared war against the city, but against the thirty tyrants." He continued with bid- ding them to remember, that they had the same origin, country, laws, and religion : he exhorted them to compassionate their exiled brethren, to re- store their country to them, and resume their own liberty. This discourse had the desired effect. The army, upon their return to Athens, expelled the thirty, and substituted ten persons to govern in their room, whose conduct proved no better than theirs ; but King Pausanias, moved with compassion for the deplorable condition to which a city, once so flou- rishing, was reduced, had the generosity to favour the Athenians in secret, and at length obtained a peace for them. It was sealed with the blood of the tyrants, who, having taken arms to reinstate themselves in the government, were all put to the sword, and left Athens in the full possession of its liberty. All the exiles were recalled. Thrasybulus at that time proposed the celebrated amnesty, by which the citizens engaged upon oath, that all past transactions should be buried in oblivion. The go- vernment was re-established upon its ancient foot- ing, the laws restored to their pristine vigour, and magistrates elected with the usual form. This, says Rollin, is one of the finest events in ancient history, worthy the Athenian lenity and be- nevolence, and has served as a model to successive ages in all good governments. Never had tyranny been more cruel and bloody than that the Athenians had lately thrown off. Every house was in mourning, every family bewailed the loss of some relation : it had been a series of public robbery and rapine, in which licence and impunity 62 CLEMENCY, had authorized all manner of crimes. The people seemed to have a right to demand the blood of all accomplices in such notorious malversations, and even the interest of the state to authorize such a claim, that by exemplary severities such enormous crimes might be prevented for the future. But Thrasybulus rising above these sentiments, from the superiority of his more extensive genius, and the views of a more discerning and profound policy, foresaw, that by giving into the punishment of the guilty, eternal seeds of discord and enmity would remain, to weaken the republic by domestic di- visions, when it was necessary to unite against the common enemy, and also occasion the loss to the state of a great number of citizens, who might ren- der it important services from the view of making amends for past misbehaviour. Leon IDAS, the Lacedemonian, having, with three hundred men only, disputed the pass of Ther- mopylae against the whole army of Xerxes, and being kUIed in that engagement, Xerxes, by the advice of Mardonius, one of his generals, caused his dead body to be hung upon a gallowg, making thereby the intended dishonour of his enemy his own im- mortal shame. But some time after, Xerxes being defeated, and Mardonius slain, one of the principal citizens of Mgina, came and addressed himself to Fausanias, desiring him to avenge the indignity that Mardo'iiiis and Xerxes had shown to Leonid as, by treating IMardonius's body after the same manner. As a faithf>r motive for doing so, he added, that by thus satisfying the manes of those who were killed at Thermopylae, he would be sure to immortalize CLEMENCY. 63 his own name throughout all Greece^ and make his memory precious to the latest posterity. '' Carry thy base counsels elsewhere/' replied Pausanias^ ^* thou must have a very wrong notion of true glory to imagine, that the way for me to acquire it is to resemble the barbarians. If the esteem of the people of ^gina is not to be purchased but by such a pro- ceeding, I shall be content with preserving that of the Lacedemonians only 5 amongst whom the base and ungenerous pleasure of revenge is never put in competition with that of showing clemency and moderation to their enemies, especially after their death. As for the souls of my departed countrymen, they are sufficiently avenged by the death of the many thousand Persians slain upon the spot in the last engagement." — Herod, lib. 9. c. 77, 78. Deucetius, according to Diodorus, was chief Over the people who were properly called Sicilians. Having united them all into one body, he became very powerful, and formed several great enter- prizes. It was he who built the city Palicia, near the temple of the gods, called Palici. This city was famous on account of some wonders which are re- lated of it 3 and still more for the sacred nature of ttie oaths which were there taken, the violation whereof was said to be always followed by a sudden and exemplary punishment. This was a secure asylum for all persons who were oppressed by supe- rior power; and especially for slaves who were unjustly abused or cruelly treated by their masters. They continued in safety in this temple, till certain arbiters and mediators had made their peace 5 and 64 CLEMENCY. there was aot a single instance of a master's having ever forfeited the promise he had made to pardon his si wes. This Deucetius, after having been successful on a great many occasions, and gained several vii tories, particularly over the Syracusians, saw his fortune change on a sudden by the loss of a battle, when he was abandoned by the greatest part of his forces. In the consternation and despondency into which so general and sudden a desertion threw him, he formed such a resolution as despair only could suggest. He withdrew in the night to Syracuse, advanced as far as the great square in the city, and there falling prostrate at the foot of the altar, he abandoned his life and dominions to the mercy of the Syracusians : that is, to his professed enemies. The singularity of this spectacle drew great numbers of people to it. The magistrates immediately convened the people, and debated on the affair. They first heard the ora- tors, whose business was generally to address the people by their speeches , and these animated them prodigiously against Deucetius, as a public enemy, whom Providence seemed to throw in their way, to revenge and punish, by his death, all the injuries he had done the republic. A speech in this style struck all the virtuous part of the assembly with horror. The most ancient and the wisest of the senators re- presented, " That they were not to consider what punishment Deucetius deserved -, but how it behoved the Syracusians to behave on that occasion : that they ought not to look upon him any longer as an enemy, but as a suppliant, a character by which his person became sacred and inviolable. There was a goddess (Nemesis) who took vengeance of crimes. CLEMENCY. 65 pRpecially of omelty and impiety 5 and who, doubt- less, would not suffer that to go unpunished • that besides the baseness and inhumanity there is in in- sulting the unfortunate, and in crushing those who are already under one's foot, it was worthy the gran- deur and goodness natural to the Syracusians, to exert their clemency even to those who least deserved it,'* All the people came into this opinion, and with one consent spared Deucetius's life. He was or- dered to reside in Corinth 3 and the Syracusians engaged to furnish Deucetius with all things neces- sary for his subsisting honourably there. What reader, who compares these two diflFerent opinions, does not perceive which of them was the noblest and most generous I — Diod, p. 67^ 70. The Athenians having made war upon the Syra- cusians, the army of the former, under the command of Nicias and Demosthenes, was totally defeated , and the generals obliged to surrender at discretion. The victors, having entered their capital in triumph, the next day a council was held to deliberate what was to be done with the prisoners. Diocles, one of the leaders of the greatest authority among the peo- ple, proposed, that all the Athenians who were born of free parents, and all such Sicilians as had joined with them, should be imprisoned, and be maintained on bread and water only j that the slaves and all the Attics should be publicly sold; and that the two Athenian generals should be first scourged with rods, and then put to death. This last article exceedingly disgusted all wise and compassionate Syracusians. Hermocrates, who was very famous for his probity and justice, attempted to make some remonstrances 66 CLEMENCY. to the people ^ but they would not hear him -, and the shouts which echoed from all sides prevented him from continuing his speech. At that instant, an an- cient man (Nicolaus) venerable for his great age and gravity, who in this war had lost two sons, the only heirs to his name and estate, made his servants carry him to the tribunal for harangues j and the instant he appeared a profound silence was made. ** You here behold," says he, *' an unfortunate father, who has felt more than any other Syracu- sian the fatal effects of this war, by the death of two sons, who formed all the consolation, and were the only supports of my old age. I cannot, indeed, for- bear admiring their courage and felicity in sacrific- ing to their country's welfare a life which they would one day have been deprived of by the com- mon course of nature : but then, I cannot but be sensibly affected with the cruel wound which their death hath made in my heart ^ nor forbear hating and despising the Athenians, the authors of this un- happy war, as the murderers of my children. But, however, I cannot conceal one circumstance, which is, that 1 am less sensible for my private afflictions, than for the honour of my country ; and I see it ex- posed to eternal infamy, by the barbarous advice which is now given you. The Athenians, indeed, merit the worst kind of treatment that could be in- flicted on them, for so unjustly declaring war against us 3 but have not the gods, the just avengers of crimes, punished them, and avenged us sufficiently? When their generals laid down their arm^, and sur- rendered, did not they do this in hopes of having their lives spared } And if we put them to death, will it he possible for us to avoid the just reproach COMPASSION. 67 of our having violated the law of nations^ and dis- honoured our victory by unheard-of cruelty ? What ! will you suffer your glory to be thus sullied in the face of the whole v/orld 5 and have it said, that a nation who first dedicated a temple to Clemency, had not found any in yours ? Surely victories and triumphs do not give immortal glory to a city : but the exercising mercy towards a vanquished enemy, ihe using moderation in the greatest prosperity, and the fearing to offend the gods, by a haughty and in- solent pride. With regard to myself, death would be less grievous to me, than the sight of so horrid an injustice committed by my countrymen and fellow-citizens." — Diod, I. 13, p. 149. COMPASSION. SENTIMENTS. Compassion is the sense of our own misfortunes in those of another man. It is a wise foresight of the disasters that may befal us, which, induces us to assist others, in order to engage them to return it on like occasions j so that the services we do the unfortunate are in reality so many anticipated kindn nesses to ourselves. Compassion proper to mankind appears ; Which Nature witness'd when she lent us tears ; To shew by pitying looks, and melting eyes, How with a suiFering friend we sympathize. Who can all sense of others' ills escape. Is but a brute, at best, in human shape. 68 COMPASSION. EXAMFLBS* The Sicilians in general exercised e kind of tyranny over their slaves 5 but a citizen of Enna, a city in the centre of the island, by name Damophilus, had made himself more odious than the rest by his cruelties to a great number of those unhappy men, who cultivated his large possessions. They were all marked with a hot iron in their foreheads, shut up every night in close prisons, and let out early in the morning to their daily labour in the fields 3 though, at the same time, they were scarcely al- lowed the necessary provisions to support them- selves. On the other hand, Megallis, the wife of Damophilus, was no less cruel towards the slaves of her sex 5 exacting their tasks with insupportable rigour, and causing them to be unmercifully whip- ped for the least fault. These two tyrants had a daughter, who was very different from themselves : though she was very young, she had good- nature enough to pity the afflicted. She often alleviated their sufferings, appeased her furious mother, sup- plied as far as she was able the wants of the neces- sitous ', and, in short, was the only refuge of those unhappy persons. We are sorry history has not transmitted to us the name of this humane and virtuous young woman. The oppressed slaves, not being able to bear any longer the unspeakable mi- series they groaned under, entered into a plot against the authors of them. On the day appointed, the slaves in the city joined their comrades in the coun- try, to the number of four hundred, on Damo- philu«*s estate, armed with forks, hooks, and other instruments of husbandry j and marching directly COMPASWON. 69 to Ennaj surprised and pillaged it. As Damophilus was gone with his wife and daughter to take the air in a garden near the city, Ennus, who had taken upon him the office of general, sent a party to seize him, which was done with the greatest circum- stances of barbarity 3 however, they treated the daughter with all the humanity and respect due to her virtue 5 so true it is that goodness commands regard, even from the most furious. Ennus, being now master of Enna, assembled the slaves he com- manded in the public theatre ; and having erected a kind of tribunal, commanded Damophilus and his wife to be brought before him, in order to be tried. Some of the slaves were accusers, others witnesses, and the multitude judges : Ennus presided, and gave the accused leave to speak in their defence. But, while Damophilus was endeavouring to raise compassion, and some began to shew pity for him, Hermias and Quexis, two of the slaves whom he had treated with great cruelty, came up to him, and with repeated blows dispatched him. His wife Megallis was sentenced to be delivered up to the slaves of her own sex, whom she had treated with- out mercy. These furies set no bounds to their cruelty j inflicted on their mistress every torment that revenge could invent 5 and, at length, after having satiated that rage, threw her down a preci- pice, which put an end to her unhappy life. As for the daughter, she was treated with the utmost re- spect, conducted with the unanimous consent of all to Catena, and there delivered untouched into the handa of her relations. JLiv. Epit, L 56.— I>k?i?, Sk» in excerpt. 7(5 COiVIPASSION. Vespasian, the Roman emperor^ was so far from seeking the destruction of any man, that he could not behold, without many sighs and tears, even the greatest criminals led to execution. — Sueton, It was a custom with Alexander the Great to oblige the captive women whom he carried along with him to sing songs after the manner of their country. He happened among these women to perceive one who appeared in deeper affliction than the rest ; and who by a modest, and at the same time a noble confusion, discovered a greater reluc- tance than the others to appear in public. She was a perfect beauty j which was very much heightened by her bashfulness, whilst she threw her eyes on the ground, and did all she could to conceal her face. The king soon imagined, by her air and mien, that she was not of vulgar birth -, and enquiring into it, the lady answered that she was grand-daughter to Octius, who not long before had swayed the Persian sceptre, and daughter of his son ; that she had mar- Tied Hystaspes, who was related to Darius, and general of a great army. Alexander being touched with compassion, when he heard the unhappy fate of a princess of the blood- royal, and the sad condi- tion to which she was reduced, not only gave her her liberty, but returned all her possessions 3 and caused her husband to be sought for, in order that she might be restored to him. — Q. Curt. I. vL c. 6, As Alexander drew near the city of Persepolis he perceived a large body of men, who exhibited a jn^morable example of the greatest misery. These were about four thousand Greeks, very far advanced COMPASSION. 71 in years ; who having been made prisoners of war,' had suffered all the torments which the Persian tyranny could inflict. The hands of some had beeii cut off, the feet of others, and others again had lost their faces and ears j after which the Persians hav- ing impressed by fire barbarous characters on their faces, had the inhumanity to keep them as so many laughing-stocks, with which they sported perpetu- ally. They appeared like so many shadows rather than men j speech being almost the only thing by which they were known to be such. Alexander could not refrain from tears at this sight j and, as they unanimously besought him to commiserate their condition, he bid them with the utmost ten- derness not to despond ; and assured them, that they should again see their wives and native coun- try, i his proposal, which one might suppose shoukl naturally have filled them w^ith joy, seemed to heighten their misery 5 and with tears in their eyes, *' How will it be possible," said some of them, " for us to appear publicly before all Greece, in the dreadful condition to which we are reduced -, a con- dition still more shameful th m dissatisfactory ? The best way to bear misery is to conceal it ] and no country is so sweet to the wretched as solitude, and an oblivion of their past misfortunes." They there- fore besought the king to permit them to continue in a country where they had spent so many years, and to end their days among those who were al- ready acrvistomed to their misf )rtunes. Alexander granted rh-lr request 5 and presented each of them three thous md drachms, five men's suits of clothes, the same number of women's, two couple of oxen to plough their lands, and corn to sow them : he 72 COMPASSION. commanded the governor of the province not to suf- fer them to be molested in any manner ; and ordered that they should be free from taxes and tributes of every kind. Such behaviour as this is truly royal. Thrice happy those princes who are affected with the pleasure which arises from the doing of good actions, and who melt with pity for the unfortu- nate ! — Q. Curt Voltaire, in his history of the Czar Peter, gives us the following anecdote of the Czarina. '' The lenity of this princess/' says he, *' has been carried to a degree unparalleled in the history of any nation. She had promised that during her reign nobody should be put to death -, and she has kept her word. She is the first sovereign that ever shewed this re- gard to the human species. Malefactors are now condemned to serve in the mines and other public works ; a regulation not less prudent than humane, since it renders their punishment of some advantage to the state. In other countries, they only know how to put a malefactor to death with the apparatus of an executioner j but are not able to prevent the execution of crimes. The terror of death does not, perhaps, make such impression on evil doers, who are generally given to idleness, as the fear of chas* tisement and hard labour, renewed every day.'* CONSCIENCE. 73 CONSCIENCE. SENTIMENTS. Most men are afraid of a bad name, but few fear their consciences. The severest punishment of an injury is the con- sciousness of having done it 3 and no man suffers more than he that is turned over to the pain of repentance. If a man cannot find ease within himself^ it is to little purpose to seek it any where else. No man ever offended his own conscience^ but first or last it was revenged upon him. Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell your crimes 5 and your own conscience be your hell, EXAMPLES. The caliph Montaser having caused his father to be put to death 3 some time after, looking over the rich furniture in the palace, and causing sev eral pieces of tapestry to be opened before him, that he might examine them the more exactly 3 among the rest, he met with one which had in it the figure o£ a very beautiful young man, mounted on a Persian horse, with a diadem on his head, and a circle of Persian characters round himself and his horse. The ealiph, charmed with the beauty of the tapestry, gent for a Persian who understood the ancient Per- sic, and desired him to explain that inscription. The man read it, changed colour, and, after some hesi- tation, told the caliph it was a Persic song, and had nothing in it worth hearing. The prince, however, would not be put off 3 he readily perceivetl there was 74 CONSCIENCiE. something in it extraordinary 3 and therefore he commanded the interpreter to give him the true sense thereof immediately, as he valued his own safety. The man then told him that the inscription ran thus : I am Siroes, the son of Chosroes, who slew my father to gain his crown, which I kept but six months. This affected the caliph Montaser so much> that he died in two or three days, when he had reigned about the same space of time. This story is per- fectly well attested. — Univ, Hist, vol xi, p, 197. A JEWELLER, a man of good character and con- siderable wealth, having occasion in the way of his business to travel at some distance from the place of his abode, took along with him a servant, in order to take care of his portmanteau. He had with him some of his best jewels, and a large sum of money, to which his servant was likewise privy. The master having occasion to dismount on the road, the servant watching his opportunity, took a pistol from his master's saddle, and shot him dead on the spot : then rifled him of his jewels and money, and hang- ing a large stone to his neck, he threw him into the nearest canal. With this booty he made off to a distant part of the country, where he had reason to believe that neither he nor his master were known. There he began to trade in a very low way at first, that his obscurity might screen him from obser- vation, and in the course of a good many years, seemed to rise by the natural progress of business into wealth and consideration 5 so that his good for- tune appeared at once the effect and reward of in- dustry and virtue. Of these he counterfeited the appearance so well^ that he grew into great credit^ CONSCIENCE. 75l married into a good family, and by laying out his sudden stores discreetly, as he saw occasion, and joining to all an universal affability, he was admitted to a share of the government of the town, and rose from one post to another, till at length he was chosen chief magistrate. In this office he maintained a fair character, and continued to fill it with no small applause, both as governor and a judge j till one day as he sate on the bench with some of his brethren, a criminal was brought before him, who was ac- cused of murdering his master. The evidence came out full, the jury brought in their verdict that the prisoner was guilty, and the whole assembly waited the sentence of the president of the court (which he happened to be that day) with great suspense. Mean while he appeared to be in unusual disorder and agitation of mind 3 his colour changed often : at length he arose from his seat, and coming down from the bench, placed himself just by the unfor- tunate man at the bar, to the no small astonishment of all present. ^' You see before you," said he, addressing himself to those who had sat on the bench with him, ^' a striking instance of the just awards of Heaven, which this day, after thirty years' con- cealment, presents to you a greater criminal than the man just now found guilty.'* Then he made an am- ple confession of his guilt, and of all its aggrava- tions. '^ Nor can I feel," continued he, '' any relief from the agonies of an awakened conscience, but by requiring that justice be forthwith done against me in the most public and solemn manner." We may easily suppose the amazement of all the assembly, and especially of his fellow-judges. However, they proceeded upon his confession, to 76 CONSTANCY. pass sentence upon him, and he died with all the symptoms of a penitent mind. Mr. D. Ford} ce, in his Dialogues on Education^, YoL ii. p. 401, says the above is a true story, and hap- pened in a neighbouring state not many years ago. Herod having put to death his wife Mariamne, from an ill-grounded suspicion of incontinence, soon after grew melancholy and dejected, retiring from the public administration of affairs into a solitary fo- rest, and there abandoning himself to all the black considerations which naturally arise from a passion made up of love, remorse, pity, and despair. He used to rave for his Mariamne, and to call upon her in his distracted fits 5 and in all probability would soon have followed her, had not his thoughts been called off from so sad an object by public storms, which at that time very nearly threatened him. Josephus. In the same dreadful situation of mind was Alexander the Great, after the murder of his friend Clitus ', and Nero, the Roman Emperor, after that of his mother. CONSTANCY. SENTIMENTS. Constancy of mind gives a man reputation, and makes him happy in despite of all misfortunes. There is not on earth a spectacle more worthy the regard of the Creator, intent on his works, thaa a brave naan superior to his sufferings. CONSTANCY 77 What can be more honourable than to have cou- rage enough to execute the commands of reason and conscience ; to maintain the dignity of our nature, and the station assigned us ; to be proof against poverty, pain, and death itself? I mean, so far as not to do any thing that is scandalous or sinful 5 to avoid them 5 and to bear adversity, under all shapes, with decency and constancy. To do this is to be great above title and fortune. This argues the soul of an heavenly extraction, and is worthy the off- spring of the Deity. " He lives in fame who dies in Yirtue's cause." EXAMPLES. After the Carthaginians had defeated the Roman army, and taken Regulus, that illustrious commander, prisoner, they met with such a series of misfortunes as induced them to think of putting an end to so destructive a War by a speedy peace. With this view they began to soften the rigour of Regu- lus's confinement j and endeavoured to engage him to go to Rome with their ambassadors, and to use his interest to bring about a peace upon moderate terms, or at least an exchange of prisoners. Regulus obeyed his masters and embarked for Rome, after having bound himself, by a solemn oath, to return to his chains, if the negociation did not succeed. The Carthaginian ship arrived safe in Italy : but when Regulus came to the gates of the city, he re- fused to enter them : '' My misfortunes," said he, *' have made me a slave to the Carthaginians, I am no longer a Roman citizen. The Senate always gives audience to foreigners without the gates.'* His wife Marea went out to meet him, and presented to him 78 CONSTANCY. his two children : but he^ only casting a wild look on them^ fixed his eyes on the ground, as if he thought himself unworthy of the embraces of his wife, and the caresses of his children. When the senators assembled in the suburbs, he was introduced to them with the Carthaginian ambassadors : and, together with them, made the two proposals where- with he was charged : '^ Conscript Fathers," said he, *' being now a slave to the Carthaginians, I am come to treat with you concerning a peace, and an exchange of prisoners." Having uttered these words, he began to withdraw, and follow the am- bassadors, who were not allowed to be present at the deliberations and disputes of the conscript fa- thers. In vain the Senate pressed him to stay. He gave his opinion as an old senator and consul, and refused to continue in the assembly till his African masters ordered him : and then the illustrious slave took his place among the fathers, but continued silent, with his eyes fixed on the ground, while the more ancient senators spoke. When it came to his turn to deliver his opinion, he addressed himself to the conscript fathers in the following words. — *' Though I am a slave at Carthage, yet I am free at Rome 3 and will therefore declare my sentiments with freedom. Romans ! it is not for your interest either to grant the Carthaginians a peace, or to make an exchange of prisoners with them. Carthage is extremely exhausted 5 and the only reason why she sues for peace is, because she is not in a condition to continue the war. You have been vanquished but once, and that by my fault 5 a fault which Metellus has repaired by a signal victory. But the Cartha- ginians have been so often overcome, that they have CONSTANCY, ?9 not the courage to look Rome in the face. Your allies continue peaceable, and serve you with zeal. But your enemies' troops consist only of merce- narieSj who have no other tie than that of interest, and will soon be disobliged by the republic they serve 5 Carthage being already quite destitute of money to pay them. No, Romans, a peace with Carthage does not, by any means, suit your interest, considering the condition to which the Carthaginians are reduced : I therefore advise you to pursue the war with greater vigour than ever. As for the ex- change of prisoners, you have among the Cartha- ginian captives several officers of distinction, who are young, and may one day command the enemies* armies 5 but, as for me, I am advanced in years, and my misfortunes have made me useless. Besides, what can you expect from soldiers who have been vanquished and made slaves ? Such men, like timorous deer that have escaped out of the hunter's toils, will ever be upon the alarm, and ready to fly.'* The Senate, greatly affected with his disinterested- ness, magnanimity, and contempt of life, would willingly have preserved him, and continued the war in Africa, Some were of opinion, that in Rome he was not obliged to keep an oath which had been extorted from him in an enemy's country. The Pontifex Maximus himself, being consulted on the case, declared, that Regulus might continue at Rome, without being guilty of perjury. But the noble captive, highly offended at this decision, as if his honour and courage were called in question, declared to the Senate, who trembled to hear him speak, that he well knew what torments were re- served for him at Carthage 5 but that he had so much 80 CONSTANCY, of the true spirit of a Roman, as to dread less the tortures of a cruel rack than the shame of a dis- honourable action, which would follow him to the grave. " It is my duty/* said he, *' to return to Carthage ; let the gods take care of the rest." This intrepidity made the Senate still more desirous of saving such an hero. All means were made use of to make him stay, both by the people and the Senate. He would not even see his wife, nor suffer his children to take their leave of him. Amidst the lamentations and tears of the whole city, he em- barked with the Carthaginian ambassadors, to return to the place of his slavery, with as serene and cheer- ful a countenance as if he had been going to a country-seat for his diversion. The Carthaginians were so Enraged against him, that they invented new torments to satisfy their revenge. First they cut off his eye-lids 3 keeping him for a while in a dark dungeon, and then bringing him out, and exposing him to the sun at noon day. After this, they shut him up in a kind of a chest, stuck with nails, having their points inwards, so that he could neither sit nor lean without great torment 3 and there they suffered him to die with hunger, anguish, and want of sleep.— Fa^ Max. lib. i. c. i- and lib. ix. c, 2. Liv, Epit. c. xvlii, Cic. de Offic. lib. Hi. A. Gellius, lib. iv. Agis, the colleague of Leonidas in the govern- ment of Sparta, was a young prince of great hopes. He showed himself just and obliging to all men ^ and in the gentleness of his disposition, and sub- limity of his virtues, not only exceeded Leonidas, who reigned with him, but all the kings of Sparta from King Agesilaus. He was a very handsome COKSTANCSr 81 person, and of a graceful behaviour 5 yet, to clieck the vanity he might take therein, he would always dress in a very plain manner. He had been bred very tenderly by his mother Agesistrata, and his grandmother Archidamia, who were the wealthiest of all the Lacedemonians 3 yet, before the age of twenty-four, he so far overcame himself, as to re- nounce effeminate pleasures. In his diet, bathings, and in all his exercises, he chose to imitate the old Lycurgic frugality and temperance j and was often heard to say, '^ He would not desire the kingdom, if he did not hope, by means of that authority, to restore their ancient laws and discipline." This maxim governed his whole life -, and with this view, he associated with men of interest and capacity, wjho were equally willing to bring about the great design he had formed of thoroughly reforming the state, now sunk into luxury and debauch. For tliis purpose attempts were made 5 and so far succeeded, that Leonidas thought it adviseable to abdicate the throne. But Agesilaus, from interested views, acted so precipitately, that, while Agis was leading a body of Spartan troops to the assistance of the Achseans, a conspiracy was formed for restoring Leonidafi, whose ambition, pride, and luxury, had greatly Contributed to effeminate the minds of the people. Leonidas being now resettled on the throne, tried every method possible to get Agis into his power -, and which he at last effected by the treachery of Amphares and Demochares. Being dragged away to the common prison, the Ephori constituted by Leonidas sat ready to judge him. As soon as he came in, they asked him, '' How he durst attempt td alter the government?" At which he smiled, E 5 o2 CONSTAxVCY. without affording an answer; which provoked one oftheEphori totellhim, '' That he ought rather to weep; for they would make him sensible of lus presumption." Another asked him, '' Whether lie was not constrained to do what he did by Agesilaus and Lysander ? " To which the king, with a com- posed countenance, answered : '^ I was constrained by no man ; the design was mine ; and my intent was to have restored the laws of Lycurgus, and to have governed by them." '' But do you not now," . said one of his judges, '' repent of your rashness ? " '^ No," replied the king ; *' I can never repent of so just and honourable an intention." The Ephori then ordiered him to be taken away, and strangled. The officers of justice refused to obey 3 and even the mercenary soldiers declined so unworthy an action. Whereupon Demochares, reviling them for cowards, forced the king into the room where the execution was to be performed. Agis, about to die, perceiving one of the Serjeants bitterly bewailing his misfor- tune : ^' Weep not, friend, for me," said he, *^ who die innocently ; but grieve for those who are guilty of this horrid act. My condition is much better than theirs." Then, stretching out his neck, he submitted to death u itb a constancy worthy both of the royal dignity, and his own great character. Im- mediately after Agis was dead, Amphares went out of the prison gate, where he foimd Agesistrata^ who, kneeling at his feet, he gently raised her up, pretending still the same friendship as formerly. He assured her she need not fear any further vio- lence should be offered against her son 3 and that if she pleased she might go in and see him. She begged her mother might also have the favour of CONSTANCY. 83 being admitted : to which he replied^ '' Nobody should hinder her." When they were entered, he commanded the gate should be again locked, and the grandmother to be the first introduced. She was now grown very old, and had lived all her days in great reputation of wisdom and virtue. As soon as Amphares thought she was dispatched, he told Agesistrata she might go in, if she pleased. She entered ; where, beholding her son's body stretched on the ground, and her mother hanging by the neck, she stood at first astonished at so horrid a spectacle : but, after a while, collecting her spirits, the first thing she did was to assist the soldiers in taking down the body -, then covering it decently, she laid it by her son's 5 where, embracing and kissing his cheeks, '^ O my son," said she, " it is thy too great mercy and goodness which hath brought thee and us to this untimely end." Am- phares, who stood watching behind the door, rushed in hastily 5 and, with a furious tone and countenance, said to her : *' Since you approve so well of your son's actions, it is fit you should partake in his reward." She, rising up to meet her destiny, only uttered these few words : *^ I pray the gods that all this may redound to the good of Sparta." After which, she submitted to death with a composure and firmness that drew t^ars from the executioner. Tint. inJgid, S4 CONTINENCE. CONTINENCE. SENTIMENTS. Continence consists not in an insensibility or freedom from passions, but in the well ordering them. One man may be much more cheaply virtuous than another, according to the different strength of their passions. The pleasure of subduing an inordinate desire, or denying an impetuous appetite, is not only no- bler, but greater by far than any that is to be found in the most transporting moments of gratification. EXAMPLES. SciPio the younger, when only twenty-four years of age, was appointed by the Roman republic to the command of the army against the Spaniards. His wisdom and valour would have done honour to the most experienced general. Determined to strike an important blow, he formed a design of besieging Carthagena, then the capital of the Carthaginian empire in Spain. His measures were so judiciously concerted, and with so much courage and intrepidity pursued both by sea and land^ that notwithstanding a bold and vigorous defence, the capital was taken by storm. The plunder was immense. Ten thou- sand freemen were made prisoners j and above three hundred more, of both sexes, were received as hos- tages. One of the latter, a very ancient lady, the wife of Mandonius, brother of Indibiles, king of the Hergetes, watching her opportunity, came out of the crowd, and, throwing herself at the conqueror's CONTINENCE 85 feet, conjured him with tears in her eyes, to recom- mend to those who had the ladies in their keeping to have regard to their sex and birth. Scipio, who did not understand her meaning at first, assured her that he had given orders that they should not want for any thing. But the lady replied, '' Those con- veniences are not what affect us. In the condition to which fortune hath reduced us, with what ought we not to be contented ? I have many other appre- hensions, when I consider, on one side, the licen- tiousness of war ; and, on the other, the youth and beauty of the princesses, whom you see here before us 5 for as to me, my age protects me from all fear in this respect." She had with her the daughters of Indibiles, and several other ladies of high rank, all in the flower of youth, who considered her as their mother. Scipio then comprehending what the sub- ject of her fear was, *' My own glory" says he, *' and that of the Roman people, are concerned in not suffering that virtue, which ought always to be respected, wherever we find it, should be exposed in my camp to a treatment unworthy of it. But you give me a new motive for being more strict in my care of it, in the virtuous solicitude you shew in thinking only of the preservation of your honour in the midst of so many other objects of fear." After this conversation, he committed the care of the ladies to some officers of experienced prudence, strictly commanding, that they should treat them with all the respect they could pay the mothers, wives, and daughters of their allies and particular friends. It .was not long before Scipio's integrity and virtue were put to the trial. Being retired in his camp^ some of his officers brought him a young 86 CONTINENCE. virgin of such exquisite beauty, that she drew upon her the eyes and admiration of eveiy body. The young conqueror started from his seat with confusion and surprise 3 and, like one thunder-struck, seemed to be robbed of that presence of mind and self- possession so necessary in a general, and for which Scipio was remarkably famous. In a few moments, having rallied his straggling spirits, he inquired of the beautiful captive, in the most civil and polite manner, concerning her country, birth, and connec- tions 5 and finding that she was betrothed to a Celtiberian prince, named Allucius, he ordered both him and the captive's parents to be sent for. The Spanish prince no sooner appeared in his presence, than, even before he spoke to the father and mother, he took him aside 3 and, to remove the anxiety he might be in on account of the young lady, he ad- dressed him in these words : '' You and I are young, which admits of my speaking to you with more liberty. Those who brought me your future bride, assured me, at the same time, that you loved her with extreme tenderness j and her beauty left me no room to doubt it. Upon which I reflected, that if, like you, I had thought on making an en- gagement, and were not wholly engrossed with the affairs of my country, I should desire that so ho- nourable and legitimate a passion should find favour. 1 think myself happy in the present conjuncture to do you this service. Though the fortune of war has made me your master, I desire to be your friend. Here is your wife : take her, and may the gods bless you with her. One thing, however, I would have you be fully assured of, that she has been amongst CONTINENCE. 87 US as she would have been in the house of her father and mother. Far be it from Seipio to purchase a loose and momentary pleasure at the expense of virtue, honour, and the happiness of an honest man. No : I have kept her for you, in order to make you a present worthy of you and of me. The only gra- titude I require of you for this inestimable gift is, that you would be a friend to the Roman people.'* Allucius's heart was too full to make him any an- swer : but throwing himself at the general's feet, he wept aloud. The captive lady fell into the same posture 3 and remained so till the father burst out into the following w^ords : '' Oh ! divine Seipio I the gods have given you more than human virtue ! Oh, glorious leader ! Oh, wondrous youth ! does not that obliged virgin give you, while she prays to the gods for your prosperity, raptures above all the transports you could have reaped from the posses- sion of her injured person ! " The relations of the young lady had brought with them a very considerable sum for her ransom -, but, when they saw that she was restored to them in so generous and godlike a manner, they entreated the conqueror with great earnestness to accept the sum as a present -, and declared, by his complying, that new favour would complete their joy and gra- titude. Seipio, not being able to resist such warm and earnest solicitations, told them, that he accepted the gift, and ordered it to be laid at his feet ♦ then, addressing himself to Allucius, '^ I add," says he, *' to the portion which you are to receive from your father-in-law this sum 5 which I desire you to accept as a marriage present.'* 88 CONTINENCE. If we consider that Scipio was at this time in the prime of life, unmarried, and under no restraint, we cannot but acknowledge, that the conquest he made of himself was far more glorious than that of the Carthaginian empire : and though his treatment of this captive prince was no more delicate and generous than what might justly be expected from a person endowed with reason and reflection 5 yet, considering how few there are in his circumstances who would have acted as he did, we cannot but ap- plaud his conduct, and propose him as a suitable example to future ages. Nor was his virtue unre- warded. The young prince, charmed with the liberality and politeness of Scipio, went into his country to publish the praises of so generous a victor. He cried out, in the transports of his grati- tude, ^^ That there was come into Spain a young hero like the gods 5 who conquered all things less by the force of his arms, than the charms of his vir- tue, and the greatness of his beneficence." Upon this report all Celtiberia submitted to the Romans ; and Allucius returned in a short time to Scipio, at the head of fourteen hundred chosen horse, to facili- tate his future conquests. To render the marks of his gratitude still more durable, Allucius caused the action we have just related to be engraven on a silver shield, which he presented to Scipio 5 a pre- sent infinitely more estimable and glorious than all his treasures and triumphs. This buckler, which Scipio carried with him when he returned to Rome, was lost, in passing the Rhone, with part of the baggage. It continued in that river till the year 1665, when some fishermen found it 5 and it was CONTINENCE. 89 placed in the king of France*s cabinet. Liv. lib. xxvi. c. 50. Val. Max. lib. iv. c. 3. Rollings Rom. Hist, vol. 5. p. 382. Tatler, Numb. 58. The circumstance which raises Alexander the Great among many conquerors, and, as it were, above himself, is the use he made of his victory after the battle of Issus. This is the most beautiful incident in his life. It is the point of view in which it is his interest to be considered ; and it is impos- sible for him not to appear truly great in that view. By the victory of Issus he became possessed of the whole Persian empire : not only Sysigambis, Da- rius's mother, was his captive, but also his wife and daughters, princesses whose beauty was not to be equalled in all Asia. Alexander, like Scipio, was in the bloom of life, a conqueror, free^ and not yet en- gaged in matrimony : nevertheless, his camp was to those princesses a sacred asylum, or rather a temple, in which their chastity was secured as under the guard of virtue itself 5 and so highly revered, that Darius, in his expiring moments, hearing the kind treatment they had met with, could not help lifting up his dying hands towards heaven, and wishing success to so wise and generous a con- queror, who could govern his passions at so critical a time. Plutarch informs us more particularly, that the princesses lived so retired in the camp, according to their own desire, that they were not seen by any person, except their own attendants ; nor did any other person dare to approach their apartments. After the first visit, which was a respectful and ceremonious one, Alexander, to avoid exposing him- self to the dangers of human frailty, made a solemn 90 CONTINENCE. resolution never to visit Darius's queen any more. He, himself, informs us of this memorable circum- stance, in a letter wrote by him to Parmenio, in which he commanded him to put to death certain Macedonians, who had forced the wives of some foreign soldiers. In this letter was the following- paragraph : ** For as to myself, it will be found, that I neither saw, nor would see,, the wife of Darius ) and did not suffer any one to speak of her beauty before me." — Flut. in Alex. It is remarked of Hannibal, the famous Cartha- ginian commander, that he always shewed uncom- mon wisdom and continence with regard to the great number of women taken prisoners during the course of his wars -, insomuch, that no one would have imagined he had been born in Africa, where incontinence is the predominant vice of the country. Pudicitiamque eum tantum inter tot captivas habiiisse, ut in Africa natum quivis negaret. Justin, lib. xxxii. c. 4. Is o CRATES informs us that Nicocles, king of Salamin, gloried in never having known any wo- man besides his wife : and was amazed that all other contracts of civil society should be treated with due regard, whilst that of marriage, the most sacred and inviolable of obligations, was broken through with impunity 5 and that men should not blush to commit an infidelity with respect to their wives, of which, should their wives be guilty, it would throw them into the utmost anguish and fury. — hoc. in Nicoc. p. 67. Antiochus, the third king of Macedon, per- ceiving a growing passion for the priestess of Diana, CONTINENCE. Ql a young lady of incomparable beauty, left his palace, and retired for some time into Ephesus^ lest the sight of such an alluring object might tempt him to transgress against the piety due to her order. If you would be free from sin, fly temptation. He that does not endeavour to avoid the one, can- not expect Providence to defend him from the other. If the first sparks of vice were quenched, there would be no flame : for how can he kill who dares not meditate revenge 3 or he be an adulterer in acty that does not transgress in desire ? How can he be perjured, that fears an oath 5 or he defraud^ who dares not allow himself to covet ? In the reign of king Charles II. when licen- tiousness was at its height in Britain, a yeoman of the guards refused the mistress of a king. The lady, who was dissatisfied with her noble lover, had fixed her eyes upon this man, and thought she had no more to do than speak her pleasure. He got out of her way. He refused to understand her; and when she pressed him farther, he said, '^ I am married." The story reached the king, with all its circumstances : but they who expected an extrava- gant laugh upon the occasion were disappointed. He sent for the person : he found him a gentleman, though reduced to that station 3 and *' Odds fish, man ! '* says he, ** though I am not honest enough to be virtuous myself, I value them that are." He gave him an appointment, and respected him for life. — By-Stander, 9^ COURAGE. COURAGE. SENTIMENTS, That man only is truly brave who fears nothing so much as doing a shameful action ; and that dares resolutely and undauntedly go where his duty, how dangerous soever it is, may call him. Perfect courage consists in doing without wit- nesses, all we should be capable of doing before the whole world. Courage without conduct is like fancy without judgment; all sail, and no ballast. " To die or conquer proves a hero's heart." EXAMPLES. PoR SENNA, the most potent king of his time In Italy, having undertaken to restore the Tarquins to the throne of Rome, from which they had been ba- nished for their cruelty and oppression, sent pro- posals to the Senate for that purpose 3 but finding they were rejected with scorn, he advanced towards Rome in a confident persuasion that he should easily reduce it. When he came to the bridge, and saw the Romans drawn up in order of battle before the river, he was surprised at their resolution, and not doubting but he should overpower them with num- bers, prepared to fight. The two armies being engaged, fought with great bravery, and long con- tended for victory. • After a great slaughter on both sides, the Romans began to give way, and were quickly put to flight. All fled into the city over the bridge, which at the same time would have afforded COURAGE. 93 a passage to the enemy, if Rome had not found, in the heroic courage of one of her citizens, a bul- wark as strong as the highest walls. Publius Ho- ratius was the man, surniimed Codes, because he had but one eye, having lost the other in a battle. He was the strongest and most undaunted of all the Romans. He used every method to stop the flying army 3 but perceiving that neither entreaties nor exhortations could overcome their fear, he resolved, however badly supported he might be, to defend the entrance of the bridge till it was demolished behind. On the success of this depended the preservation of the city. Only two Romans followed his example, and partook of his danger j nay, when he saw but a few planks of the bridge remaining, he obliged them to retire, and to save themselves. Standing alone against a whole army, but preserving his intrepidity, he even dared to insult his numerous enemies 3 and cast terrible looks upon the principal H etrurians, one while challenging them to single combat, and then bitterly reproaching them all. ^' Vile slaves that you are," said he, *' not satisfied with being unmindful of your own, ye are come to deprive others of their liberty who have had the courage to assume it." Covered with his buckler, he sustained a shower of darts 3 and at last, when they were all preparing to rush upon him, the bridge was en- tirely demolished, and Codes, throwing himself with his arms into the Tiber, safely swam over, having performed an action, says Livy, that will command the admiration more than the faith of posterity. He was received as in triumph by the Romans. The people erected him a brazen statue in armour in the most conspictiotts^ part of the 94 COURAGE. Forum. As much land was given him as he could surround with a plough in a day. All the inhabit- ants^ both men and women, contributed to his re- ward 3 and in the midst of a dreadful scarcity, al- most every person in the city, depriving themselves of a part of their subsistence, made him a present of provisions. — Liv, lib, ii, c, 11. While the Romans were at war with the Gauls (a.r. 394.) the latter advanced as far as the banks of the river Anio, within three miles of Rome. The Romans marched against them 3 the two armies continued some time in sight of each other, without coming to action, separated only by the bridge over the river. A Gaul, of gigantic stature, advanced upon the bridge, and cried out with a loud voice, '^ Let the bravest man in the Roman army enter the lists with me 3 the success of our combat shall determine which is the most valiant nation.'* His extraordinary size and fierce looks struck the Ro- mans with such terror, that for a long time not one in the whole army appeared to accept his challenge. At length young Manlius, who had so remarkably signalized his piety for his father (see pages 9, 10,) touched with a just sense of the affront offered to the Roman name, quitted his post, and flying to the dictator, asked leave to encounter the enemy : ♦' Though I were sure of victory,'* says he, *' I would not fight this proud Gaul without your order 5 but if you will give me leave, I will make this huge boaster know, that I am of the blood of that Manlius, whose valour proved so fatal to the Gauls on the Capitol." The dictator, who had been very uneasy that no Roman had accepted the challenge before, readily complied with the request COURAGE. 95 of the brave youth. '' Go, Manlius/* said he, '^ and humble the pride of this insulting enemy ; revenge the cause of the city w^here you first drew your breath, as successfully as you relieved him to whom you owe it." Upon this the young Roman, having changed the round buckler which he wore as a Ro- man knight, for a square one, and armed himself with a short sword, fit both for cutting and stabbing, advanced against the Gaul, who was strutting about in his armour, and making an ostentatious shew of his strength. Both Romans and Gauls retired to their respective posts, leaving the bridge free for the two champions. The Gaul, says Livy, began the combat, by discharging a great blow with his long sword at Manlius, which made much noise, but did no execution. Hereupon the young Roman dexterously slipping under his enemy's shield, stab- bed him in two places 3 so that he soon fell, and covered, to use Livy's expression, a vast piece of ground with his enormous body. The conqueror cut off his head, and without troubling himself about the rest of the spoils, only seized a golden collar, which he tore from his neck, and bloody as it was, put it upon his own, in token of victory j and hence he got the surname of Torquatus, which he trans- mitted to his posterity. The event of this combat so discouraged the Gauls, that they abandoned their camp in the night,, and retired into Campania. Livy, lib. ii, c. 1 1 . Just before the battle at Cunaxa, between Cyrus and his brother Artaxerxes, Clearchus advised Cyrus not to charge in person but to cover himself in the rear of the Grecian battalions. * ' What is it you say, '* 96 COURAGE. replied Cyrus, '' at the time that I am endeavour- ing to make myself king, would you have me shew myself unworthy of being so?" That wise and generous answer proved that he knew the duty of a general, especially on a day of a battle. Had he withdrawn when his presence was most necessary, it would have argued his want of courage, and in- timidated others. — Xenoph, in. Exped. Cyr. lib. i. Xerxes, having ascended the throne of Persia, employed the first year of his reign in carrying on the preparations begun by his father for the reduc- tion of Egypt. Pufifed up with the success against the Egyptians, he determined to make war upon the Grecians. Ambition was the only motive to this undertaking. This is the predominant passion of those men whom we usually call Conquerors, and whom, according to the language of the Holy Scrip- tures, we ought to call, with great propriety. Rob- bers of Nations. '^ If you consider and examine the whole succession of Persian kings," says Seneca, "^ will you find any one of them that ever stopped his career of his own accord 3 that was ever satis- fied with his past conquests, or that was not form- ing some new project or enterprize, when death surprized him ? Nor ought we to be astonished at such a disposition,'* adds the same author 5 ^^ for ambition is a gulph, and a bottomless abyss, wherein every thing is lost that is thrown in, and where, though you were to heap province upon province, and kingdom upon kingdom, you would never be able to fill up the mighty void.'* The war being resolved upon, Xerxes, that he might omit nothing which might contribute COURAGE. 97 to the success of his undertaking, entered into a confederacy with the Carthaginians. The Cartha- ginians made Amilcar their general, who did not content himself with raising as many troops as he could in Africa, but engaged a great number of sol- diers out of Spain, Gaul, and Italy, in his service 5 so that he collected an army of three hundred thou- sand men, and a proportionate number of ships, in order to execute the projects and stipulations of the league. Xerxes, in the mean time, was not idle; so far from it, that one would imagine he had assem- bled all the men in his kingdom that were fit to bear arms ; for when he arrived at Thermopylae, liis land and sea forces together made up the number of two millions, six hundred and forty-one thousand, six hundred and ten men, without including servants-, eunuchs, women, sutlers, and other people of that i^ort, which usually follow an army; and whose number, according to Herodotus, Plutarch, and Isocrates, was equal to that of the forces. This prodigious armament struck such a panic into al- most all the cities and nations of Greece, and their allies, that they submitted to the Persian heralds. The Lacedemonians and Athenians were the only people that had courage enough to venture their lives in defence of their liberty. In this situation of affairs, the only thing to be discussed was to know in what place they should resolve to meet the Per- sians, in order to dispute their entrance into Greece. One cannot see without the utmost astonishment, with what an handful of troops the Grecians deter- mined to oppose the innumerable army of Xerxes. All their forces joined together, says Pausanias, amoun ted only to eleven thousand two hundred men, F 9^ COURAGE. Thermopylae is a strait or narrow pass of mount Octa, between Thessaly and Phocis, not more than twenty-five feet broad, which therefore might be defended by a small number of forces j and which was the only way through which the Persian land army could enter Achaia and advance to besiege Athens. This was the place where the Grecian army thought fit to wait for the enemy : the person who commanded it was Leonidas^ one of the two kings of Sparta. Xerxes continued his march through Thrace, Macedonia, and Thessaly -, every thing giving way before him, till he came to the strait of Thermopylae. Here he was strangely surprised to find that Leoni- das, with only four thousand men attempted to dis- pute his passage. He had always flattered himself that, on the first hearing of his arrival, the Grecians would betake themselves to flight -, nor could he be persuaded to believe, what had been told him at the beginning of this project, that, at the first pass he came to, he would find his whole army stopped by an handful of men. He sent out a spy before him, to take a view of the enemy. The spy brought him word, that he found the Lacedemonians out of their entrenchments ; and that they were diverting them- selves with military exercises, and combing their hair. This was the Sj>artan manner of preparing themselves for battle. Xerxes, still entertaining some hopes of their flight, waited four days, on purpose to give them time to retreat. In this in- terval of time, he used his utmost endeavours to gain Leonidas, by making him magnificent pro- mises : and assuring him, that he would make him master of all Greece^ if be woxild come over to his COURAGE. 99 party. Leonidas rejected his proposal with scorn and indignation. Xerxes having afterwards written to him to deliver up his arms, Leonidas, in a style and spirit truly, laconical, answered him in these words. Come and take them. Nothing now remain- ed, but to prepare themselves to engage the Lacede- monians. Xerxes first commanded his Median forces to march against them. These Medes were not able to stand the charge of the Grecians; and, being shamefully put to flight, they shewed, says Hero- dotus, that Xerxes had a great many men, and but few soldiers. The next that were sent to face the Spartans were those Persians called the Immortal Band, which consisted of ten thousand men, and were the best troops of the whole army ; but these had no better success than the former. Xerxes, out of all hopes of being able to force his way through troops so determined to conquer or die, was ex- tremely perplexed, and could not tell what resolution to take, when an inhabitant of the country came to him, and discovered a secret path at the top of an eminence, which overlooked and commandecf the Spartan army. He quickly dispatched a detachment thither; which, marching all night, arrived there at the break of day, and possessed themselves of that advantageous post. The Greeks were soon apprised of this misfortune. They now saw it was impossi- ble to repulse the enemy ; or escape with life if they engaged them. Leonidas (knowing they deserved a better fate) sent away all his allies; but, for the honour of his country, determined to stay himself, with only three hundred Lacedemonians, all resolv- ed to die with their leader. Looking now upon F'3 100 COURAGE. Thermopylae as their burjing-place, the king de- sired his men to take some refreshment j and telling them at the same time, that they should sup together with Pluto, they set up a shout of joy, as if they had been invited to a banquet, and full of ardour, advanced with their king to battle. Ihe shock was exceedingly violent and bloody. Leonidas him- self was the first that fell. Their endeavours to defend the dead body were incredible. At length, not vanquished, but oppressed by numbers, they all fell, except one man, who escaped to Sparta, where he was treated as a coward, and traitor to his coun- try, and nobody would keep company, or converse with him : but, soon after, he made a glorious amends for his fault at the battle of Plataea. Thus ended this celebrated contest of Ther- mopylae ; where, though the Persians had the ho- nour of killing three hundred Spartans on the spot^ yet, this was not obtained till they had lost above twenty thousand of their best troops, who were all slain on the spot, and among whom were two of the king's own brothers. This action of Leonidas, and his three hundred men, may possibly be looked upon as the effect of rashness and despair 5 and not of a wise and noble conduct. But Diodorus Siculus has taken care to inform us otherwise : for Leonidas, says he, know- ing that Xerxes marched at the head of all the forces of the East, in order to overwhelm and crush a little country by dint of his numbers, rightly conceived, by the superiority of his genius and understanding, that if they pretended to make the success of that war consist in opposing force to force, and num- bers to numbers, all the Grecian nations together would never be equal to the Persians, or able to dis- COURAGE, 101 pute the victory with them ; that it was therefore necessary to point out to Greece another means of safety and preservation, whilst she was under these alarms 5 and that they ought to shew the whole universe, who had all their eyes upon them, what glorious things might be done, when greatness of mind is opposed to force of body 5 true courage and bravery, against blind impetuosity -, the love of li- berty against tyrannical oppression ; and a few disciplined veteran troops, against a confused mul- titude, though ever so numerous. These brave La- cedemonians thought it became them^ who were the choicest soldiers of the chief people of Greece, to devote themselves to certain death, in order to make the Persians sensible how difficult it is to reduce free men to slavery ; and to teach the rest of Greece, by their example, either to vanquish or perish. The event shewed the justice of their sentiments. That illustrious example of courage astonished the Per- sians, and gave new spirit and vigour to the Greeks. The lives, then, of this heroic leader, and his brave troop, were not thrown away, but usefully employ- ed j and their death was attended with a double effect, more great and lasting than they themselves imagined. On the one hand, it was in a manner the seed of their ensuing victories 5 which made the Persians for ever afterwards lay aside all thoughts of attacking Greece. On the other hand, such a signal and exemplary instance of intrepidity, made a sudden and indelible impression upon all the rest of the Grecians 3 and left a persuasion deeply rooted in their hearts, that they were able to subdue the Persians, and subvert that vast empire. Cimon was the man whd made the first attempt of that kind 102 COURAGE, with success. Agesilaus afterwards pushed the de- sign so far, that he made the great monarch tremble in his palace of Susa. And Alexander, at last, ac- complished it with incredible facility. Rollings Ant. Hist, vol Hi. 202 — 2S6. 1 1)0 not recollect any example of courage and intrepidity, all things considered, more similar to that which I have just now related, than in the reso- lute conduct of the celebrated Lord Clive, at the siege of Arcot, in the East Indies. To place this example in its most proper light, it may not be amiss to acquaint my young readers, that the Great Mogul is the arbitrary sovereign of the East Indies : but besides him there are many Indian princeSy who are permitted to enjoy their respective sovereignties, without molestation, on condition that they pay the stipulated tribute, and do not infringe any of the articles of the treaties by which they or their ances- tors acknowledge the sovereignty of the Great Mo- gul. These Indian princes are called Rajahs, i. e. Kings. More than one half of the empire of Indos* tan, or as it is now more generally written Hin-- dostan, ([iroperly called India) is at this day subject to these Rajahs, of which some are princes of very small territories j and others, as also the kings of Mysore and Tanjore, possess dominions larger than those of the kings of Prussia and Portugal. A very large army, ready to move at the first warning, was found necessary to over-awe and be a check on the Rajahs : the same force divided under several dis- tinct commanders, would have been ineifectual. Hence it was necessary to give a large tract of coun- try to the government of a single officer 5 or to re- COURAGE. 103 llnquish the design of extending the dominion. Another branch of the duty of this officer is to col- lect the annual revenues of the crown, and pay them to the Saubahdah, or Mogul's viceroy, who remits them to the treasury of the empire 3 and to attend him in all his military expeditions within his vice- royalty. These officers are now well know in Eu- rope by the title of nabobs which signifies deputy, though originally they were no more than com- manders of a body of forces, were frequently called to courti kept there/ or translated to another govern- ment, whenever the ministry thought these changes necessary. But the divisions of the royal family gave the nabobs of provinces, distant from the capital, opportunities of acquiring a stability in their governments little less than absolute 5 and what is more extraordinary in the officers of a despotic State, both the viceroy and nabobs have named their successors against the will of the throne, and who have often succeeded with as little opposition as if they had been the heirs a{)parent to an hereditary dominion. The nabobship being thus attended with iro much power, honour, and profit, the right of succession became an affair of importance, and it ijatii 5i»w» *i^^ *~ Aiajp^^^iaa anri wars as crucl aud bloody as any recorded in history, ine Jbinglisfe and French who have settlements in this part of the world, have thought proper to interest themselves very warmly in these disputes. In one of which, between Chunda-saheb and Mahomed Ally, the French took the part of the former, and the English of the latter. The object of this dispute was of the greatest importance : and, in the course of the war. Captain (afterwards Lord) Clive, who had many. 104 COURAGE, times before distinguished himself in a very extra- ordinary manner, proposed to attack the possessions of Chunda-saheb in the territory of Arcot, and offer- ed to lead the expedition himself. His whole force, when completed, consisted of no more than three hundred sepoys, and two hundred Europeans, with eight officers 5 six of whom had never before been in action, and four of these six were young men in the mercantile service of the company, who, inflamed by his example, took up the sword to follow him. This handful of men, with only three pieces for their ar- tillery, marched from Madras on the ^Oth of Au- gust, 1751. On the 31st he halted within ten miles of Arcot; where the enemies' spies reported, that they had discovered the English marching, with un- concern, through a violent storm of thunder, light- ning, and rain 5 and this circumstance, from their notion of omens, gave the garrison so high an opi- nion of the approaching enemy, that they instantly abandoned the fort 5 and, a few hours after, the English entered the city, and marching through an liundred thousand Spectators, took possession of the fort, which was inhabited by between three and four thousand persons. The merchants had, for security, deoosited in th*^ ^'"*'* ^^'^^^'=> »"^ ^^^^ vaiue or t)U,uuoi, but these were punctually restored to the owners 5 and this judicious generosity conciliated many of the principal inhabitants to the English interest. This acquisition soon produced the effect which had been expected from it : Chunda-saheb laid close siege to the place. At the beginning of the siege, Captain Clive was deprived of the service of four of the eight officers who set out on the expedition) and the troops fit for duty were di- COURAGE. 105 miniahed to an hundred and twenty Europeans, and two hundred sepoys. These were besieged by an lumdred and fifty French, two thousand sepoj'S, three thousand cavalry, and five thousand peans. The English sustained the attack with invincible resolution. On the 30th of October, Rajah-saheb, who conducted the operations of the siege for his father, Chunda-saheb, sent a flag of truce, with pro- posals for the surrender of the fort. He offered ho- nourable terms to the garrison, and a large sum of money to Captain Clive 3 adding, that if his terms were not accepted, he would storm the fort im- mediately, and put every man to the sword. Cap- tain Clive, in his answer, reflecting on the badness of Chunda-saheb's cause, treated the offers of money with contempt j and said, that he had too good an opinion of Kajah-saheb's prudence to believe that he woul 1 attempt a storm, until he had got better soldiers than the rabble of which his army was confi- posed. Exasperated by this answer, he immediately prepared to storm the fort. Besides a multitude that came with ladders to every part of the wall that was accessible, there appeared four principal di- visions, two of which advanced to the two gateSj, and two were allotted to the breaches. In these different attacks the enemy continued the storm for an hour, when they relinquished all their attempts of. annoyance at once, and employed themselves earnestly in carrying off their dead. Many of the English being disabled by sickness or wounds, the number which repulsed the storm was no more than eighty Europeans, officers included, and one hundred and twenty sepoys 3 and these, besides serving five pieces of cannon, fired twelve thousand musket car- 106 COURAGE. tridges during the attack. The loss of the enemy during the storm was computed to be no less than four hundred killed and wounded. Of the English only four were killed and two sepoys. Two hours after, the enemy renewed their fire upon the fort, both with their cannon and with musquetry from the houses. At two in the afternoon they demanded leave to bury their dead, which was granted. At four they recommenced hostilities, and continued their fire smartly till two in the morning, when it ceased totally. Perceiving by this time, that diffi- culties and dangers only served to increase the cou- rage and activity of the English, and that neither promises nor threatenings made any impression on men determined to conquer or die^ they abandoned the town with precipitation. Thus ended this siege, maintained fifty days trader every disadvantage of situation and force, by a handful of men in their first campaign, with a spirit worthy of the most veteran troops j and conducted by their young commander with indefati- gable activity, unshaken constancy, and undaunted courage. And notwithstanding he had, at this time, neither read books, nor conversed with men capable of giving him much instruction in the military art, all the resources which he employed in the defence of Arcot were such as are dictated by the best masters in the science of war. History of the Military Transactions of the British Nation in Indostan, CRUELTY. 107 CRUELTY. SENTIMENTS. Cruelty is so contrary to nature, that it is distin- guished by the scandalous name of inhumanity. None more impatiently suffer injuries than those who are most forward in doing them. There never was found any pretended conscien- tious zeal but it was always most certainly attended with a fierce spirit of implacable cruelty. Of all the monstrous passions and opinions which have crept into the world, there is none so wonderful, as that they who profess the common name of Christians should pursue each other with rancour and hatred for diiFerences in the way of fol- lowing the example of their Saviour. EXAMPLES. Olympias, after the death of her son x\lexander the Great, having taken King Philip and his wife l^urydice prisoners, she confined them in so small a place, that they could scarcely turn themselves in it j and caused them to be fed with the very worst kind of food through a hole in the door. Perceiving that the people were far from being pleased with her conduct, and that they began to commiserate the condition of the king and queen, she resolved to have them both dispatched. In order to this, certain Thracians, armed with poniards, entered the place of their confinement, and with numberless wounds left the king dead upon the floor. Then a messen- ger presented Eurydice with a dagger, a rope, and a cup jof poison, telling her that Olympias left it to 106 CRUELTY, her choice by which she should die : ''I pray the gods/' said she, '' that Olympias may have the same present made to her." Then tearing her linen, she bound up the bleeding wounds of her husband, after which, with great intrepidity, she strangled herself with her own garter. After having thus murdered the king and queen, Olympias with un- heard-of cruelty, broiled their innocent babe between two copper-plates. But her barbarity did not long elude the vengeance it deserved : for having once escaped danger by the majesty of her appearance, she was more concerned about forming a court than an army 5 and therefore taking with her many per- sons of quality, she, as if infatuated, shut herself up in the city of Pydna, where she was besieged by Cassander. During the siege, the court fed on horse-flesh, the soldiers on their dead companions, and the elephants on saw-dust. At last she surren- dered the place and her person to Cassander, who permitted the relations of those she had murdered to glut their revenge on her person. After upbraiding her with her cruelty, and treating her with great in- dignity, they put an end to her life by cutting her throat 5 after which she was suffered to lie some time unburied, in return for the injury she had done to the ashes of Cassander's brother, which she had caused to be taken out of the tomb, and thrown into the public streets. — Arrian. Justin. CoMMODtrs, the Roman emperor, when but tti^elve years old, gave a shocking instance of his cruelty at Centumcellae, now called Civita Vecchia -, when finding the water in which he bathed some- what too warm, he commanded the person who CRUELTY. 109 attended the bath to be thrown into the furnace : nor was he satisfied till those who were about him pretended to have put his order in execution, After his succession to the empire, he equalled, if he did not exceed in cruelty, Caligula, Domitian, and even Nero himself j playing, we may say, with the blood of his subjects and fellow- creatures, of whom he caused great numbers to be racked and butchered in his presence, merely for his diversion. Historians relate many instances of his cruelty very odd and monstrous. He caused one to be thrown to wild beasts for reading the life of Caligula, written by Suetonius 5 because that tyrant and he had been born on the same day of the month, and in many bad qualities resembled each other. Seeing one day a corpulent man pass by, he immediately cut him asunder 5 partly to try his strength, in which he ex- celled all men, and partly out of curiosity, as himself owned, to see his entrails drop out at once. He took pleasure in cutting off the feet, and putting out the eyes of such as he met in his rambles through the city; telling the former, after he had thus maimed them, by way of raillery, that they now be- longed to the nation of the Monopodii^ and the latter, that they were now become Luscenii ; allud- ing to the words luscinia^ a nightingale, and luscus, one-eyed. Some he murdered because they were negligently dressed ; others because they seemed trimmed with too much nicety. He assumed the name and habit of Hercules, appearing publicly in a lion's skin, with a huge club in his hand, and or- dering several persons, though not guilty of any crimes, to be disguised like monsters, that, by knock- ing out their brains he might have a better claim to the titlc^ the great destroyer of monsters. In shorty 110 CRUELTV. the shedding of blood seemed to be his chief 4i- version. Edwy ascended the throne of England in the year 955. This young monarch was so remarkably handsome, that he acquired the surname of Pan- culus, or the fair. At his accession to the throne, he was highly esteemed by Odo, archbishop of Can- terbury, who crowned him with his own hands at Kingston. The king had married a beautiful lady, ^Igiva, or iEthelgiva, whose very name imports that she was of a noble extraction, if not nearly re- lated to the crown. But this match not pleasing the bishop, some of the nobility gave rise to such a series of trouble as deprived her of her life, and Edwy of part of his kingdom. After his coronation dinner, the youthful king, perhaps to avoid the ex- cessive drinking then too common in such entertain- ments, withdrew to enjoy the conversation of his beautiful bride, who was in company with her mo- ther, in a private apartment. The nobility resenting Edwy's absence, as a great indecorum, the arch- bishop commanded him to be fetched back again. When every body else refused, one Dunstan, an un- worthy favourite of the late king, was \ cry ready to execute Odo's orders : he rushed into the queen's apartment, and after reproaching him with his fondf- ness, dragged him to the company. Such an outrage on majesty could not fail to excite the resentment of the young monarch 5 and the king's friends, who were offended at the over- bearing pride of Dunstan, used all their interest to have him removed from court. In short, after being accused, not without justice, of embezzling the pub- lic monies in the late reign, he was banished the CRUELTY. Ill kingdom. Odo, the archbishop, thinking the ho- nour of the priesthood wounded by the exile of Dunstan, was determined to revenge his disgrace : with this view he ordered a party of soldiers to fetch the beauteous queen from the palace of her husband, commanded her face to be seared with a red hot iron, and then transported her into Ireland. A con- spiracy was immediately formed against the king. The Mercians and Northumbrians were allured into the measures of the archbishop. Edgar, the king's younger brother, was set up for their monarch, who recalled Dunstan, and put himself under his direc- tion. The archbishop, to wound him in a part still more tender than the loss of his crown, pronounced a formal divorce between him and his wife -, and the. king's affairs were in so bad a situation, that he was compelled to submit to the sentence. Edgar by this time had made himself master of the kingdom, and obliged his brother Edwy to take shelter in the city of Gloucester. Thither the queen was hastening, having returned from Ireland with a face almost as beautiful as ever, the scars being healed up, and with a determined resolution to share the fate of her husband. But such was the cruel disposition of Odo, that being informed of her return, he ordered his dependents to seize and hamstring her ; and is said to have put her to death at Gloucester. Robbed of the conversation of a wife whom he tenderly loTed ; stripped of his kingdom by an unnatural rebellion -, and deserted by his subjects, the king gave himself up to the first transport of grief, which settled in an inveterate melancholy, that put an end to his life.— ila/)i;e. 112 CRUELTY. Alexander Jann.^us, prince and high-priest of the Jews, being affronted at the feast of tabernacles, a civil war ensued between him and his subjects. In the course of this war, which continued for six years, Alexander having taken a city wherein a great number of them had shut themselves up, carried eight hundred of them to Jerusalem, and caused them all to be crucified in one day. When they were fixed to the cross, he ordered their wives and children to be brought out, and to have their throats cut before their faces. During this cruel execution, the high-priest regaled his wives and concubines in a place from which they saw all that passed 3 and this sight was to him and them the principal part of the entertainment. — Jos. Antiq. 13. ^1. The principal deity worshipped by the Cartha- ginians was called Chronus, who, according to Q. Curtius, and many other authors, was the Saturn of the Latins 3 and in scripture styled Moloch. The sacrifices offered up to this deity were children of the most distinguished families. Diodorus says they had a brazen statue of him, the hands of which were extended in act to receive, and bent downwards in such a manner as that the child laid thereon imme- diately dropped into a hollow, where was a fiery furnace, in which it was burnt alive. Sometimes grown persons were the unhappy victims sacrificed to appease this bloody deity : for upon the signal defeat of the Carthaginian army by Agathocles, three hundred eitizens voluntarily oft'ered up themselves, to render him more propitious to their country. The ceremonies observed upon this occasion by the Car- thaginians, wxre pretty nearly the same as those CRUELTY. 1)3 practised by the Canaanites, as may be learnt from Plutarch, Selden, and Scaliger. To such a pitch of phrensy, or rather infernal barbarity, were they ar- rived, that mothers, who are naturally the most sus- ceptible of tender impressions, made, it a merit to view their own offspring thrown into the devouring flames, without so much as a groan. They even by kisses and embraces hushed the cries of their chil- dren, before they were cast into the flaming statue, imagining the efficacy of the sacrifice would have been utterly lost, if any thing that might have been interpreted as a mark of the least reluctance or re- gret had been shown. They used a drum or tabret among other instruments to drown the shrieks and cries of the unhappy victims. In times of pestilence, or other public calamities, the Carthaginians endea- voured to appease the offended god by vast numbers of such oblations -, nor were even the children of the most distinguished families suffered to escape. Leiden, de diis Syr, Plut, de Super sL We are not to conclude from the foregoing in- stances, that cruelty is a property of human nature. No, it is only an excrescence of it : for who would argue from the natural or acquired hardness and in- sensibility of a few miscreants, to the temper and texture of the whole species ? A Nero or a Caligula are, in reality, not the rule of nature ; but the ex- ception to it : and notwithstanding these untoward appearances, which arise from the very nature of liberty and virtue, an exact and thorough enquiry Into the formation of the human mind, would con- vince every unprejudiced person that all those qua- lities wliich are truly original and inherent, are 114 CRUELTY. beneficial and salutary 3 and that such as are of a contrary tendency are adventitious and accidental. But what seems very astonishing is, that those who have been blessed with the knowledge of the true God, who is represented to us under the en- dearing characters, " The Father of mercies," and ** God of all consolation," should notwithstanding be influenced by so diabolical a spirit 5 should pre- tend they are pleasing the Maker of mankind, while they are destroying his works in the most cruel and barbarous manner : not for treasonable prac- tices, nor for atrocious crimes, or being bad mem- bers of the community, but for difference in opi- nion 3 for not receiving as true, the most inconsistent falsehoods. In 1534, Francis I. ordered an inquisition to be made at Paris, against the protestants ; some of whom were discovered by informers, others appre- hended on suspicion, and put to the torture, and both sorts burned after a very barbarous manner : for, being tied to a pulley, they were drawn up a great height, then let down into the fire, and pre- sently after snatched up again j after torturing them in this manner for some time, the executioner cut the rope, and they dropped into the flames, and were consumed. Those who were thought to be more learned than the rest had their tongues cut out, and were then brought to the stake and burned. In England likewise the protestants of old had a share in the cruelties practised by the Romish clergy and church. For upon queen Mary's coming to the crown, all the sanguinary penal laws were I CRUELTY. 115 revived ; and in the space of five years and foiir months, which that bloody woman reigned, there were burnt and roasted for their religion, five bi- shops, twenty-one divines, eighty gentlemen, eighty- four artificers, one hundred husbandmen, servants, and labourers, twenty-six wives, twenty widows, nine virgins, two boys, and two infants 5 sixteen perished in gaols, and twelve were buried in dung- Mis. Others affirm, that in the t\yo first years of the persecution, in 1555, eight hundred were put to death. Had Mary lived, the same barbarous tragedy would have been acted in Ireland. The Parisian massacre (generally known by the name of the massacre of St. Bartholomew) was car- ried on with such detestable perfidy, and executed with such a bloody cruelty, as would surpass all belief, were it not attested with the most undeniable evidence. In the year 15?^, in the reign of Charles IX. many of the principal protestants were in- vited to Paris, under a solemn oath of safety, upon occasion of the marriage of the king of Navarre with the French king's sister. The queen-dowager of Navarre, a zealous protestant, was poisoned by a pair of gloves, before the marriage was solemnized ; and on the 24th of August, 1572, being St. Bar- tholomew's day, about day-break, upon the toll of the bell of the church of St. Germain, the butchery be- gan. Coligni, admiral of France, was basely mur- dered in his own house : and then thrown out of the window to gratify the malice of the Duke of Guise j his head was afterwards cut off and sent to the king and queen mother 3 and his body, after a thousand indignities offered to it, hung up by the feet on a 116 CRUELTY, gibbet. After this the murderers ravaged the whole city of Paris -, and butchered in three days above ten thousand lords, gentlemen, presidents, and people of all ranks. An horrible scene of things, says Thuanus, when the very streets and passages re- sounded with the noise of those that met together for murder and plunder j the groans of those who were dying, and the shrieks of such who were just going to be butchered, were every where heard ; the bodies of the slain thrown out of the windows : the courts and chambers of the houses filled with them, the dead bodies of others dragged through the streets ; their blood running down the channels in such plenty, that torrents seemed to empty them- selves in the neighbouring river 3 and, in a word^ an innumerable multitude of men, women with child, maidens, and children, were all involved in one com- mon destruction j and the gates and entrances of the king's palace all besmeared with their blood. From the city of Paris the massacre spread almost throughout the whole kingdom. In the city of Meaux they threw above two hundred into gaol 5 and after they had ravished and killed a great number of women, and plundered the houses of the protestants, they executed their fury on those they had imprison- ed, and calling them out one by one, they were killed, as Thuanus expresses it, like sheep in a mar- ket ; the bodies of some were flung into ditches, and of others into the river Marne. In Orleans they murdered above five hundred men, women, and children, and enriched themselves with their spoil. Tlie same cruelties were practised at Angers, Troyes, Bourges, La Charite, and especially at Lyons, where tbey inhumanly destroyed about eight hun- DISINTERESTEDxNESS. 117 drcd protestants 3 children hanging on their parents* necks j parents embracing their children j putting ropes about the necks of some, dragging them through the streets, and throwing them mangled, torn, and half dead, into the river. It would be endless to mention the butcheries committed at Valence, Romaine, Rouen, &c. I shall, therefore, only add, that, according to Thu- anus, above thirty thousand protestants were de- stroyed in this massacre j or, as others with greater probability affirm, above one hundred thousand. Thuanus calls this a most detestable villainy. It is a melancholy consideration, that it can no longer be called unparalleled even in France itself, the unhafjpy theatre of continued massacres within the last twenty years. DISINTERESTEDNESS. SENTIMENTS. Nothing is a greater argument of a brave soul, and impregnable virtue, than for a man to be so much master of himself, that he can either take or leave those conveniences of life, with respect to which most are either uneasy without them, or in- temperate with them. EXAMPLES. Never man shewed a more generous disin- terestedness with regard to himself, nor a more sincere and unshaken zeal for the public good, than the Theban general Epaminondas. He was of ont 118 iriSINTEEESTEDNES^. of the greatest and most opulent families in Thebes 3 and Polymnus, his father, had been so liberal in his education, furnishing him with the best masters Greece could produce, not only in philosophy, rhe- toric, and other liberal sciences, but for all sorts of exercises and accomplishments, suitable to his rank, and the hopes he had conceived of him -, as well as in the magnificent manner in which he rewarded them, that he greatly injured his estate, and had hardly any other fortune to leave him than what he had bestowed on him in this manner. Epaminondas trod so closely in his father's steps, and shewed such a noble contempt of riches, that when Pelopidas, his intimate friend, and who was possessed at that time of a large fortune, would have made him many considerable presents, he could never prevail on him to accept of them. As a more striking instance of his generous virtue, we are told that the Persians, knowing of what consequence it was to bring him over to their interest, spared neither promises nor bribes to effect it ; but were so far from succeeding in it, that they received a very mortifying repulse from him. Diomedon of Cyzicus, in particular, had been sent to corrupt him, if possible, by a large sum of money ; and before he ventured to attempt him, had, by the help of five talents, gained over a favourite of his, named Micythus, to sound him upon it. Epaminondas rejected the offer with scorn and indignation j telling him, " That he would never set the wealth of the whole world in compe- tition with the interest of his country. It is plain,'* continued he, speaking to the Persian agent, '' that you do not know me; and I am not surprised that you should form a judgment of me from yourself, DTSINTEEESTEDNESS. 1 19 aind therefore am ready to forgive you ; but I ad- vise you, at the same time, to make the best of your way home, before you get a further opportunity of corrupting another Theban. As for you," said he to Micythus, ** If you do not immediately return the five talents, I will infallibly deliver you up to the magistracy." His behaviour to Jason was still more noble and singular. He was lately come to Thebes to nego- ciate an alliance with the Thebans. As he did not doubt but Epaminondas's narrow circumstances would easily induce him to accept of some present . from him, so he tried to gain his friendship by such inconsiderable gifts as he thought would not meet with a refusal from so indigent a person 5 but, to his great surprise, he found them not only rejected with the utmost scorn and indignation,' but himself severely reproved for offering them. " This attempt to corrupt me," said that noble pa- triot, ^' 1 resent as the greatest indignity that can be offered me, and shall look upon it in no other view than as a declaration of war ; and as I am born a member of this free state, I shall be so far from ijelling the freedom of voting of my fellow-citizens, that I will nuiintain it with all my might." This inflexibility was so much the more to be admired, because it was dangerous to exasperate so powerful a prince, vvho was bold and successful, and at the head of an army hitherto victorious ! Not long after this arrived Theanor, with pre- sents from Arcesius j and upon debating whether they should be accepted, Epaminondas declared against it in words to this effect, addressed to Theanor: '' JasoB resented my rejecting the vast 120 DlSIxNTEKSTiiDNliSS. presents with which he designed to corrupt mc; and I gave him such an answer as his attempt de- served. Your offers are indeed more honourable, and consistent with virtue, and as such we esteem them J but then they are like physic to a man in health. Where you, or any of our allies who im- agined us to be at war, and incapable of maintaining it, to send us a supply of men, arms and provisions, \Vould you expect that we should accept of it, when they found us enjoying a profound peace ? The case is much the same. Your generosity has made you look upon us as sinking under the poverty of our condition J whereas that very poverty, instead of being burthensome to us, we look upon as our greatest happiness, glory, and delight, and as the most welcome guest that can come within our walls. The philosophers, who sent you here, in that made the noblest use they could of their wealth 5 and you may assure them, that we highly commend and thank them for it ; but tell them, at the same time, that we make the right use of our poverty." Thea- nor, still desirous to engage him to accept some- thing valuable from him, begged that he would take at least so much as would reimburse him the charges which Polymnus, his father, had been at in the maintenance and funeral obsequies of his late pre- ceptor Lysis To which he replied, ^' That Lysis had abundantly. repaid him, in the pains he took to make him cherish the practice of poverty.'* This occasioned some friendly debate between them, in which Theanor endeavoured to make him sensible of the necessity of acquiring at least an honourable competency j which only gave the other an oppor- tunity of displaying his talent in praise of his fa- DISINTERESTEDNESS. 1£1 vo II rile notion of poverty, which he did with such forcible reasoning, as left Theanor without reply. The truth is, Epaniinondas had a double view in practising and promoting this his darling virtue, viz. To keep himself proof against corruption -, and, by his precepts and example, to reform, as much as in him lay, the luxury and dissipation of the people. As neither bribes nor promises could gain him from the interest of his country, so neither threatenings nor dangers could make him betray the honour of it. It was this noble ardour that made him go and light for it as a private centinel, when his ungrate- ful countrymen had been induced by the prevailing faction to strip him of all his posts. Plut, — Cor. Nep. in Fit, Epam, Ptolemy Philadelphus, king of Egypt, hav- ing sent to desire the friendship of the Roman peo- ple, an embassy was dispatched from Rome the following year in return for the civilities of Ptolemy. The ambassadors were Q. Fabius Gurges, Cn. Fabius Pictor, with Numerius, his brother, and Q. Ogul- nius. The disinterested air with which they ap- peared, sufficiently indicated the greatness of their souls. Ptolemy gave them a splendid entertainment, and took that opportunity to present each of thejn with a crown of gold, which they received, because they were unwilling to disoblige him by declining the honour he intended them j but they went the next morning, and placed them on the head of the king's statues erected in the public parts of the city. The king likewise having tendered them very con- siderable presents at their audience of leave, they re- ceived them as they had accepted the crowns -, but G 12£ BISINTERESTEDNES3. before they went to the senate to give an hccomii of their einbussy, after their arrival at Rome, they deposited all those presents in the public trejisury, and made it exident, by so noble a ct)nnu(t, that persons of honour ought, when they serve the pub^ lie, to propose no other advantage to themselves than the honour of acquitting themselves well of their duty. 1'he Republic, however, would not suffer itself to be exceeded in generosity of sentiments. The Senate and People came to a resolution, that the ambassadors, in consideration of the services they had rendered the State, should receive a sum of money equivalent to that they had deposited in the public treasury. This indeed was an amiable con- test between generosity and glory ; and one is at a loss to know to which of the antagonists to ascribe the victory. Where shall we now find men who devote themselves in such a manner to the public good, without any interested expectations of a re- turn : and who enter upon employments in the State without the least view of enriching themselves ? But let me add too, where shall we find States and Princes who know how to esteem and recom- pense merit in this manner. We may observe here, says Valerius Maximus, three fine models set before us, in the noble liberality of Ptolemy, the disinter- ested spirit of the ambassadors, and the grateful equity of the Romans. — Fal. Max. lib. iv. c. S, The deputies of Philip, king of Macedon, of- fering great sums of money in that prince's name to Phocion, the Athenian, and intreatitig him to accept them, if not for himself, at least for his children^ who were in such circumstances that It DISINTERESTEDNESS. 1^23 would be impossible for them to support the glory of his najne: ** If they resemble me,*' said Phocion, '' the little spot of ground, on the produce of which I have hitherto liveil, and which has raised me to the glory you mention, will be sufficient to maintain them: if it will not I do not intend to have them wealthy merely to foment and heighten their luxury." Alexander the Greats son of Philip, hav- ing sent him a hundred talents, Phocion asked those who brought them, upon what design Alex- ander had sent him so great a sum, and did not remit any to the rest of the Athenians? '' It is," replied they, '^ because Alexander looks upon you as the most just and virtuous man.'* ** Tlien,'* said Phocion, '^ let him suffer me still to enjoy that cha- racter, and be really what I am taken for." Cor. Nepos. in Phoc* Strabo, king of the Sidonians, having declared in favour of Darius, the Persian monarch, Alexander the Great expelled him the kingdom, and permitted Hephaistion, his beloved friend, to give the crown to whomsoever of the Sidonians he should judge worthy of so exalted a station. This favourite was quartered at the house of two brothers, who were young, and of the most considerable family in the city : to these he offered the crown, but they de- clined to accept it, telling him, that according to the laws of their country no person could ascend the throne, unless he were of the blood royal. He- phaestion admiring this greatness of soul, which could contemn what others strive to obtain by fire and sword : *' Continue," says he to them, '' in this way of thinkings you who are already sensible that it 124 DISINTERESTT^lDNESS. is much more glorious to refuse a diadem than to accept it. However, name me some person of the royal family, who may remember, when he is king, that it was you who set the crown on his head. The brothers observing that several through excessive ambition aspired to this high station, and to obtain it paid a servile court to Alexander's favourites, de- clared that they did not know any person more worthy of the diadem than one Abdolonymus, de- scended, though at a great distance, from the royal line 5 but who at the same time wfis so poor, that he was obliged to get his bread by day labour in a garden without the city. His honesty and integrity had reduced him, as well as many more, to this ex- treme poverty. Immediately the two brothers went in search of Abdolonymus with the royal garments, and found him weeding his garden ; they then saluted him king, and one of them addressed him thus : '* You must now change your tatters for the dress I have brought you. Put off the mean and contemptible habit in which you have grown old. Assume the sentiments of a prince, but when you are seated on the throne, continue to preserve the virtue which made you worthy of it. And when you shall have ascended it, and by that means become the supreme dispenser of life and death over all your citizens, be sure never to forget the condition in which, or rather for which you was elected." Ab- dolonymus looked upon the whole as a dream, and, unable to guess the meaning of it, asked if they were not ashamed to ridiciile him in that manner? But as he made a greater resistance than suited their inclinations, they themselves washed him, and threw over his shoulders a purple robe richly DISINTERESTEDNESS. 125 embroidered with gold 5 then, after repeated oaths of their being earnest, they conducted him to the palace. The news of this was immediately spread over the whole city. Most of the inhabitants were overjoyed at it ; but some murmured, especially the rich, who despising Abdolonymus's former abject state, could not forbear shewing their resentment upon that account in the king's court. Alexander commanded the new elected prince to be sent for 3 and, after surveying him attentively a long while, spoke thus : '' Thy air and mien do not contradict what is related of thy extraction 5 but I should be glad to know of what frame of mind thou didst bear thy poverty." — '^ Would to the gods," replied he, ** that I may bear this crown with equal patience. These hands have procured me all I desired } and whilst I possessed nothing, I wanted nothing." This answer gave Alexander an high idea of Abdo- lonymus's virtue ; so that he presented him not only with all the rich furniture which had belonged to Strabo, and part of the Persian plunder, but like- wise annexed one of the neighbouring provinces ta his dominions. — Q. Curt. lib. iv. c. I. 6? lib, niii. c. 14. The domestic troubles which happened at Rome about the year 294, excited great animosity and divisions among the people, the Senate, and inferior officers. Herodonius, a very rich and powerful Sa- bine, and still more bold and ambitious, taking ad- vantage of the present unhappy posture of affairs, endeavoured to make himself master of the city. With a body of exiles and slaves, to about the num- ber of four thousand five hundred, he seized the Capitol ill the night. The consul Valerius Public 10,6 DISINTERESTEDNESS, cola with much difficulty assembled an army, and defeated the insurgents, but was unfortunately kill- ed at the head of his troops. Another consul was now to be chosen ; but where to find a in >n pos- sessed of such eminent abilities as could ^iilence discord, reconcile the jarring sentiments of the peo- ple, act with moderation on the one hand, and re- solution on the other, and have nothing so much at heart as the good of the republic, was extremely difficult. However, after much deliberation, the choice fell on L Quintus Cincinnatus. In con- sequence of which, the Senate dispatched deputies to invite him to take possession of his office. He was a» that time at work in his field, holding the plough himself. When he sav/ the deputies of the Senate, he stopped his oxen, much surprised at the crowd ot people, not knowing what they wanted. One of the number advanced, and gave him notice to dress himself In a more convenient garb ; upon which he went into his cottage, put on his clothes, and came to those who waited for him. He was immediately saluted consul. The purple robe was put on bin), the lictors with their axes placed them- ,selves before him to execute his orders, and he was desired to repair to Rome. That gave him concern and affliction : he was silent for some time, and shed tears. When he spoke, he only said, " my field then will not be sown this year.'' Happy times I Admirable simplicity ! poverty was not universally practised, but it was esteemed and honoured ^ and not considered as a disqualification for the highest dignities of the state. The conduct of Quintus, , during his consulship, fully evinced what a noble nature, what constancy, and what greatness of soul inhabited a poor wretched cottage. DISINTERESTEDNESS. 127 Quintus, having entered upon office, informed ^tiimself of all that had passed in the invasion of Herodonius. Taking occasion from thence to call an assembly of the people, he ascended the tribunal ©f harangues, and in a discourse full of spirit, reso- lution, and zeal for the public welfare, he first re- proached the senate for their indolence and pusil- lanimity, in giving way to the pretensions of the tribunes, ** whose whole merit consists," said he, '^ in making seditious speeches, sowing discord be- tween the two orders of the state, and prevailing by their intrigues to be continued two or three years in office, and to act in it with tyrannical licence.'* The people he severely reprimanded for their dis- orders and rebellion 5 and then, witii an intrepidity that amazed the Senate, and struck terror into the people, he laid before them the vigorous njeasures he intended to pursue j from which he assured them, neither their power, their envy, nor their intrigues, should ever divert him. His measures being well concerted, and his resolution invincible, he quickly appeased the tumult, and reinstated ju- diciary proceedings, which had been interrupted for many years. During the remainder of his consul- ship, he rendered justice to all that applied for it^ and terminated most disputes in an amicable man- ner. He continued the whole (iay at his tribunal,- was always easy of access ; and whatever the affair to be contested might be, he acted with the ut- most good nature and moderation. By so wise a conduct, he rendered the government of the nobility so agreeable, that the poor, the common people, and persons of the most contemptibia condition^ had no longer occasion either to have 128 DISINTERESTEDNESS, recourse to the tribunes against the oppression of the powerful, or to demand new laws for the esta- blishment of equality in trials ; so much were they satisfied with that law which the consul's equity distributed to all alike, and with his impartiality in all affairs. So peaceful a government could not fail of ap- plause 5 and the people, in consequence, expressed their entire satisfaction in it. But what charmed them was, that Quintus, upon the expiration of his term, refused to be continued in office, with no less constancy than he had pain at first in accepting it. The Senate, in particular, forgot nothing that might induce him to comply with being continued in the consulship 3 but all their intreaties and solicitations were to no purpose. ^^ Is it a wonder," says he, addressing himself to the senators, '' that your authority should be despised by the people } It is yourselves that render it contemptible. Because the people violate your decree, in continuing their ma- gistrates, you are for doing the same, that you may not be outdone by them in temerity, as if to shew most levity and licence were to have most power in the commonwealth. As to myself, that I may act directly the reverse to the tribunes, I declare, that I will not suffer myself to be re-elected consul, in contempt of your decree." Then addressing him- self to his colleague, '' I conjure you, Claudius," said he, '^ to prevent the Senate from committing so gross a fault, and strenuously to oppose their de- sign, if they persist in it ; and as to what concerns yourself, I desire you to be assured, that far from taking offence at your opposition, as depriving me of an increase of honour, I shall consider it as a DISINTERESTEDNE$S. 129 mark of your friendship for rae, as an exaltation of my own glory in the proof of my disinterestedness, and as a singular favour that will spare me the envy and shame which the continuation of the consulship might otherwise draw upon me." With the highest praises and blessings, and hav- ing become the object of universal esteem, admira- tion and love, Quintus divested himself of the pur- ple ; and made haste to return to his oxen, plough^ and cottage, where he lived as before by the labour of his hands Is there any thing wanting to the glory of Quintus ? Can the greatest riches, the most superb palaces, the most sumptuous equipages, dispute pre- eminence with the poor thatch and rustic furniture of our illustrious husbandman ? Do they leave be- hind them, in the minds of those that behold them, the same sentiments as the simple relation of what regards Quintus gives the reader ? Can any one, however prejudiced in favour of vanity and glare, deny him esteem and admiration ? There is then something truly great, noble, and worthy, in the character of this Roman. When Bresse was taken by storm from the Venetians, the Chevalier Bayard saved a house from plunder, whither he had retired to have a dangerous wound dressed which he received in the siege, and secured the mistress of the family and her two daughters who were hid in it. At his departure, the lady, a« a mark of her gratitude, offere.l him a casket containing two thousand five hundred ducats, which he obstinately refused. But observing that his refusal was very displeasing to her, and not G 5 130 DISINTERESTEDNESS, caring to leave her dissatisfied, he consented to ac- cept of her present, and calling to him the two young ladies to take his leave of them, he presented each of them with a thousand ducats, to be added to their portion, and left the remaining five hundred to be distributed among the inhabitants that had been plundered.— Fie du Chev. Bayard. But that we may have a better notion of the nobleness and greatness of a disinterested mind, let us consider it, not in generals and princes, whose glory and power may seem perhaps to heighten the lustre of this virtue, but in persons of a lower rank, who h^ive nothing about them but the virtue itself to raise o>ir admiration. A poor man who was door- keeper to a boarding-house in Milan, found a purse with two hundred crowns in it. The man who had lost it, informed by a public advertisement, came to the house, and giving good proof that the purse be- longed to him, the door-keeper restored it to him. The owner, full of joy and gratitude, offered his benefactor twenty crowns, which the other abso- lutely refused. He then came down to ten, and afterwards to five, but finding him still inexorable, he throws his purse upon the ground, and in an angry t(>ne, " I ha\e lost nothing,'* says he, *' no- thing at all, if vou thus refuse to accept of any thing '* The door-keeper then accepted of five crowns, which he iimnediately distributed among the poor. RoUhi's Belles Lett, DRUNKENl^ESS. ISl DRUNKENNESS. SENTIMENTS. It is very common that events arise from a debauch which are fatal, and always such as ar^ disagreeable. With all a man's reason and good sense about him, his tongue is apt to utter things out of a mere gaiety of heart, which may disj^lease his best friends. Who then would trust himself to the power of wine, if there was no other objection against it than this, that it raises the imagination and de- presses the judgment. However this tribe of people may think of them- selves, a drunken man is a greater monster than any that is to be found amongst all the creatures which God has made, as indeed there is no character which appears more despicable and depraved, in the eyes cf all reasonable persons^ than that of a drunkard. EXAMPLES. Cyrus, according to the manners of the Per- sians, was from his infancy accustomed to sobriety and temperance j of which he was himself a most illustrious example through the whole course of his life. When Cyrus was twelve years old, his mo- ther Mandana took him with her into Media, to his grandfather Astyages, who, from the many things be had heard said in favour of that young prince, had a great desire to see him. In this court young ( yrus found very different mariners from those of his own country : pride, luxury, and mag- nificence, reigned here universally: all which did 132 DRUNKENNESS. not affect Cyrus^ who, without criticising or con- denining what he saw, was contented to live as he had been brought up, and adhered to the principles he had imbibed from his infancy. He charmed his grandfather by his sprightliness and wit 5 and gained every body's favour by his noble and engaging beha- viour. Astyages, to make his grandson unwilling to return home, made a sumptuous entertainment, in which there was a vast plenty and profusion of every thing that was nice and delicate. All this exquisite cheer and magnificent preparation Cyrus looked upon with great indifference. " The Persians," says he to the king, '' instead of going such a round-about way to appease their hunger, have a much shorter to the same end ; a little bread, and a few cresses, with them answer the purpose." As- tyages desiring Cyrus to dispose of all the meats as he thought fit, the latter immediately distributed them to the king's officers in waiting 5 to one, be- cause he taught him to ride ; to another, because he waited well upon his grandfather 5 and to a third, because he took great care of his mother. Sacras, the king s cup-bearer, was the only person to whom he gave nothing. This officer, besides the post of cup-bearer, had that likewise of introducing those who were to have an audience of the king ; and as he did not grant that favour to Cyrus as often as he desired it, he had the misfortune to displease the prince, \Vho took this occasion to shew his resent- iftcnt. Astyages, testifying some concern at the neglect of this officer, for whom he had a particular regard, and who deserved it, as he said, on account of the wonderful dexterity with which he served him; '' Is that all. Sir/' replied Cyrus 3 '' if DRUNKENNESS. 133 that be sufficient to merit your favour, you shall see I will quickly obtain it 5 for I will take upon me to serve you better than he." Immediately Cyrus is equipped as a cup-bearer 3 and advancing gravely, with a serious countenance, a napkin upon his shoulder, and holding the cup nicely with three of his fingers, he presented it to the king, with a dex- terity and grace that charmed both Astyages and his mother Mandana. When he had done, he flung himself upon his grandfather's neck, and kissing him, cried out with great joy, '' O Sacras, poor Sacras, thou art undone -, I shall have thy place." Astyages embraced him with great fondness, and said, '' I am mighty well pleased, my son 5 nobody can serve with a better grace : but you have forgot one essential ceremony, which is that of tasting." And indeed the cup-bearer was used to pour some of the liquor into his left hand, and to taste it, be- fore he presented it to the king. '' No," replied Cyrus 5 ^^ it was not through forgetfulness that I omitted this ceremony." '' Why then," says As- tyages, *' for what reason did you omit it ? " *' Be- cause I apprehended there was poison in the liquor" " Poison, child ! how could you think so ? " '', Yes, poison. Sir : for not long ago, at an entertainment you gave to the lords of your court, after the guests had drank a little of that liquor, I perceived all their heads were turned : they sung, made a noise, and talked they did not know what 5 you yourself seemed to have forgotten that you were a king, and they that they were subjects 3 and when you would have danced, you could not stand upon your legs." '* Why," says Astyages, '^ have you never seen the same thing happen to your father?" ** No, 134 DRUNKENNESS, never/* says Cyrus. *' What then : how is it with him when be drinks r '* '* Why when he has drank, his thirst is quenched -, and that is all." Xemrph. Cyr. lib. i, Clitus was one of Alexander's best friends, an old officer, who had fought under his father Philip, and signalized himself on many occasions. At the battle of the Granicus, as Alexander was fighting bare-hen ded, and Rosaces had his arm raised in or- der to strike him behind, he covered the king with his shield, and cut off the barbarian's hand. Helle- nice, his sister, had nursed Alexander -, and he loved her with as much tenderness as if she had been his own mother. As the king, from these several con- siderations, had a very great respect for Clitus, he entrusted him with the government of one of the most important provinces of his empire; and or- dered him to set out the next day. In the evening, Clitus was invited to an entertainment, in which the king, after drinking to .excess, beg in to celebrate his own exploits ; and was so excessively lavish of self- commendation, that he even shocked those very per- sons who knew what he spoke was in general true. CJitus, who by this time, as well as the rest of the company, was equally intoxicated, began to relate the actions of Philip, and his wars in Greece, pre- ferring them to whate^ er was done by Alexander. Though the king vvas [prodigiously vexed, he never- theless stifled his resentment ; and it is probable, that he would have quite s» ppres-ed his passi(»n, had Clitus stoppeii there; but the latter growing more and more talkative, as if determined to exasperate and insult the king, he was commanded to leave the DRUNKENNESS. 135 table. '' He is in the right," says Clitus, as he rose up, *' not to bear free-born men at his table, who can only tell him truth. He will do well to pass his life among barbarians and slaves, who will pay adoration to his Persian girdle, and his white robe." The king, no longer able to suppress his rage, snatched a javelin from one of the guards, and would have killed Clitus on the spot, had not the courtiers withheld his arm, and Clitus been forced, with great difficulty, out of the hall. However, he returned into it next moment by another door, sing- ing, with an air of insolence, verses reflecting highly on the prince, who, seeing the general near him, struck him with his javelin dead at his feet, crying out, at the same time, '' Go now to Philip, to Parmenio, and to Attains." As soon as the king was capable of reflecting seriously on what he had done, his crime displayed itself to him in the blackest and most dreadful light : for though Clitus had committed a great and inexcusable fault, yet it must be confessed, that the circumstances of the banquet extenuate, in some de- gree, or throw, in some measure, a veil over Clitus's conduct. When a king makes a subject his com- panion in a debauch, he seems, on such an occasion, to forget his dignity, and to permit his subjects to forget it also : he gives a sanction, as it were, to the liberties, familiarities, and sudden flights which wine commonly inspires. A fault, committed under these circumstances, is always a fault; but then it ought never to be expiated with the blood of the offender. This .Alexander had generosity enough to acknowledge 3 and, at the same time, per- ceived that he had done the vile office of ah 136 DRUNKENNESS. executioner^ in punishinp;, by an horrid murder, the utterer of some indiscreet words, which ought to be imputed to the fumes of wine. Ui)on this, he threw himself upon his friend's body, forced out the jave- lin, and would have dispatched himself w ith it, had he not been prevented by his guards. He passed that night and the next day in tears, stretched on the ground, and venting only groans and deep sighs. Q. Curt. — Plut. in Alex. — Just. lib. xii. c. 6, 7- PuBLius Syrius compares anger when united with power, to thunder j and indeed, what havoek does it then make ! but how dreadful must it be when joined with drunkenness! we see this in Alexander. How unhappy was that prince, not to have endeavoured to subdue those two vices in his youth ; and to have been confirmed in them from the example of one of his tutors ! for it is asserted, that both were the consequences of his education. But what can be meaner, and more unworthy a king, than drinking to excess ! What can be more fatal or bloody than the transports of anger ! During Alexander's stay in Persepolis, he enter- tained his friends at a banquet, at which the guests drank, as usual, to excess. Among the women who were admitted to it masked, was Thais, the courte- zan, a native of Attica, and at that time mistress to Ptolemy, who afterwards was king of Egypt. About the end of the feast, during which she had studi- ously endeavoured to please the king, in the most artful and delicate manner, she said, with a gay tone of voice, " That it would be matter of inex- pressible joy to her were she permitted (masked as DRUNKENNESS. . 137 she was, and in order to end the entertainment nobly) to burn the magnificent palace of Xerxes, who had burned Athens 3 and to set it on fire with her own hand, in order that it might be said in all parts of the world, that the women who followed Alexander in his expedition to Asia, had taken much better vengeance on the Persians, for the many ca- lamities they had brought on the Grecians, than all the generals who had fought for them, both by sea and land." All the guests applauded the discourse ; when immediately the king rose from table (his head being crowned with flowers), and taking a torch in his hand, he advanced forward to execute this mighty exploit. The whole company followed him, break- ing out into loud exclamations -, and afterwards sing- ing and dancing, they surrounded the palace. All the rest of the Macedonians, at this noise, ran in crowds with lighted tapers, and set fire to every part of it. However, Alexander was sorry, not long after, for what he had done j and thereupon gave or- ders for extinguishing the flames, but it was too late. Alexander, having invited several of his friends and general officers to supper, proposed a crown as a reward for him who should drink most. He who conquered on this occasion was Promachus, who swallowed fourteen measures of wine, that is, eigh- teen or twenty pints. After receiving the prize, which was a crown worth a talent, i. e. about a thousand crowns, he survived his victory but three days. Of the rest of the guests, forty died of their intemperate drinking. When this same prince -was at Babylon, after having spent a v/hole night in carousing, a second^ 138 DRUNKENNESS. was proposed to him. He went accordingly, and there were twenty guests at table. He drank to the health of every person in company, and then pledged them severally. After this, calling for Hercules's cup, which held an incredible quantity, it was filled, when he poured it all down, drinking to a Macedo- nian of the company, Proteas by name 3 and after- wards pledged him again, in the same furious and extravagant bumper. He had no sooner swallowed it^ than he fell upon the floor. *' Here then, (cries 8eneca (describing the fatal effects of drunkenness) •' this hero unconquered by all the toils of pro- digious marches, exposed to the dangers of sieges and combats, to the most violent extremes of heat and cold, here he lies subdued by his intemperance, and struck to the earth by the fatal cup of Her- cules.'* In this condition he was seized with a fever, which, in a few days, terminated in death. He was thirty-two years and eight months old, of which he ha(i reigned twelve. No one, says Plu- tarch and Arrian, sus[)ected then that Alexander had been poisoned j the true poison which brought him to his end was wine, which has killed many thou- sands besides Alexander. It was, says Seneca, (Epist. 83.) Intemperantia bibendi: et ille Hercu^ laneus acfatalis Scyphus condidit. Anachonis, the philosopher, being asked by what means a man might best guard against the vice of drunkenness ? He made answer, '' By bearing constantly in his view the loathsome, in- decent behaviour of such as are intoxicated in this manner." Upon this principle, 1 suppose, was f (funded the custom of the Lacedemoiuans, of cKpor,^ EDUCATION. 139 Ing their drunken slaves to their children^ who, by that means, conceived an early aversion to a vice which makes men appear so monstrous and ir- rational. DioNYsius, the younger. King of Syracuse, was so addicted to this enervating folly, that he would sometimes be drunk for a week or ten days together. By this means he ruined his constitution, impaired his facuhies, and became so cruel, ridiculous, and contemptible, that for their own preservation and happiness, his subjects were obliged to dethrone him. EDUCATION. SENTIMENTS. An industrious and virtuous education of children is a better inheritance for them than a great estate. To what purpose is it, said Crates, to heap up great riches, and have no concern what manner of heirs you leave them to ? The foundation of knowledge and virtue is laid in our childhood, and without an early care and at- tention we are almost lost in our very cradles ; for the princi[)les we imbibe in our youth, we carry com- monly to our graves. It is education that makes thd man. To speak all in a few words, children are but blank paper, ready indifferently for any impression, good or bad 5 for they take all upon credit, and it is much in the power of the first comer to write saint or devil upon it, which of the two he pleases ; so that one step out of the way of the institution is 140 EDUCATION. enough to poison the peace and reputation of a whole life. There is, however, in some tempers, such a natural barrenness, that, like the sands of Arabia, they are never to be cultivated or improved : and some will never learn any thing, because they understand every thing too soon. Give me, says Quintilian (among his excellent rules for instruct- ing youth), a child that is sensible of praise, and touched with glory, and that will cry at the shame of being outdone, and 1 will keep him to his busi- ness by emulation 3 reproof will afflict, and honour will encourage him, and I shall not fear to cure him of his idleness. The magisterial severity of some pedagogues frightens more learning out of children, than ever they can whip into them. Lessons and precepts ought to be gilt and sweetened, as we do pills and potions, so as to take ofiF the taste of the remedy 3 for it holds good, both in virtue and in health, that we love to be instructed, as well as physicked, with pleasure. But none can be eminent without appli- cation and genius. To become an able man in any profession, three things are necessary, nature, study, and practice. It is observed, that education is generally the worse in proportion to the wealth of the parents. Many are apt to think, that to dance, fence, speak French, and to know how to behave among great persons, comprehends the whole duty of a gentle- man J which opinion is enough to destroy all the seeds of knowledge, honour, wisdom, and virtue, among us. To be prudent, honest, and good, are infinitely higher accomplishments, than the being nice, florid, learned, or all that which the world calls great scholars and fine gentlemen. EDUCAT10x\. 141 Agesilaus being asked, what he thought most proper for boys to learn ? answered, what they ought to do when they come to be naen. It is not in the power of every man to provide for his children with regard to the good things of this world, in the manner he could wish, or they perhaps deserve. His own circumstances may be too narrow to make theirs easy ; his own interest, merit, or abilities, too small to recommend them to powerful favour aiid protection. But it is in every man's power to form their minds to the practice of virtue, and instil into them, as early as possible, the principles of religion and morality. And as piety strengthens the bonds of filial, as well as of every other duty, those children will always be the most obedient, tender, and affectionate, who act from con- scientious and religious principles. Parents there are every day found among us, who show their power only by the abuse of it, who treat their children as slaves, who, yielding to every impulse of passion and resentment, always rebuke with asperity, and chastise with rigour : but surely such savages are a disgrace to human nature. Youth hath a thousand pleas to urge in its favour, which the deafest ear must listen to. There are few faults indeed in children which are not pardonable 5 and half their errors should only be attributed to inex- perience and inadvertency. A more dangerous, and certainly a much more frequent error in parents, is an unrestrained and ex- cessive fondness. The various passions and affec- tions of human nature begin very early to exert and display themselves 3 and if they are not properly restrained and directed^ will of necessity have a fatal 14^ EDUCATIOrN, and unconquerable influence over the whole tenor of our lives. If we give up the reins to appetite at an age when reason is too weak to guide them, and suffer the will to rule with despotic sway, uncon- troled by judgment, an(i unawed by parental au- thority, every vice will gain strength by habit, and every propensity to evil will take such deep root in the soul, as never to be extirpated. If the child be never corrected, it is most probable that the man will never be virtuous -, and if the child be always com- plied with, the man will be always unhappy. '* Pity it is,'* says the celebrated Ascham, *^ that commonly more care is had, yea, and that among very wise men, to find out rather a cunning man for their horse, than a cunning man for their chil- dren. They say nay in word, but they do so in deed : for to one they will gladly give a stipend of two hundred crowns by the year, and are loth to offer to the other two hundred shillings. God, that sitteth in heaven, laugheth their choice to scorn, and re- wardeth their liberality as it should be. For he suf- fereth them to have tame and well-ordered horses, but w ild and unfortunate children 3 and therefore in the end they find more pleasure in their horse than comfort in their child.'* EXAMPLES. In a family where I lately spent some days on a ▼isit, I observed a very remarkable instance of the untoward management of two children. Young master is a boy of strong, ungovernable passions, of no mean capacitv, and an open, liberal temper ^ add to this the disadvantage that he is brought up to the prospect of a great estate. The girl is of surprising natural parts, but pettish, sullen, and haughty. EDUCATION. 14J though not without a considerable fund of native goodness. Both of them are excessively indulged by their parents The #cither, who jumped into the estate by means of his relation to a wealthy citizen, is a strange, igHorant, unpolished creature ; and having had no education himself, has little notion of the importance of one, and is neither anxious about theirs, nor meddles in it ; but leaves them to the chances of life, and the ordinary track of training up children. The mother, a woman of great goodness, but who never had any of the improvements of edu- cation, is, you may very well believe, but little versed in the arts of forming young minds ; yet she thinks herself qualified by her natural sagacity, of which, indeed, she has a considerable share, for directing and managing her own children. But though she were better qualified than she is, her immoderate fondne*^s would baffle the nicest management. Her son is her favourite, in whom she sees no faults j or, if they are too glaring to be hid, she winks at them, and if any of the family, or friends, complain of them to her, she is always ready to put the fairest colouring on them, and to ascribe the complaint^^ to some unrea*«onable partiality or prejudice against her darling boy. The young gentleman, finding himself so secure of mamma's favour, takes all advantages, and stretches his ])rerogative to the utmost. The servants of the family he disciplines with his fists and feet ; and uses strangers who come in visit the family with the most indecent familiarities : some he calls names, others he salutes with a slap, or pulls off their wigs, or treads on their toes, with many such instances of rough courtesy. He is indulged, and (if I may 144 EDUCATION. use the expression) trained in the love of money. It is made the reward of doing his task, and the end of all his labours. His pockets are .generally full j at least money is never denied him, when he either coaxes or cries for it : and indeed I have seen him do both with great dexterity. He is allowed to play as much as he pleases, at cards, draughts, or any other game : and it is always for money. I have been diverted to see how the chances of the game have roused all his little passions. If he won, he triumphed over his adversary with immense eager- ness and joy -, if he lost, he cried, stormed, and bullied, like a petty tyrant, and parted with his money with infinite regret. If the mother vvas pro- voked, at any time, to take notice of his irregulari- ties, she did it with so little judgment, and so much heat, that it had little or no influence. Perhaps she frowned, and fired, and made a thundering noise for a while ; but this was soon over, and master's tears, or sullen silence, soon brought on a perfect recon- ciliation. She showed no care, and steady indig- nation, such as would have been sufficient to produce a lasting effect ; nor were her rebukes seconded with any substantial marks of displeasure, so as to make a deep impression on such a perverse child. The young lady's temper is a little softer -, but not less imperious : she is brought up with a high opinion of the dignity of her rank, and contempt of the vulgar ; therefore the little thing imagines her- self already a very considerable personage, takes state upon her in all companies, swells with rage at every little imaginary affront, and never thinks she 16 treated with respect enough ; the servants must pay her uncommon homage j she must be helped at EDUCATION. 145 table before strangers of an ordinary rank. Her pretty features must not be discomposed by crossing her 3 in short, humoured she must be in all things j and when her ladyship is dressed in all her finery, she is admired, caressed, and exalted into a little queen. This makes her vain and insolent to a degree of extravagance. She and her brother have pretty nearly the same task set them. They read, write, dance, and play together 5 but will only read, or write, or do just as much as their little honours think proper. They go to learn as to some terrible task 5 are restless and impatient till it is over 5 and mind their tutor almost as much as the maid that puts them to bed : for his authority, not being duly sup- ported by their parents, has no weight. In fine, they are so much humoured, so little restrained, and kept under proper government, that he must have more than the patience of a man who can bear with thei'r insolence -, and almost the capacity of an angel to shape and improve them in any tolerable figure: though with the genius and temper they have, they might be taught any thing, or moulded into any form, were they under the influence of proper dis- cipline and authority. Upon the whole 1 could not help thinking them an instance of the indiscreet conduct of parents in the management of their chil- dren, whom, by an ill-judged fondness, they expose to the contempt and derision of mankind, and per- haps to irretrievable calamities. EuGENio is just out of his minority, and in the twenty-second year of his age; he practises the man with all that virtue and decency that makes his fa- ther's acquaintance covet his company 3 and indeed they may learn by his discourse the art of good ^4^ EDUCATION. reasoning, as well as the precepts of religion from his example. He is an entertaining companion to the gay young gentlemen his equals j and yet di- vines and philosophers take a pleasure to have Eugenio amongst them. He is caressed by his su- periors in honour and years ; and though he is re- leased from the discipline of parental education, yet he treats the lady his mother with all the affection- ate duty that could be desired or demanded of him ten years ago ; his father is content to see his own youth outshone by his son, and confesses that Eu- genio already promises greater things than Agathus did at thirty. If you ask whence tlxese happy qualities arise, I grant there was some foundation for them in his very nature, there was something of a complexional virtue mingled with his frame ; but it is much more owing to the wise conduct of his parents from his very infancy, and the blessings of Divine Grace, at- tending their labours, their prayers, and their hopes. He was trained up from the very cradle to all the duties of infant virtue, by the allurements of love and reward suited to his age : and never was driven to practise any thing by a frown or a hasty word, where it was possible for kinder affections to work the same effect by indulgence and delay. As fast as his reasoning powers began to appear and exert themselves, they were conducted in an easy track of thought, to find out and observe the reasonableness of every part of his duty, and the lovely character of a child obedient to reason and to his parents' will j while every departure from duty was shown to be so contrary to reason, as laid an early foundation for conscience to work upon : con- EDUCATION. 147 science began here to assume its office, and to mani- fest its authority in dictates, and reproofs, and re- flections of mind, peaceful or painful, according to his behaviour. When his parents observed this Inward monitor to awake in his soul, they could better trust him out of their sight. - When he became capable of conceiving an Al- mighty and invisibleBeing,who made this world and every creature in it, he was taught to pay all due regard to this God his Maker j and from the au- thority and love of his father on earth, he was led to form right ideas (as far as childhood permitted) of the power, government, and goodness of the uni- versal and supreme Father of all in heaven. He was informed why punishment was due to an offence against God or his parents, that his fear might become an useful passion to awaken and guard his virtue ; but he was instructed, at the same time, that where he heartily repented of a fault, and returned to his duty with new diligence, there was forgiveness to be obtained both of God and man. When at any time a friend interceded for him to his father, after he had been guilty of a fault, he Wats hereby directed into the doctrine of the mediator between God and man j and thus he knew him as an intercessor, before he could well understand the notion of his sacrifice and atonement. In his younger years he passed but twice under the "correction of the rod 5 once for a fit of obstinacy and persisting in a falsehood j then he was given up to severe chastisement, and it dispelled and cured the sullen humour for ever: and once for the contempt of his mother's authority he endured the scourge again, and he wanted it no more. 11 2 143 EDUCATION. He was enticed sometimes to the love of letters, by making his lessons a reward of some domestic duty^ and a permission to pursue some parts of learning was the appointed recompense of his dili- gence and improvement in others. There was nothing required of his memory but what was first (as far as possible) let into his under- standing; and by proper images and representa- tions^ suited to his years, he was taught to form some conception of the things described, before he was bid to learn the words by heart. Thus he was freed from the danger of treasuring up the cant and jargon of mere names, instead of the riches of solid knowledge. Where any abstruse and difficult notions occur- red in his course of learning, his preceptor post- poned them till he had gone through that subject in a more superficial way j for this purpose he passed twice through all the sciences j and to make the doctrines of Christianity easy to him in his child- hood, he had two or three Catechisms composed by his tutor, each of them suited to his more early or more improved capacity, till at twelve years old he was thought fit to learn that public form, which is more universally taught and approved. As he was inured to reasoning from his child- hood, so he was instructed to prove every thing, ac- cording to the nature of the subject, by natural or moral arguments, as far as years would admit : and thus he drew much of his early knowledge from reason or from revelation by the force of his judg- ment, and not merely from his teachers, by the strength of his memory. His parents were persuaded indeed that they EDUCATION. 149 !eir younger judgments so far to be imposed on by custom, as that the mode should be entirely the measure of all decency to them. She knew there is such a thing as natural harmony and agree- ableness ; in the beauties of colour and figure her delicacy of taste was exquisite; and where the mode run counter to nature, though she indulged her daughters to follow it in some innocent in- stance«, because she loved not to be remarkably singular in things of indifference, yet. she took care always to teach them to distinguish gay folly and affected extravagance from natural decencies. EDUCATION* 159 both in furniture and in dress : their rank in the world was eminent, but they never appeared the first, nor the highest in any new-fangled forms of attire. By her wise example and instructions she had so formed their minds as to be able to see garments more gaudy, and even more modish than their own, without envy or wishes. They could bear to find a trimming set on a little awry, or the plait of a garment ill-disposed, without making the whole house and the day uneasy, and the sun and heavens smile upon them in vain. Phronissa taught them the happy art of ma- naging a visit with some useful improvement of the hour, and without offence. If a word of scandal oc- curred in company, it was soon diverted or suppres- sed. The children were charged to speak well of their neighbours as far as truth w^ould admit, and to be silent as to any thing besides, but when the poor or the deformed were mentioned in discourse, the aged, the lame, or the blind, those objects were handled with the utmost tenderness: nothing could displease Phronissa more than to hear a jest thrown upon natural infirmities : she thought there was something sacred in misery, and it was not to be touched with a rude hand. All reproach and satire of this kind was for ever banished where she came : and if her raillery vvas indulged, vice and wilful 1^ folly were the constant subjects of it. Persons of distinguished characters she always distinguished in her respect, and trained up her family to pay the same civilities. Whensoever she named her own parents, it was with high venera- tion and love, and thereby she naturally led her 160 EDUCATION. children to give due honour to all their superior relatives. Though it is too much the fashion of the licen- tious to laugh at the clergy in all forms, and to teach every boy to scoff at a minister, Fhronissa paid double honours to all those whose personal behaviour upheld the dignity of their office 3 for she was persuaded St. Paul was a better director than the gay gentlemen of the mode. Besides she wisely considered that a contempt of their persons would necessarily bring with it a contempt of all their ministrations 5 and then she might carry her daugh- ters to the church as nmch as she pleased, but preaching and praying, and all sacred things would grow despicable and useless, when they had first learned to make a jest of the preacher. But are these young ladies always confined at home ? Are they never suffered to see the world ? Yes, and sometimes without the guard of a mother too 5 though Phronissa is so well beloved by her children, that they would very seldom choose to go without her. They have freedom given them in all the com- mon affairs of life to choose for themselves, but they take pleasure, for the most part, in referring the choice back again to their seniors. Phronissa has managed the restraint of their younger years with so much reason and love, that they have seemed all their lives to know nothing but liberty, an ad- monition of their parents meets with cheerful com- pliance, and is never debated. A wish or desire has the same power over them now, as a command had in their infancy and childhood) for the command E^JUITY. l6l v\ as ever dressed in the softest language of authority, and this made every act of obedience a delight, till it became an habitual pleasure. In short, they have been educated with such dis- cretion, tenderness, and piety, as have laid a foun- dation to make them happy and useful in the rising age 3 their parents with pleasure view the growing prospect, and return daily thanks to the Almighty, whose blessing has attended their watchful cares, and lias thus far answered their most fervent devotions. EQUITY. SENTIMENTS. EauiTY is the band of human society, a kind of tacit agreement and impression of nature, without which there is not any thing we do that can deserve commendation. Equity judges with lenity, laws with extremity. In all moral caees the reason of the law is the law. Equity consists in an exact and scrupulous regard to the rights of others, with a deliberate purpose to preserve them, on all occasions, sacred and inviolate. In performing, from this fair and equitable temper, every necessary act of justice that relates to their persons or properties j being just to their merits, and just to their infirmities, making all the allow- ance in their favour which their circumstances re- quire, and a good-natured construction of particular cases will admit of j being true to our friendships, to our promises and contracts : just in our traffic, just in our demands, and just by observing a due mo- deration and proportion even in our resentmeiits. 162 EQ^mTY. EXAMPLES. M. PopiLius L^NA, the Roman consul, being sent against the Stelliates, a people in Liguria, bor- dering on the river Tananis, killed and took so many of them prisoners, that finding the forces of their nation reduced to ten thousand men, they submitted to the consul without settling any terms. Upon which Popilius took away their arms, dismantled their cities, reduced them all to slavery, and sold them and their goods to the best bidder. But such was the equity of the Roman Senate, that they re- sented this severe and cruel proceeding, and passed a decree, commanding Popilius to restore the money he had received for the sale of the Stelliates, to set them at liberty, return to them their effects, and even to purchase new arms for them -, and concluded their decree with words which posterity ought never to forget, *' Victory is glorious, when it is confined to the subduing of an untractable enemy 3 but it be- comes shameful when it is made use of to oppress the unfortunate.** — Liv, lib. xliiL c. 8, Brutus, upon the accusation of the inhabitants of Sardis, publicly condemned, and branded with in- famy, Lucius Pella, who had been formerly censor, and often employed by Brutus himself in offices of trust, for having embezzled the public money. This sentence offended his friend Cassius, who, but a few days before, liad absolved in public two of his own friends, and continued them in their offices, though accused of the same crime; contenting himself only with reprimanding them in private. He did not cooceal his sentiments on this head from Brutus^ EQUITY. I63 whom he accused, in a friendly manner, of too much rigour and severity, when gentleness and fa- %'bur were more necessary, and would prove of greater service to their cause. In answer to this, Brutus put him in mind of the Ides of March, the day on which they killed Caesar, who himself neither vexed nor oppressed mankind, but was the support of those who did. He desired him to consider, that if justice could be neglected, under any colour or pretence, it had been better to suffer the injustice of Caesar's friends, than to give impunity to their own ; ^^ For then," said he, " we could have been accused of cowardice only j whereas now, if we connive at the injustice of others, we make ourselves liable to the same accusation, and share with them in the guilt." From this we may perceive, as Plutarch ob- serves, what was the rule of all Brutus's actions. Plut, in Brut. — See Shaks. Jul, Ots, Trajan, the Roman emperor, would never suf- fer any one to be condemned upon suspicions, how- ever strong and well grounded ; saying, it was better a thousand criminals should escape unpunish- ed, than one innocent person be condemned. When he appointed Suburranus captain of his guards, to present him, according to custom, with a drawn sword, the badge of his office, he used those me- morable words : Pro me ; si merear, in me. */ Em- ploy this sword for me ; but turn it, if 1 deserve it, against me." — Dio. p. 778. The same excellent prince having assumed the fasces, in the presence of the people, bound himself by a solemn oath to observe the laws, declaring^ *' That what was forbidden to private citizens was Ti64 EQUITY. equally forbidden to princes, who> as they are not above the laws, are no less bound than the meanest of the populace, to conform to them. Hence to the public vows, which were in the beginning of each year offered for the health and prosperity of the em- peror, h^ added these conditions : '' Jf he observes the laws; if he governs the republic as he ought j if he procures the happiness of the people,*' Plin, Faneg, p. 134. Mysias, the brother of Antigonus, king of Ma- cedon, desired him to hear a cause, in which he was a party, in his chamber : '' No, my dear brother," answered Antigonus; " I will hear it in the open court of justice 3 because I must do justice." Plut, in Apophthegm, Reg, When Phocion was desired to do what was wrong in his opinion, for the service of the Mace- donians, '* Antipater,'* said he, " cannot have me for his friend and flatterer." The Persians thought it reasonable to put the good as well as the evil, the merits of the offender as well as the demerits into the scales of justice : nor was it just in their opinion, that one single crime should obliterate all the good actions a man had done during his life; because it might rather be considered as an effect of human frailty, than of a confirmed malignity of mind. Upon this principle it was that Darius having condemned a judge to death for some prevarication in his office, and after- wards, calling to mind the important services he had rendered both the State, and the royal family, re- voked the sentence, at the very moment of its goin^ EQUITY. 165 to be executed; and acknowledged, that he had pronounced it with more precipitation than wisdom. But one important and essential rule which they ob- served in their judgments was, in the first place, never to condemn any person without bringing his accuser to his face, and without giving him time, and all other means necessary, for defending himself against the articles laid to his charge j and, in the second place, if the person accused was found inno- cent, to inflict the very same punishment upon the accuser as the other was to have suffered, had he been found guilty. Artaxerxes gave a fine example of the just rigour that ought to be exercised on such occasions. One of the kings favourites, ambitious of getting a [)lace possessed by one of his best oflS- cers, endeavoured to make the king suspect the fidelity of that officer; and, to that end, sent infor* mation to court full of calumnies against him, per- suading himself that the king, from the great credit he had with his majesty, would believe the thing upon his bare word, without further examination. Such is the general character of calumniators. They are afraid of evidence and light, and make it their business to shut out the innocent from all access to their prince, and thereby put it nut of their power to vindicate themselves. The officer was imprisoned : but he desired of the king, before he was condemn- ed, that his cause might be heard, and his accusers ordered to produce their evidence against him. The king did so : and as there was no proof but the let- ters which his enemy had written against him, he was cleared, and his innocence fully justified by the three commissioners that sat upon his trial Al! the king's indignation fell upon the perfidious 166 FAITH PUBLIC. accuser^ who had thus attempted to abuse the favour and confidence of his royal master. This prince^ who was very wise, and knew that one of the true signs of a prudent government was to have the sub- jects stand more in awe of the law than of informers, would have thought an opposite conduct a direct violation of one of the most common rules of na- tural equity and humanity. It would have been opening a door to envy, hatred, and revenge ; it would have been exposing the honest simplicity of good and faithful subjects to the cruel malice of de- testable informers, and arming these with the sword of public authority -, in a word, it would have been divesting the throne of the most noble privilege be- longing to it, namely, of being a sanctuary for in- nocence, against violence and calumny. Herod, lib. vii. c. 194. FAITH PUBLIC, NOT TO BE VIOLATED. SENTIMENTS. Every wise man, especially in authority and com- mand, ought to regard justice, probity, and the faith of engagements, as the most precious treasure he can possess; and as an assured resource, and an in- fallible support in all the events that can happen. EXAMPLES. During the war between the Athenians and Laced(?monians, Brasides, general of the latter^ laid siege to the city of Amphipolis j but before he FAITH PUBLIC. 16? proceeded to hostilities, was resolved to try what moderation and justice would produce. He solicited them to surrender without force, and to form an alliance with his nation j and, to induce them to it, declared, that he had taken an oath, in presence of the magistrates, to leave all those, in the enjoyment of their liberties who would conclude an alliance with him j and that he ought to be considered as the most abandoned of men, should he emf)loy oaths to ensnare their fidelity. '' For a fraud," said he, " cloaked with a specious pretence, reflects greater dishonour on persons in my station than open vio- lence 5 because the latter is the effect of the power which fortune has put into our hands, and the for- mer is founded wholly on perfidy , which is the bane of society. Now I," continues he, *' should do a great disservice to my country, besides dishonouring it eternally, if, by procuring it some slight advan- tages, 1 should ruin the reputation it enjoys, of being just and faithful to its promises ; which ren- ders it much more powerful th:in all its forces united together, because it acquires for it the esteem and confidence of other States." Upon such noble and equitable principles as these Brasides al- ways formed his conduct j believing that the strong- est bulwark of a nation is justice, moderation, and integrity 5 and by this conduct, he brought over a great number of the enemies' allies. How widely different were the conduct and politics of Philip of Macedon. We &ce in this prince a boundless ambition conducted by an art- ful, insinuating, subtle genius 3 but we do not find tnm possessed of the qualities which form the tnily 168 FAITH PUBLIC. great man. Philip had neither faith nor honour ; every thing that could contribute to the aggrandiz- ing of his power was, in his sense, just and lawful. He gave his word with a firm resolution to break it; and made promises which he would have been very sorry to keep. He thought himself skilful in pro- portion as he was perfidious j and made his glory consist in deceiving all with whom he treated. He did not blush to say, " That children were amused with playthings, and men with oaths." — JElian, lib. viu c. % — Demosth. Olynth, II. p. 22. The circumstance which prompts politicians to act perfidiously is, their being persuaded, that it is the only means to make a negociation succeed. But, though this were the case, can it ever be lawful to purchase such excess at the expense of probity, ho- nour, and religion ? " If your father-in-law, Fer- dinand the catholic,*' said Lewis XII. to Philip archduke of Austria, *' has acted perfidiously, I am determined not to imitate him 5 and I am much bet- ter pleased with having lost a kingdom (Naples) which I am able to recover, than I should have been had I lost my honour, which can never be recovered." But those politicians who have neither honour TiOr religion, deceive themselves, even in this par- ticular. I shall not have recourse to the Christian world for princes and ministers, whose notions of policy were very different from these. How many great men may we find in the history of Greece^ in particular, who were perfectly successful in the ad- ministration of public affairs, in treaties of peace and -war, in a word, in tlic most important negociations. FIDELITY IN SERVANTS. l69 use of artifice and deceit } An Aristides^ a Cimon, a Phocion, and many more : some of whom were so very scrupulous in matters relating to truth, as to believe they were not edlowed to tell a falsehood, even laughing and in sport. Cyrus> the most famous conqueror of the East, thought nothing was more unworthy of a prince, nor more capable of drawing upon him the contempt and hatred of his subjects, than lying and deceit. It therefore ought to be looked upon as a truth, that no success, how shining soever, can, or ought to cover the shame and igno- miny which arise from breach of faith and perjury. Roll, An, Hist voL viu FIDELITY IN SERVANTS. SENTIMENTS. Mutual trust and confidence are the great bonds of society, without which it cannot possibly subsist. When we have bound ourselves, therefore, by con- tract; when we have agreed, in return for the benefits and advantages of daily support and pro- tection, to promote the interest and welfare of those who thus support and protect us, the obligation is doubtless of double force, and the neglect of it to- tally unpardonable. A good servant will therefore not only be obedient, honest, and diligent, but will place himself in the circumstances and situation of his master, and do as he then would wish to be done by. He will be strictly just and faithful, with regard to every thing committed to his care 5 endea- Touring to promote in others that fidelity which he 170 FrDELITY IN SERVANTS, himself practises. He will be too active arid dSigent in the discharge of his duty, to stand in need of any admonitions to the performance, or any reproaches for the omission of it. He will insensibly contract a regard and esteem for those whom he serves, which will naturally grow up into the tenderest regard and affection -, so that his labour will be the labour of love, and his service perfect freedom. In a word, should his master be in danger, the good servant will testify his regard and friendship, even at the hazard of life. EXAMPLES. Thb Romans besieged Grumentum, in Lucaniaj and when the city was reduced to the last extremity, two slaves escaped into the camp of the besiegers. Soon after the place was taken by storm, and plun- dered. The two slaves, at this time, ran to the house of their mistress, whom they seized with a kind of violence, and carried off, threatening her both with their words and gestures 3 and when they were asked. Who she was ? they answered. She was their mistress, and a most cruel mistress 5 upon whom they were going to take revenge for all the barbarous treatment they had suffered from her. In this manner they made her quit the city, and con- veyed her to a safe retreat, where they concealed her with great care. Then, when the fury of the soldiery was over, and every thing quiet in the city, they brought her into it again, and obeyed her as before. She gave them their liberty, which was the greatest reward in her power to bestow > but cer- tainly extremely short of the favour she had received. Sen. de Bene/, iiu t^ FIDELITY IN SERVANTS. 171 About the year of Rome 638, six vestal virgins were accused of incontinence 5 and the illustrioois orator M. Antonius, among many others, was sus- pected of having criminal conversation with them. He was actually quaestor, and having Asia for his province, was upon the point of setting out for Brundusium, when he was informed of the accusa- tion against him 3 and, as there was a law to exempt those from prosecution who were absent in the ser- vice of their country, he might have easily evaded a trial. But conscious of his own innocence, he post- poned his journey, and returned from Brundusium to Rome, to clear himself, even from the suspicion of the charge brought against him. In the course of the trial, one circumstance rendered the defence of the accused very precarious and uncertain. The prosecutors demanded that a slave, who they pre- tended carried a torch before him in the night when he went to the criminal rendezvous, should be de- livered up to them, in order to his being put to the <|uestion. This slave was very young. Antonius was therefore in extreme apprehensions, both for the weakness of his years, and the violence of the pains he was going to suffer. But the slave himself exhorted his master to deliver him up without fearj assuring him, that his fidelity was proof against the most cruel inflictions. He kept his word 3 and the .question, which was very rigorous amongst the Ro- mans, whips, racks, and red-hot irons, could not overcome his constancy, nor make him speak in a manner prejudicial to the accused. This example proves that virtue, and conse- quently true nobility, is of all ranks and conditions. i2 172 FIDELITY IN SERVANTS. Antonius was acquitted 3 and set out for his pro* vince with honour and tranquillity. VaL Maxim, lib. Hi. c. 5. No sooner was Marius returned to Rome, and his former greatness, (see ante Ambition ^ p. 32.) than he filled not only the city, but all Italy, with ' the effects of his fury and revenge. The highways and cities were full of his guards, who followed those that fled like hounds, by the scent 5 and very few escaped. The unfortunate found neither faith- ful friends nor relations 5 and almost all of them were betrayed by those to whose houses they fled for security. This ought to make the fidelity of Cornutus*s servants the more admirable, who, after having concealed him in a safe place, took a dead body which they tied up by the neck to a beam, to make it be believed that it was their master, who had hanged himself 5 and shewed him in that situa- tion, with a gold ring on his finger, to the soldiers who sought him. They afterwards acted the whole ceremony of a funeral, without any body's suspect- ing the truth J and, during that time, Cornutus ^sqaped into Gaul.— Pfo^. — Jppian. rtATTERY. 17s FLATTERY. SENTIMENTS. -Nothing misbecomes The man that would be thought a friend, like flattery j Flattery, the meanest kind of base dissembling. And only used to catch the grossest fools. Please not thyself the flatt'ring crowd to hear; Tis fulsome stuff, to please thy itching ear. Survey thy soul ; not what thou dost appear, But what thou art. The heart has tio avenue so open as that of flattery, which like some enchantment, lays all its guards asleep. He that reviles me (it may be) calls me fool ; but he that flatters me, if I take not heed will make me one. Satisfaction can no where be placed but in a just sense of our own integrity, without regard to the opinion of others. EXAMPLES. When Ptolemy Euergetes first set out on his expedition into Syria, his queen Berenice, who ten- derly loved him, being apprehensive of the dangers to which he might be exposed in the war, made a vow to consecrate her hair, which was her chief or- nament, in case he should return safe. The prince returned not only safe, but crowned with glory and success 3 whereupon Berenice, to discharge her vow, immediately cut off her hair, and dedicated it to the gods, in the temple which Ptolemy Phila- 174 FLATTERY. delphus had built in honour of his beloved Arsinoe^ under the name of the Zephyrian Venus, on the pro- montory of Zephyrian, in Cyprus. But this con- secrated hair being lost soon after, or perhaps con- temptuously flung away by the priests, Ptolemy was much offended at this accident, and threatened to punish the priests for their neglect. Hereupon Conon of Samos, a flattering courtier, and great astronomer, to appease the king's wrath, and gain his favour, gave out that the queen's locks had been conveyed up to heaven 5 and pointed out seven stars, which, till that time, had not belonged to any constellation, declaring, that they were the queen's hair. Several other astronomers, either to make their court, as well as Conon, to the king, or out of fear of drawing upon themselves his displeasure, aflirmed the same thing 3 and hence coma Berenices, or the hair of Berenice, became one of the con- stellations, and is so to this day. Hygini Poetic* Astronom. Cambyses, king of Persia, having shot the son of Praxaspes through the heart, in his father's pre- sence, asked him, in an insulting, scoffing manner, if he had not a steady hand. The wretched father, who ought not to have had either voice or life re- maining, after a stroke like this, was so mean spirited as to reply, *' Apollo himself could not have shot better." Seneca, who copied this story from Herodotus, after having shewn his detestation of the barbarous cruelty of the prince, condemns still more the cowardice and monstrous flattery of the father. Sceleratius telum illvd laudatum est, quam missym. Sen, de Ira, lib. Hi, c, 14* FLATTERY* 175 Pkusias, king of Bithynia, being come to Rome, to make the Senate and Roman people his compli* ments of congratulation upon the good success of the war against Perseus, dishonoured the royal dignity by abject flattery. At his reception by the deputies appointed by the Senate for that purpose, he appeared with his head shaved, and with the cap, habit, shoes and stockings of a slave made free 5 and, stiluting the deputies, ^* You see," said he, '^ one of your freedmen, ready to fulfil whatever you shall choose to command, and to conform entirely to your customs." When he entered the senate, he stopped at the door, facing the senators, who sat, and pros- trating himself, kissed the threshold : afterwards, addressing himself to the assembly, ^' I salute you, gods, preservers," cried he 5 and went on with a discourse suitable to that prelude. Polybius says that he was ashamed to repeat it, and well he might : for that base deportment, at least, dishonoured the senate as much who suffered, as the prince who acted it. — Polybius, leget, 97. So exceedingly gross and fulsome was the adula* tion and flattery paid to Dionysius, tyrant of Syra- cuse, by his mean and despicable courtiers, that they are reported to have licked up his spittle, declaring that it was sweeter than nectar and ambrosia. Purchas, Pilg. p. 354. Antiochus Sidbtes, king of Syria, was a prince estimable for inany excellent qualities. As a proof of his wisdom he detested flattery. One day having lost himself a hunting, and being alone, he rode up to the cottage of a poor family, who re- ceived him in the best manner they could, without I 176 tlATTEHY. knowing him. At supper having himself turned the conversation upon the conduct and character of the king, they said^ that he was in every thing else a good prince^ but that his too great passion" for hunting made him neglect the affairs of his kingdom, and repose too much confidence in his courtiers, whose actions did not always correspond with the goodness of his intentions. Antiochus made no answer at that time. The next day upon the arrival of his train at the cottage, he was known. He repeated to his attendants what had passed the evening before -, and told them by way of reproach, ^' Since I have taken you into my service I have not heard a truth concerning myself till yesterday. — Plut, m Apophthegm, p, 185. As Canute the Great, king of England, was Walking on the sea-shore at Southampton, accom- panied by his courtiers, who offered him the grossest flattery, comparing him to the greatest heroes of an* tiquity, and asserting that his power was more than human, he ordered a chair to be placed at the beach while the tide was coming in. Sitting down with a majestic air, he thus addressed himself to the sea : ^^ Thou sea, art a part of my dominions, and the land whereon I sit is mine 5 no one ever broke my commands with impunity : I therefore charge thee to come no farther upon my land, and not presume to wet either my feet, or my robe, who am thy sove- reign." But the sea, rolling on as before, and without any respect, jiot only wet the skirts of his robe, but likevsdse splashed his thighs. On which he rose up suddenly, and addressing himself to his attendants, upbraided them with their ridiculous FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 177 flattery : and very judiciously expatiated on the nar- row and limited power of the greatest monarchs on earth. — Huntingdon, lib. vi. Florileg, in a. d. 1035. TiMOLEON having expelled the tyrants^ and re- stored Syracuse to its ancient liberty, his wisdom, valour, and glory, was very much extolled in his presence 3 yet such was his modesty, moderation, and uncommon aversion from all flattery, that he made no other answer, but that he thought himself obliged to express his thankfulness to the gods, who having decreed to restore peace and liberty to Sicily, had vouchsafed to make choice of him, in preference to all others, for so honourable a ministration 3 for he was fully persuaded that all human events are guided and disposed by the secret decrees of Divine Providence. What a treasure, what an happiness for a state, is such a minister ! Cor. Nep, in Timol, c. iv. FREEDOM WITH GREAT MEN DANGEROUS. SENTIMENTS. Quid de quoque viro, et cui dicas, usque caveto, •^ Have a care Of whom you talk : and what, and when, and where. It is observed in the course of worldly things, that men's fortunes are oftener made by their tongues than by their virtues 5 and more men's fortunes overthrown thereby than by their vices. I 5 178 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. Good counsel is cast away upon the arrogant^ the self-conceited, or the stupid, who are either too proud to take it, or too heavy to understand it. If you be consulted concerning a person either passionate, inconstant, or vicious, give not your ad- vice : it is in vain, for such will do only what shall please themselves. You are so far from obliging a man by relating to him the ill things which have been said of him, that you are quickly paid for your indiscretion by becoming the first object of his aversion and resent- XUf nt. EXAMPLES. BtONYsius the Elder, king of Syracuse, with- out the qualifications, had a strong passion for the character of a great poet. Having read one day some of hi^ verses to Philoxenus, and having press- ed him to give his opinion of them, he answered with entire freedom, and told him plainly his real sentiments. Dionysius, who was not accustomed to such language, was extremely offended) and, ascribing his boldness to envy, gave orders to carry him to the mine, the common gaol being so called. Rollings An. Hist, vol vL Cambyses, king of Persia having obliged Prax- aspes, one of the principal officers, to declare to him what his subjects said of him, " They admire," said Praxaspes, '' a great many excellent qualities they see in your msyesty, but they are somewhat surprised at your immoderate love of wine." '' I undefstand ypu,'' replied the king 3 *' that is, they pretend that wine deprives jne of my reason. You shall be judge t^REEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 179 of that immediately;' Upon which he began to drink excessively, pouring it down in larger quan- tities than ever he had done at any time before. Then ordering Praxaspes*s son, who was his chief cup-bearer, to stand upright at the end of the room, with his left hand upon his head, he took his bow, and levelled it at him 3 and declaring he aimed at his heart, let fly, and actually shot him in the heart. He then ordered his body to be opened 5 and show- ing the father the heart of his son, which the arrow had pierced, asked him, in an insulting, scoffing manner, if he had not a steady hand ? (See Flattery ^ ante, p. 174.) — Herod, lib. Hi. c, 35. Alexander the Great had determined to carry on war with India, the richest country in the world, not only in gold, but in pearls and precious stones, with which the inhabitants adorned themselves with more luxury, indeed, than gracefulness. Alex- ander was informed, that the swords of the soldiers were of gold and ivory, and the king, now the greatest monarch in the world, being determined Bot to yield to any person whatsoever, in any cir- cumstance, caused the swords of the soldiers to be set off with silver plates, put golden bridles to the horses, had the coats of mail heightened with gold and silver, and prepared to march for this enter- prise at the head of an hundred and twenty thou- sand men, all equipped with the magnificence above described. All things being ready for their setting out, he thought this a proper opportunity to reveal the de- sign he had so long meditated, viz, to have divine honours paid him. To sooth and cherish this ridi- 180 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT, culous pretension, there was not wanting flatterer^c, those common pests of courts, who are more dan- gerous to princes than the arms of their enemies. With this view he appointed a festival, and made an incredibly pompous banquet 3 to which he invited the greatest lords of his court, both Macedonians and Greeks, and most of the highest quality among the Persians. With these he sat down at table for some time ; after which he withdrew. Upon this Cleon, one of his flatterers, began to speak, and ex- patiated very much on the praises of the king : as had before been agreed upon. He made a long detail of the high obligations they owed to him : all which, he observed^ they might acknowledge and repay at a very easy expense, merely with two grains of incense, which they should offer to him as to a God, without the least scruple, since they believed him such. To this purpose he cited the example of the Persians 5 and added, that in case the rest should not care to pay this justice to Alexander's merit, he himself was resolved to show them the way, and to worship him in case he should return into the hall. But that all of them must do their duty; especially those who professed wisdom, and ought to serve the rest as an example of the veneration due to so great a monarch. It appeared plainly that this speech was directed to Callisthenes. He was related to Aristotle, who had presented himself to Alex- ander, his pupil, that he might attend upon that mo- narch in the war of Persia. He was considered, upon account of his wisdom and gravity, as the fittest person to give him such wholesome counsels as were most likely to preserve him from those excesses into which his youth and fiery temper might hurry FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 181 him. This philosopher, seeing that every one on this occasion continued in deep silence, and that the eyes of the whole assembly were fixed upon him, ad- dressed himself to Cleon in the following words : '' Had the king been present when thou madest thy speech, none among us would have attempted to answer thee, for he himself yvould have interrupted thee ', and not have suffered thee to prompt him to assume the customs of Barbarians, in casting an odium on his person and glory, by so servile an adu- lation. But since he is absent, I will answer thee in his name. I consider Alexander as worthy of all the honours that can be paid a mortal 5 but there is a difference between the worship of the gods, and that of men. The former includes temples, altars, prayers, and sacrifices ^ the latter is confined to commendations only, and awful respect. *' We salute the latter, and look upon it as glo- rious to pay them submission, obedience, and fideli- ty 5 but we adore the former. We institute festivals to their honour, and sing hymns and spiritual songs to their glory. We must not therefore confound things, either by bringing down the gods to the con- dition of mortals, or by raising a mortal to the state of a god. Alexander would be justly offended should we pay to another person the homage due to his sa- cred person only 3 ought we not to dread the indig- nation of the gods as much, should we bestow upon mortals the honour due to them alone ? I am sen- sible that our monarch is vastly superior to the rest 5 he is the greatest of kings, and the most glorious of all conquerors 5 but then he is a man, not a god. The Greeks did not worship Hercules till after his death) and then not till the oracle had ex- 182 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT, pressly commanded it. The Persians are cited a^ an example for our imitation 5 but how long is it that the vanquished have given law to the victor ? Can we forget, that Alexander crossed the Helle- spont, not to subject Greece to Asia, but Asia to Greece ? '* The deep silence which all the company ob- served whilst Callisthenes spoke, was an indication, in some measure, of their thoughts. The king, who stood behind the tapestry all the time, heard whatever had passed. He therefore ordered Cleon to be told, that, without insisting any farther, he would only require the Persians to fall prostrate, according to their usual custom 3 a little after which he came in, pretending he had been busied in some affair of importance. Immediately the Persians fell prostrate to adore him. Polysperchon, who stood near him, observed that one of them bowed so low, that his chin touched the ground, bid him, in a rallying tone of voice, to strike harder. The king, offended at this joke, threw Polysperchon into prison. As for Callist- }ienes, the king determined to get rid of him, and therefore laid to his charge a crime of which he was no way guilty. Accordingly, he was thrown into a dungeon, loaded with irons, and the most grievous torments were inflicted on him, in order to extort a confession of guilt. But he insisted upon his inno- cence to the last, and expired in the midst of his tortures. Nothing has reflected a greater dishonour on Alexander's memory than this unjust and cruel death of Callisthenes 5 and, by this dreadful example, he deprived all virtuous men of the opportunity of ex- horting him to those things which were for his true FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 183 interegt. From that instant no one spoke with free- dom in the council ; even those who had the great- est love for the public good, and a personal affection for Alexander, thought themselves not obliged to undeceive him. After this, nothing was listened to but flattery, which gained such an ascendancy over that prince, as entirely depraved him, and justly pu- nished him, for having sacrificed to the wild am- bition of having adoration paid him, the most virtuous man about his person, '' The murder of this phi- losopher,'* says Seneca, ^' was a crime of so heinous a nature, as entirely obliterates the glory of all his other actions." — Senec, Nat. Quest, lib. vi. c. 23. Darius having raised a prodigious army, all richly clothed, himself and whole court glittering with gold and precious stones, set out to meet Alex- ander the Great, near the city of Issus. There was at that time in the army of Darius one Charidemus, an Athenian, a man of great experience in war, who personally hated Alexander for having caused him to be banished from Athens. Darius, turning to this Athenian, asked, whether he believed him powerful enough to defeat his enemy ? Charidemus, who had been brought up in the bosom of liberty, and for- getting that he was in a country of slavery, where to oppose the inclination of a prince is of the most dan- gerous consequence, replied as follows : '* Possibly, Sir, you may be displeased with me telling you the truth : but in case I do it not now, it will be too late hereafter. This mighty parade of war, this prodigi- ous number of men, which has drained all the East, might indeed be formidable to your neighbours. Gold and purple shine in every part of your &rmy. 184 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. which is so prodigiously splendid, that those who have not seen it could never form an idea of its mag- nificence. But the soldiers who compose the ene- my's army, terrible to behold, and bristling in every part with arms, do not amuse themselves with such idle show. Their only care is to discipline in a regu- lar manner their battalions, and to cover themselves close with their bucklers and pikes. Their phalanx is a body of infantry, which engages without flinch- ing, and keeps so close in their ranks, that the sol- diers and their arms form a kind of impenetrable work. In a word, every single man among them, the officers as well as soldiers, are so well trained up, and so attentive to the command of their leaders, that at the least signal they make every motion and evolution of the art of war. But that you may be persuaded these Macedonians are not invited hither from the hopes of gaining gold and silver, know that this excellent discipline has subsisted hitherto by the sole aid and precepts of poverty. Are they hungry, they satisfy their appetites with any kind of food. Are they weary, they repose themselves on the bare ground, and in the day-time are always on their feet. Do you imagine that the Thessalian cavalry, and that of Acarnania and JStolia, who are all armed cap-a-pee, are to be repulsed by stones hurled from slings, and with sticks burned at the end ? Such troops only as are like themselves will be able to check their career -, and succours must be provided from their country to oppose their bravery and expe- rience. Send therefore thither all the useless gold and silver which I see here, and purchase formidable soldiers.** Darius was naturally of a mild, tractable texnper) but good fortune will corrupt the most FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. l85 happy disposition. Few monarchs are resolute and courageous enough to withstand their own power, and to esteem a man who loves them so well^ as to contradict and displease them^ in telling them the genuine truth. Darius^ not having strength of mind sufficient for this, gave orders for dragging to execution a man who had fled to him for protection, was at that time his guest, and who gave him the best counsel that could have been proposed to him : however, as this cruel treatment could not silence Caridemus, he cried aloud with his usual freedom, '^ My avenger is at hand, the very man in opposition to whom I gave you counsel, and he will punish you for despising it. As for you, Darius, in whom sovereign power has wrought so sudden a change, you will teach posterity, that when once men aban- don themselves to the delusions of Fortune, she erases from their minds all the seeds of goodness implanted in them by nature." Darius soon re- pented his having put to death so valuable a person, and experienced, but too late, the truth of all he had told him. — Q. Curt-^RoUin» Plato was descended from an ancient and illus- trious family possessed of a considerable estate, and universally admired as the profoundest scholar of his age t but neither his birth, fortune, wisdom, nor learning, could protect him from the resentment of Dionysius, king of Syracuse, for being too free with him. Dionysius, being charmed with the character of Plato the Divine, for so he was generally styled, ex- pressed a great inclination to have some conversation with him, The philosopher, then about 40 years of 186 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT, age^ paid the king a visit. The liberty, however, which he took of discoursing on the subject of ty- ranny, and the arguments he used to persuade the king to divest himself of his despotic power, had like to have cost him dear 5 his death, in all proba- l)ility, would have proved the consequence, had not his friends Dion and Aristomenes pleaded hard in his behalf. Though the king, indeed, through their intercession, spared his life, yet he showed his resent- ment so far, that he delivered him up to one Polides, a Lacedemonian ambassador, at that time resident at Dionysius's court, with express orders for his being sold as a slave. This ambassador soon after transported him to jEgina, and there executed the commission. Very happy it was for poor Plato that one Anniceres, a native of Cyrene, happened at that time to be in the island. This person paid down the sum demanded for the philosopher 5 and took the first opportunity of sending him back to Athens, and restoring him to his friends. Dionysius being informed that Plato was once more at Athens in a state of freedom, contrary to his expectation, was under some apprehension that Plato would study some way or other to revenge the insult and indignity offered him. He wrote therefore a very complaisant letter to him, wherein he, in effect, though not in direct terms, desired he would excuse the treatment he had met with, and insinuated it was with pleasure he heard of his residing again among his friends. Plato sent a very cold answer, which was to this effect -, viz. That he need not give himself any great concern about what had passed 5 for his thoughts were so much taken up with the FRIENDSHIP. 187 ^^harnis of philosophy^ that he had no time to spare in the gratification of any private resentment. Martin's Lives, ^c. FRIENDSHIP. SENTIMENTS. WiTHovT friendship life has no charm. The only things which can render friendship sure and lasting are, virtue, purity of manners, an elevated soul, and a perfect integrity of heart. Friendship is a disinterested aiFection, founded only on esteem, and of all the passions most nearly resembles love : no* is there the least difference if we suppose this last independent of the sex of the person beloved. If Platonic love is not a mere chimera, it is nothing else but friendship, which is neither increased nor diminished by the difference of sex of the two friends. The first rule in the choice of a friend, is not to love him before you know him : almost at first sight we may know if a man be of quick or slow parts, if he be gay or serious, clownish or polite, talkative or reserved, witty or stupid -, we see almost all this in his eyes, in his attitude, in his gestures, and in his discourse, but we cannot so easily discover whether he has virtue and probity. It requires more time to be certain with regard to this point 5 and till we are as well assured of it, as it is possible for us to be, wc ought not prodigally to bestow upon him, from equivocal appearances, the precious title of friend. Are we at last convinced that he deserves it ? then there must be no reserve ; wc ought to enter with I ^88 FRIENDSHIP* him into an intercourse of sentiments^ of tastes^ pleasures, and interests. The next rule, which is not less important, is to choose a friend only from the society of the good and virtuous. The most long-lived plants are not those that grow the fastest 3 thus it is with f^riend- ship : that is commonly the most firm and durable which grows up but slowly 5 while that which is hastily contracted is more liable to be dissolved. Lo- vers of virtue should have none but virtuous men for their friends 5 and on this point the proof ought principally to turn : because where there is no vir- tue there is no security that our honour, confidence, and friendship will not be betrayed and abused. In general, they suffer most fronT^^retended friendship who least deserve to suflfer. It is very rare for the honest heart to prove distrustful 3 and more rare still for him not to be deceived, who is a stranger to suspicion i There are men of a character so open and generous that there is no one but would be a gainer by making them their friends 3 but when these contract a friendship they risk more than others : for so many advantages arise from aspiring after their esteem, that they can never be certain that it is not courted with a view to interest 3 and a self-interested friend is never a true one. It is to these upright and sincere hearts that I especially direct my counsels on friendship, for what matters it if deceivers are de- ceived ? The necessary appendages of friendship are con- fidence and benevolence. The purse and the heart ought to be open to a friend 3 and in no case can we shut them, except in such as will justify our having no longer any regard for him. And^ indeed, we run FRIENDSHIP. 189 no hazard in trusting to a welUchosen friend, either our secret or our strong box, for we are certain that he will use them both with discretion. Confidence produces two effects : the one is such a perfect reliance on the prudence, the probity, the constancy, and affection of the person beloved, as prevents every injurious suspicion : the other effect, which is indeed a natural consequence of such a re- liance, is that openness and unreserve with which two friends disclose their most intimate sentiments, their thoughts, their projects, and, in a word, every thing in which either the one or the other may ap- pear concerned 3 and this frequently extends even to trifles : because, between friends, trifles themselves become interesting. Such faults only as are inconsistent with the sincerity of friendship, ought to be unpardonable : overlook in your friend all the faults in which his heart is not concerned, all those which do not prove that his affection for you is extinguished. To break with a friend, to betray or insult him, are the only faults which friendship cannot pardon. Though friendship hath nothing in it of a selfish nature, yet it is pleased with kindness and good of- fices 5 these are to friends what caresses are to lovers 5 not reasons for beginning to love, but motives to love more affectionately : like a breath of wind, which, though it produces not the flame, renders it more ardent. The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend, as to find a friend worth dying for. EXAMPLES. Caius Gracchus, who was the idol of the Roman people, having carried his regard for the plebeians 190 FRIENDSHIP. SO far as to draw on himself the resentment of the nobility, an open rupture ensued. The consul Opimius, who espoused the cause of the latter, seized a post which commanded the city. Gracchus, and Fulvius his friend, with a confused multitude, took possession of Mount-Aventine ^ so that the two ex- tremities of Rome, to the east and west, were like two camps. Overturesof peace were made; but not being accepted a battle ensued, in which the consul meeting with a more vigorous opposition than he expected, proclaimed an amnesty for all those who should lay down their arms ; and, at the same time, set a price on the heads of Gracchus and Fulvias, promising to give their weight in gold to any one who should bring them to him. This proclamation had the desired effect; the populace slipped away one by one, and, deserting their leaders, returned silently to their own houses. Fulvius, by the vigi- lance of the consular party, was taken and beheaded. As for Gracchus, he would have taken refuge in the temple of Diana ; but Licinius Crassus, his brother- in-law, and Pomponius, a Roman knight who at- tended him, advised him to make his escape from thence. He followed their advice, and passing through the centre of the city, got to the bridge Sublicius, where his enemies, who pursued him close, would have overtaken and seized him, if his two friends, with as much intrepidity and resolution as Horatius Codes had formerly exerted in the same place, had not opposed their fury : but they saw the danger he was in, and determined to save his life, even at the expense of their own. They defended the bridge against all the consular troops, till Grac- chus was out of their reach 3 but, at length, being FRIENDSHIP. 191 overpowered by numbers, and covered with wounds, they both expired on the bridge which they had so valiantly defended. In the mean while Gracchus fled to a sacred wood, dedicated to the Furies, and there ordered a generous slave, by name Euphorus, or as others call him, Philostratus, who had attended him, to put an end to his life. The faithful slave, resolving not to outlive his master, stabbed himself with the same dagger which he had plunged into • the breast of Gracchus, and expired with him. Others tell us, that Gracchus, being overtaken by his pursuers, Euphorus, embracing his master, co- vered him with his own body, so that his enemies could not hurt him without first killing the faithful slave, who, after receiving many wounds, breathed his last over Gracchus, whom the rabble dispatched. Plut. in Gracch, Neveb, perhaps, was there a more sincere and elegant friendship than that which subsisted between Scipio and LseliuSt The former was one of the greatest generals and best men that Rome ever pro- duced 5 the other for his probity and prudence was diirtinguished by the surname of the Wise, They were almost of the same age, and had the same in- clination, benevolence of mind, taste for learning of all kinds, principles of government, and zeal for the public good. If Scipio took place in point of mili- tary glory (though Laelius did not want merit even of that kind) his friend had, perhaps, the superio- rity in respect of eloquence : but let us hear Lselius himself upon so interesting a subject. " As for nie," says Lgelius^ ''of all the gifts of nature or fortune, there are none, I think, comparable to the 192 FRIENDSHIP. happiness of having Scipio for my friend. I found in our friendship a perfect conformity of sentiments in respect to public affairs, an inexhaustible fund of counsels and supports in private life, with a tran- quillity and delight not to be expressed. I never gave Scipio the least offence to my knowledge, nor ever heard a word escape him that did not please me. We had but one house, and one table at our common expense, the frugality of which was equally the taste of both j for in war, in travelling, in the country^ we were always together. I do not men- tion our studies, and the attention of us both always to learn something ; this was the employment of all our leisure hours, removed from the sight and com* merce of the world." Is there any thing comparable to a friendship like that which Lselius had just described ? '^ What a consolation is it to have a second-life, to whom we have nothing secret, and into whose heart we may pour out our own with perfect effusion. Could we taste prosperity so sensibly, if we had no one to share in our joy with us > And what a relief is it in adversity to have a friend still more affected with it than ourselves." What highly exalts the value of the friendship we speak of, was its not being founded at all upon interest, but solely upon esteem for each other's virtues. '' What occasion," says Laelius, ^' could Scipio have of me ? Undoubtedly none, nor I of him. But my attachment to him was the effect of my high esteem and admiration of his virtues ^ and his to me from the favourable idea he had of my character and manners. This friendship increased afterwards on both sides, by habit and commerce* FRIENDSHIP. 193 We both of US indeed derived great advantages from it, but these were not our view when we began to love each other." — De Amicit. 22. 30. Nothing upon earth can be so desirable as such a friendship as we have now described -, but in vain do we seek for it among the ignorant, the vain, the selfish, or men of loose and profligate principles j for we shall soon be ashamed of loving a man whom we cannot esteem. Pure friendship is something, which none can truly taste, but those of warm pas- sions and a refined genius : such may say with Ovid, nos duo turba sumus, we two are a multitude. When Damon was sentenced by Dionysius of Syracuse to die on a certain day, he begged permis- sion, in the interim, to retire in his own country, to set the affairs of his disconsolate family in order. This the king intended peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impossible con- ditions of his procuring some one to remain as hos- tage for his return, under equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the conditions, and did not wait for an application upon the part of Damon 5 he instantly offered himself as security for his friend, which being accepted, Damon was immediately set at li- berty. The king and all the courtiers were as- tonished at this action 5 and therefore when the day of execution drew near, his majesty had the cu- riosity to visit Pythias in his confinement. After some conversation on the subject of friendship, in which the king delivered it as his opinion that self- interest was the sole mover of human actions 5 as for virtue, friendship, benevolence, love of one's country, and the like;j.he looked upon them as terms 194 FRIKNDSHIF, inrented by the wise to keep in awe and impose upon the weak. '' My lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, ^* I would it were pos- sible that I might suflPer a thousand deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of his ho- nour. He cannot fail therein, my lord: I am as confident of his virtue as I am of my own existence. But I pray, I beseech the gods, to preserve the life and integrity of my Damon together : oppose him, ye winds ; prevent the eagerness and impatience of his honourable endeavours, and suffer him not to arrive till by my death I have redeemed a life a thou- sand times of more consequence, of more value, than my own 3 more estimable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents, to his friends, to his coun- try. O leave me not to die the worst of deaths in my Damon." Dionysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of these sentiments, and by the manner in which they were uttered : he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth ; but it served rather to perplex than undeceive him. The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked amidst the guards with a serious, but satisfied air, to the place of execution. Dionysius was already there 5 he was exalted on a moving throne, that was drawn by six white horses, and sat peiisive and attentive to the prisoner. Pythias came, he vaulted lightly on the scaffold j and beholding for some time the apparatus of his death, he turned with a placid countenance, and addressed the spectators : '" My prayers are heard," he cried, "^the gods are propitious 3 you know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. Damon could not Gome, he could not conquer impossibilities 3 he will FRIENDSHIP. 195 be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to- day, shall have ransomed the life of my friend. O could I eraae from your bosoms every doubt, every mean suspicion, of the honour of the man for whom I am about to suffer, I shall go to my death even as I would to my bridal. Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that my friend will be found noble,'* that his, truth is unimpeachable ; that he will speedily prove it 5 that he is now on his way, hurrying on, accus- ing himself, the adverse elements, and the gods 5 but I haste to prevent his speed 5 executioner, do your office." As he pronounced the last words, a buz began to rise among the remotest of the peo- ple 5 a distant voice was heard ; the crowd caught the words, and ' Stop, stop the execution,* was re- peated by the whole assembly : a man came at full speed : the throng gave way to his approach : he Was mounted on a steed of foam : in an instant he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly embraced. '^ You are safe," he cried, '^ you are safe, my friend, my beloved friend, the gods be praised, you are safe -, I now have nothing but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those reproaches which I gave myself, for having endan- gered a life so much dearer than my own." Palei cold, and half speechless in the arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken accents — " Fatal haste ! Cruel impatience! What envious powers hath wrought impossibilities in your favour ? But 1 will not be wholly disappointed. Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you." Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with astonishment. His heart was touched, he wept, and leaving his throne, he aicended the scaffold, *' Live, live, ye incom- k2 196 GAMING, parable pair ! " he cried, *^*^ ye have borne unques- tionable testimony to the existence of virtue ! and that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live renowned : and, O form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a friendship.'* Cic. de Officiis* lib. 3, w. 43.— The Fool of Quality, GAMING. SENTIMENTS, LovE of gaming corrupts the best principles in the world : like a quicksand, it swallows up a man in a moment. There is one affliction which is lasting, and that is the loss of an estate -, time, which alleviates all others, sharpens this : we feel it every moment dur- ing the course of our lives, continually missing the fortune we have lost. All play debts must be paid in specie, or by an equivalent. The man that plays beyond his income pawns his estate : the woman must find out some-* thing else to mortgage when her pin-money is gone : the husband has his lands to dispose of 3 the wife her person. Now, when the female body is once dipped, if the creditor be very importunate, I leave my reader to consider the consequences. The love of cards let sloth infuse ; The love of money soon ensues : OAMING. 197 the strong desire shall ne'er decay, Who plays to win, shall win to play : The breast where love had plann'd his reign, Shall burn unquench'd with lust of gain j And all the charms that wit can boast in dreams of bitter luck be lost. Thus, neither innocent nor gay. The useless hours shall fleet away ; While time o'erlooks the trivial strife. And scoffing shakes the sands of life. Till the wan maid, whose early bloom The vigils of quadrille consume, Exhausted by the pangs of play. To lust and av'rice falls a prey, EXAMPLES. Mir A was the only daughter of a nobleman^ who ^^^1 bravely served his country : and his estate being but juavo,„flicient to provide for his sons, Mira had her education ^^^^ ^^ aunt/ who afterwards left her fifty thousand poun^.. rpy^^ ^1^ 1^^ ^^g ^^^lei^ we call a very good sort of a woman, uc.^t_;^^ ^ infirm, she led, in Mr. Pope's words, ^' an old age of cards 5 " and Mira being her darling, she always made one of the set. By this she contracted an early love for play, which at first disguised itself under the plausible appearances of willingness to oblige her company, and doing somewhat to pass the ' time : but when Mira became mistress of herself and fortune, she found this passion so strongly confirm- ed, that it gained an absolute ascendancy over her mind ; though in all other respects she was frugal, prudent, and virtuous. Her husband, who fills a place by which he has opportunities of knowing very secret transactions, loves her to distraction; and she has every indulgence that fortune or nature can bestow. Her passion, however, for play, led 198 <5AMl]^C\ her some time ago into a set^ of which Count Crib was one > and she lost five hundred pounds. The frequent demands of that kind she had made upon her husbandj and the many solemn promises she had given not to renew them, rendered it worse than death for her to apply to him -, yet the money, be the consequence ever so disagreeable, nay, fatal, must be obtained. The Count is a secret agent for the enemies of this country, who spare for no money to procure intelligence. Though every way disgust- ful and disagreeable, yet his readiness to be in all parties at play, and his being always well furnished with money, renders him agreeable to what is called the very best company, though they both know and call him a spy and a sharper. The Count, who has great experi*^*'*^ ^^ "*®'' tresses of that kind, saw that -^ ^''^ ^^^^^y ^ira, and knew he com^ — « ^t worth his while to rpKr.-- *•-*• ^^ pretended to enter with her upon a tkte-h^t^te game at piquet, and throwing up thd cards all of a sudden, he swore he was picking her pocket, because she did not mind her game, and that he was sure something was the matter with her. '' But, faith," continued he, " I am not myself in a good cue for play, I am uneasy 5 I would give five hundred pounds with all my heart " Mirain her turn was equally impatient to know the Count's distress : and at last she learned, that he could get a thousand pounds bet with Lord Matadore upon a certain destination of great importance 5 but he did not know what side to take, or how to stake his money. Mirahad good sense enough to see through the villain's design ; but the dear delight of being again »et up in play, 8tifl»4 within her all considera^ GAMING, 199 tion of duty, love, and loyalty 5 she several times traversed the room in a musing posture, but the struggle was soon over, and in short the bargain was struck. She was to procure the Count authentic intelligence of the destination, and he in return was to make her a present of five hundred pounds. Mira, upon her return home, affected an unusual gaiety 5 and what gave vast pleasure to her husband was, that having invited some friends to sup, the card-tables were early removed, and the remaining part of the evening was dedicated to cheerful con- versation. The unsuspecting Hortensio, for that was the husband's name, went to bed, and falling to sleep more profoundly than usual, Mira seized the golden opportunity of transcribing from Ins pocket-book, which lay upon a bureau, in an adja- cent closet, a paper which contained all, and more than the Count wanted to know. In the afternoon, dinner being over, and her husband abroad, under pretence of walking into St. James*s Park, she got into a hackney-chair, and hurried to the place of as- signation with the welcome intelligence to the Count. He could not believe his own good fortune when he read it, and being a thorough bred viUain, he re- solved to seal his correspondence with the beautiful agent, with more tender engagements than those of money. Though Mira loathed and detested him, yet the golden bait, which he dangled in her eyes, and which was to restore her to the comforts of the soul, proved at last irresistible. She plunged, con- scious of her crime, into perdition, and is now un- done. She has got in her pockets the wages of her double perfidy, while her passion for play will soon bring her into circumstances that will oblige her to £00 GAMING. repeat her crime > and a few months will extinguish the remains of that modesty^ and those sentiments that gave dignity to her beauty, and loveliness to her perfections. Such are the effects of a passion for gaming. The late Colonel Daniel took great pleasure in giving advice to young officers, guiding them in their military functions, the management of their pay, &c. Whenever he was upon the article of Gam- ing, he used always to tell the following story of himself, as a warning to others, and to show that a little resolution may conquer this absurd passiofl. '^ In Queen Anne*s wars he was an ensign in the English army then in Spain : but he was so abso- lutely possessed by this evil, that all duty^ and every thing else that prevented his gratifying his darling passion, was to him most grievous : he scarcely allowed himself time for rest -, or if he slept, his dreams presented packs of cards to his eyes, and the rattling of dice to his ears : — his meals were neg- lected, or if he attended them, he looked upon that as so much lost time -, he swallowed his meat with precipitance, and hurried to the dear gaming-table again. In one word, he was a professed gamester. For some time, fortune was his friend : and he was so successful, that he has often spread his winnings on the ground, and rolled himself on them, in order that it might be said of him, ' he wallowed in gold.* Such was his life for a considerable time 5 but as he often said, and I dare say every considerate man will join with him, ' it was the most miserable part of it/ — After some time he was ordered on the recruit- ing duty, and at Barcelona he raised ohq hundred GAMING. 201 and fifty recruits for the regiment ^ though this was left entirely to his serjeant, that he might be more at leisure to attend to his darling passion. Afteu some changes of good and ill-luck, fortune declared so openly against him, that in one unlucky run, he was totally stript of the last farthing. In this dis- tress he applied to a captain of the same regiment with himself for a loan of ten guineas ; which was refused with this speech, ' What ! lend my money to a professed gamester ! No, Sir, I must be excused : for of necessity I must lose either my money or my friend 3 I therefore choose to keep my money.' With this taunting refusal he retired to his lodgings, where he threw himself on the bed, to lay himself and his sorrows to a momentary rest, during the heat of the day. A gnat, or some such vermin, happening to bite him, he awoke j when his melancholy situa- tion immediately presented itself to him. Without money ! and no prospect how to get any to subsist himself and his recruits to the regiment, then at a great distance from him 5 and should they desert for want of their pay, he must be answerable for it 5 and he could expect nothing but cashiering for disap- pointing the queen's service. — He had no friend, for he whom he had esteemed so had not only refused to lend him money, but had added taunts to his refusal. He had no acquaintance there 5 and strangers he knew would not let him have so large a sum as was answerable to his real necessity. This naturally led him to reflect seriously on what had induced him to commence gamester, and this he presently perceived was idleness. He had now found the cause, but the cure was still wanting : how was that to be effect- ed so as to prevent a relapse? Something must be k5 202 GAMING. done : some method must be pursued so effectually to employ his time, as to prevent his having any to throw away at gaming. It then occurred to him, that the adjutancy of the regiment was to be disposed of, and this he determined to purchase, as a post the most likely to find him a sufficient and laudable way of passing his time. He had letters of credit to draw for what sum he pleased for his promotion in the army ; but not to throw away idly, or to en- courage his extravagancy. This was well : but the main difficulty remained, and he must get to the regiment before he could take any steps towards the intended purchase, or draw for the sum to make it with. While he was endeavouring to fall upon some expedient to extricate himself out of this dilemma, his friend, who had refused him in the morning, came to pay him a visit. After a very cool reception on the colonel's side, the other began by asking him, what steps he intended to take to relieve himself from the anxiety he plainly saw he was in > The colonel then told him all that he had thought upon that head, and the resolution he had made of pur- chasing the adjutancy as soon as he could join the regiment : his friend then getting up and embracing him, said, ^ My dear Daniel, I refused you in the morning in that abrupt manner in order to bring you to a sense of the dangerous situation you were in, and to make you reflect seriously on the folly of the way of life you had got into. I heartily rejoice that it has had the desired effect. Pursue the laud- able resolution you have made, for be assured that IDLENESS AND GAMING AKE THE RUIN OF YOUTH, My interest, advice, and purse, are now at your com- maiid : there, take it, and please yourself with what GENEROSITY. ^03 is necessary to subsist yourself and recruits to the regiment.* This presently brought the colonel off the bed J and this afternoon's behaviour entirely obliterated the harshness of his friend's morning re-r f usal 5 he now viewed him in the agreeable light of a sincere friend, and for ever after esteemed and found him such. In short, the colonel set off with his recruits for the regiment, where he gained great applause for his success, which, as well as his com- mission, he had well nigh lost by one morning's folly j he immediately solicited for, and purchased the adr jutancy^ and from that day forward never touched cards or dice, but as they ought to be used, merely for diversion, or to unbend the mind after too close an attention to serious affairs.'* Friendly Advice to Officers, GENEROSITY. SENTIMENTS* True generosity is a duty as indispensibly neees- vary as those imposed upon us by law. It is a rule imposed upon us by reason, which should be the sovereign law of a rational being. But this gene- rosity does not consist in obeying every impulse of humanity, in following blind passion for our guide, and in impairing our circumstances by present bene- factions, which may render us incapable of future ones, or doing justice where it is due. EXAMPLES. The conduct of the war against Falisci being committed to the care of CamiUus, the Roman die- €04 GENEROSITY. tator^ he besieged Falerii;, their capital city, and sur- rounded it with lines ; but at so great a distance from the walls, that there was sufficient room for the besieged to take the air without danger. The Falisci had brought from Greece the custom of com- mitting all their children to the care of one man, who was to instruct them in all the branches of polite literature, to take them out a walking with him, and see them perform the exercises proper for their age. The children had used often to walk with their master without the walls of the city before the siege 3 and the fears of an enemy, who kept quiet, and at such a distance, were not great enough to make them discontinue their exercise afterwards. But the present school-master proved a traitor. He at first led the youths only along the walls, then he carried them a little farther 3 and at length, when a favourable opportunity offered, he led them through the guards of the Roman camp, quite to the general's tent. As they were the children of the best families in the place, their treacherous leader, when he came into Camillus's presence, ad- dressed him thus : ^' With these children I deliver the place you besiege into your hands 5 they were committed to my care and tuition, but I prefer the friendship of Rome to my employment at Falerii." Camillus, struck with horror at the treachery, and looking at him with a menacing air : '' Traitor,'* feays he, '' you do not address yourself with your impious present either to a general or a people that resemble you : we have indeed no express and for- mal alliance with the Falisci, but that which nature has established between all men both does and shall subsist between us. War has its rights as well as C GENEROSITY. 205 peace -, and we have learned to make it with no less justice than valour. We are in arms, not against an age which is spared even in cities taken by assault, but against men armed like ourselves 5 men, who, without any previous injury from us attacked the Roman camp at Veil. Thou, to the utmost of thy power, hast succeeded them by a new and different kind of crime; but for me, .1 shall conquer, as at Veii, by Roman arts, by valour and perseverance.*' The traitor was not dismissed with this reprimand only : Camillus caused him to be stripped, and to have his hands tied behind him ; and arming the young scholars with rods, he ordered them to drive him back into the city, and to scourge him all the way ; which no doubt they did with a good will. At this sight the Falisci, who had been incon- solable for the loss of their children, raised cries of joy : they were charmed to such a degree, with so uncommon an example of justice and virtue that in an instant they intirely changed their dis- position with respect to the Romans, and resolved that moment to have a peace with such generous enemies. Accordingly they sent deputies first to the camp, and afterwards to Rome 5 where, when they had audience of the Senate, they addressed themselves to it in these terms : '^ Illustrious Fathers, conquered by you and your general, in a manner that can give no offence to gods and men, we are come to surrender ourselves to you j and we assure ourselves, than which nothing can be more glorious for victors, that we shall live happier under your government than under our own laws. The event of this war has brought forth two ex- cellent examples for mankind. You, fathers, have 206 OENEROSITY. preferred justice to immediate conquest; and we^ excited by that justice which we admire^ voluntarilr present you the victory," — Liv. lib. v. c. 27. Papirius Carbo, the Roman consul, being im- peached as an accomplice in the assassination of the second Africanus, and having affronted one of his servants, he stole the box in which his master kept all his papers, and carried it to Licinius Crassus, who was employed to prosecute the indictment. Crassus had conceived an implacable hatred to Pa- pirius, and these papers would have furnished him with ample matter to gratify it ; but the generous Roman had such an abhorrence of the treachery, that he sent back the slave in chains, and the box unopened, saying, '* that he had rather let an enemy and a criminal escape unpunished, than destroy him by base and dishonourable means." Brutus, the general, having conquered the Patarenses, ordered them, on pain of death, to bring him all the gold and silver, promising rewards to such as should discover any hidden treasures. Upon this a slave belonging to a rich citizen, informed against his master^, and discovered to a centurion, wlio was sent for that purpose, the place where he had buried his wealth. The citizen was immediately seized, and brought, together with the treacherous ■ informer, befgre Brutus. The mother of the accused followed them, declaring, with tears in her eyes, that she had hid the treasure without her son's know- ledge, and consequently ought to be punished. On the other hand, the slave stood to his first informa- tion^ maintaiuing that his master, and not his mo- GENEROSITY. 207 ther, had transgressed the edict. Brutus heard both parties with great patience j and being in the end convinced that the accusation of the slave was chiefly founded on the hatred he bore to his master, he commended the tenderness and generosity of the mother, restored the whole sum to tlie son, and condemned the slave to be crucified. This judg- ment, which was immediately published all over Lycia, gained him the hearts of the inhabitants, who came in flocks to him from all quarters, offer- iijg, of their own accord, what ready money they had by them. — Appian, lib, iv. p. 356. The second Scipio Africanus, being bound by the will of Emilia, who had left him a large for- tune, ♦o pay at three different times to the two daughters of his grandfather by adoption, half their portions, which amounted to eleven thousand two hundred and fifty pounds, the time for the payment of the first sum being expired, Scipio put the whole money into the hands of a banker. Tiberius Grac- chus and Scipio Nasica, who had married the two sisters, imagining that Scipio had made a mistake^ went to him, and observed that the laws allowed him three years to pay that sum in, and at three dif- ferent times. Young Scipio answered, that he knew very well what the laws directed on this occasion ; that they might indeed be executed in the greatest rigour with stranger^j but that friends and relations ought to treat one another with a more generous simplicity 5 and therefore he desired them to receive the whole sum. They were struck with such admi- ration at the generosity of their kinsman, that in their return home, they reproached themselves with S08 GEKEROSITY. their nan'ow way of thinking, at the time when they made the greatest figure, and had the highest regard paid to them of any family in Rome. This generous action, says Polybius, was the more ad- mired, because no person in Rome, so far from con- senting to pay so large a sum before it was due, would pay even twenty pounds before the time of payment was elapsed. Papiria, the mother of Scipio, having been di- vorced from her husband, was not in circumstances to support the dignity of her birth 3 and therefore lived in great obscurity, never appearing in the as- semblies, or at public ceremonies. Scipio, after he became possessed of the fortune above-mentioned, assigned over so much of it to his mother, as enabled her not only to enjoy the conveniences of life, but to appear as usual in the best company, with an equipage and splendor every way suitable to her birth, and the august house to which she was re- lated. This noble generosity of Scipio did him great honour, especially in the minds of the ladies, who expatiated on it in all their conversations, and in a city, whose inhabitants, says Polybius, were not easily prevailed upon to part with their money. After the death of his mother, the rich possessions he had given her reverted to him, by law as well as equity 5 and his sisters, according to the cus- tom of those times, had not the least claim to them. Nevertheless, Scipio thought it would be dishonourable had he taken them back 3 he therefore made over to his sisters whatever he had presented to his mother, which amounted to a very consider- able sum : and by this fresh proof of his glorious OfeNEROSITV. 209 disregard of wealth : and the tender friendship he had for his family, acquired the applause of the whole city. — Excerp, e Polyb, The disinterested generosity of this great man was not confined to his own family or relations. Going to command in Spain, during the war with Numantia, Antiochus Sidetes sent him rich and magnificent presents. Some generals would have appropriated them to their own use 5 Scipio received them in public, sitting upon his tribunal, in the view of the whole army, and gave orders that they should be delivered to the treasurer of the army (the Quaes- tor), to be applied in rewarding those officers and soldiers who should distinguish themselves in the service. — Epit Liv. lib. 57. iEscHiNES and Demosthenes were the two greatest orators which Greece, or, perhaps, any other nation ever produced. The formeip having drawn up an accusation against one Ctesiphon, or rather against Demosthenes, a time was fixed for hearing the trial. No cause ever excited so much curiosity, nor was pleaded with so much pomp. People flocked to it from all parts, says Cicero, and they had great reason for so doing 3 for what sight could be nobler than a conflict between two orators, each of them excellent in his way -, both formed by nature, improved by art, and animated by perpe- tual dissensions, and an insuperable jealousy! The disposition of the people, and the juncture of the times, seemed to favour ^schines 3 nevertheless he lost his cause, and was justly sentenced to be ba- nished for his rash accusation. He thereupon went and settled at Rhodes, where he opened a school of SIO HAPPINESS, eloquence^ the fame and glory of which continued for many ages. He begun his lectures with the two orations that had occasioned his banishment. Great encomiums were given to that of ^schines 5 but when they heard that of Demosthenes, the plaudits and acclamations were redoubled j and it was theii he spoke these words, so greatly laudable in the mouth of an enemy : '^ But what applauses would you have bestowed, had you heard Demosthenes speak it himself." The victor likewise made a good use of the con- quest 3 for the instant ^schines left Athens, in order to embark for Rhodes, Demosthenes ran after him, and forced him to accept of a purse of money 5 which must have obliged him so much the more, as he had little room to expect such an offer. On this occasion ^schines cried out : ^' How will it be possible for me not to regret a country in which I leave an enemy more generous, than I can hope to find friends in any other part of the world !** HAPPINESS, Nok founded on Wealth ; or, the Vicissitudes of Humcun Life, SENTIMENTS. You see here a notable instance of the uncertainty of human grandeur, and of the mutability of for- tune ; let it make a proper impression on you all, but especially on such of you as are in the vigour of your age. Let not present prosperity so far puff up any man w to make hira behave with arrogance to- HAPPINESS. ^11 ward« another ; neither let any man confide in his good fortune, for he cannot tell how soon it may forsake him. It is the lot of mankind to be happy and miser- able by turns. Divine wisdom will have it so, and it is exceedingly for our advantage it should be so. By the meditation of this mixture, we have the com- fort of hope to support us in our distresses, and the apprehensions of a change to keep a check upon us, in the very height of our greatness and glory ; so that by this vicissitude of good and evil, we are kept steady in our philosophy, and in our religion. The one puts us in mind of God's omnipotence and jus- tice, the other of his goodness and mercy 3 the one tells us that there is no trusting to our strength, the other preaches faith and resignation in the prospect of an over- ruling Providence who takes care of us. XXAMPLBS. Crccsus was king of Lydia. His very aamfc which is become a proverb, carries in it an idea of immense riches. The wealth of this prince, to judge of it only by the presents he made *o the temple of Delphos, must have been excessively great. Most of those presents were to be seen in the time of Herodotus -, and were worth several mil- lions. We may partly account for the treasures of this prince from certain mines that he had, situate, according to Strabo, between Pergamos and Atarnesj as also from the little river Pactolus, the sand of which was gold. This uncommon affluence, which is a thing extraordinary, did not enervate or softeii the courage of Croesus. He thought it unworthy of a prince to spend his time in idleness and pleasures. Sl^ HAPPINESS. Herodotus observes, that he was the first conqueror of the Greeks, who till then had never been subject to a foreign power. But what is still more extraor- dinary in this prince, though he was immensely rich, and so great a warrior, yet his chief delight was in literature and the sciences. His court was the ordinary residence of those famous and learned men, so revered by antiquity, and distinguished by the name of the Seven wise Men of Greece. Solon, one of the most celebrated amongst them, after having established new laws at Athens, went to Sardis, where he was received in a manner suitable to the reputation of so great a man. The king, at- tended with a numerous court, appeared in all his regal pomp and splendour, dressed in the most mag* nificent apparel, which was all over enriched with gold, and glittered with diamonds. Notwithstand- ing the novelty of this spectacle to Solon, it did not appear that he was the least moved at it, or that he uttered a word which discovered the least surprise or admiration 5 on the contrary, people of sense might sufficiently discern from his behaviour, that he looked upon all this outward pomp as an indi- cation of a little mind, which knows not in what true greatness consists. This coldness and indiffer- ence in Solon's first approach, gave the king no fa- vourable opinion of his new guest. He afterwards ordered that all his treasures, his magnificent apart- ments, and costly furniture, should be shown him 5 as if he expected, by the multitude of his fine ves- sels, diamonds, statues, and paintings, to conquer the philosopher's indifference. But it was the king that Solon was come to visit, and not the walls or chambers of his palace. He had no uotion of making HAPPINESS, 213 an estimate of his worth by these outward appen- dages, but by himself and personal qualities. When Solon had seen all, he was brought back to the king : Crcesus then asked him, which of man- kind, in all his travels, he had found the most truly happy? ^^ One Tellus," replied Solon, '*^ a citizen of Athens, a very honest and good man, who lived all his days without indigence, had always seen his country in a flourishing condition, had children that were universally esteemed, with the satisfaction of seeing those children's children, and at last died gloriously fighting for his country." Such an answer as this, in which gold and silver were accounted as nothing, seemed to Croesus to argue a strange ignorance and stupidity. However, as he flattered himself with being ranked in the se- cond degree of happiness, he asked him who of all those he had seen was the next in felicity to Tellus ? Solon answered, . *' Cleobis and Biton, of Argos, two brothers, who had left behind them a perfect pattern of fraternal affection, and of the respect due from children to their parents. Upon a solemn fes- tival, when their mother, a priestess of Juno, was to go to the temple, the oxen that were to draw her not being ready, the two sons put themselves to the yoke, and drew their mother's chariot thither, which was above five miles distant. All the mothers of the place, ravished with admiration, congratulated the priestess on the piety of her sons. She, in the transport of her joy and thank- fulness, earnestly intreated the goddess to reward her children with the best thing that heaven could give to man. Her prayers were heard.—- When the sacrifice was over, her two sons fell Q14 HAPPINESS* asleep in the very temple, and there died in a soft and peaceful slumber. In honour of their piety, the people of Argos consecrated statues to them in, the temple of Delphos.** '' What ! then/' says Croesus, '/ you do not reckon me in the number of the hap- py r* Solon, who was not willing either to flatter or exasperate him, replied calmly : *' King of Lydia, besides many other advantages, the Gods have given us Grecians a spirit of moderation and reserve, which hath produced amongst us a plain popular kind of philosophy, accompanied with a certain generous freedom void of pride or ostentation, and therefore not well suited to the courts of kings. This phi- losophy, considering what an infinite number of vicissitudes and accidents the life of man is liable to, does not allow us even to glory in any prosperity we enjoy ourselves, or to admire happiness in others, which may perhaps only prove transient or super- ficial." From hence he took occasion to observe to him further, ^^ That the life of man seldom exceeds seventy years, which are made up of months, weeks, and days, not two of which are exactly alike : so that the time to come is nothing but a series of va- rious accidents which cannot be foreseen. Therefore, in our opinion (continued he) no man can he esteemed happy, hut he whose happiness God continues to the end of his life. As for others who are perpetually ex- posed to a thousand dangers, we account their hap- piness as uncertain as the crown to a person that is engaged in battle, and has not yet obtained the victory. It was not long before Croesus experienced the truth of what Solon had told him. He had two sons, one cf whom being dumb, was a perpetual subject HAPPINESS. 215 of affliction to him. The other named Atys, wa» distinguished by every good quality^ and was hia great consolation and delight. One day there was to be an extraordinary hunting-match for the killing of a wild boar, which had committed great ravages in the neighbourhood. All the young lords of the court were to be at this hunting. Atys very earn- estly importuned his father that he would give him leave to be present. The king granted his request 5 but put him under the care of a discreet young prince, who had taken refuge in his court, and was named Adrastus 5 and this very Adrastus, as he was aiming his javelin at the boar, unfortunately killed Atys. It was impossible to express either the afflic- tion of the father, when he heard of this fatal acci- dent, or of the unhappy prince, the innocent author of the murder, who expiated his fault with his blood, stabbing himself in the breast with his own sword, upon the funeral pile of the unfortunate Atys. Two . whole years were spent on this occasion in deep mourning, the afflicted father*s thoughts being wholly taken up with the loss he had sustained. But the growing reputation, and great qualities of Cyrus, king of Persia, who then began to make himself known, roused his martial spirit, and divert- ed his mind to other thoughts. A war commenced between the two kings, in the course of which Cyrus laid siege to Sardis, and carried it; and likewise took Croesus captive. Croesus being a prisoner, was con- demned by the conqueror to be burnt alive, with fourteen young Lydians, as a sacrifice and first fruits of his victory. Accordingly, the funeral pile was prepared, and that unhappy prince being laid there- on, and just upon the point of execution, recollecting 216 HAPPINESS, the conversation he formerly had with Solon^ was wofuUy convinced of the truth of that philosopher's admonition ^ and in remembrance thereof^ cried out aloud three times, '' O Solon, Solon, Solon!** Cyrus, w^ho with the chief officers of his court was present at this spectacle, was curious to know why Croesus pronounced that celebrated philosopher's name with so much vehemence in his extremity. Being told the reason, and reflecting upon the un- certain state of all sublunary things^ he was touched with commiseration of the prince's misfortunes, caused him to be taken from the pile, and treated him afterwards, as long as he lived, with honour and respect. Thus had Solon the glory, with a single sentence, to save the life of one king, and give a wholesome lesson of instruction to another. — Herod, lib. i. c. 18. 86. 9l.'—Plut in Solon,— Roll, 4nt. Hist. vol. ii. MoNiMA was a lady whom all Greece admired, ftot so much for her beauty, though confessedly ex- quisite, as for her wisdom and prudence. Mithrida- tes, king of Pontus, who, excepting Alexander, was the greatest of kings, having fallen desperately in love with her, had forgotten nothing that might in- cline her to favour his passion : he sent her at once fifteen thousand pieces of gold 3 but her virtue w as proof against every attack. She refused his presents till he gave her the quality of wife and queen, and sent her the royal tiara, or diadem 5 an essential ce- remony in the marriage of the kings of those nations. Nor did she then comply without extreme regret. A more humble station was what she would much rather have chosen 5 but her friends, dazzled with HAPPINESS. 217 the splendour of a crown, and the power of Mith- ridates, who was at that time every where victori* ous, and at the height of his glory, insisted on her acceptance of so advantageous an offer. She com- plied, and the world thought her happy j but they were greatly mistaken. That unfortunate princess passed her life in continual sadness and affliction, lamenting her fatal beauty, that instead of an hus- band had given her a master, and instead of procur* ing her an honourable abode, and the endearments of conjugal society, had confined her in a close pri- son, under a guard of barbarians : where, far re- moved from the delightful regions of Greece, she had only enjoyed a dream of that happiness with which she had been flattered, and had really lost that solid and substantial good she possessed in her own beloved country. But her misery was not yet complete. Mithridates, who for thirty years had maintained a war against the Romans, was at last defeated by Lucullus in the plains of Cabirse. Even ni this battle fortune seemed to smile on him as formerly, for he had greatly the advantage in the two first actions : but, on a sudden, fortune, honour, Avealth, and every thing the world calls great, for- sook him : in short, he was so completely conquer- ed in a third engagement, that he was obliged to make his escape on foot, and without a single ser- vant to attend him. Enraged at this defeat and supposing that his wife would fall into the hands of Lucullus, jealousy or cruelty prompted him to send her orders to die by the hands of Bacchidas the eunuch. When this messenger of death arriv- ed, and had signified to the princess the order of Mithridates, which favoured her no farther than to fil8 HAPPINESS. leave her at liberty to choose the kind of death she thought most gentle and immediate, Monima, tak- ing the diadem from her head, tied it round her neck, and hung herself up by it ; but that wreath not being strong enough, and breaking, she cried out, '^ Ah, fatal strife, you might at least do me this mournful office." Then throwing it away with in- dignation, she presented her neck to Bacchidas, who dispatched her with one relentless stroke. As for Mithridates, though he recovered his kingdom again, he did not long enjoy it, for being driven by Pompey to his son Pharnaces, he there meditated a scheme of revenge which threw his army into such a terror, that, to prevent the execution of it, they conspired against him, and chose Pharnaces his son king. Mithridates then seeing himself abandoned by all the world, and that even his son would not suffer him to escape where he could, retired to his apart- ment, and after giving poison to such of his wives and daughters as were with him at the time, he took the same himself 5 but when he perceived that it had not its effect upon him, he had recourse to his sword. — Dion» Perseus had reigned eleven years king of Mace- don. He was powerful and immensely rich : but, after having declared war against the Romans, in a few years he was stripped of his dominions, himself taken prisoner, and together with his wife and chil- dren, led in triumph through the streets of Rome. After being made a public spectacle, he was bound m chains, and thrown into prison. It would melt the most obdurate heart to read the sufferings he there endured. Though deeply sensible of hi^i HAPPINESS. 219 niisery, all that P. iEmilius, tvho had conquered him, could do for his relief, was to get him removed from the common gaol into a more commodious pri- son. Hunger had made him receive with gratitude some broken victuals from a common malefactor, in hopes of living to see better days -, but when he found the only favour he was to expect was a change of one prison for another, patience forsook him, and, by abstaining from all kinds of food, he put an end both to his life and suflferings. Of the three children of Perseus, two, his eldest daughter and son, did not survive him long. Touch*, ed with their own and their royal father's misfor- tunes, they gave themselves up to vexation and grief, which put an early period to their days. His youngest son, Alexander, was reduced to work with his own hands for the means of life; and afterwards, as he had learnt the Latin tongue, he became a re- gister under the magistrates of the city of Alba. What a fall was this for the son of the greatest king upon earth -, and what example can be more capable of humbling human pride ! — Liv. — Plut Lysimachus, at the division of Alexander's em- pire, had several provinces allotted to his share 3 besides which, he afterwards obtained the kingdom of Macedonia, having also fifteen children living to be the comforts of his old age. In such a situation he thought himself contented and happy : but so it was, that, like the fair city, Lysimachia, which he had built, and called after his own name, and which was swallowed up by an earthquake, he sud- denly saw himself and his fortunes, his foreign and dombiitic hopes, not only turned upside down, but l2 220 HAPPINESS. destroyed for ever. His eldest son Agathocles, a prince of great hopes, because of great prudence, he had married to Lysandra, the daughter of Ptole- my by Eurydice, the daughter of Antipater 5 and some time after, he himself married Arsinoe, the daughter of Ptolemy by Berenice, a widow, who had accompanied his other wife into Egypt as her friend. These, Eurydice, Berenice, Lysandra, and Arsinoe, introduced scenes of blood and confusion into both courts. In that of Ptolemy, Berenice prevailed upon the king to favour her children in preference to those of her mistress: whereupon Ptolemy Ceraunus, the king's eldest son, fled to the court of Lysimachus, where he was kindly received by his brother-in-law Agathocles, and his sister Lysandra. But in this court he found Arsinoe, the daughter of his malicious mother-in-law, as power- ful, and more implacable than she. She infused it into her husband's head, that his eldest son, Aga- thocles, who had conquered for him half his empire, and in whom the army and people had their hopes bound up; was secretly his enemy 5 upon which, the young prince was first imprisoned, and then poi- «oned ; a fact which struck not only the family, but all the subjects of Lysimachus, with horror j and the fright of which induced Lysandra to fly with her children, and her brother Ptolemy Ceraunus, to Seleucus, where they found not only a civil, but a kind reception. Many of the officers in Lysima- chus's army, and some of the principal lords of his court followed them, and all concurred in beseeching him to make war upon this unnatural parent, who, vexed with the reflections made on what he had al- ready done, grew every day more and more cruel. HAPPINESS. 221 Seleucus, though he was seventy-seven years old, had still all the vigour and activity of a young man : he therefore lent a willing ear to these insinuations, the rather because he had no rival left but Lysima* chus^ and him once subdued, he saw no cause to doubt but that his own empire would be extended as far as that of Alexander his master : instantly, therefore, he fell upon the dominions of Lysimachus, in Asia, and stripped him of them almost as soon as he attacked them. Both armies meeting at last near Corupedion, in Phrygia, a battle ensued, where, in the seventy-fourth year of his age, Lysimachus hav- ing first lost all his children, except two, fell in the field, and left the victory, with his kingdoms, to Seleucus, justly surnamed Nicator, or the conquer- or. — Appian, in Syriacis, — Just, lib, xvii, e. 1, 2.— - Mnemnon. op Phot. cod. ccxxvi, c, 9. Damocles, one of the courtiers of Dionysius the Elder, tyrant of Syracuse, was perpetually extolling with raptures his treasures, grandeur, the number of his troops, the extent of his dominions, the mag- nificence of his palaces, and the universal abundance of all good things and enjoyments in his possession 5 always repeating, that never man was happier than Dionysius. '^ Because you are of that opinion,'* said the tyrant, '^ will you taste and make proof of my felicity in person ?" The offer was accepted with joy ; Damocles was placed upon a golden bed, co- vered with carpets of inestimable value. The side- boards were loaded with vessels of gold and silver. The most beautiful slaves, in the most splendid habits, stood around him, watching the least signal to serve him. The paost exquisite essence and per- 22^ HAPPINESS, fumes had not been spared. The table was sprea/I with proportionable magnificence. Damocles was all joy, and looked upon himself as the happiest man in the world; when, unfortunately, casting up his eyes, he beheld over his head the point of a sword, which hung from the roof only by a single horse-hair. He was immediately seized with a cold sweat, every thing disappeared in an instant ; he could see no- thing but the sword, nor think of any thing but his danger. In the height of his fear he desired permis- sion to retire, and declared he would be happy no longer. — Cic, Tusc. Quest lib, v, n, 61, 62. This was a very natural and striking represen* tation of the uncomfortable manner in which the tyrant passed his days, as appears from the amazing precautions he thought necessary for the security of his life. He wore under his robe a cuirass of brass. He never harangued the people but from the top of an high tower 5 and thought proper to make himself invulnerable by being inaccessible, not daring to confide in any of his friends and relations : his guard was composed of slaves and strangers : he went abroad as little as possible, fear obliging him to con- demn himself to a kind of imprisonment. These extraordinary precautions regard, no doubt, certain intervals of his reign, when frequent conspiracies against him rendered him more timid and suspicious than usual j for at other times he conversed freely enough with the people, and was accessible even to familiarity. In those dark days of distrust and fear, he fancied that he saw all mankind in arras against him. A word which escaped his barber, who boasted, by way of jest, that he held a razor at the tyrant's HAPPINESS. 223 throat every week, cost him his life. From hence- forth, not to abandon his head and life to the hands of a barber, he made his daughters, though very young, do him that despicable office 5 and when they were more advanced in years, he took the scis- sars and razors from them, and taught them to singe off his beard with hot shells. He was at last re- duced to do himself that office, not daring it seems to trust his daughters any longer. He never went into the chamber of his wives at night, till they had first been searched with the utmost care and cir- cumspection. His bed was surrounded with a very broad and deep trench, with a small draw-bridge over it for the entrance 3 after having well locked and bolted the doors of his apartments, he drew up the bridge, that he might sleep in security. Neither his brother, nor even his son, could be admitted into his chamber without changing their clothes, and being visited by the guards. Was this to live, to reign? , DioNYsius was succeeded by one of his own sons, of his own name, commonly called Dionysius the Younger. He saw himself possessed of a most powerful kingdom. He had possessed it ten years entire 5 but in the midst of all his greatness, his citadel was attacked, his treasures seized, and he himself was obliged to surrender up his person. He was sent to Corintli, with only one galley, without convoy, and with very little money. He served there for a sight, every body running to gaze at him J some with a secret joy of heart to feed their eyes with a view of the miseries of a man, whom 'the name of king rendered odious 3 others with a 824 HAPPINESS, kind of compassion, from comparing the splendid condition from which he had fallen, with the inextri* cable abyss of distress into which they brfield him plunged. We are told likewise, that the extreme poverty to which he was reduced at Corinth, obliged him to open a school, and to teach children to read 5 perhaps, says Cicero, (without doubt jestingly) to retain a species of empire, and not absolutely to re- nounce the habit and pleasure of commanding. Whether that was his motive or not, it is certain that he who had seen himself master of Syracuse, and of almost all Sicily, who had possessed immense riches, and had numerous fleets, and great armies of horse and foot under his command 3 that the same pionysius, reduced now almost to beggary, and from a king became a schoolmaster, was a good lesson for persons of exalted stations not to confide in their grandeur, nor to rely too much upon their fortune. The Lacedemonians, some time after, gave Philip this admonition, that prince having written to them in very haughty and menacing terms, they made him no other answer, but '^Dionysius at Corinth." Good unexpected, evil unforeseen. Appear by turns, as fortune shifts the scene : Some rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain. Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again. What then remains, but after past annoy. To take the good vicissitude of joy ; To thank the gracious gods for what they give. Possess our souls, and while we live, to live. Dryd, Pat. and Arc. HONOUR. 22^ HONOUR. SENTIMENTS. Not all the threats, or favour of a crowu, A prince's whisper, or a tyrant's frown. Can awe the spirit, or allure the mind Of him who to strict lionour is inchn'd. Honour, that spark of the celestial fire, Tliat above nature makes mankind aspire ; Ennobles the rude passions of our frame, With thirst of glory, and desire of fame : The ridiest treasure of a generous breast, That gives the stamp and standard to the rest ; Wit, strength, and courage, are wild dang'rous force. Unless this soften and direct their course. There is nothing honourable that is not inno- cent, and nothing mean but what has guilt in it. He who can say to himself, ^^ I do as much good and am as virtuous as my most earnest endeavours will allow me," whatever is his station in the world, is to himself possessed of the highest honour : but false notions of honour are the greatest depravities of human nature, by giving wrong, ambitious, and false ideas of what is good and laudable. EXAMPLES. The Spanish historians relate a memorable in- stance of honour and regard to truth. A Spanish cavalier in a sudden quarrel slew a Moorish gentle- man and fled. His pursuers soon lost sight of him, for he had unperceived thrown himself over a gar- l5 226 HONOUR. den wall. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his garden, was addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquainted him with his case, and im- plored concealment. " Eat this," said the Moor, giving him half a peach, " you now know that you may confide in my protection.'* He then locked him up in his garden apartment, telling him as soon as it was night he would provide for his escape to a place of greater safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had just seated himself, when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, bringing the corpse of his son, who had just been killed by a Spaniard. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he learnt from the descrip- tion given, that the fatal deed was done by the very person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one 5 but as soon as it was dark retired to his gar- den, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none should follow him. Then accosting the Spaniard, he said, ^^ Christian, the person you have killed is my son, his body is now in my house. You ought to suffer, but you have eaten with me, and I have given you my faith, which must not be broken.'* He then led the astonished Spaniard to his stables, and mounted him on one of his fleetest horses, and said, ^' Fly far while the night can cover .you, you will be safe in the morning. You are indeed guilty of my son*s blood : but God is just and good, and I thank him I am innocent of yours 5 and that my faith given is preserved.** This point of honour is most religiously observed by the Arabs and Saracens, from whom it was 'adopted by the Moors of Africa, and by them was brought into Spain 5 the effects of which remain to HONCUR. 227 this day, so that when there is any fear of a war breaking out between England and Spain, an English merchant there, who apprehends the con- fiscation of his goods as those of an enemy, thinks them safe if he can get a Spaniard to take charge of them • for the Spaniard secures them as his own, and faithfully re-delivers them, or pays the value, whenever the Englishman demands them. One in- stance of Spanish honour cannot but still be fresh in the memory of many living, and deserves to be handed down to the latest posterity. In the year 1746*, when we were in hot war with Spain, the Elizabeth of London, Captain William Edwards, coming through the Gulph from Jamaica, richly laden, met with a most violent storm, in which the ship sprung a leak, that obliged them, for the saving of their lives, to run into the Havannah, a Spanish port. The captain went on shore, and di- rectly waited on the governor, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he surrendered the ship as a prize, and himself and his men as prisoners of war, only requesting good quarter. " No, Sir,'* replied the Spanish governor, " if we had taken you in fair war at sea, or approaching our coast with hos- tile intentions, your ship would then have been a prize, and your people prisoners 5 but, when distressed by a tempest, you come into our ports for the safety of your lives, we the enemies, be- ing men, are bound as such by the laws of hu- manity to afford relief to distressed men who ask it of us. We cannot even against our enemies take advantage of an act of God. You have leave therefore to unload your ship, if that be ne- cessary, to stop the leak 5 you may refit her here. 22^ ^ HONOUR. and traffic so far as shall be necessary to pay the charges 3 you may then depart^, and I will give you a pass to be in force till you are beyond Bermuda : if after that you are taken, you ivill then be a lawful prize 5 but now you are only a stranger, and have a stranger's right to safety and protection." The ship accordingly departed, and arrived safe in London. A REMARKABLE instance of the like honour is recorded of a poor unenlightened African negro in Captain Seagrove*s account of his voyage to Guinea. A New-England sloop, trading there in 1752, left a second mate, William Murray, sick on shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the house of a black named Cudjoe, with whom he had con- tracted an acquaintance during their trade. He re- covered, and the sloop being gone, he continued with his black friend till some other opportunity should ofiFer of his getting home. In the mean time a Dutch ship came into the road, and some of the blacks coming on board her, were treacherously seized and carried off as their slaves. The relations and friends, transported with sudden rage, ran to the house of Cudjoe, to take revenge by killing Murray 5 Cudjoe stopt them at the door, and demanded what they wanted. ^' The white men," said they '^ have carried away our brothers and sons, and we will kill all white men. Give us the white man you have in your house, for we will kill him." " Nay," said Cudjoe, '^ the white men that carried away your relations are bad men, kill them when you can take them^ but this white man is a good man, and y^u must not kill him."—** But he is a white man/* HONOUR. ^29 they cried;, '' and the white men are all bad men, we will kill them all." '' Nay/' says he, " you must not kill a man that has done no harm, only for being white. This man is my friend, my house is his post, I am his soldier, and must fight for him 5 you must kill me before you can kill him. What good man will ever come again under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man's blood ?" The negroes seeing this resolution, and being convinced by his discourse that they were wrong, went away ashamed. In a few days Murray ventured abroad with his friend Cudjoe, when several of them took him by the hand, and told him, '' They were glad they had not killed him j for as he was a good (meaning in- nocent) man, their God would have been very angry, and would have spoiled their fishing.'* Cleomenes, king of Sparta, sent a herald to acquaint the people of Megalopolis, that he would restore to them the possession of their city, provided they would renounce their league with the Acheans, and enter into a friendship and confederacy with Sparta. But, notwithstanding this offer was extreme- ly advantageous, they declined it without the least hesitation 3 and rather chose to see themselves de- prived of their estates, in short, of every thing that was dear and valuable to them, than violate the faith they had sworn to their allies. The famous Philo- poemen, who was then at Messene, contributed not a little to this generous resolution. — Rollings Ant. Hist Wilfred, bishop of the Northumbrians, having rendered himself disagreeable to Egfrid his sove- 230 HUMANITY. reign, and Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, the king resolved to have him deposed, and the arch- bishop soon found a very plausible pretext for that purpose. No sooner was Wilfred acquainted with their design, than he immediately prepared to lay his complaints before his holiness. Sailing with a fair wind he landed at Frizeland, where he was honour- ably received by Adalgise, king of that country. — During his stay Adalgise received letters from Thierry, king of the Franks, and Ebroin, mayor of the palace, offering him a prodigious sum of money, if he would deliver up Wilfred to them alive, or send them his head. Adalgise, shocked at the offer, or- dered the letters to be read at a public entertainment, after which he tore them in pieces, and threw them into the fire, before the face of the messengers, bid- ding them tell their master, that he wished every person who violated his faith, or betrayed his friend for avarice, might be reduced to ashes in the same manner. — Eddius. — Dr. Smith's Life of Wilfred, HUMANITY. SENTIMENTS. By Humanity I understand the concern men feel for the human species in general, for this single reason, that they are men like themselves, without being united either by the ties of blood, of love, or friendship. It is just we should have a superior tenderness for a father, a wife, a child, or a friend -, but there is a sort of affection which we owe to all mankind, as being members of the same family, of which God is HUMANITY. ^i31 the Creator and Father. Let us illustrate this, by the circular undulations which the fall of a stone causes on the surface of a clear and tranquil water. The agitation in the centre, by communicating itself afar off forms a great number of trembling circles, the faintness of whose impression is in proportion to the largeness of their circumference, till the last seems to escape from our sight. Here is an image of the different degrees of our affections. We love principally that which touches us the most nearly 3 and less and less in proportion to the distance. We consider mankind, with relation to us, as divided into different classes 5 every one of which increas- ing gradually, consists of greater numbers than the former : we place ourselves in the smallest, which is surrounded by others more extended 3 and from thence we distribute to the different orders of men which they contain, different degrees of affection, more or less strong, in proportion to their distance from us, in such a manner, as that the last has hardly any share of it. These different classes may be ranked in the following order : a wife, children, friends, relations, men of the same religion 3 next are those of the same trade or profession as our- selves 3 the other classes comprehend our neigh- bours, fellow-citizens, and countrymen 3 the last, which incloses all the rest, is the universal class of mankind. Pity, compassion, and even forgiveness, when not inconsistent with prudence and our own safety, is due to our enemies. We must not do that to another which we would not have him do to us. This is the rule which de- termines what kind of treatment is forbidden with 9,3^ HUMANITY, respect to the rest of mankind : every thing which were it done to ourselves would appear hard, bar- barous, and cruel, is comprised in this prohibition. EXAMPLES. When Q. Caecilius Metellus, the Roman pro- consul, had invested Nertobrlgia, a chief lord of the country named Rhetogenes, came out of the place, and surrendered himself to the Romans 3 but as he had left in the city his wife and children, the inha- bitants, enraged at his desertion, placed them in the breach which the legionaries were to mount. Here- upon the good-natured general, finding he could not attack the city without spilling their blood, aban- doned a certain conquest, and raised the siege. The fame of an act of such humanity being soon spread through all Tarraconian Spain, the inhabitants of the revolted cities strove who should first submit to him. Metellus received them, and, among the rest, the Nertobrigians, into an alliance with Rome, and at length recovered the whole country. — Univ, Hist, The Turks having invaded the Ukraine on the side of Russia, that empire sent two numerous ar- mies to repel the invaders. The one was com- manded by Count Lasci, an Irish gentleman of great courage and experience, which broke through the Turkish entrenchments, and ravaged Crim Tajj- tary with fire and sword. The other army was under the command of Count Munich, destined for the destruction of Oczakow. In this army the late Mr. Keith, governor of Berlin, and field-marshal of the Prussian forces^ was then a lieutenant in the HUMANITY. 233 service of the Czarina. By his valour and skilly at the head of eight thousand men, the place above- mentioned was invested and taken, at least the suc- cess wras chiefly attributed to him. In storming this city he gave such instances of tenderness and hu- manity as diffused additional lustre round his mili- tary glory 5 for while the furious Muscovites were sanguine in their revenge, he checked their ferocity, and exhorted them to spare the lives of their ene- mies. Among others he rescued a child of six years of age from the hands of a Cossack, who had al- ready lifted up his cimeter to cut off her head, as she was struggling to extricate herself out of some rubbish in which she had been entangled. Her father, being a Turkish grandee of some eminence, had been anxious to dispose of her suitably to her rank 5 but being now an orphan, and Mr. Keith not knowing how to provide for her himself, sent her to the Lord Marshal, his brother, who brought her up in the principles of the church of England, and educated her in the most liberal manner. He treated her in every respect as if she had been his own daughter j and as she grew up gave her the charge of his house, where she did the honours of the table, and behaved herself with such aflPectionate fidelity and exemplary discretion, that the saving this young innocent from destruction may be deemed not the least considerable of Mr. Keith's services. Marcus Brutus, the Roman general, was of an extraordinary mild disposition, and great mag- nanimity, and therefore, before he began hostilities, sent to the Lycians, to demand a supply of men and moneys but the Lycians despising his humanity and 234 HUMANITY, good-nature, would hearkea to no terms, so that Brutus was forced, against his will, to lay siege to Xanthus, their capital city, which he foresaw would bring innumerable evils on a brave and gallant peo- ple. The besieged made a most vigorous defence, and behaved in their sallies with unparalleled bra- very, but were always repulsed with great loss. The next day, about noon, they made another sally, set fire to the engines of the enemies, and retired in great haste within the walls. The Ro- mans pursued them close, and entered the city to the number of two thousand, with the besieged ; but the portcullis falling, either by a stratagem of the enemy, or by accident, many of the Romans were crushed to pieces, and the rest shut in with- out any possible means of retiring, or receiving the least assistance from their friends. In this desper- ate condition they resolved at least to sell their lives dear 5 and with this view marched in good order through showers of darts, to a temple dedicated to Sarpedon, king of Lycia, who was supposed to have been killed in the Trojan war. There they fortified themselves, and sustained a siege in the very heart of the city. In the mean time Brutus and his men exerted their utmost efforts to relieve their fellow soldiers ; but all their endeavours were to no effect, the Xanthians defending it with a bravery and resolution which surprised the Romans themselves. Some sparks of fire being carried by a violent wind from the machines, which burnt with great fierceness, to the battlements, and from thence to the adjoining houses, the flame was soon spread all over the city, and the conflagration be- came general. Brutus, fearing the whole would HUMANITY. ^33 be destroyed, ordered his soldiers to lay aside all thoughts of revenge, and assist the inhabitants in quenching the fire. Perceiving the flames blaze out in different parts of the city in a most frightful manner, he mounted his horse, and riding round the walls, stretched forth his hand to the inhabit- ants, begging of them that they would spare their own lives and save their town 5 but his intreaties were not regarded. The Xanthians were immove- ably determined not to outlive the loss of their liberty, and therefore repulsed with showers of arrows the Romans whom the good-natured gene- ral sent to their assistance. Nay, they themselves gathering together reeds, wood, and other com- bustible matter, spread the fire over the whole city, feeding it with what fuel they could get. Some of them cut the throats of their wives, their chil- dren, and their slaves before the soldiers' faces, and then leaped into the flames. Not only the men, but the women, nay, even the children ran like wild beasts on the enemies* swords, or threw themselves headlong from the top of the walls. Some children were seen oflfering their throats, or opening their breasts to their fathers swords, and begging they would take away that life which they had given. Wlien the city was almost wholly reduced to ashes, a woman was found, who had hanged herself with her young child fastened to her neck, and the torch in her hand, with which she had set fire to her own house. When this was related to Brutus, he burst into tears, and declining to see so tragical an object, he proclaimed a reward to any soldier who should save a Xanthian : but, with all his care and good- £^6 HUMANITY. nature, he could only preserve one hundred and fifty 5 and those much against their will. Pint, in Bruto, As soon as the soldiers of the truly gallant Czar of Muscovy were masters of the town of Narva, they feu to plunder, and gave themselves up to the most >^ enormous barbarities. The Czar ran from place to place, to put a stop to the disorder and massacre. He turned upon his own victorious but ungovern- able troops and threatened to drench his dagger in their hearts if they did not immediately desist from rapine and slaughter, and allow quarter to their vanquished foes : he even killed with his owa hands several Muscovites who did not hearken to his orders.— Hist. Ch, XIL Pyrrhus, having put to flight the army of An- tigonus, seized his kingdom (Macedonia) 5 but both armies meeting again at Argos, the inhabitants sent deputies, humbly requesting that neither of them would enter the city. Their request was granted 5 but, contrary to his promise, the same night, Pyr- rhus rushed with his forces into the town. The affrighted inhabitants immediately sent to Antigonus for assistance, whereupon a battle ensued in the streets, and in the morning Pyrrhus was found among the slain. Alcyoneus, the son of Antigonus, taking the head by the hair, rode with it full speed to his father, and finding him talking with some of hir favourites, threw it at his feet. Antigonus, looking upon it, and knowing it, not only thrust his son from him with disdain, but struck him with his battoon ; " Barbarous wretch,** said he, '' why dost thou think that he whose grandfather was slain. HUMANITY. 237 and whose father died a captive, should rejoice at such a sight?" Then taking the robe from his shoulders, he covered the head, and at the same time let fall a shower of tears, giving orders that the body should be carefully looked for, and that they should be burnt with all the funeral honours due to a king. While he was thus speaking, Alcy- oneus, having discovered Helenus, the son of Pyr- rhus, in a threadbare coat, he spoke to him kindly, and with great respect presented him to his father^ ** Well, my son,'* said Antigonus, " this is better than you did before 3 however, you have done less than your duty still, in that you have suffered a per- son of quality to approach me in that threadbare coat, which is not a disgrace to him, but to our victory.'* Having then comforted Helenus for the loss of his father, he entertained him kindly, and afterwards set him at liberty, and sent him home to Epirus. Plut» in vit. PyrrhL — Justin, lib. xxv, c. 5, As Alexander, after one of his victories over the Persians, was sitting down at table, an account was brought him, that among the prisoners were the mother and wife of Darius, and two unmarried daughters ; and that upon seeing his chariot and bow, they broke out into great lamentations, con«» eluding that he was dead. Alexander, after some pause, during which he was rather commiserating their misfortunes, than rejoicing in his own success, sent Leonatus to assure them, ^^ that Darius was not dead 3 that they had nothing to fear from ^Alex- ander, for his dispute with Darius was only for empire ; and that they should find themselves pro- vided for in the same manner as when Darius was 238 HUMANITY, in his greatest prosperity.** If this message to the captive princesses was gracious and humanci his actions were still more so. He allowed them to do the funeral honours to what Persians they pleased, and for that purpose furnished them out of the spoils with robes, and all the other decorations that were " customary. They had as many domestics, and were served in all respects in as honourable a manner as before; indeed, their appointments were greater. But there was another part of his behaviour to them still more noble and princely. Though they were now captives, he considered that they were ladies, not only of high rank, but of great modesty and vir- tue, and took care that they should not hear an in- decent word, nor have the least cause to suspect any danger to their honour. Nay, as if they had been in a holy temple, or an asylum of virgins, rather than an enemy's camp, they lived unseen and unap- proached, in the most sacred privacy. It is said, the wife of Darius was one of the most beautiful women, as Darius was one of the tallest and handsomest men in the world, and that their daughters much resembled them. But Alexander, no doubt, thought it more glorious and worthy of a king to conquer himself, than to subdue his enemies ; and, therefore, never approached one of them. Ptut. in Alex, In the year 1736, the notoriously infamous pirate Angria, had his strong fortress of Geriah, in the vicinity of Bombay, taken by squadron un- der the command 6f Admiral Watson, and the land forces commanded by Colonel (afterwards Lord) Clive. HUMANITY. 239 Angria himself escaped, having left the fort three days before it was attacked, but committed the government thereof to one of his wives* bro- thers, under whose care also he put his mother, two wives, and both his children. Admiral Watson, soon after the reduction of the place, took an opportunity of visiting these unfor- tunate captives j and the interview between them was beyond measure affecting. Upon his entering their house, the whole family made a grand salaam, or reverential bending of their bodies, touching the very ground with their faces, and shedding floods of tears. The admiral desired them to be comfort- ed ; adding, ^^ that they were now under his pro- tection 5 and that no kind of injury should be done them.** They then again made the salaam. The mother of Angria, though strongly affected with these testimonies of goodness and humanity, yet could not help crying out, *' that the people had no king, she no son, her daughters no husband, the children no father!" The admiral replied, *' that from henceforward they must look upon him as their father and their friend.** Upon which the youngest child, a boy of about six years old, sobbing said, *' Then you shall be my father j" and immedi- ately took the admiral by the hand, and called him *' father." This action of the child's was so very affecting, it quite overpowered that brave, that good man's heart, and he found himself under a necessity of turning from the innocent youth for a while to prevent the falling of those tears, which stood ready to gush from his eyes. — Ives's Voyage. 24(? INCONTINENCE. INCONTINENCE. SENTIMENTS. Love is a passion so necessary, that without it the human race would soon be extinct. Both sexes are improved and refined by their inclination to each other 3 an inclination which produces the sweetest union, and the warmest friendships, the tenderest alliances, and the most amiable society : but it pro- duces these happy effects only when it is under the government and direction of reason. Love is a child that complains and bewails its inability to help itself, and weeps for assistance, without an immediate reflection or knowledge of the food it wants; lust, a watchful thief, which seizes its prey, and lays snares for its own gratifi- cation, and its principal object being innocence, it never robs but it murders at the same time. 0« love of virtue reverence attends ; But sensual pleasure in j)ur ruin ends. Unlawful love being an unmannerly guest, we should guard against it, because we know not how late in the evening of life it may intrude for lodging. Every vice and folly has a train of secret and necessary punishments linked to it. EXAMPLES. L. ViRGiNius, a Roman soldier, famous in the city for his probity, and in the army for his valour, had a daughter about sixteen years of age. She had been promised in marriage to Ici- lius, who had lately been tribune, and was at that INCONTINENCE. 241 4.ime the greatest beauty in Rome. She had lost her mother, and was under the tuition of governesses, who took care of her education. Appius Claudius, the Roman decemvir, accidentally meeting her one day was struck with her beauty, and thought of no- thing from thenceforth but the means of gratifying his criminal desires. He employed all the methods to tempt her that a violent passion could suggest 3 but still found in the invincible chastity of Virginia a resistance proof against all his attacks and endea- vours. When he saw that her severe modesty left him no hopes of seducing her, he had recourse to violence. He suborned one of his dependents, named Claudius, and perfectly instructed him how to act. This creature of his was bold and frontless, and one of those kind of people who introduce themselves into the confidence of the great only by a criminal complacency for their pleasures. This infamous minister of the decemvir's debauches, meeting Vir- ginia as she was walking with her governess, stop- ped her, and claiming her as his slave> bade her follow him, or he would oblige her to do so by force. Virginia, in amazement and trembling with fear, did not know what he meant : but her governess raising a great cry, implored the assistance of the people. The names of Virginius, her father, and Icilius her intended husband, were heard on all sides. Relations and friends ran to join her, and the most indifferent were moved with the sight. This secured her against violence. Claudius, assuming a milder tone, said, there was no occasion for so much stir 5 that he had no design to employ violen e, but solely the usual methods of justice -, and immediately cited Virginia before the magistrate, whither she foU ?,42 INCONTINENCE. lowed, by the advice of her relations. When they came to Appius*s tribunal, the claimant repeated his well known tale to the judge, with whom it had been concerted. He said that Virginia was born in his house, of one of his slaves, from whence she had been stolen and carried to Virginius's wife, who being barren, through grief to see herself without children, had pretended this girl to be her daughter, and had brought her up as such in her house : that he had incontestible proofs of the fact, against the evidence of which, Virginius himself, who had so touch interest in the affair, could have nothing to object. He concluded with demanding, as the ab- sence of Virginius prevented the matter from being finally adjudged, that it should be decreed pro- visionally that the slave should follow her master, lliis request was in direct opposition to an express law enacted by the decemvirs themselves, and which decided the case in favour of Virginia. It declared, *' That if a person enjoying their liberty should be claimed as a slave, such person should continue at liberty till a definitive judgment in the case." Nu- mitorius, Virginia's uncle, alleged this equitable law in vain. In vain did he represent, that as Vir- ginius was absent in the service of the common- wealth, it was but just the sentence should be sus- pended, till he could appear to defend his daughter in person. Appius decreed that she should be put into the hands of Claudius, who should give good security to produce her when her father arrived. This sentence w^ followed by the cries and tears of Virginia, and the women that attended her. All who were present at this trial trembled with horror and indignation, but nobody ventured to INCONTINENCE. ^4^ explain themselves openly. Icilius raising great cries advanced through the crowd to defend Vir- ginia. The lictor, saying the judge had passed sentence, opposed and struck him back roughly. So injurious a treatment would have enraged the most moderate. Icilius, who was naturally warm and violent, did not suffer it patiently. ^^ You must remove me from hence, Appius," said he, '^ with the sword, if you would stifle the knowledge of your infamous designs. I am to marry this maid, but to marry her chaste, and a virgin 5 therefore assemble, if you please, all your own lictors, and those of your colleagues, and bid them make ready their rods and axes : but the wife of Icilius shall not stay out of her father's house. Though you and your colleagues have deprived the people of their tribunes and ap- peals, the two supports of their liberty, do not ima-» gine that you have an absolute power to treat our wives and children according to the dictates of your hist. Rage, tyrannize, if you will, over our persons, but let chastity and innocence at least be exempt from your violence.'* Icilius added several other circumstances of equal force, and concluded with protesting, that as long as he had life he should retain the courage and constancy with which a just and chaste passion for the defence of his wife's liberty ought to inspire him. The whole multitude were in great emotion, and ready to proceed to the utmost extremities. Appius, who perceived it, and did not expect so much re- sistance, was obliged to give way to it. He said, *' He perceived that Icilius, still fidl of the pride and violence of the tribune, sought only to excite tumult : that, for the prciyent, he would not supply M 2 244 INCONTINENCE, him with occasion : that, in respect of Virginius's absence, his quality of father, and also in favour of the common cause of liberty, he was sati'sfied to defer judgment until the next day : but that, if Vir- ginius did not appear, he gave warning to Icilius, and all such seditious persons, that he should pro- ceed in the affair, and that his own lictors, without having recourse to those of his colleagues, would suffice for chastising the insolence of the turbulent and refractory.'* After having continued sitting for some time, that he might not seem to have come hither solely on account of this affair, as nothing farther offered, he rose and returned home much mortified with what had happened. The first thing he did after he entered his house, was to write to his colleagues in the camp not to suffer Virginius to leave it, and even to keep him confined under a strong guard. The courier was dispatched immediately, but was too late by some hours. The affair of Virginia no sooner made a noise, than Icilius's brother, and Numitorius*s son, two active young men, full of ardour and good-will, took horse, and riding full speed, arrived in good time, at the camp. Virginius had gotten leave to be absent, and was set out before Appius's courier arrived. For his greater security, he took the bye- road to Rome. The news of Virginius's arrival, considerably em- barrassed the decemvir, but did not extinguish his passion The next day, early in the morning, Vir- ginius repaired to the forum with his daughter. It was impossible to behold her without being sensibly moved. The sad and neglected air with which she appeared, her mournful and dejected looks, her eyes INCONTINENCE* £45 heavy, and ^^streaming with tears, and the rays of beauty, which however broke through that cloud of sadness, made powerful impression upon all hearts. Her father, weeping still more than she, held out his hands to the citizens, and implored their aidj repre- senting to them in a pathetic manner, his own mis- fortunes, and the danger to which themselves were upon the point of being exposed, in respect to their wives and daughters. Icilius said as much on his side. In the mean time Appius arrived, and with aii assured and menacing air ascended his tribunal. To prevent alli-esistance, he had caused the troops under his command, to march down from the Capitol and take possession of the forum. The whole city were assembled to hear the sentence. Claudius com- plained of not having justice done him the evening before, and repeated in few words the proofs upon which he founded his claim. The father of the maid, and the rest of her relations, refuted with solid and unanswerable reasons, the pretended im- posture of Virginia's birth. The judge who was now no longer master of himself, without hearken- ing farther to her defenders, pronounced Virginia the property of Claud. us. Upon hearing that sen- tence, all who were present lifted up their hands to heaven, and raised a great outcry, that expressed their grief and indignation. Virginius, provoked to the highest degree at so unjust and cruel a decision, could not contain himself. He trembled with rage, and accompany- ing his words with a threatening gesture, ** In- famous wretch," said he, '' 1 never designed my daughter for thee : I educated her for a lawful husband, and not to be a prey to a lustful ravisher 5 SA6 INCONTINENCE. must then, brutal passipua among us l^ic place of honourable marriage? How the citizens will bear with these things I know not^ but I trust that the army will revenge my wrongs.'* The people ap- proved the wish by their sighs, tears, and exclama* tions. But the decemvir having first cast his eyes on all sides, to see how his creatures and dependents were posted, told the multitude, with a threatening voice, that he was not unacquainted with the plots that had been laid to cause an insurrection j but that he neither wanted power nor resolution to in- flict exemplary punishments on such as should offer to disturb the public peace. *' Let every one, there- fore," said he, " retire to his own house, and none presume to give law to a supreme magistrate. As for you, Claudius, seize your slave, and make use of my guard to disperse the crowd." The unfortunate father, seeing there was no other remedy, and consulting only his despair, form- ed within himself a dreadful resolution. He drew near the tribunal, and in a suppliant tone, addressed the decemvir thus : '^ Pardon, Appius, the unguard- ed words which have escaped me in the first trans- ports of ^ief, and allow me to ask, in this young woman's presence, some questions of her nurse, that I may carry home at least the comfort of being set right in this matter." Appius readily granted this request. The crowd made way for him to pass, and Virginius, taking his daughter in his arms, and wiping the tears which flowed incessantly from her eyes, he insensibly led her up to a shop in the forum. There snatching up a butcher's knife, and turning to Virginia, ^' My dear daughter," says he, " by tiris only means in my power 1 defend thv Mberty and INCONTINENCE. *247 thy honour ! G9 to thy ancestors, whilst thou art yet a free woman, pure and undefiled 5" and plunged the knife into her heart. Then drawing it out and turning to Appius, '' By this blood," he cried, ^' I devote thy head to the infernal gods." An horrid noise immediately ensued. Virginius, all covered with his daughter's blood, and holding the knife still smoking in his hand, ran like a madman on all side» of the forum, animating the citizens to recover their liberty. He afterwards opened himself a way, with the favour of the multitude, to the gates of the city, from whence he made his escape to the camp. Icilius, Virginia*^ intended husband, and Nu« mitorius, her uncle, continued with her body, de- ploring the guilt of Appius, the fatal beauty of Vir- ginia, and the cruel necessity to which her father had been reduced. The women cried out, with tears, *' Is this the reward of chastity > Is it to satiate the brutality of an infamous decemvir that we bring our children into the world ?" adding a thousand other moving complaints, such as grief, more lively and tender in their sex, generally inspires them with on the like occasions. But nothing augmented their hatred more against the decemvir, than the pompous manner in which Virginias relations celebrated her funeral. Her body was laid on a magnificent bed, in the most public part of the forum, so that every body might see it, and then carried in a kind of triumph through the whole city. The Roman matrons and virgins came out of their houses to meet it. Some threw flowers and wreaths upon the bed, some their girdles and bracelets, ami others the ornaments of their heads : nothing, in short, that could adorn her obsequies^ ^48 INCONTINENCE, were omitted. The whole city was now in an up- roar. Appius Ordered Icillus to be seized and car- ried to prison -, but the people not only rescued hini;, but fell upon tl^e lietors, broke their faeces, and even the decemvir escaped, with difficulty, to a neigh- bouring house. Such was the situation of Rome when VirginiuS arrived at the camp, where he soon excited greater tumult than he had left in the city : for besides a troop of four hundred citizens, who accompanied him, which made his arrival remarkable, the knife which he held in his hand, and the blood with which he was covered, drew on him the eyes of the whole army. Whilst every body asked him what had hap- pened, he continued silent for some time, and an- swered only with his tears. When he recovered him^ self a little, and silence had been made, he related from first to last, all that had happened in the city. The soldiers, with one voice, assured him they woiQd avenge his grief: accordingly, " To arms, to arms," was the universal cry. The standards were pulled up, and the troops marched directly to Rome. The decemviri were obliged to resign their office, which* had been a great oppression to the people. As for Appius, they would by no means spare him : he was tried in form, and justly condemned 3 but he thought fit to put an end to his life before the day of execu- tion. — Livy, lib. Hi. c. 44. 49. OsBERT, king of the Northumbrians, returning one day from the chase, called at the house of Bruen Brocard, for some refreshment. Brocard, who was a nobleman by birth, and superintendent of the sea coasts chanced to be absent upon duty. His lady,- INCONTINENCE. 249 who entertained the king, being a person of great beauty, captivated the heart of the monarch, who gave way to the impulse of a sudden and impure desire. After dinner he seduced her to a remote apartment, under pretence of having business of a secret nature, which he desired she would com- municate to her husband. The lady suspecting no ill design, retired with the king to receive his com- mands. As soon as they were alone, he confessed his passion, and ardently pressed her to gratify his wishes. The lady, shocked at such a declaration^ told him plainly, '^ that she loved her husband 3 ancl would neither dishonour him, nor prostitute her person, to gratify the greatest monarch on earth.',' Finding his strongest protestations, and warmest jntreaties could not shake her resolution, and fearing so faviHirable an opportunity would never return, he violently ravished her. On Brocard's return, he found his wife bathed in tears 5 and being informed of the outrage committed on his honour, repaired immediately, with a body of his friends and relations, to court. Surrendering his land and place to the king, he renounced his homage, and declared he would never hold any thing of him as lord for the future. From that time he devoted his whole atten- tion to revenge. He spirited up the Bernicians to a revolt, and instigated them to place Ella on the throne. A bloody war;, and dreadful carnage en- sued, — Rapin. u 5 ^50 INPOVENCE. INDOLENCE. SENTIMENTS. A LAZY person is of all others the most incapable of pleasure : a wretch who, slumbering in a perpetual lethargy, cannot be stimulated to action, or roused fi*om his insensibility. He is his own burthen, and would fain fly from himself, but is not able : that eternal inappetency, which he drags about with him, assumes a thousand different forms for his own punishment, and that of others. Supineness and effeminacy hcj^ve ruined more constitutions than excessive labour 5 and moderate exercise, far from being destructive to health, esta- blishes and strengthens it. The activity of our minds, the structure of our bodies, the vigour and mobility of their organs, and, above all, our continually returning necessities, de- monstrate, that the hand which formed us, formed US for a busy and active life 5 and the end for which the Creator designed us is, undoubtedly, the best to which we can possibly attain. That the necessity of labour ought to be regarded as a punishment, is a mean and sordid opinion, invented by the effemi- nate and lazy : on the contrary, if God had prohibited labour, such prohibition might justly have been deemed a token of his displeasure 5 for inaction is a kind of lethargy, equally pernicious to the mind and body. EXAMPLE. Theodosius, the Roman emperor, had been used, when a child, to sign all the acts which were INDUSTRY, £51 brought to him by his ministers without reading them 'y and he was so indolent and thoughtless as to continue the same custom even after he was mar- ried. His sister Pulcheria, to apprize him of the evil consequences that might attend it, caused an act to be drawn up, whereby he yielded to her for ever the empress Eudocia as her slave. This act the emperor signed, as usual, without perusing it, or even inquiring what it contained. Some short time after his sister presented him with the act, and desired he would read it. He didj but was so ashamed of his past indolence and neglect, that he never after signed any papers till he had either atten- tively read them himself, or was well informed what they contained. — Univ, Hist, vol. xvi. INDUSTRY. SENTIMENTS. Love labour : if you do not want it for food you may for physic. He is idle that might be better employed. The idle man is more perplexed what to do than the industrious in doing what he ought. There are but few who know how to be idle and in- nocent. By doing nothing we learn to do ill. The ordinary manner of spending their time is the only way of judging of any one's inclination and genius. He that follows recreations instead of his busi- ness, shall in a littk time hav* no business to follow. ^52 INDUSTRY. Of all the diversions of life, there is none so proper to fill up its empty spaces, as the reading of useful and entertaining authors ; and, with that, the conversation of a well-chosen friend. A man of letters never knows the plague of idle- ness: when the company of his friends fails him, he finds a remedy in reading, or in composition. Action keeps the soul in constant health, but idleness corrupts and rusts the mind ; for a man of great abilities may, by negligence and idleness, be- come so mean and despicable, as to be an incum- brance to society, and a burden to himself. EXAMPLES. Demosthenes was extremely affected with the honours which he saw paid to the orator Callistratus, and still more with his supreme power of eloquence over the minds of men ; and not being able to resist its charms, he gave himself up to it : from thence- forth he renounced all other studies and pleasures, and during the continuance of Callistratus at Athens, he never quitted him, but made all the improvement he could from his precepts. The first essay of his eloquence was against his guardians, whom he obliged to refund a part of his fortune. Encouraged by this success, he ventured to speak before the people, but with very ill success. He had a weak voice, a thick vvay of speaking, and a very short breath ; notwithstanding which, his periods were so long, that he was often obliged to stop in the midst of them for respiration. This occasioned his being hissed by the whole audience. As he withdrew, hanging down his head, an«d in the utmost confa* INDUSTRY. 253 sion, Satyirus, one of the most excellent actors of those times, who was his friend, met him ; and having learnt from himself the cause of his being so much dejected, he assured him that the evil was not without remedy, and that the case was not so des- perate as he imagined. He desired him to repeat some of the verses of Sophocles or Euripides to. him, which he accordingly did. Satyrus spoke them after him, and gave them such graces by the tone, ges- ture, and spirit, with which he pronounced them, that Demosthenes himself found them quite differ- ent from what they were in his own manner of speaking. He perceived plainly what he wanted, and applied himself to the acquiring of it. His efforts to correct his natural defect of utter- ance, and to perfect himself in pronunciation, of which his friend had made him understand the va- lue, seem almost incredible, and prove that an indus- trious perseverance can surmount all things. He stammered to such a degree, that he could not pro- nounce some letters ; among others, that with which the name of the art he studied begins 5 and he was SfO short-breathed, that he could not utter a whole period without stopping. He overcame these ob- stacles at length, by putting small pebbles into his mouth, and pronouncing several verses in that man- ner without interruption 5 and with walking and going up steep and difficult places, so that at last no letter made him hesitate, and his breath held out through the longest periods. He went also to the sea side ; and whilst the waves were in the most violent agitation, he pronounced harangues, to accus- tom himself, by the confused noise of the water^^ to 254 INDUSTEY. the roar of the people, and the tumultuous criei^ of public assemblies. Demosthenes took no less care of his action than hi« voice. He had a large looking-glass in his house, which served to teach him gesture, and at which he used to declaim, before he spoke in pub- lic To correct a fault, which he had contracted by an ill habit of shrugging up his shoulders, he prac- tised standing upright in a kind of very narrow pulpit, or rostrum, over which hung a halbert, in such a manner, that if in the heat of the action that motion escaped him, the point of the weapon might serve, at the same time, to admonish and correct him. His application to study was no less surprising. To be the more ren^oved from noise, and less sub- ject to distraction, he caused a small room to be made for him under ground, in which he shut him- aelf up sometimes for whole months, shaving on purpose half his head and face, that he might not be in a condition to go abroad. It was there, by the light of a small lamp, he composed the admir- ^le orations, which were said by those who envied him, to smell of the oil, to imply that they were too ^borate. " It is plain,** replied he, '* yours did Wt cost you so much trouble.** He rose very early ift the morning, and used to say, that he was sorry when any workman was at his business before him. We may farther judge of his extraordinary efforts to acquire an excellence of every kind, from the pains he took in copying Thucydides's History eight times with his own hand, in order to render the style of ^at great mB.i\ faxniliarto hm* INDUSTRY. 255 His paias were well bestowed; for it was by these means that he carried the art of declaiming to the highest degree of perfection of which it was ca- pable; whence, it is plain, he well knew its value and importance. When he was asked three several times which quality he thought most necessary in an orator, he gave no other answer than ** Pronun- ciation;" insinuating, by making the reply three times successively, that qualification to be the only one of which the want could least be concealed, and which was the most capable of concealing other defects; and that pronunciation alone could give considerable weight even to an indifferent orator> when, without it, the most excellent could not hope the least success. As to Demosthenes, Cicero tells us, that his success was so great, that all Greece came in crowds to Athens to hear him speak ; and he adds, that merit so great as his could not but have the desired effect. Alfred the Great was one of the wisest mc- narchs that ever swayed the sceptre of this realm. Every hour of his life had its peculiar business as- signed it. He divided the day and night into three parts of eight hours each ; and though much af- flicted with a painful complaint, assigned only eight hours to sleep, meals, and exercise, devoting the re- maining sixteen,^ one half to reading, writing, and prayer, and the other to public business. History of England* IIPliny, in one of his letters, where he gives am account of the various methods he used to fill up every vaeaji.cy of time, after several euaployments. £56 INGRATITUDE. which he enumerates -, '' Sometimes/* says he, '^ I hunt 3 but even then I carry with me a pocket-book, that whilst my servants are busied in disposing the nets, and other matters, I may be employed in some- thing that may be useful to me in my studies 3 and that if I miss of my game, I may at least bring home some of my thoughts with me, and not have the mortification of having caught nothing.'* INGRATITUDE. SENTIMENTS. INGRATITUDE is a crime so shameful, that there never was a man found who would own himself guilty of it. The ungrateful are neither fit to serve the gods, their country, nor their friends. Ingratitude perverts all the measures of religion and society, by making it dangerous to be chari- table and good-natured • however, it is better ta expose ourselves to ingratitude than to be wanting to the distressed. He that promotes gratitude pleads the cause both of God and man, for without it we can neither be sociable nor religious. > EXAMPLES. A Macedonian soldier had in many instances distingiiished himself by extraordinary acts of va- lour, and had received many marks of favour and approbation from Philip king of Macedon. On INGRATITUDE. 2o7 some occasion he embarked on board a vessel, which was wrecked by a violent storm, and he himself cast on shore, helpless, naked, and scarcely with the ap- pearance of life. One of the same country, whose lands lay contiguous to the sea, came opportunely to be witness of his distress, and, with the utmost humanity and concern, flew to the relief of the un- happy stranger. He bore him to his house, laid him in his own bed, revived, cherished, and for forty days supplied him freely with all the neces- saries and conveniences which his languishing con- dition could require. The soldier, thus happily rescued from death, was incessant in the warmest expressions of gratitude to his benefactor 5 assured him of his interest with the king, and of his power and resolution of obtaining for him, from the royal bounty, the noble returns which such extraordinary benevolence had merited. He was now completely recovered, and his kind host supplied him with mo- ney to pursue his journey. Some time after he presented himself before the king; he recounted his misfortunes and magnified his services 3 and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with an ey« of envy on the possessions of the man who had pre- served his life, was now so abandoned to all sense of gratitude, as to request that the king would be- stow upon him the house and lands where he had been so kindly and tenderly entertained. Unhappily, Philip, without examination, inconsiderately and precipitately granted his infamous request ; and this, soldier now returned to his preserver, and repaid his goodness by driving him from his settlement, and taking immediate possession of all the fruits of his honest industry. The poor man, stung with 125B INGRATITUDE. this instance of unparalleled ingratitude and insen« sibility, boldly determined, instead of submitting to his wrong, to seek relief, and, in a letter addressed to Philip, represented his own and the soldier's con- duct in a lively and affecting manner. The king was fired with indignation, and ordered justice should be instantly done 5 that the possessions should be im- mediately restored to the man whose charitable of- fices had been thus horribly repaid 3 and having seized his soldier, caused these words to be branded on his forehead, '^ The ungrateful guest 3'* a cha- racter infamous in every age, and among all nations, but particularly among the Greeks, who, from the earliest times, were most jealously observant of the laws of hospitality. Calippus was an Athenian, with whom l>ion, a a most excellent man, had contracted an intimate friendship, whilst he lodged in his house at Athens, and with whom he lived ever after with entire free- dom and unbounded confidence. Calippus having given himself up to ambitious views, and entertained thoughts of making himself master of Syracuse, threw off all regard for the sacred ties of friendship and hospitality, and contrived to get rid of Dion, who was the sole obstacle to his designs. Notwithstand- ing his care to conceal them, they got air, and came to the ears of Dion's wife and sister, who lost no time, and spared no pains to discover the truth, by a strict inquiry. To prevent its effects, he went to them with tears in his eyes, and the appearance of being inconsolable, that any body should suspect him of such a crime, or think him capable of so black a design. They insisted upon his taking the great oath. The person who swore it was wrapped in the purple INGRATITUiDE, 259 mantle of the goddess Proserpine, and holding a lighted torch in his hand, pronounced in the temple the most dreadful execrations against himself it is possible to imagine. The oath cost him nothing, but did not convince the princesses. They daily re- ceived new intimations of his guilt from several hands, as did Dion himself, whose friends in general persuaded him to prevent Calippus*s crime by a just and sudden punishment. But he could never resolve upon it. He professed tiiat he had rather die a thousand deaths, and present his throat himself to whoever would kill him, than to live undei^ the ne- cessity of continual precautions, not only against his enemies, but the best of his friends. Calippus ill deserved that name. He hastened therefore the execution of his crime, and caused Dion to be as- sassinated in his own house by the Zacynthian sol- diers, who were entirely devoted to his interest. The sister and wife of that prince were immediately cast into prison, though the latter was big with child, where she was soon after delivered. After the mur- der of his friend, Calippus was for some time in a splendid condition, having made himself master of Syracuse by means of the troops, who were entirely devoted to his service, in consequence of the gifts he bestowed upon them. The Pagans believed, that the Divinity ought to punish great crimes in a sud- den and extraordinary manner in this life 3 and Plutarch observes, that the success of Calippus oc- casioned very great complaints against the gods, as suffering calmly, and without indignation, the vilest of men to raise himself to so exalted a fortune by so detestable and impious a method. But Providence was not long without justifying itself, for Calippus 2(60 JUSTICE. soon suffered the punishment of his guilt. Having marched with his troops to take Catanea, Syracuse revolted against him, and threw off so shameful a subjection. He afterwards attacked Messina, where he lost abundance of men, and particularly the Za- cynthian soldiers, who had murdered Dion. No city of Sicily would receive him 5 but all detesting him as the most execrable of wretches, he retired to Rhe- gium, where, after having led for some time a mi- serable life, he was killed by Septinus and Polyper- chon, and it was said, with the same dagger with which Pion had been assassinated, — PluL Dion. JUSTICE. SENTIMENTS. Justice, in the general acceptation of the word, is that virtue, by which we render to God, our neigh- bour, and ourselves, that which is their due. It comprehends all our duties j and to be just, and to be virtuous, is the same thing. But we shall here consider Justice only as a principle of equity which causes a rectitude of conduct, and excites us to ren- der our species what in particular is due to it from every individual. Fidelity and truth are the foundation of justice, As to be perfectly just is an attribute of the divine nature, to be so to the utmost of our ability is the glory of man. No man is wise or safe but he that is honest. EXAMPLES. Among the several virtues of Aristides, that for JUSTICE. ^6l which he was most renewed was justice, because this virtue is of most general use, its benefits ex- tending to a greater number of persons, as it is the foundation, and, in a manner, the soul of every pub- lic office and employment. Hence it was that Aris- tides, though in low circumstances, and of mean extraction, obtained the glorious surname of the Just 5 a title, says Plutarch, truly royal, or rather truly divine : but of which princes are seldom am- bitious, because generally ignorant of its beauty and excellency. They choose rather to be called, the Conquerors of Cities, and the Thunderbolts of War, preferring the vain honour of pompous titles, which convey no other idea than violence an i slaughter, to the solid glory of those expressive of goodness and virtue. How much Aristides deserved the title given him will appear in the following instances j though it ought to be observed, that he acquired it not by one or two particular actions, but by the whole tenor of his conduct. Themistocles having conceived the design of supplanting the Lacedemonians, and of taking the government of Greece out of their hands, in order to put it into those of the Athenians, kept his eye and his thoughts continually fixed upon that great project ; and as he was not very nice or scrupulous in the choice of his measures, whatever tended towards the accomplishing of the end he had in view, he looked upon as just and lawful. On a certain day then he declared in a full as- sembly of the people, that he had a very important design to propose ; but that he could not communi- cate it to the people, because its success required it should be carried on with the greatest secrecy j he therefore desired they would appoint a person to 262 JUSTICE, whom he might explain himself upon the matter in question. Aristides was unanimously fixed upon by the whole assembly, who referred themselves entirely to his opinion of the affair : so great a confidence had they both in his probity and prudence. Themis- tocles, therefore, having taken him aside, told him that the design he had conceived was to burn the fleet belonging to the rest of the Grecian states, which then lay in a neighbouring port -, and by this means Athens would certainly become mistress of all Greece. Aristides hereupon returned to the as* sembly, and only declared to them that indeed no- thing could be more advantageous to the common- wealth than Themistocles's project ; but that at the same time nothing in the world could be more un- just. All the people unanimously ordained that The- miBtocles should entirely desist from his project. I do not know whether all history can afiford us h fact more worthy of admiration than this. It is not a company of philosophers (to whom it costs nothing to establish fine maxims and sublime notions of morality in the schools) who determine on this occasion that the consideration of profit and advan- tage ought never to prevail in preference to what is honest and just 5 but the whole people who are highly mterested in the proposal made to them, that are convinced it is of the greatest importance to the wel- fare of the state, and who, however, reject it with unanimous consent, and without a moment's hesi- tation : and for this only reason, that it is contrary to justice. How black and perfidious, on the other hand^ was the design which Themistocles proposed to them, of burning the fleet of their Grecian con- federates, at a time of entire peace, solely to aggran- dise the power of the Athenians ! Had he an hun- JUSTICE. €63 dred times the merit ascribed to him, this single ac- tion would be sufficient to sully all his glory : for It is the heart, that is to say, integrity and probity, that constitutes and distinguishes true merit. Plut in Themist — In Arist, After the famous battle of Marathon, Aristides was the only general who staid to take care of the spoil and the prisoners. Gold and silver were scat- tered about in abundance in the enemy's (the Per- sian) camp. All the tents as well as galleys that were taken were full of rich clothes and costly fur- niture, and treasures of all kinds to an immense va- lue. Here Aristides had the finest opportunity in the world to have enriched himself, with almost an impossibility of being discovered. But he not only was not tempted to touch any of it himself, but pre- vented, to the utmost of his power, every body else from meddling with it. And we cannot have a stronger proof of the jus- tice and integrity of Aristides than this, that notwith- standing he had possessed the highest employments m the republic, and had the absolute disposal of its treasures, yet he died so poor as not to4eave money enough to defray the expenses of his funeral : so that the government was obliged to bear the charge of it, and to maintain his family. His daughters were married, and Lysimachus, his son, was subsisted at the expense of the Pry taneum, which also gave the daughter of the latter, after his death, the pension with which those were honoured who had been vic- torious at the Olympic games. Plutarch relates on this occasion, the liberality (and indeed the justice) of the Athenians in favour of the posterity of Aris- tbgiton their deliverer, whd was fallen to decays 264 JUSTICE, and he adds, that even in his time (almost six hun- dred years after) the same goodness and liberality still subsisted. It was glorious for a city to have preserved for so many centuries its generosity and gratitude J and a strong motive to animate indivi- duals, who were assured that their children would enjoy the rewards which death might prevent them- selves from receiving. It was delightful to see the remote posterity of the defenders and deliverers of the commonwealth, who had inherited nothing from their ancestors but the glory of their actions, main- tained for so many ages at the expense of the pub- lic, in consideration of the services their families had rendered it. They lived in this manner with more honour, and called up the remembrance of their an- cestors with much greater splendor than a multitude of citizens whose fathers had been studious only of leaving them great estates, which generally do not long survive those who raised them, and often leave their posterity nothing but the odious remembrance of the injustice and oppression by which they were acquired — Plut. in Arist. This last observation is verified in the following example, and is at the same time a fine contrast to the character of Aristides. After the battle of Marathon above-mentioned, notwithstanding all the care which Aristides took to preserve the spoils from being plundered, yet Callias, his cousin-german, found means to carry off a considerable booty. This man having long hair, and a fillet about his head, one of the Per- sians took him for a king, and falling down at his feet, discovered to him a vast quantity of gold hid in a well. Callias not only seized it, and applied it to his own private aisc, but most KING. 265* inhumanly put to death the poor man who showed it him, to prevent his discovering what he had done. By this action he not only blemished his ov\ n repu- tation, but, as was hinted before, transmitted Infamy to his posterity, who, notwithstanding their emi- nency in the state, were styled by the common poets laccopluti, i. e. enriched by the well. — Plut, Artabarzanes, an officer of Artaxerxes, king of Persia, begged his majesty to confer a favovir upon him, which, if complied with, would be an act of injustice. The king being informed that the promise of a considerable sum of money was the only motive that induced the officer to make so unreasonable a request, ordered his treasurer to give him a present of equal value with that which he was to have received. Giving him the order for the money, ^^ Here,*' says the king, '^ take this token of my friendship for you ; a gift of this na- ture cannot make me poor, but complying with your request would make me poor indeed, for it would make mc unjust." KING. SENTIMENTS. " Persist in the religion you have received from your fore-fathers, but be assured, that the most grate- ful adoration and sacrifice that you can offer to the Divinity, is that of the heart, in rendering yourself good and just. Show upon all occasions so high a regard for truth, that a single word from you may be more confided in than the oath of others. Be a war- 866 KING. rior by your ability in military affairs^ and by such a warlike provision, as may intimidate your ene- mies; but let your inclination be pacific, and be rigidly exact in never pretending to, or undertaking any thing unjustly. The only certain proof that you have reigned well, will be the power of bearing this testimony to yourself, that your people are be- come both more happy and more wise under your government." — Isoc, ad Nicoc, Princes seldom form to themselves a right judg- ment of true glory, and the duties essential to regal power. The scripture gives us a full idea of them, and this it does in a beautiful manner, (Dan. c. iv.) under the image of a very large and strong tree, whose top reaches to the heaven, and whose branch- es extend to the extremities of the earth. 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 under its hospitable branches, the birds of heaven dwell in the boughs of it, 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 j nor in that rever- ence and exterior homage which are paid to it by subjects 5 but in the real services and solid advan- tages 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 terrestrial blessings of every kind, especi- ally with regard to the poor and weak^ who ought to KING. 2167 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 tem- pests from which he shelters others. If the care of a single family be burthensome, if a man has enough to do to answer for himself, what a weight, what a load is the charge of a whole realm? Is the sovereign recompensed for all his fatigues and cares by the prostrations of courtiers, or the imaginary pleasures of kingly power } When I think of the painful and hazardous paths he is forced to tread to arrive at public tranquillity j when I reflect on the extremities he is frequently pushed to in order to accomplish, perhaps, a good end; that he is accountable to God himself for the wel- fare if not the morality of his people 3 that good and evil are in his hands, and that ignorance is no excuse for mal-administration ; I cannot forbear putting these questions to myself. Would you reign? Ought a man but merely happy in a private condition to quit it for a throne? Must it not be insupportable to be born a monarch? EXAMPLES. Cyrus, king of Persia, may justly be considered as one of the wisest conquerors and most accom- plished princes to be found in profane history. He was possessed of all the qualities requisite to form a great man 5 wisdom, moderation, courage, magna* nimity, noble sentiments, a wonderful ability in managing men*s tempers, and gaining their affec- tions, a thorough knowledge of all the parts of the military art as far as that age had carried it, a vast n2 Q.6S KING, extent of genius land capacity for forming, and an equal steadiness and prudence for executing the greatest projects. It is very common for those heroes who shine in the field, and make a figure in the time of action, to make but a very poor one upon other occasions, and in matters of a different nature. We are astonished to see them alone, and without their armies, to find what a difference there is be- tween a general and a great man, to see what low sentiments and mean things they are capable of iu private life^ how they are influenced by jealousy, and governed by interest; how disagreeable and odious they render themselves by their haughty de- portment and arrogance, which they think necessary to preserve their authority, and which only serve to . make them hated and despised. Cyrus had none of these defects : he appeared always the same, that is always great, even in the most indifferent matters. Being assured of his greatness, of which real merit was the foundation and support, he thought of no- thing more than to render himself affable, and easy of access j and whatever he seemed to lose by his condescension, was abundantly compensated by the cordial affection and sincere respect it procured him from his people. Never was any prince a greater master of the art of insinuation, so necessary for those that govern, and yet so little understood or practised. He knew perfectly what advantage may result from a single word rightly timed, from an obliging carriage, from a command tempered with reason, from a little praise in granting a favour, and from softening a refusal with expressions of concern and good-will. His history abounds with beauties of this kind. He was rich in a sort of wealth which KINO. ^6^ most sovereigns want who are possessed of every thing but faithful friends, and whose indigence, in that particular, is concealed by the splendour and affluence with which they are surrounded. Cyrus was beloved because he himself had a love for others 3 for, has a man any friends, or does he de- serve to have any, when he himself is void of friend* ship ? Nothing affects us more than to see in Xeno- phon, the manner in which Cyrus lived and con- versed with his friends, always preserving as much dignity as was requisite to keep a due decorum, and yet infinitely removed from that ill-judged haughti- ness, which deprives the great of the most innocent and agreeable pleasure in life, that of conversing freely and sociably with persons of merit, though of an inferior station. The use he made of his friends may serve as a perfect model to all persons in autho- rity. His friends had received from him not only the liberty, but an express command to open their minds freely j and though he was much superior to all his officers in understanding, yet he never under- took any thing without asking their advice 5 and whatever was to be done, whether it was to reform any thing in the government, to make changes in the army, or to form a new enterprize, he would always have every man speak his sentiments, and would often make use of them to correct his own. So dif- ferent was he from a person, mentioned by Tacitus, (Hist. 1. 1. c. 26.) who thought it a sufficient reason for rejecting the most excellent project or advice, that it did not proceed from himself. Cicero observes, ^' that during the whole time of Cyrus*s government, he was never heard to speak one rough or angry word." What a great cincomium for a prince is comprehended in that 270 KING. short sentence ! Cyrus must have been a very great master of himself, to be able in the midst of so much agitation^ and in spite of all the intoxicating effects of sovereign power, always to preserve his mind in such a state of calmness and composure, that no crosses, disappointments, arid unforeseen ac- cidents should ever ruffle its tranquillity, or provoke him to utter any harsh or offensive expression. But what was still greater in him, and more truly royal than all this, was his steadfast persua- sion, that all his labours and endeavours ought to tend to the happiness of his people 3 and that it was not by the splendour of riches, by pompous equi- pages, liKturious living, or a magnificent table, that a king ought to distinguish himself from his sub* jects, but by a superiority of merit in every kind, and pmticulaxly by a constant indefatigable care and vi- gilance to promote their interests, and secure the public welfare and tranquillity. He said himself, one day, as he was discoursing with his courtiers upon the duties of a king, that a prince ought to consider himself as a shepherd; (the image under which both sacred and profane writers represent good kings) and that he ought to have the same vi- gilance, care, and goodness. '' It is his duty," says he, ^^ to watch that his people may live in safety and quiet 5 to charge himself with anxieties and cares, that he may be exempted from them; to choose whatever is salutary for them, and to remove what- ever is hurtful and prejudicial j to place his delight in seeing them increase and multiply, and valiantly oppose his own person in their defence and protec- tion. This," says he, *' is the natural idea, and the just image of a good king. It is reasonable at the KING.' 271 same time that his subjects should render him all the siervices he stands in need of 5 but it is still more reasonable, that he should labour to make them happy, because it is for that very end that he is their king, as much as it is the end and office of a shep- herd to take care of his flock." It was by the concurrence of all these virtues that Cyrus founded such an extensive empire in so short a time, that he peaceably enjoyed the fruits of his conquests for several years 5 that he made himself so much esteemed and beloved, not only by his own natural subjects, but by all the nations he had con- quered 5 and that after his death he was universally regretted as the common father of all his people. — Rollings Ant. Hist, Gelon was born in Syracuse, yet all the inhabi- tants of that city, though extremely jealous of their liberty, forced him in a manner to be their ki»g. Though an alien, the supreme power went in search of him : nor had the Syracusans any cause to repent of their choice. The power and authority with which he was intrusted did not add to his own zeal for their interest, but only enabled him to do theni more important services : for by a change tiU then unheard of, and of which Tacitus found no example> except in Vespasian, he was the first whom the sovereign power made the better man. He was thoroughly acquainted with all the duties of a regal office, as well as its great weight. He thought him-^ self only king for the defence of the state, to pre- serve the good order of society, to protect innocence and justice, and to exhibit to all his subjects, in his simple^ modest, active, and regular life, a pattern of 272 KING. every civU virtue. The whole of royalty which he assumed was the toils and cares of it, a zeal for the public welfare, and the sweet satisfaction which re- sults from making millions happy by his cares 5 in a word, he considered the sovereignty as an obliga- tion, and a means to procure the felicity of a great nuihber of men. He banished from it pomp, licen- jtiousness, and impunity from crimes. He did not aflfect the appearance of reigning, but contented him- self with making the laws reign. He never made his inferiors feel that he was their master 5 but only inculcated to them> that both himself and they ought to submit to reason and justice. To induce their obedience, he employed the arts of persuasion and a good example, which are the weapons of vir- tue, and alone produce a sincere and uninterrupted obedience. One of the chief objects of his attention, and in •:Which his successor followed his example, was the cultivation of the lands. It is well known how fruitful Sicily was in corn, and the immense reve- nues which might be produced from so rich a soil when industriously improved. He animated the husbandmen by his presence and commendations, and distinguished the most deserving by some mark of his favour. His intention, says Plutarch, was not merely to make the country rich and fruitful, but also to exercise his subjects, to accustom and inure them to toils, and by that means to preserve them from a thousand disorders with inevitably follow a soft and indolent life. For this purpose he la- boured to make the cultivation of the lands to be considered as an honourable employment. There are few maxims, in point of policy, on which the ancients have more strongly insisted than KING. 273 on that relating to the improvement of husbandry ; a manifest proof of their great wisdom^ and the profound knowledge they had of what constitutes the strength and solid happiness of a state. Xeno- phon, in a dialogue, the subject of which is govern- ment, entitled, Hiero, shows the great advantage it would be of to a state, where the king studious to reward those who should excel in husbandry, and whatever relates to the cultivation of lands. He says the same of war, of trade, and of all the arts ; on which occasion, if honours were paid to all those who should distinguish themselves in them, it would give universal life and motion, would excite a noble and laudable emulation among the subjects, and give rise to a thousand inventions for the improve* ment of these arts. But Gelon was more particularly famous for his inviolable sincerity, truth and fidelity to his engage- ments ; a quality very essential to a prince, the only one capable of gaining him the love and confidence of his subjects and of foreigners, and which therefore ought to be considered as the basis of all just policy, and good government. Having occasion for monfey to carry on an expedition, he meditated, he address- ed the people, in order to obtain a contribution from them 5 but finding the Syracusans unwilling to be at so great an expence, he told them, that he asked nothing but a loan, and that he would engage to repay it. as soon as the war should be over. The money was advanced, and repaid punctually, at the promised time. How happy is the govern- ment where such justice and equity are exercised ! and how mistaken are those ministers and princes who violate them in the least ! A revered old age^ k5 ^74 LUXURY. a name highly dear to all his subjects, a reputation equally diffused within and without his kingdom j these were the fruits of that wisdom which he re* tained on the throne to his last moments. His reign was shorty and only just showed him in a manner to Sicily, to exhibit in his person an example of a great, good, and true king. He left the world, after having reigned only seven years, to the infinite regret of all his subjects : every family believing itself deprived of its best friend, its protector, and father. — Plut in Apophth, LUXURY. SENTIMENTS. That which is splendour, sumptuousness, and mag- nificence, in people of quality, is in private men extravagance, folly, and impertinence. If sensuality were pleasure, beasts are happier than men. Pleasures unduely taken enervate the soul, make fools of the wise, and cowards of the brave. A libertine life is not a life of liberty. Pray what were you made for ? (says the emperor Aurelius) for your pleasures ! Common sense will not bear so scandalous an answer. The declension of manners in any state is always attended with that of empire and dominion. EXAMPLES. What made the Persian troops in Cyrus's time looked upon to be invincible, was the temperate and hard life to which they were accustomed from LUXURY. 275 their infancy. Add to this the influence of the prince*s example, who made it his ambition to sur- pass all his subjects in regularity 5 was the most ab- stemious and sober in his manner of life, as plain in his dress, and as much inured to hardships and fa- tigue as any of his subjects, and the bravest and most intrepid in the time of action. What might not be expected from a people so formed and so trained up ? By them it was that Cyrus conquered a great part of the world. After all his victories he continued to exhort his army and people not to de- generate from their ancient virtue, that they might not eclipse the glory they had acquired 5 but care- fully preserve that simplicity, sobriety, temperance, and love of labour, which were the means by which they had obtained it. But, alas, it was not long ere Cyrus himself sowed the first seeds of that luxury which soon overspread and corrupted the whole na- tion : for being to show himself on a particular occasion to his new conquered subjects, he thought proper, in order to heighten the splendour of his re- gal dignity, to make a pompous display of all the magnificence and show that could be contrived to dazzle the eyes of the people. Among other things he changed his own apparel, as also that of his of- ficers, giving them all garments richly shining with gold and purple, instead of their Persian clothes, which were plain and simple. To be all of a piece, the plain and decent furniture of his palace was ex- changed for vessels of gold and silver without num« ber, and then the most exquisite meats, the rarest birds, and the costliest dainties were procured, though not without an immense expense, from the most distant places. It must be acknowledged that £76 LUXURY. the rank of king requires a suitable grandeur and inagnificence, which may on certain occasions be carried even to a degree of pomp and splendour: but prince-j possessed of real and solid merit, have a thousm'l ways of making up what they may seem to lose, by retrenching some part of their outward state and magnificence. Cyrus himself had found by experience^ that a king is more sure of gaining respect from his people by the wisdom of his con- duct, than bv the greatness of his expences ; and that affection and confidence produce a closer at- tachment to his person, than a vain admiration of unnecessary pomp and grandeur. Be that as it will, Cyrus*s last example became very contagions j his courtiers, his generals, and officers first caught the infection, and in time carried their extravagance and luxury to such an excess as was little better than downright madness. This taste for vanity and ex- pence having first prevailed at court, soon spread itself into the cities and provinces, and in a little time infected the whole nation, and was one of the principal causes of the ruin of that empire which Cyrus himself had founded. What is here said of the fatal effects of luxury is hot peculiar to the Persian empire. The most judi- cious historians, the most learned philosophers, and the profoundest politicians all lay it down as a cer- tain indisputable maxim, that wherever luxury pre- vails, it never fails to destroy the most flourishing states and kingdoms 5 and the experience of all ages jind nations but too clearly demonstrate this maxim. There is a single passage in Herodotus that might supply the place of many examples. When LUXURY. C?7 Cyrus had received an account that the Lydians had revolted from him, he told Croesus, with a good deal of emotion, that he had almost determined to make them all slaves. Croesus begged him to pardon them : *^ But,'* says he, ^' that they may no more rebel, or be troublesome to you, command them to lay aside their arms, to wear long vests and buskins, i. e. to vie with each other in the elegance and rich- ness of their dress. Order them to sing and play on the harp, let them drink and debauch, and you will soon see their spirits broken, and themselves changed from men to women, so that they will no more rebel, or give you any uneasiness." The event answered the advice. The luxury of Capua destroyed the bravest army which Italy ever saw, flushed with conquest, and commanded by Hannibal. The moment Capua was taken, that moment the walls of Carthage trembled. They caught the infection, and grew fond of plea- sure ; which rendered them eflfeminate and of course an easy prey to their enemies. What was it destroyed the republic of Athens, * but the conduct of Pericles, who, by his pernicious politics, first debauched the people's minds with shows and festivals, and all the studied arts of ease and luxury, that he might, in the mean time, se- curely guide the reins of empire, and riot in domi- nion } He it was that first laid the foundation of Philip's power : nor had a man of Macedon ever thought of enslaving Greece, if Pericles had not first made them slaves to pleasure. It is from this victory over Antiochus, and the conquest of Asia, that Pliny dates the corruption £78 MAGISTRATE. of the manners of the Homan commonwealth, and of the fatal change that happened in it ^ by intro- ducing at Rome, with the riches it brought thither, a taste for luxury and voluptuousness. Asia, con- quered by the arms of Rome, in its turn con- quered Rome by its vices. Foreign riches put an end to the love of industry and the ancient simplicity which had been the principles of its honour and strength. Luxury, which entered Rome as in tri- umph, with the superb spoils of Asia, brought with it in its train all kinds of disorders and crimes, made more havock than the most numerous armies could have done, and in that manner avenged the con- quered globe. Thus the face of the state was chang- ed; virtue, valour, and disinterestedness were no longer esteemed ^ the opposite vices prevailed, and the government, from just and wise, became tyran- nical and insupportable. MAGISTRATE, SENTIMENTS. The judge in giving his suffrage, ought not to con- sider himself as alone, nor that he is at liberty to pronounce according to his own inclinations 3 but to represent to himself that he has around him, law, religion, equity, integrity, and fidelity, which form his council, and ought to dictate his words. In the same manner as the people are subservi- ent to the magistrates, magistrates are subservient to the laws; and it may be truly said that the MAGISTRATE. 279 magistrate is a speaking law, and the law a mute magistrate. Religion in a magistrate strengthens his au- thority, because it procures veneration, and gains repute to it ; and in all the affairs of this world, so much reputation is indeed so much power. It is not the place that makes the person, but the person that makes the place honourable. Men must have public minds as well as salaries ; or they will serve private ends at the public cost. It was Roman virtue that raised the Roman glory. EXAMPLES. By the taking of Syracuse, all Sicily became a province of the Roman empire j and Sicily would have been happy in being governed by the Romans, if they had always given her such magistrates as Cicero ; knowing like him in the obligations of his functions, and like him intent upon the due dis- charge of them. It is highly pleasing to hear him explain himself upon this subject. After having invoked the gods as witness of the sincerity of what he was going to say, he proceeds thus : '^ In all the employments with which the Roman people have honoured me to this day, I have ever thought myself obliged, by the most sacred ties of religion, worthily to discharge the duties of them. When I was made quaestor, I looked upon that dignity not as a gratuity conferred upon me for my particular use, but as a deposit confided to my vigilance and fidelity. When I was afterwards sent to act in that ofiice, I thought all eyes were turned upon me, and that my person and administration were in a manner exhibited as a 680 MAGISTRATE. spectacle to the view of all the world ; and in this thought I not only denied myself all pleasures of an extraordinary kind, but even those which are au- thorized by nature and necessity. I am now in- tended for Mdlle. I call the gods to witness, that how honourable soever this dignity seems to me, I have too just a sense of its weight not to have more solicitude and disquiet than joy and pleasure from it : so much 1 desire to make it appear, that it was not bestowed upon me by chance, or the necessity of being filled up, but confided deservedly by the choice and discernment of my country. Cic, Verr, vii, w. 35, The young people of Athens, dazzled with the glory of Themistocles, Cimon, and Pericles, and full of a wild ambition, after having received, for some 1_ time, the lessons of the Sophists, who promised to ^ tnake them great politicians, conceived themselves Capable of every thing, and aspired at the highest employments. One of these, named Glauco, had taken it so strongly into his head to enter upon the administration of public affairs, that none of his friends were able to divert him from a design so little consistent with his age and capacity. Socrates, meet- ing him one day, ingeniously engaged him in a con- versation upon the subject. " You are desirous then of a share in the government of the republic ?** said Socrates. *^ Triie," replied Glauco. " You xjannot have a more honourable design,'* answered Socrates : ^' for if you succeed, you will have it in your power to serve your friends effectually, to aggrandize your family, and to extend the confines t)f your country. You will make yourself known Magistrate. 281 hot ohly to Athens^ biit throughout all Greece 5 and perhaps your renown, like that of Themistocles, may Spread abroad among the barbarous nations.'* So smooth and insinuating a prelude was extremely pleasing to the young man. He staid willingly, and the conversation continued. '^ Since you desire to be esteemed and honoured, no doubt your view is to be useful to the public ? '* '' Certainly." " Tell me then, I beseech you, in the name of the gods, what is the first service you propose to render to the state?" As Glauco seemed at a loss, and medi- tated upon what he should answer, ^* I presume," continued Socrates, " it is to enrich it, that is to say, to augment its revenues." ^' My very thought." '' You are well versed then, undoubtedly, in the re- venues of the state, and know perfectly to what they amount; you have not failed to make them your particular study, in order that if a fund should hap- pen to fail by any unforeseen accident, you might be able to supply the deficiency by another." ^^ I protest," replied Glauco, '' that never entered into tay thoughts." ^' At least you will tell me to what the expenses of the republic amount ; for you must know the importance of retrenching such as are su- perfluous." ^' I own," says Glauco, *' I am as little informed in this point as the other." *' You must therefore refer your design of enriching the state to another time, for it is impossible you should do it whilst you are unacquainted with its revenues and expenses." '^ But," said Glauco, '^ there is still another means which you have not mentioned } a state may be enriched by the ruin of its enemies." *' You are in the right," replied Socrates 5 '^ but that depends upon its being the strongest, other* 582 MAGISTRATE, wise, it incurs the danger of losing what it has. For which reason, he who talks of engaging in a war, ought to know the forces on both sides 3 that if he finds his own party strongest, he may boldly advise the war, and if weakest, dissuade the people from undertaking it. Now do you know the strength of our republic, and that of our enemies by sea and land ? Have you a state of them in writing ? Be so kind as to let me see it.'* '^ I have it not at pre- sent,'* said Glauco. ^' I see then,'* said Socrates, *' that we shall not presently enter into a war, if you are charged with the government) for you have abundance of inquiries to make, and much pains to go through, before you will resolve upon it." He ran over several other articles no less import tant, with which Glauco was equally unacquainted, till he brought him to confess how ridiculous those people were who have the rashness to intrude into government, without any other preparation for the service of the public, than that of a high esteem for themselves, and an immoderate ambition of rising to the first places and dignities. '^ Have a care, dear Glauco," said Socrates, ^* lest a too warm desire of honours should deceive you into pursuits that may cover you with shatoe, by setting your incapacity and slender abilities in full light." Glauco improv- ed from the wise admonitions of Socrates, and took time to inform himself in private before he ventured to appear in public. This is a lesson for all ages, and may be very useful Co persons in all stations and conditions in life. MAGNANIMITY. 283 MAGNANIMITY. SENTIMENTS. Magnanimity is sufficiently defined by its name 5 yet we may say of it, that it is the good sense of pride, and the noblest way of acquiring applause. It renders the soul superior to the trouble, disorder, and emotion which the appearance of great danger might excite ; and it is by this quality that heroes maintain their tranquillity, and preserve t*he free use of their reason in the most surprising and dreadful accidents. It admires the same quality in its enemy 5 and fame, glory, conquests, desire of opportunities to pardon and oblige their opposers, are what glow in the minds of the brave. Magnanimity and courage are inseparable. EXAMPLES. The inhabitants of Privernum being subdued and taken prisoners after a revolt, one of them being asked by the Roman senator, who was for putting them all to death, what punishment he and his fellow captives deserved, answered with great intrepidity j ^' We deserve that punishment which is due to men who are jealous of their liberty, and think themselves worthy of it." Plautinius, per- ceiving that his answer exasperated some of the senators, endeavoured to prevent the ill eflfects of it, by putting a milder question to the prisoner : '' How would you behave," says he, ^' if Rome should par- don you?" '^Our conduct," replied the generous captive, ^' depends upon yours. If the peace you 284 'MAGNANiMITY. grant be an honourable one, you may depend on a constant fidelity oil our parts : if the terms of it be hard and dishonourable, lay no stress on our adher- ence to you." Some of the judges construed these words as menaces -, but the wiser part finding in them a great deal of magnanimity, cried out, that a nation, whose only desire was liberty, and their only fear that of losing it, was worthy to become Roman. Accordingly, a decree passed in favour of the prison- ers, and Privernum was declared a municipium. Thus the bold sincerity of one man saved his coun- try, and gained it the privilege of being incorpo- rated into the Roman state. — Liv. lib, viii, c. 20, 21. « While Athens was governed by the thirty ty* rants, Socrates, the philosopher, was summoned to the senate- house, and ordered to go with some other persons, whom they named, to seize one Leon, a man of rank and fortune, whom they determined to put out of the way, that they might enjoy his estate. This commission Socrates flatly refused, and not sa- tisfied therewith, added also his reasons for such re- fusal, '* I vdll never willingly," said he, ^^ assist an unjust act." Ghericles sharply replied, '* Dost thou •think, Socrates, to talk always in this high style, and not to suffer > " Far from it," added he, ^^ I expect to suffer a thousand ills, but none so great as to do unjustly." — Life of Socrates, Alexander the Great, having totally defeated the numerous army of Porus, an Indian prince, of great courage and prudence, desired to see him. After much intreaty Porus consented, and accord- ingly set forward. Alexander, who had been told MAGNANIMITY* 285 of his comings advanced forward, in order to receive him, with some of his train. Being come pretty near, Alexander stopped, purposely to take a view qf his noble mien, he being much above the common height. (Some historians say he was seven feet and a half in stature.) Porus did not seem dejected at his misfortune, but oame up with a resolute counte- ^ nance, like a valiant warrior, whose courage in de- fending his dominions ought to acquire him the estetem of the brave prince who had taken him pri- soner. , ^Alexander spoke first ; and, with an august and gracious air, asked him, '' How he desired to be treated? '* '^ Like a king," replied Porus. *' But,'* continued Alexander, '' do you ask nothing more K* *f No,'* replied Porus, " all things are included in that single word." Alexander, struck with this greatness of soul, the magnanimity of which seemed heightened by distress, did not only restore him his kingdom, but annexed other provinces to it, and treated him with the highest testimonies of honour, esteem, and friendship. Porus was faithful to him tiU his death. It is hard to say, whether the victor ' or the vanquished best deserved praise on this oc j casion. When the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander the Great, they gazed attentively upon him for a long time without speaking a word, being very probably surprised (as they formed a judgment; of men from their air and stature) to find that his did not answer the high idea they entertained of him from his fame. At last, the oldest of the am- bassadors addressed him thus : '^ Had the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy ambition. 286 MAGNANIMITY, the whole universe would have been too little for thee. With one hand thou wouldst touch the East, and with the other the West j and, not satisfied with this, thou wouldst follow the sun, and know where he hides himself. But what have we to do with thee } we never set foot in thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be allowed to live, without knowing who thou art, and whence thou comest ? We will neither command over, nor submit to any man. And that thou mayest be sensible what kind of people the Scythians are, know, that we received from heaven, as a rich present, a yoke of oxen, a plowshare, a dart, a javelin, and a cup. These we make use of, both with our friends, and against our enemies. To our friends we give corn, which we procure by the labour of our oxen ; with them we offer wine to the gods in our cup 5 and with regard to our enemies, we combat them at a distance with our arrows, and near at hand with our javelins. But thou, who boasted thy coming to extirpate robbers, thou thyself art the greatest robber upon earth. Thou hast plundered all nations thou overcamest, thou hast possessed thyself of Lydia, invaded Syria, Persia, and Bactriana^ thou art forming a design to march as far as India, and now thou comest hither to seize upon our herds of cattle. The great posses- sions thou hast, only make thee covet more eagerly what thou hast not. If thou art a god thou oughtest to do good to mortals, and not deprive them of their possessions. If thou art a mere man, reflect always on what thou art. They whom thou shall not molest will be thy true friends, the strongest friendships being contracted between equals 5 and they are esteemed equals 'who have not tried their strength MAGNANIMITY. 287 against eaeh other ; but do not imagine that those whom thou conquerest can love thee." This is Alexander's exact character, and in which there is nothing to be rejected. — Q. Curt. PoLYXENUs, DionyMus's brother-in-law, who hi^d married his sister Thesta, having joined in a conspiracy against him, fled from Sicily, to avoid falling into the tyrant's hands. Dionysius sent for his sister and reproached her very much for not ap- prising him of her husband's intended flight, as she could not be ignorant of it. She replied without expressing the least surprise or fear, ^^ Have I then appeared so bad a wife to you, and of so mean a soul, as to have abandoned my husband in his flight, and not to have desired to share in his dangers and misfortunes ? No ! I knew nothing of it^ or I should have been much happier in being called the wife of Polyxenus the exile, in all places, than in Syracuse, the sister of the tyrant.'* Dionysius could not but admire an answer so full of spirit and generosity ; and the Syracusans, in general, were so charmed with her magnanimity, that after the tyranny was suppressed, the same ho- nours, equipage, and train of a queen, which she had before, were continued to her during her life -, and after her death, the whole people attended her body to the tomb, and honoured her funeral with an ex- traordinary appearance. — Plut. in Dion, Richard the First, king of England, having in- viested the castle of Chains, was shot in the shoulder with an arrow • an unskilful surgeon, endeavouring to extract the weapon, mangled the flesh in such a manner, that a gangrene ensued. The castle being 267 MAGNANIMITY, taken, and perceiving he should not live, he ordered Bertram de Gourdon, who had shot the arrow, to be brought into his presence. Bertram being come : *' What harm," said the king, '* did I ever do thee that thou shouldst kill me ? " The other replied with great magnanimity and courage : '* You killed with your own hand my father and two of my bro- thers, and you likewise designed to have killed mc. You may now satiate your revenge. I should cheer fully suffer all the torments that can be inflicted, were I sure of having delivered the world of a tyrant, who filled it with blood and carnage." This bold and spirited answer had such an effect on Richard, that he ordered the prisoner to be presented with one hundred shillings, and set at liberty; but Maccar- dec, one of the king's friends, inhumanly ordered him to be flayed alive. — Rapin^ A, D, 1199, One of the favourites of King Henry V. when prince of Wales, having been indicted for some mis- demeanor, was condemned, notwithstanding all the interest he could make in his favour ^ and he was so incensed at the issue of the trial, that he struck the judge on the bench. This magistrate, whose name was Sir William Gascoign, acted with a spirit be- coming his character. He instantly ordered the prince to be committed to prison -, and young Henry, by this time sensible of the insult he had offered the laws [of his country, suffered himself to be quietly conducted to gaol by the officers of justice. The king, (Henry IV.) who was an excellent judge of mankind, was no sooner informed of this transac- tion, than he cried*out in a transport of joy, *' Happy is the king who has a magistrate possessed of courage MAONANIMity* 28S to execute the laws ; and still more happy in having a son who will submit to such chastisement! " Hist, Bng^ The love of liberty, and a true devotion to its cause, seems to have been implanted by nature in' the breasts of our forefathers j it shone in the per- sons and characters of the Silures, a powerful, hardy, and warlike nation, who inhabited the coun- ties of Hereford, Monmouth, and the adjacent pro* vinces of South Wales. It shone particularly in the> character and person of their monarch Caractacus, a prince of noble birth, and an undaunted spirit* Though his forces were inferior to the Romans^ who invaded his dominions, yet he defended him- self with invincible bravery for nine years succes- sively} but being at last defeated in a pitched battle with Ostorius, he fled to his mother-in-law Cartismandua, queen of the Brigantes, who trea- cherously seized his person, and betrayed him to the Romans, by whom he was sent, with the rest of his family, iu chains, to Rome. The behaviour of Caractacus in that metropolis of the world was truly great. When brought before the emperor, he appeared with a manly^ decent, and composed countenance, and addressed himself to Claudius in the following harangue } *^ If in my prosperity the moderation of my con- duct had been equivalent to my birth and fortune, I should have come into this city not as a captive but as a friend : nor would you, Caesar, have disdained the alliance of a man born of illustrious ancestor?, and ruler over several nations. My present fate is to me dishonourable, to you magnificently glorious. f^ PATIENCE. I once had horses : I once had men ; I once had arms : I once had riches : can you wonder I should part with them unwillingly ? Although as Romans you may aim at universal empire, it does not follow that all mankind must tamely submit to be your slaves. If I had yielded without resistance, neither the perverseness of my fortune, nor the glory of your triumph, had been so remarkable. Punish me with death, and I shall soon be forgotten. Suffer me to live, and I shall remain an everlasting monument of your clemency." The manner in which this noble speech was de- livftred, affected the whole audience, and made such an impression on the emperor, that he ordered the chains of Caractacus and his family to be taken off : and Agrippina, who was more than an equal associate in the empire, not only received the captive Britons with great marks of kindness and compassion, but coniirmed to them the enjoyment of their liberty. Tacitus, P A T J E N C E. SENTIMENTS. The evils by which life is embittered may be reduced to these four. 1. Natural evils ; or those to which we are by nature subject as men, and as perishable animals. The greatest of these are the death of those whom we love, and of ourselves. 2. Those from which we might be exempted by a virtuous and prudent conduct, but which are the inseperable consequences of imprudence or vice, which wc PATIENCE. ^91 shall call punishments; as infamy proceeding from fraud, poverty from prodigality, debility and disease from intemperance. 3. Those by which the fortitude of the good is exercised, such as the persecutions raised against them by the wicked. To these may be added, 4. The opposition against which we must perpetually struggle, arising from the diversity of sentiments, manners, and characters of the persons among whom we live. Under all these evils, patience is not only neces- sary, but useful 3 it is necessary because the laws of nature have made it a duty, and to murmur against natural events is to affront Providence 5 it is useful, because it renders our sufferings lighter, shorter, and less dangerous. It is fancy, not the reason of things, that makes life so uneasy to us. It is not the place, nor the condition, but the mind alone that can make any body happy or miserable. He that values himself upon conscience, not opinion, never heeds reproaches. When I am evil spoken of, I take it thus : if I have not deserved it, I am never the worse; if I have, I will mend. Men will have the same veneration for a person that suffers adversity without dejection, as for de- molished temples, the very ruins whereof are reve- renced and adored. EXAMPLES. Of all the philosophers which the sect of the Stoics ever produced, Epictetus is by fkr the most renowned. He is supposed to have been a native of Hierapolis in Phrygia, was for some time a slave, ;and belonged to Epaphroditus, one of Nero's life- o2 £92 PATIENCE, guard. He reduced all his philosophy to two points only, viz. *^ To suffer evils with patience, and enjoy pleasures with moderation j" which he expressed in these two celebrated words, aVJp^oo xal a-tfe^ou; that is Bear and Forbear, Of the former he gave a me- morable example. As his master was one day squeezing his leg, in order to torment him, Epic- tetus said to him very calmly, " You will break my leg 5" which happened accordingly 5 '' Did not I tell you," said he, smiling '' that you would break my leg ?" — Orig. in Cels. I vii, — Suid. p. 996. One of the most distinguishing qualities of So- crates, was a tranquillity of soul that no accident, no loss, no injury, no ill-treatment, could ever alter. Some have believed that he was by nature hasty and passionate, and that the moderation to which he had attained, was the effect of his reflections and endea- vours to subdue and correct himself 3 which would still add to his merit. Seneca (de Ira, L in, c. 15.) tells us that he had desired his friends to apprize him whenever they saw him ready to fall into a passion, and had given them that privilege over him which he took himself with them. Indeed, the best time to call in aid against rage and anger, that have so violent and sudden a power over us, is when we are yet ourselves and in cool blood. At the first signal, the least animadver- sion, he either softened his tone or was silent. Find- ing himself in great emotion against a slave, " I would beat you,** says he, '^ if I were not angry.** Having received a box on the ear, he contented him- self by only saying with a smile, '' It is a misfortune not to know when to put on an helmet." Socrates PATlENCfi. 293 meeting a gentleman of rank in the street^ saluted himjf but the gentleman took no notice of it. His friends in company observing what passed^ told the philosopher, ^' that they were so exasperated at the man's incivility, that they had a good mind to resent it.*' But he very calmly made answer, '* If you meet any person on the road in a worse habit of body than yourself, would you think that you had reason to be enraged at him on that account 5 if not, pray then, what greater reason can you have for being incensed at a man of a worse habit of mind than any of your« selves Y' But without going out of his house, he found enough to exercise his patience in all its ex- tent. Xantippe, his wife, put it to the severest proofs, by her captious, passionate, violent disposi* tion. — ^Never was a woman of so furious and fantas- tical a spirit, and so bad a temper. There was no kind of abuse, or injurious treatment, which he had not to experience from her. She was once so transported with rage against him, that she tore o£f his cloak in the open street. Whereupon his friends told him, that such treatment was insufferable, and that he ought to give her a severe drubbing for it. ^^ Yes, a fine piece of sport indeed," says he, *' while she and I were buffeting one another, you in your turns, I suppose, would animate us on to the combat : while one cried out. Well done, Socrates, another would say. Well hit, Xantippe." At another time, having vented all the reproaches her fury could suggest, he went out, and sat before the door. His calm and unconcerned behaviour did but irritate her so much the more ; and in the excess of her rage, she ran up stairs, and emptied the — ^pot upon his head : at which he only laughed, and said, ^* That so 294 PATIENCtf, much thunder must needs produce a sho\^er/* Al- cibiades, his friend^ talking with him one day about his wife, told him, he wondered bow he could bear such an everlasting scold in the same house with him ? he replied, ^' I have so accustomed myself to expect it, that it now offends me no more than the noise of the carriages in the streets." The same dis- position of mind was visible in other respects, and continued with him to his last moments. When he was told that the Athenians had condemned him to die, he replied, without the least emotion, '^ and Nature them." Apollodorus, one of his friends and disciples, having expressed his grief for his dying innocent. '' What," replied he with a smile, *' would you have me die guilty?" This sentence did not shake the constancy of Socrates in the least. *' I am going," says he, ad- dressing himself to his judges with a noble tran- quillity> ^' to suffer death by your order, to which nature had condemned me from the first moment of my birth } but my accusers will suffer no less from infamy and injustice by the decrees of truth." When the deadly potion was brought him, he drank it off with an amazing fortitude, and a serenity of aspect not to be expressed, or even conceived. — ^Till then, his friends, with great violence to themselves, had refrained from tears 5 but after he had drank the poison, they were no longer their own masters, but Wept abundantly. Apollodorus, who had been in tears for some time, began then to lament with such excessive grief, as pierced the hearts of all that were present. Socrates alone remained unmoved, and even reproved his friends, though with his usual mildness and good-nature. *J What are you doing,*' FATIENCB* 295 said he to them^ '^ I wonder at you. What is be- come of your virtue 1 was it not for this I sent away the women, that they might not fall into these weaknesses 5 for I have always heard say, that we ought to die peaceably, and blessing the gods ? Be at ease, I beg of you, and show more constancy and resolution." Thus died Socrates, the wisest and the best man the heathen world could ever boast of. Philip, king of Macedpn, discovered great WMJ* deration even when he was spoken to in shocking and injurious terms. At the close of an audienc^^ which he gave to some Athenian ambassadors, wIjq were come to complain of some act of hostility, \^ asked whether he could do them any service?; ^^ The greatest service thou couldst do us," se^id D^mQ^ chares^ '' will be to hang thyself." Philip, though he perceived all the persons present were highly of-j fended at these words, made the following answ€» with the utmost calmness of temper : '^ Go, tie^ your superiors, that tjiose who dare make use of shq^% insolent language, are more haughty and less p^a^ef» ably inclined than those who can forgive them." S96 PATRtOTtSM. PATRIOTISM, OR, LOVE Ot OUR COUNTRY. SENTIMENTS. Love of our country is one of the noblest passions that can warm and animate the human breast. It includes all the limited and particular affections to our parents, children, friends, neighbours, fellow- citizens, and countrymen. This love of our country does not import an at- tachment to any particular sdil, climate, or spot of earth, where perhaps we first drew our breath, though those natural ideas are often associated with the moral ones, and, like external signs, or symbols, help to ascertain and bind them : but it imports an affection to that moral system, or community, which is governed by the same laws atid magistrates, and whose several parts are variously connected one with the other, and all united upon the bottom of a com- mon interest. Wherever this love of our country prevails in its genuine vigour and extent, it swallows up all sordid and selfish regards > it conquers the love of ease, power, pleasure, and wealth 3 nay, when the amiable partialities of friendship, gratitude, private affection, or regards to a family, come in competition with it, it will teach us to sacrifice all, in order to maintain the rights, and promote and defend the honour and happiness of our country. PATRIOTISM. 297 EXAMPLES. So deeply was the love of his country impressed on the mind of Alexander, the Roman emperor, that he is said never to have given any public office out of favour or friendship 5 but to have employed such only as were both by himself and the senate judged the best qualified for the discharge of the trust re- posed in them. He preferred one to the command of the guards, who had retired into the country on purpose to avoid that office, saying, that with him the declining such honourable employments was the best recommendation of them. He would not suffer any important employments to be sold, saying, '* He , who buys must sell in his turn 5 and it would be un- just to punish one for selling, after he has been suffered to buy." He never pardoned any crime committed against the public 3 but suffered no one to be condemned till his case was thoroughly heard, and his offence evidently proved. He was an irrecon- cileable enemy to such as were convicted of having plundered the provinces, and oppressed the people committed to their care. These he never spared, though his friends, favourites, and kinsmen 5 but sentenced them to death, and caused them to be exe- cuted, notwithstanding their quality or former ser- vices, like common malefactors. He banished one of his secretaries for giving his council in writing ^ false account of an affair 3 atid caused the sinews of his fin- gers to be cut, that he might never write after. One of his servants, convicted of receiving a bribe, he caused to be crucified on the road which led from the city to the villa where he frequently resided, that, by the sight of the body, which was left on the cross, o 5 29* PATRIOTISM, others might be deterred from the like practices. Eucolpius, the historian, as quoted by Lampridius, informs us, that he could not even bear the sight of such public robbers : insomuch, that one Septimius Aribinus, who had been tried for that crime, but acquitted by favour of Heliogabalus, coming one day with other Senators to wait upon the emperor, Alexander, on seeing him, cried out with the utmost disdain, ^' O ye immortal gods ! is Aribinus still alive, and a Senator ! does he even presume to ap- pear in my presence ! surely he takes me to be as wicked as himself !" After this he caused it to be pro- claimed by the public crier, that if any one guilty of the same crime ever presumed to appear in his pre- sence, he should immediately receive his deserved punishment, notwithstanding the pardon granted to him by his predecessor. He was sparing of the pub- lic money, though liberal of his own. He retrench- ed all the pensions which Heliogabalus, his prede- cessor, had settled on buffoons, stage-players, charioteers, gladiators, &c. saying that the emperor was but the steward of the people, and therefore could not, without the utmost injustice, thus wan- tonly squander away their revenues upon persons no ways useful to them. — Alex, Fit. 119. Rome, under the consuls Cseso Fabius and T. Virginius, had several wars to sustain, less danger- ous than troublesome, against the ^qui, Volsci, and Veientes. To put a stop to the incursions of the last it would have been necessary to have established a good garrison upon their frontiers to keep them in awe. But the commonwealth, exhausted of money, and menaced by abundance of other enemies, was PATRIOTISM. 2^Q not in a condition to provide for so many different cares and expenses. The family of the Fabii shewed a generosity and love of their country that has been the admiration of all ages. They applied to the Se* nate^ and by the mouth of the consul demanded BS a favour that they would be pleased to transfer the care and expenses of the garrison necessary to op- pose the enterprises of the Veientes to their house> which required an assiduous rather than a numerous body, promising to support with dignity the honour of the Roman name in that post. Every body was charmed with so noble and unheard-of an offjsr^ an^ it was accepted with great acknowledgment. The news spread over the whole city, and nothing was talked of but the Fabii. Every body praised, every body admired and extolled them to the skies. ^^ li there were two more such families in Rome,** said they, *^^the one might take upon them the war against the Volsci, and the other against the ^qui, whilst the commonwealth remained quiet, and the forces of particulars subdued the neighbouring states.*' Early the next day the Fabii set out, with the consul at their head, robed, and with his insignia. Never was there so small, and, at the same time, so illustrious, an army seen j I speak upon the au« thority of Livy. Three hundred and six soldieris, all patricians and of the same family, of whom not one but might be judged worthy of commanding an army, march against the Veii full of courage and alacrity, under a captain of their own name; Fabius. They were followed by a body of their friends and clients, animated by the same spirit and zeai> and actuated only by great and noble views. The whole city flocked to see so fine a sight, praised those $00 PATRIOTISM. generous soldiers in the highest terms^ and promised them consulships, triumphs, and the most glorious rewards. As they passed before the Capitol and the other temples, every body implored the gods to take them into their protection, to favour their departure and undertaking, and to afford them a speedy and happy return. But those prayers were not heard. When they arrived near the river Cremera, which is not far from Veii, they built a fort upon a very rough and steep mountain for the security of the troops, which they surrounded with a double fosse and llanked with several towers. This settlement, which prevented the enemy from cultivating their ground, and ruined their commerce with strangers, incom- moded them extremely. The Veientes not finding themselves strong enough to ruin the fort which the Romans had erected, applied to the Hetrurians who sent them very considerable aid. In the mean time the Fabii, encouraged by the great success of their incursions into the enemy's country, made further progress every day. Their excessive boldness made the Hetrujians conceive thoughts of laying ambus- cades for them in several places. During the night they seized all the eminences that commanded the plain, and found means to conceal a good number of troops upon them. The next day they dispersed more cattle about the country than they had done before. The Fabii being apprized that the plains were covered with flocks and herds, and defended by only a very small number of troops, they quitted their fort, leaving in it only a sufficient number to guard it. The hopes of a great booty quickened their march. They arrived at the place in the order of battle, and were preparing to attack the advanced PAtRlOTlSM. 301 guard of the enemy, when the latter, who had their orders, fled without staying till they were charged. The Fabii, believing themselves secure, seized the shepherds, and were preparing to drive away the cattle. The Hetrurians then quitted their skulking- places, and fell upon the Romans from all sides, who were most of them dispersed in pursuit of their prey. All they could do was to rally immediately j and that they could not effect without great difficulty. They soon saw themselves surrounded on all sides, and fought like lions, selling their lives very dear. But finding that they could not sustain this kind of combat long, they drew up in a wedge, and advanc- ing with the utmost fury and impetuosity, opened themselves a passage through the enemy, that led to the side of the mountain. When they came thither, they halted and fought with fresh courage, the enemy leaving them no time to respire. As they were upon the higher ground, they defended themselves with advantage, notwithstanding their small number ; and beating down the enemy, who spared no pains in the attack, they made a great slaughter of them. But the Veientes having gained the top of the mountain, by taking a compass, fell suddenly upon them, and galled them exceedingly from above with a continued shower of darts. The Fabii defended themselves to their last breath, and were all killed to a man. The Roman people were highly affected with the loss of this illustrious band of patriots. The day of their defeat was ranked amongst their un- fortunate days, called nefasti, on which the tri- bunals were shut up, and no public affair could be negotiated, or at least concluded. The memory 302 PATRIOTISM, of these public spirited patricians, who had so ge» nerously sacrificed their lives and fortunes for the service of the state, could not be too much honoured, A like zeal and devotion for one's country is scarcely to be equalled in history. Dion, L viii. p. 570. — Rollin^ Rom. Hist. vol. i, A Corsican gentleman, who had been taken prisoner by the Genoese, was thrown into a dark dungeon, where he was chained to the ground. While he was in this dismal situation, the Genoese $ent a message to him, that if he would accept of a commission in their service he might have it. ^^ No,** said he, '^ were I to accept of your offer, it would be with a determined purpose to take the first opportunity of returning to the service of my country. But I will not accept it. For I would not have my countrymen even suspect that I could be one moment unfaithful." — And he remained in his dungeon. I defy, says Paoli, Rome, Sparta, or Thebes, to show me thirty years of such patriotism as Corsica can boast. Though the affection between relations is exceedingly strong in the Corsicans, they will give up their nearest relations for the good of their country, and sacrifice such as have deserted to the Genoese. A criminal, said he, was condemned to die. His nephew came to me with a lady of distinction, that she might solicit his pardon. The nephew*s anxiety made him think that the lady did not speak with sufiicient force and earnestness. He therefore advanced, and addressed himself to me : '^ Sir, is it proper for me to speak r '* as if he felt that it was PATRIOTISM. 303 unlawful to make such an application. I bid him go on : ^' Sir,'* said he, with the deepest concerr^i ^' may I beg the life of my uncle ? If it is granted, his relations will make a gift to the state of a thou- sand zechins. We will furnish Bfty soldiers in pay during the siege of Furiani. We will agree that my uncle shall be banished, and will engage that he shall never return to the island." I knew the nephew to be a man of worth, and I answered him : ^' You are acquainted with the circumstances of this case. Such is my confidence in you, that if you will say, that giving your uncle a pardon would be just, useful, or honourable for Corsica, I promise you it shall be granted." He turned aboutj burst into tears, and left me, saying, '' Non vorrei vendere I'onore della patria per mille ze- chini." I would not have the honour of imj country sold for a thousand zechins: and his uncle suffered. BoswelVs Corsica, Edward HI. king of England, after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to Calais. He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a manner, that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual to raise the siege, or throw succours into the city. The citizens^ however, under the conduct of Count Vienne, their gallant governor, made an admirable defence. Day after day the English effected many a breach^ which they repeatedly expected to storm by morn- ing 5 but when morning appeared, they wondered to behold new ramparts nightly raised, erected out of the ruins which the day had made. France had now put her sickle mto the second harvest^ since Edward^ with his victorious army, sat dowa 304 PATRIOTISM. before the town. The eyes of all Europe were intent on the issue. The English made their approaches and attacks without remission^ but the citizens were as obstinate in repelling all their ef- forts. At length, famine did more for Edward than arms. After the citizens had devoured the lean car-r casses of their half- starved cattle^ they tore up old foundations and rubbish, in search of vermin : they fed on boiled leather, and the weeds of exhausted gardens; and a morsel of damaged corn was ac- counted matter of luxury. In this extremity, they resolved to attempt the enemy's camp. They boldly isallied forth : the English joined battle ; and, after a long and desperate engagement. Count Vienne was taken prisoner ^ and the citizens, who survived the slaughter, retired within their gates. On the captivity of their governor, the command devolved jupon Eustace Saint Pierre, the mayor of the town, a man of mean birth, but of exalted virtue. Eustace soon found himself under the necessity of capitu- lating, and offered to deliver to Edward the city, with all the possessions and wealth of the inhabit- ants, provided he permitted them to depart with life and liberty. As Edward had long since expected to ascend the throne of France, he was exasperated, to the last degree, against these people, whose sole va- lour had defeated his warmest hopes : he therefore determined to take an exemplary revenge, though he wished to avoid the imputation of cruelty. He answered by 8ir Walter Mauny, that they all de- served capital punishment, as obstinate traitors to him, their true and notable sovereign : that, how- ever, in his wonted clemency, he consented to pardon the bulk of the plebeians, provided they would de- PATRIOTISM. 305 liver up to him six of their principal citizens, with halters about their necks, as victims of due atone- ment for that spirit of rebellion with which they had inflamed the common people. All the remains of this desolate city were convened in the great square, and like men arraigned at a tribunal from whence there was no appeal, expected, without throbbing hearts, the sentence of their conqueror. When Sir Walter had declared his message, consternation and pale dismay was impressed on every face : each looked upon death as his own inevitable lotj for how should they desire to be saved at the price pro- posed > Whom had they to deliver up, save parents, brothers, kindred, or valiant neighbours, who had so often exposed their lives in their defence ? To a long and dead silence, deep sighs and groans suc- ceeded, till Eustace Saint Pierre ascending a little eminence, thus addressed the assembly: ** My friends and fellow-citizens, you see the condition to which we are reduced 5 we must either submit to the terms of our cruel and ensnaring conqueror, or yield up our tender infants, our wives and chaste daughters, to the bloody and brutal lusts of the vio- lating soldiery. We well know what the tyrant in- tends by his specious oflFers of mercy. It does not satiate his vengeance to make us merely miserable, he would also make us criminal : he would make us contemptible ; he will grant us life on no condition save that of our being unworthy of it. Look about you, my friends, and fix your eyes on the persons whom you wish to deliver up as the vic- tims of your own safety. Which of these would you appoint to the rack, the ax, or the halter"? Is there any here who has not watched for you. S06 PATRIOTISM, who has not fought for you, who has not bled for you ? WhO;, through the length of this inveterate siege has not suffered fatigues and miseries a thou- sand times worse than death ; that you and yours might survive to days of peace and prosperity ? Is it your preservers, then, whom you would destine to destruction? You will not, you cannot do it. Justice, honour, humanity, make such a treason impossible. Where then is our resource } Is there any expedient left, whereby we may avoid guilt and infamy on one hand, or the desolation and hor- rors of a sacked city on the other ? There is, my friends, there is one expedient left : a gracious, an excellent, a god-like expedient ! Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer than life ? Let him offer himself an oblation for the safety of his people ! he shall not fail of a blessed approbation from that power, who offered up his only son for the salvation of mankind.'" He spoke — but an universal silence ensued* IJach man looked around for the example of that virtue and magnanimity in others, which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted the resolution. At length Saint Pierre resumed. '^ It had been base in me, my fellow-citizens, to promote any matter of damage to others, which I myself ha^ not been willing to undergo in my own person. But I held it ungenerous to deprive any man of that preference and estimation, which jnight attend a first offer on so signal an occasion : for I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay, more zealous for this martyrdom than I ca|i be, however modesty, and the fear of imputed os- teiitatipn, may withhold thengi from being foremost PATRIOTISM. 307 in exhibiting their merits. Indeed^ the station to which the captivity of Count Vienne has unhappily raised me, imports a right to be the first in giving my life for your sakes. I give it freely. I give it cheerfully : vv^ho comes next. Your son ! ex*- claimed a youth, not yet come to maturity. — Ah, my child ! cried St. Pierre, I am then twice sacri- ficed. But no — I have rather begotten thee a second time — thy years are few, but full, my son : the vie* tim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and goal of mortality. Who next, my friends ? This is the hour of heroes. — -Your kinsman I cried John de Aire. Your kinsman ! cried James Wissant, Your kinsman ! cried Peter Wissant, — ' Ah ! ' ex- claimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into tearSj * why was I not a citizen of Calais ?' *' The sixth victim was still wanting, but wag quickly supplied by lot, from numbers who were now emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys of the city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six prisoners into his custody. He ordered the gates to be opened, and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the remaining citi- zens, with their families, through the camp of the English. Before they departed, however, they desired per- mission to take their last adieu of their deliverers. What a parting ! what a scene ! they crowded with their wives and children about St. Pierre and his fellow- prisoners. They embraced, they clung around, they fell prostrate before them. They groaned 5 they wept aloud -, and the joint clamour of their mourning passed the gates of the city, and was heard throughout the camp. 308 PATRIOTISM. At length. Saint Pierre and his fellow-victims appeared under the conduct of Sir Walter and his guard. All the tents of the English were instantly emptied. The soldiers poured from all parts, and arranged themselves on each side, to behold, to con- template, to admire, this little band of patriots as they passed. They murmured their applause of that virtue which they could not but revere even in enemies j and they regarded those ropes which they had voluntarily assumed about their necks, as ensigns of greater dignity than that of the British garter. As soon as they had reached the royal presence^ '^ Mauny,*' says the king, " are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ? " ^' They are," says Mauny : *' they are not only the principal men of Calais : they are the principal men of France, my lord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling.'* '^ Were they delivered peaceably } " says Edward : ^' Was there no resistance, no commotion among the peo- ple ? " *' Not in the least, my lord. They are self- delivered, self- devoted, and come to oflfer up their Inestimable heads, as an ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands.'* The king, who was highly incensed at the length and difficulty of the siege, ordered them to be car- ried away to immediate execution 5 nor could all the remonstrances and intreaties of his courtiers divert him from this cruel purpose. But what neither a regard to his own interest and honour, what neither the dictates of justice, nor the feelings of humanity could effect, was happily accomplished by the more powerful influence of conjugal affection. The queen, who was then big with child, being informed of the particulars respecting the six victims, flew FOLITENESS. 309 into her husband*s presence, threw herself on her knees before him, and, with tears in her eyes, be- sought him not to stain his character with an inde- lible mark of infamy, by committing such a horrid and barbarous deed. Edward could refuse nothing to a wife whom he so tenderly loved, and especially in her condition 5 and the queen, not satisfied with having saved the lives of the six burghers, con- ducted them to her tent, where she applauded their virtue, regaled them with a plentiful repast, and having made them a present of money and clothes, ^ent them back to their fellow-citizens. POLITENESS. SENTIMENTS. There are many accomplishments, which though they are comparatively trivial, and may be acquired by small abilities, are yet of great importance in our common intercourse with men. Of this kind is that general courtesy which is called politeness. I have heard it defined, ^^ an artificial good nature 5'* but may we not more truly say, that good- nature is a natural politeness ? Art will make but an imperfect work, if the assistance of nature is wanting. Politeness is that continual attention which hu- manity inspires in us, both to please others, and to avoid giving them offence. The surly plain-dealer exclaims loudly against this virtue, and prefers his 310 POLITENESS, own shocking bluntness and gothic freedom. The courtier and fawning flatterer, on the contrary, sub- stitutes in its place insipid compliments, cringings, and a jargon of unmeaning sentences. The one blames politeness, because he takes it for a vice 3 and the other is the occasion of this, because that which he practises is really so. The conversation of most men is disagreeable, not so much for want of wit and learning, as of good breeding and discretion. If you resolve to please, never speak to gratify any particular vanity or passion of your own, but always with a design either to divert or inform the company. A man who only aims at one of these is always easy in his discourse. He is never out of hu- mour at being interrupted, because he considers that those who hear him are the best judges, whether what he was saying could either divert or inform them. He that is peremptory in his own story may meet with another as peremptory in the contradiction of of it, and then the two Sir Positives may have a skirmish. It is an unpardonable incivility to interrupt a person in telling a story : it is much better to let him fail in some circumstance of the history, than to rectify him, if he asks not our advice, or to sig- nify we knew long before the news he would ac- quaint us with. To what purpose is it to refuse a man the pleasure of believing he informed us of something we were ignorant of before ? No injury makes so deep an impression in one*s memory, as that which is done by a cutting mali- cious jest ', for let it be ever so good, yet is is al- ways extremely bad when it occasions enmity. POLITENESS, 311 Raillery therefore is no longer agreeable than while the whole company is pleased with it ; and should never be used but with regard to failings of so little consequence, that the person concerned may be merry on the subject himself. , It is a pleasant but decent mixture of praise and reproach. They who have a true relish for conversation enjoy themselves in a communication of each other's excellences, and not in a triumph over their imper- fections. The wit of conversation consists more in finding it in others than shewing a great deal yourself. He who goes out of your company; pleased with his own facetious ness and ingenuity, will the sooner come into it again. Most men had rather please than ad- mire you, and seek less to be instructed and diverted, than approved and applauded : and it is certainly the most delicate sort of pleasure to please another. We should talk very little of ourselves or any particular science for which we are remarkably famous. A man may equally affront the company he is in, by engrossing all the talk, or observing a contemp- tuous silence. Women are frightened at the name of argument, and are sooner convinced by a happy turn or witty expression than by demonstration. Whenever you commend, add your reasons for doing so : it is this which distinguishes the appro- bation of a man of sense from the flattery of syco- phants and admiration of fools. Nothing is more silly than the pleasure some people take, in what they call ^^ speaking their jftinds." A man of this make will say a rude thing 312 POLITENESS, for the mere pleasure of saying it^ when an opposite behaviour, full as innocent, might have preeerved his friend, or made his fortune* EXAMPLES. Petrarch relates that his admirable friend and contemporary, Dante Alighieri, one of the most ex- alted and original geniuses that ever appeared, being banished his country, and having retired to the court of a prince which was then the sanctuary of the un- fortunate, was held in great esteem 5 but became daily less acceptable to his patron, by the severity of his manners and the freedom of his speech. There were at the same court many players and buffoons, gamesters and debauchees -, one of whom, distin- guished for his impudence, ribaldry, and obscenity, was greatly caressed by the rest, which the prince suspecting Dante not to be pleased with, ordered the man to be brought before him, and having highly extolled him, turned to Dante and said, " I wonder that this person, who is by some deemed a fool, and by others a madman, should yet be so generally pleasing and so generally beloved 3 when you, who are celebrated for wisdom, are yet heard without pleasure, and commended without friendship.** — '' You would cease to wonder,'* replied Dante, ^' if you consider that conformity of character is the Isource of friendship.'* This sarcasm, which had all the force of truth, and all the keenness of wit, was intolerable 5 and Dante was immediately disgraced and banished. But by this answer, though the indignation /which produced it was founded in virtue, Dante POLITENKSS. 313 probably gratified his own vanity, as much as he mortified that of others : it was the petulant re- proach of resentment and pride, which is always retorted with rage, and not the still voice of reason, that is heard with complacency and reverence ; if Dante intended reformation, his answer was not wise 5 if he did not intend reformation, his answer was not good. — Adventurer, From the foregoing examples we may draw this inference. That he who does not practise good breeding, will not find himself considered as the object of good-breeding by others : it will therefore be no improper conclusion of this article to give you the character of a complete gentlenian, an appellation which ought never to be affixed to any man's circumstances, but to his behaviour in them. By a fine gentleman, is meant, one that is com- pletely qualified for the good and service, as well as the ornament and delight, of society. As to his mind we must suppose it graced with all the dignity and elevation of spirit, that human nature is capable of 5 to this we must add a clear understanding, a reason unprejudiced, a steady judgment, and an ex* tensive knowledge. As to his heart, it must be firm, and intrepid, free from all meanness and every inordinate desire, but full of tenderness, compassion, and benevolence; as to his manners, he must be modest, without bashfulness; frank and affable, without impertinence J complaisant and obliging, without servility; cheerful and good-humoured, without noise. In a word, a fine gentleman is properly a compound of the various good qualities that embellish mankind. — Mentor. 314 POLITENESS. To give an example perfectly worthy of imita- tion in every respect^ I must relate the following anecdote : Lord Carteret, in his lieutenancy, (of Ireland) being very fond of Dr. Delany, who was indeed worthy of universal esteem, came one day quite un- attended, and told the doctor he was come to dine with him. He thanked his excellency for the ho- nour he conferred on him, and invited him to walk in his beautiful gardens 5 which his excellency did with great good humour. They took a turn or two, when the servant came to inform them that dinner was upon the table. The doctor had generally something suitable to the season for himself and his mother, to whom he behaved with true filial tender^ ness and respect. The doctor made the old lady do the honours of his table 3 for which, nor for the entertainment, he never made the least apology, but told his lordship, that " To stomachs cloy'd with costly fare. Simplicity alone was rare." This demeanor of his was infinitely agreeable to Lord Carteret, who, though a courtier, hated cere- mony when he sought pleasure, which is indeed in- consistent with it. His excellency after the cloth was taken away, and the bottle introduced (when, consequently, the lady departed) told the doctor, that he always believed him to be a well-bred man, but never had so clear a demonstration of it, as he had this day seen. *' Others," said he, ** whom I have tried the same experiment on, have met me in as much confusion as if I came to arrest them for high-treason 3 nay, they would not give me a mo- ment of their conversation, which, and not their dinner, I sought, but hurry from me, and then, if I had any appetite, deprive me of it^ by their fulsome apologies for defects, and by their unnecessary pro- fusion. — Memoirs of Mrs. L» Pilk, PRIDE. SENTIMENTS. There is no affection of the mind so much blended in human nature, and wrought into our very consti- tution, as pride. It appears under a multitude of dis- guises, and breaks out in ten thousand different symptoms. Every one feels it in himself, and yet wonders to see it in his neighbour. The same pride which makes a man haughtily insult over his inferiors, forces him to cringe ser- vilely before his superiors. Nothing is more manifest than that there is a certain equality to which all men have a natural right, unless it be their meanness to give it up. Man is a sinful, an ignorant, and a miserable being, and these three very reasons why he should not be proud, are, notwithstanding, the reasons why he is so. Were not he a sinful creature, he would not be subject to a passion which rises from the deep depravity of his nature : were not he an igno- rant creature, he would see that he hath nothing to be proud of: and were not the whole species miserable, he would not have those wretched ob-» jects of compassion before his eyes which are the p^2 816 PRIDE. occasions of his passion^ and which make one man value himself more than another. Of all human actions, pride seldomest obtains its end 5 for, aiming at honour and reputation, it reaps contempt and derision. Some people are all quality -, you would think they are made up of nothing but title and genea- logy 5 the stamp of dignity defaces in them the very character of humanity, and transports them to such a degree of haughtiness, that they reckon it below them to exercise either good nature or good manners. It is an insolence natural to the wealthy to affix, as much as in them lies, the character of a man to his circumstances. Take away, said Lac tan tins, pride and boasting from rich men, and there will be no diiFerence between a poor and a rich man. Pride and ill-nature will be hated in spite of all the wealth and greatness in the world j but civility is always safe. To be proud of knowledge is to be blind in the light ; to be proud of virtue is to poison yourself with the antidote 5 to be proud of authority is to make your rise your downfal, &c. If a proud man makes me keep my distance, the comfort is, he keeps his at the same time. The best way to humble a proud man is to take no notice of him. EXAMPLES. Demetrius, one of Alexander's successors, who considered vain pomp and superb magnificence as true grandeur, rendered himself contemptible to the Macedonians in the very circumstance by which he ]PRIDE* Sit thought to obtain their esteem. His head was en- riched with the novelty of a double diadem, and his robes seemed fitter for a stage than a court. The ornaments of his feet were altogether extraor- dinary 5 and he had long employed artists to make him a mantle, on which the system of the world, with all the stars visible in the firmament, were to be embroidered in gold. The change of his fortune prevented the finishing of this work, which remain- ed for ages after a monument of his pride, and the modesty of his successors, who neither wore it, nor so much as suflfered it to be completed. But that which rendered him still more odious, was his being so difficult of approach. He was either so proud and disdainful, as not to allow those who had any affairs to transact with him the liberty of speech, or else he treated them with so much rudeness, as obliged them to quit his presence with disgust. He suffered the Athenian ambassadors to wait two whole years before he gave them audience ; and one «lay when he came out of his palace, and seemed to have more affability than was usual for him to as- sume, some persons were encouraged to present a few petitions to him. He received them with a gra- cious air, and placed them in one of the folds of his robe 5 but as he was passing over a bridge on the river Axius, he threw all these petitions into the stream. A prince must certainly know very little of mankind, not to be sensible that such a contemptu- ous behaviour is sufficient to provoke his subjects to revolt from his authority. This proved to be the case with regard to Demetrius 5 for his pride and insolence rendering his government insupportable^ he was expelled the throne. — Plut in Demet. S18 PRIDE. No person at first ever experienced less than Timotheus the inconstancy of the fortune gf war. He had only to undertake an enterprize to accom- plish it. Success perpetually attended his views and dedures* Such uncommon prosperity did not fail to excite jealousy. Those who envied him, caused him to be painted asleep, with Fortune by him, taking cities for him in nets. Timotheus retorted coldly, *' If I take places in my sleep, what shall I do when I am awake ?" He took the thing afterwards more seriously, and being angry with those who pretend- ed to lessen the glory of his actions, declared in public, '^ that he did not owe his success to Fortune, but to himself." That goddess, says Plutarch, of- fended at his pride and arrogance, abandoned him afterwards entirely, and he was never successful . from that day. — Pint, in Sylla. Menecrates, the physician, who was so mad as to fancy himself Jupiter, wrote to Philip, king of Macedon, as follows : — '^ Menecrates Jupiter, to Philip, greeting." The king answered, '' Philip to Menecrates, health and reason." But the king who understood raillery, and was very fond of it when •Well applied, did not stop here, but hit upon a plea- sant remedy for his visionary correspondent. Philip invited him to a grand entertainment. Menecrates had a separate table at it, where nothing was served up to him but incense and perfume, whilst the other guests fed upon the most delicious dainties. The first transports of joy with which he was seized, when he found his divinity acknowledged, made him forget that he was a man 3 but hunger after- wards forcing him to recollect his being so, be was lUMw..! * wM^fcii^^^pjii^ . ^i.^t^mmmm^mmmmmmm. PRIDE. 319 quite tired with the character of Jupiter, and took leave of the company abruptly. — Julian, L 12, €. 51. One day when Alcibiades was boasting of his wealth, and the great estates in his possession, (which generally blow up the pride of young peo- ple of quality,) Socrates carried him to a geogra- phical map, and asked him to find Attica. It was so small it could scarcely be discerned upon that draught ; he found it, however, though with some difficulty. But upon being desired to point out his own estate there : It is too small, says he, to be dis- tinguished in so little a space. See then, replied Socrates, how much you are affected about an im- perceptible point of land. This reasoning might have been urged much further still. For what was Attica compared to all Greece, Greece to Europe, Europe to the whole world, and the world itself to the vast extent of the infinite orbs which surround it ! What an insect, what a nothing, is the most powerful prince of the earth in the midst of this abyss of bodies and immense spaces, and how little of it does he occupy ! Xerxes, king of Persia, at a vast expense, had caused a bridge to be built upon the sea for the pas- sage of his forces from Asia into Europe. The space that separates the two continents was formerly called the Hellespont, but now the straits of the Dardanelles, or of Gallipoli, and is seven stadia in length, which is near an English mile -, over this was the bridge built, but a violent storm rising on a sudden, broke it down. Xerxes, being informed of what had happened, flew into a transport of pas- sion, and in order to avenge himself of so cruel an • affront, commanded two pair of chains to be thrown 30,0 PRODIGALITY, into the sea, as if he had it in his power to shackle and confine it, and that his men should give it three hundred strokes with a whip, and speak to it in this manner 5 '' Thou troublesome and unhappy ele- ment, thus does thy master chastise thee for having afironted him without reason. Know that Xerxes will easily find means to pass over thy waters in spite of all thy billows and resistance." The extravagance of this prince did not stop here, for he added cruelty to his pride and folly 5 making the undertakers of the work answerable for the events, which do not in the least depend upon the power of man; he ordered all the persons to have their heads struck off, that had been charged with the direction and management of the work. Herod, b, viiu c. 83, PRODIGALITY. SENTIMENTS. A GREAT fortune in the hands of a fool is a great misfortune. The more riches a fool has, the greater fool he is. We admire no man for enjoying all bodily plea- sures to the full 3 this may create him envy, but not esteem. Such pleasures, while they flatter a man, sting him to death. We may surfeit with too much, as well as starve with too little. Let pleasures be ever so innocent, the excess is always criminal. What are the fruits of hixury, sensuality, and intemperance } Disease preying upon your vitals 5 PRODIGALITY. 3£1 at the same time that your morals are vitiated/ your whole frame is enervated. What are the fruits of waste, profusion, and ex- travagance } Want, poverty, and a train of conse- quences, no less fatal to your fortune than the other to your health. Numbers are brought into bad circumstances rather from small neglects, than from any great errors in material affairs. People are too apt to think lightly of shillings and pence, forgetting that they are the constituent parts of a pound, till a de- ficiency in the great article shows them their mis- take j convinces them, by dear-bought experience, of a truth which they might have learnt from a little attention, viz. that great sums are made up of small; and that therefore he that contemneth small things, must of consequence /aZZ by little and little. A little is enough for all the necessities, for all the innocent delights of nature ', and it may be justly asserted, that without economy, how large soever an estate is, there will still be a deficiency. EXAMPLES. The prodigality of the Emperor Heliogabalus was boundless ; for in the short time of his reign, he is said to have reduced almost to beggary all the subjects of the empire, and to have left at his death the exchequer quite empty. He suffered no- thing to appear at his table but what was brought from the most distant countries at an immense ex- pense. His palace, his chamber, and his beds, were all furnished with cloth of gold. When he went abroad, all the way between his chamber and the place where his chariot waited for him was p5 322 PRODIGALITY. Strewed with gold-dust, for he thought it beneath hhn to tread upon the ground like other men. All his tables, chests, chairs, and such vessels as were destined for the meanest uses were of pure gold. Though his clothes were exceedingly costly, and beset ivith jewels and precious stones, yet he is said never to have worn one suit twice, nor ever put on again a ring which he had once used. He was constantly served in gold plate 5 but every night, after supper, presented to his guests and attendants what had been made use of that day. He often distributed among the people and soldiery, not only corn and money, as other emperors had done, but gold and silver plate, jewels, precious stones, and tickets intitling them to immense sums, which were immediately paid. He caused his fish-ponds to be filled with water distilled from roses, and the Naumachia, where the sea-fights were exhibited, with wine. His banquets and en- tertainments were expensive almost beyond belief, his favourite dishes being tongues of peacocks, and nightingales, and the brains of parrots and phea- sants. He fed his dogs with the livers of geese, his horses with raisins, and his lions and other wild beasts with partridges and pheasants. In short, the whole wealth of the Roman empire, says Herodian, was scarcely sufficient to supply the extravagance of one man. — Herod, p. 569. vit. Heliog. p. 102. Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, to attach Antony the Roman triumvir the more to her person and in- terest, made daily entertainments during her stay at Tarsus, inviting him and the chief officers of his army to partake of them, and spending on these occasions immense sums of money. In one of these PRODIGALITY. 323 banquets Antony expressing great surprise at the vast number of gold cups enriched with jewels which were displayed on all sides^ the queen told him, that since he admired such trifles, he was very welcome to them, and immediately ordered her ser- vants to carry them all to his house. The next day she invited him again, and desired him to bring as many of his friends as he pleased. He accepted the invitation, and came attended with all the chief officers at that time in Tarsus. When the banquet was over, and the numerous company ready to de- part, Cleopatra presented them with all the gold and silver plate which had been made use of during the entertainment. In one of these feasts the queen had at her ears two of the finest and largest pearls that ever had been seen, each of them being valued at fifty-two thousand pounds sterling) one of these she caused to be dissolved in vinegar, and then swallowed it; for no other end but to show the little account she made of such toys, and how much she could spend at one draught. She was preparing in like manner to melt the other, when Plaucus, who was present, stopt her, and saved the pearl, which was afterwards carried to Rome by Augustus, and being by his order cut in two, served for pen- dants to the Venus of the Julian family. Athen, L vu p. 147. — PUn, L ssxxiii. c. 3. LucuLLus, the Roman general, though justly admired for his bravery, justice, and clemency, yet is deservedly censured for his extravagance and pro- digality. Cicero and Pompey meeting him one day in the city, told him they intended doing themselves the pleasure of supping with him that night; " but it shall be upon this condition/' added they, '' that 324 PRUDENCE. you have nothing extraordinary on our account i" to which he seemingly agreed 5 but guess their sur- prise when they sat down to an entertainment that cost no less than fifty thousand crowns. What astonished them the more was the shortness of the time in which it was prepared 5 but this it seems was little more than his ordinary diet. This superfluous pomp and magnificence will not be thought incredible, if we compare it with that of Peter de Ruere, after he was made cardinal by the pope his kinsman 5 for within the space of two years which he lived at Rome, he expended in feasts and entertainments no less than four hundred thousand crowns. — Fren, Acad* PRUDENCE. SENTIMENTS. Prudence is the art of choosing: he is prudent who among many objects can distinguish that which deserves the preference. Prudence has two offices, to inform the under- standing, and regulate the will. Discretion does not only show itself in words, but in all the circumstances of action 5 and is like an under-agent of Providence, to guide and direct us in the ordinary concerns of life. There are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, but there is none so useful as discre- tion : it is this which gives a value to all the rest, which sets them at work in their proper times and places, and turns them to the advantage of the per- son who is possessed of them. Without it, learning is pedantry^ and wit impertinence ; nay, virtue itself PKUDENCE. 325 looks like weakness; the best parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and active to his own prejudice. Be neither simple nor subtle. Prudence requires all wise men to wei^h their actions in the balance of reason, and to judge whe^ ther there be any proportion between the hazard run, and the end proposed. EXAMPLE. Henry the Fifth, king of England, while he was prince of Wales, by his loose and dissolute con- duct, was daily giving his father great cause of pain and uneasiness. His court was the common recep- tacle of libertines, debauchees, buffoons, parasites, and all the other species of vermin, which are at once the disgrace and ruin of young princes. The wild pranks and riotous exploits of the prince and his companions, were the common topics of con- versation. This degeneracy in the heir of the crown was not more disagreeable to the king himself, who loved him with a most tender affec- tion, than it was alarming to the nation in general, who trembled at the prospect of being one day go- verned by a prince of his character. But their fears were happily removed 3 for no sooner had the young king assumed the reins of government, than he showed himself to be extremely worthy of the high station to which he was advanced : he called toge- ther the dissolute companions of his youth; ac- quainted them with his intended reformation ; ad- vised them to imitate his good example ; and, after having forbid them to appear in his presence for the future, if they continued in their old courses, he dismissed them with liberal presents. He chose 326 PRUDENCE. a new council, composed of the wisest and best men of the kingdom : he reformed the benches by dis- carding the ignorant and corrupt judges, and sup- plying their places with persons of courage, know- ledge, and integrity. Even the Chief Justice Gascoigne, who (as related under the article Mag- nanimity) had committed young Henry to prison, and who, on that account, trembled to approach the royal presence, was received with the utmost cor- diality and friendship 3 and, instead of being re- proached for his past conduct, was warmly exhorted to persevere in the same strict and impartial exe- cution of the laws. When the archbishop of Canterbury applied to him for permission to impeach a great man, for holding opinions contrary to the established religion, he told him, he was averse to such sanguinary methods of conversion 5 that reason and argument were the proper weapons for defend- ing and maintaining the truth 3 and that the most gentle means ought, in the first place, to be em- ployed, in order to reclaim men from their errors. In a word, he seemed determined to bury all party distinctions in eternal oblivion, and to approve him- self the common father and protector of all his sub- jects without exception. Even before his father's death he seems to have been sensible of the folly and impropriety of his conduct, and determined to reform ; for his father, being naturally of a jealous and suspicious disposition, listened to the sugges- tions of some of his courtiers, who insinuated that his son had an evil design upon his crown and au- thority. These insinuations filled his breast with the most anxious fears and apprehensions, and perhaps he might have had recourse to very dis- PRUDENCE. 397 agreeable expedients, in order to prevent the imagi- nary danger, had not his suspicions been removed by the prudent conduct of the young prince. He was no sooner informed of his father's jealousy, than he repaired to court, and throwing himself on his knees, accosted the king in the following terms : '^ I understand, my liege, that you suspect me of entertaining designs against your crown and person j I own I have been guilty of many excesses, w^hich have justly exposed me to your displeasure j but T take heaven to witness, that I never harboured a single thought inconsistent with that duty and vene- ration which I owe to your majesty. Those who charge me with such criminal intentions, only want to disturb the tranquillity of your reign, and to alienate 5'our affections from your son and succes- sor. I have therefore taken the liberty to come into your presence, and humbly beg you will cause my conduct to be examined with as much rigour and severity as that of the meanest of your subjects 3 and if I be found guilty, I will cheerfully submit to any punishment you shall think proper to inflict. This scrutiny I demand, not only for the satisfaction of your majesty, but likewise for the vindication of my own character. The king was so highly satisfied with this pru- dent and ingenuous address, that he embraced him with great tenderness, acknowledging that his sus- picions were entirely removed, and that for the future he would never harbour a thought prejudicial to his loyalty and honour. — Hist Eng, HELIGION. RELIGION. SENTIMENTS. Religion, in its most general view, is such a sense of God on the soul, and such a conviction of our obligations to him, and dependence upon him, as should engage us to make it our great care to con- duct ourselves in a manner which we have reason to believe will be pleasing to him. From the little I have seen of the world, I am convinced it is a true sense of religion, a full persua- sion of an invisible power, who sees and knows every thing, and, as we behave well or ill in this life, will accordingly reward or punish us in an- other, which only can restrain our giddy passions, control our headstrong appetites, and stop us in the full career of sin and folly : for this reason, as well as others, the imprinting an early and deep sense of religion on the minds of youth, is an essen- tial part in a complete plan of education. All sorts of men that have gone before us into an eternal state, have left this great observation behind them, that upon experience they have found, that what vain thoughts soever men may, in the heat of their youth, entertain of religion, they will, sooner or later, feel a testimony God hath given it in every man's breast, which will one day make them serious, either by the inexpressible fears, terrors, and agonies of a troubled mind, or the inconceivable peace^ comfort, and joy of a good conscience. It is a great disgrace to religion, to imagine it is an enemy to mirth and cheerfulness^ and a severe RELIGION. 329 exacter of pensive looks and solemn faces. The true spirit of religion cheers as well as composes the soul. It is not the business of virtue to extirpate the af- fections of the mind, but to regulate them. The greatest and wisest of men, in all ages and countries, were renowned for their piety and virtue. Those in our own nation, that have been unques- tionably the most eminent for learning and know- ledge, were likewise the most eminent for their adherence to the Christian religion. I might pro- duce very shining examples from among the clergy 5 but because priestcraft is the common cry of every cavilling empty scribbler, I shall show that those laymen who have exerted a more than ordinary ge- nius in their writings, and were the glory of their times, were men whose hopes were filled with im«» mortality, and the prospect of future rewards, and men who lived in a dutiful submission to all the doctrines and duties of revealed religion. EXAMPLES. Xenophon informs us, that what Cyrus the Great preferred before all other things, was the wor- ship of the gods, and a respect for religion. Upon this, therefore, he thought himself obliged to besto\v his first and principal care. He began by establishing u number of magi (or priests) to sing daily a morn- ing service of praise to the honour of the gods, and to offer sacrifices, which were daily practised among them even to succeeding ages. The prince's dis- position quickly became, as is usual, the prevailing disposition among the people, and his example be came the rule of their conduct. Cyrus, on the other hand, was extremely glad to find in them such senti* SSO RELIGION. ments of religion, being convinced that whosoever sincerely fears and worships God, will, at the same time, be faithful to his king, and preserve an in- violable attachment to his person, and to the welfare of the state. — Cyrop, 204. While the colleagues of Constantius, the Roman emperor, were persecuting the Christians with lire and sword, he politically pretended to persecute them too, and declared to such officers of his household, and governors of provinces, as were Christians, that he left it to their choice, either to sacrifice to the gods, and by that means preserve themselves in their employments, or to forfeit their places, and his fa- vour, by continuing steady in their religion. When they had all declared, the emperor opened his real sentiments, reproached in the most bitter terms those who had renounced their religion, highly ex- tolled the virtue and constancy of such as had de- spised the wealth and vanities of this world, dismis- sed with ignominy the former, saying, " that those who had betrayed their God would not scruple to betray their prince j" and, retaining the latter, trusted them with the guard of his person, and the whole management of public affairs, as persons on whose fidelity he could rely, and in whom he might put an entire confidence. — Euseb. — Vit. Constafit. Can any thing be more admirable than these sentiments of Cicero > ^' That we ought, above all things, to be convinced there is a Supreme Being, who presides over all the events of the world, and disposes of every thing as sovereign lord and ar- biter : that it is to him mankind are indebted for ail ^e good they enjoy : that he penetrates into, and is HELIGION. 331 acquainted with, whatsoever passes in the most se- cret recesses of the heart : that he treats the just and impious according to their respective merits : that the true means of acquiring his favour and of being pleasing in his sight, is not by the use of riches and magnificence in his worship, but by presenting him an heart pure and blameless, and by adoring him with an unfeigned and profound veneration. Nor can I think,'* adds he, '^ that man to be in his right mind who is destitute of religion.'* — Cicer, de Leg, The consent of all men, says Seneca, is of very great weight with us : a mark that a thing is true, is when it appears so to all the world. Thus we conclude there is a divinity, because all men believe it, there being no nation, how corrupt soever they be, which deny it. I NEVER had a sight of my soul, says the Em- peror Aurelius, and yet I have a great value for it, because it is discoverable by its operations 3 and by my constant experience of the power of God, I have a proof of his being, and a reason for my veneration. As to Socrates, it must be allowed that the Pa- gan world never produced any thing so great and perfect. He held admirable principles with rela- tion to the Deity 3 he agreeably rallied the fables upon which the ridiculous mysteries of his age were founded 3 he often discoursed in the most exalted terms of the existence of one Supreme Being, eter- nal, invisible, the creator of the universe, and the supreme director and arbiter of all events, who takes 332 RELIGION, cognizance of the actions of men, and who will in- fallibly punish the guilty and reward the virtuous. These examples, selected from the heathen world, evidently prove that religion, or the fear and ado- ration of a Supreme Being, is dictated to us by the light of nature. Let us now consider what has been the faith and practice of the greatest men in our own nation, with regard to revealed religion. The Honourable Mr. Boyle, the most exact searcher into the works of nature that any age has known, and who saw atheism and infidelity begin- ning to show themselves in the loose and voluptuous reign of Charles 11. pursued his philosophical in- quiries with religious views, to establish the minds of men in a firm belief, and thorough sense, of the infinite power and wisdom of the great Creator. This account we have from Dr. Burnet, who was intimately acquainted with him, and preached his funeral sermon. '^ It appeared from those who con- versed with him on his inquiries into nature, that his main design in that (on which as he had his own eye most constantly, so he took care to put others often in mind of it) was to raise in himself and others vaster thoughts of the greatness and glory, and of the wisdom and goodness of God. This was so deep in his thoughts, that he concludes the article of his will, which relates to that illustrious body the Royal Society, in these words, wishing them a happy success in their laudable attempts to discover the true nature of the works of God -, and praying that they, and all other searchers into physical truths, may cordially refer their attainments to the glory of RELIGION. 333 the great Author of nature, and to the comfort of mankind." In another place the same person speaks of him thus : '' He had the profoundest veneration for the great God of heaven and earth that I ever observed in any man. The very name of Go'd was never mentioned by him without a pause and visible stop in his discourse." Of the strictness and exemplariness of the whole course of his life, he says, '' I might here challenge the whole tribe of libertines to come and view the usefulness as well as the excellence of the Christian religion, in a life that was entirely dedicated to it." The veneration he had for the Holy Scriptures ap- pears not only from his studying them with great exactness, and exhorting others to do the same ; but more particularly from a distinct treatise which he wrote, on purpose to defend the Scripture style, and to answer all the objections which profane and irre- ligious persons have made against it. His zeal in propagating Christianity in the world, appears by many and large benefactions to that end. (See Beneficence, ante, p. 46.) In his younger years he had thoughts of entering into holy orders, and one reason that determined him against it was, that he believed he might, in some respects, be more serviceable to religion by continuing a layman. '' His having no interests, with relation to religion, besides those of saving his own soul, gave him, as he thought, a more unsuspected authority in writing or acting on that side. He knew the profane had fortified themselves against all that was said by men of our profession, with this, that it was their trade, and that they were paid for it 3 he 334 RELIGION. hoped, therefore, that he might have the more in-f fluence, the less he shared in the patrimony of the church/*— Life of Mr, Boyle, p. 17, 22, 36, 37. Mr. Locke, whose accurate talent in reasoning is so much celebrated even by the sceptics and infidels of our times, showed his zeal for the Christian re- ligion, first in his middle age, by publishing a dis- course on purpose to demonstrate the reasonableness of believing Jesus to be the promised Messiah 5 and after that, in the last years of his life, by a very judicious coinmentary upon several of the epistles of St. Paul. The Holy Scriptures are every where mentioned by him with the greatest reverence 5 and he exhorts Christians ** to betake themselves in earnest to the study of the way to salvation, in those holy writings, wherein God has revealed it from heaven, and pro- posed it to the world j seeking our religion where we are sure It is in truth to be found, comparing spiritual things with spiritual." And in a letter writ- ten the year before his death, to one who asked this question, '' What is the shortest and surest way for a young gentleman to attain to the true knowledge of the Christian religion, in the full and just extent N of it V His answer is, '' Let him study the Holy Scriptures, especially the New Testament. Therein are contained the words of eternal life. It has God for its author j salvation for its end; and truth, with- out any mixture of error, for its matter.** A direction that was copied from his own practice, in the latter part of his life, and after his retirement from busi- ness; when for '^ fourteen or fifteen years, he applied Jiimself especially to the study of the Holy RELIGION. 335 Script ureSj and employed the last years of his life hardly in any thing else. He was never weary of admiring the great views of that sacred book, and the just relation of all its parts. He every day made discoveries in it that gave him fresh cause of admiration." About two months before his death, he drew up a letter to a certain gentleman, and left this direction upon it, '' To be delivered to him after my decease." In it are these remarkable words : *' This life is a scene of vanity that soon passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction but in the consciousness of doing well, and in the hopes of another life. This is what I can say upon experience, and what you will find to be true, when you come to make up the ac- count." — Posthumous Works, p, 321, 328. Sir Isaac Newton, universally acknowledged to be the ablest philosopher and mathematician that this, or perhaps any other nation has produced, is also well known to have been a firm believer, and a serious Christian. His discoveries concerning the frame and system of the universe, were applied by him to demonstrate the being of a God, and to illus- trate his power and wisdom in the creation. This great man applied himself likewise with the utmost attention to the study of the Holy Scrip- tures, and considered the several parts of them with uncommon exactness -, particularly as to the order of time, and the series of prophecies and events relating to the Messiah. Upon which head he left behind him an elaborate discourse, to prove that the famous prophecy of Daniel's weeks, which has been so industriously perverted by the Deists of our times. 336 RELIGION. was an express prophecy of the coming of the Messiah^ and fulfilled in Jesus Christ. View of his Philosophy/, Mr. Addison, so deservedly celebrated for an uncommon accuracy in thinking and reasoning, has given abundant proof of his belief of Christianity, and his zeal against infidels of all kinds, in his ^^ Evidences of the Christian Religion." All his writings on religious subjects discover a strong, masculine, and steady piety 5 and his amiable con- duct in every part of his life gives us the most con- vincing proof that what he wrote were the genuine sentiments of his mind. But his virtue shone out brightest at the point of death 5 for after a long and manly, but vain struggle with his distempers, he dismissed his physicians and with them all hopes of life : but with his hopes of life he dismissed not his concern for the living, but sent for a youth nearly related, and finely accomplished, yet not above being the better for good impressions from a dying friend. He came : but life now glimmering in the socket, the dying friend was silent. After a decent and proper pause, the youth said, " Dear Siri you sent for me; I believe, and hope you have some commands ; I shall hold them most sacred.'* May distant ages not only hear, but feel, the reply! Forcibly grasping the youth's hand, he softly said. See in tohat peace a Christian can die. He spoke with difficulty, and soon expired. Through divine grace how great is man ! through divine mercy how stingless death ! who would not thus expire ? Conjectures on Original Compositicn, p, 103, REVENGE. 337 Cardinal Wolsey^ one of the greatest minis- ters of state that ever was, poured forth his soul in these sad words ; '' Had I been as diligent to serve my God, as I have been to please my king, he would not have forsaken me now in my grey hairs/* Cardinal Richeli¥;u, after having given law to all Europe for many years, confessed to P. du Moulin, that being forced upon many irregularities iu his life time, by that which they call '^ Reason9 of State,'* he could not tell how to satisfy his con- science upon several accounts : and being asked one day by a friend why he was so sad ? He answered, *^ The soul is a serious thing, it must be either sad here for a moment, or be sad for ever.** Sir Philip Sidney left this his last farewell among his acquaintance, *' Love my memory, che- rish my friends ^ but, above all, govern your will and affections by the will and word of your Creator 5 in me behold the end of this world, and all its vani- ties." REVENGE. SENTIMENTS. Whoever arrogates to himself the right of venge- ance, shows how little he is qualified to decide his own claims, since he certainly demands what he would think unfit to be granted to another. The man who retires to meditate mischief, and to exasperate his own rage; whose thoughts are employed only on means of distress annd contri- 338. REVENGE. varices of ruin j whose mind never pauses from the remembrance of his own sufferings, but to indulge some hope of enjoying the calamities of another, may justly be numbered among the most miserable of human beings 5 among those who are guilty without reward, who have neither the gladness of prosperity, nor the calm of innocence. Of him that hopes to be forgiven, it is indispen- sably required that he forgive. It is therefore super- fluous to urge any other motive. On this great duty eternity is suspended, and to him that refuses to practise it, the throne of mercy is inaccessible, and the Saviour of men has been born in vain. A passionate and revengeful temper renders a man unfit for advice, deprives him of his reason, robs him of all that is great or noble in his nature : it makes him unfit for conversation, destroys friend- ship, changes justice into cruelty, and turns all order into confusion. There are three kinds of returns for injuries, ab- ject submission, severe retaliation, and contemptu- ous disregard. The first is always the worst, and the last generally the best: yet however different they may be in themselves^ the dignity of the last is so much superior to common conceptions, that they may perhaps be forced on the second, purely to prove that they did not stoop to the first. EXAMPLES. During the residence of Xerxes at Sardis, he conceived a violent passion for the wife of his bro- ther Masistus, who was a prince of extraordinary Bierit, had always served the king with great zeal and fidelity, and had never done any thing to disoblige RBVENGE. 339 him. The virtue of this lady, her great affection and fidelity to her husband, made her inexorable to all the king's solicitations. However, he still flat- tered himself that by a profusion of favours and liberalities, he might possibly gain upon her ; and among other kind things he did to her, he married his eldest son Darius, whom he intended for his successor, to Artainta, this princess's daughter, and ordered the marriage should be consummated as soon as he arrived at Susa. But Xerxes finding the lady still no less impregnable, in spite of all his temptations and attacks, immediately changed his object, and fell passionately in love with her daughter, who did not imitate the glorious example of her mother's constancy and virtue. Whilst this intrigue was carrying on, Amestris, wife to Xerxes, made him a present of a rich and magnificent robe of her own making. Xerxes, being extremely pleased with this robe, thought fit to put it on, upon the first visit he afterwards made to Artainta; and in the conversation he had with her, he mightily pressed her to let him know what he should do for her, assuring her at the same time, with an oath, that he would grant her whatever she asked of him. Artainta upon this, desired him to give her the robe he had on, Xerxes, foreseeing the ill consequences that would necessarily ensue upon making her this present, did all that he could to dissuade her from insisting upon it, and offering her any thing in the world in lieu of it. But not being able to prevail upon her, and thinking himself bound by the im- prudent promise and oath he had made, he gave her the robe. The lady no sooner received it than she put it on, and wore it publicly by way of a '2 S40 REVENGE, trophy. Amestris being confirmed in the suspicion she had entertained, by this action, was enraged to the last degree^ but instead of letting her vengeance fall upon the daughter, who was the only offender, she resolved to wreak it upon the mother, whom she looked upon as the author of the whole intrigue, though she was entirely innocent of the matter. For the better executing of her purpose, she waited till the grand feast, which was every year celebrated on the king*s birth-day, and which was not far off* on which occasion the king, according to the esta- blished custom of the country, granted her what- ever she demanded. This day being come, the thing she desired of his majesty was, that the wife of Ma- sistus should be delivered into her hands. Xerxes, who apprehended the queen*s design, and who Avas struck with horror at the thought of it, as well out of regard to his brother, as on account of the inno- cence of the lady, against whom he perceived his wife was so violently exasperated, at first refused her request, and endeavoured all he could to dissuade her from it 3 but not being able either to prevail upon her, or to act with steadiness and resolution himself, he at last yielded, and was guilty of the weakest and most cruel piece of complaisance that ever was acted, making the inviolable obligations of justice and humanity give way to the arbitrary laws of a custom, that had only been established to give occasion for the doing of good, and for acts of beneficence and generosity. In consequence of this compliance, the lady was apprehended by the king's guards, and delivered to Amestris, who caused her breasts, tongue, nose, ears, and lips to be cut off, ordered them to be thrown to the dogs in her own REVENGE. 341 presence, and then sent her home to her husband*s^ house in that mutilated and miserable condition. In the mean time Xerxes had sent for his brother, ia order to prepare him for this melancholy and tragi- cal adventure. He first gave him to understand that he should be glad he would put away his wife 5 and to induce him thereto, offered to give him one of his daughters in her stead. But Masistus, who was passionately fond of his wife, could not prevail on himself to divorce her 5 whereupon Xerxes in great wrath told him, that since he refused his daughter he should neither have her nor his wife, and that he would teach him not to reject the offers his master had made him 3 and with this inhumaa reply left him. This strange proceeding threw Masistus into the greatest anxiety 5 who, thinking he had reason to apprehend the worst of accidents, made all the haste he could home, to see what had passed there during his absence. On his arrival he found his wife in that deplorable condition we have just been describing. Being enraged to the last degree, as we may naturally imagine, he assembled all his family, his servants and dependents, and set out with all possible expedition for Bactriana, of which he was governor, determined, aj5 §Qon as be arrived thercj to raise an army, and make war against the king, in order to revenge himself for bis barbarous treatment. But Xerxes being informed of his hasty departure, and from thence suspecting the design he had conceived against him, sent a party of horse to pursue after him; which, having overtaken him, cut him in pieces, together with his children and his retinue. Uerod. I. 9. c. 107. 342 REVENGE. Aliverdi, generalissimo of the armies of Abbas the Greats king of Persia, and his prime minister, was as good a general and as able a politician, as he was amiable in the capacity of a courtier. From the constant serenity of his countenance, it was judged that nothing could ruffle the calmness of his heart 5 and virtue displayed itself in him so gracefully and so naturally, that it was supposed to be the eflFect of his happy temper. An extraordinary incident made the world to do him justice, and place him in the rank he deserved. One day as he was shut up in his closet, bestow- ing on affairs of state the hours which other men devote to sleep, a courier quite out of breath came in and told him, that an Armenian, followed by a posse of friends, had in the night surprised his palace at Amandabat, destroyed all the most valu- able furniture in it, and would have carried oflf his wife and children, doubtless to make slaves of them, had not the domestics, when the first fright was over, made head against him. The courier added, that a bloody skirmish ensued, in which his servants had the advantage at last 3 that the Armenian's friends were all killed upon the spot, but that their leader was taken alive. *' I thank thee, O Prophet Offali," cried Aliverdi, " for affording me the means to revenge so enormous an attempt. What ! whilst J make a sacrifice of my days and my repose to the good of Persia > while, through my cares and toils, the meanest Persian subject lives secure from in- justice and violence, shall an audacious stranger come to injure me in what is most dear to me ! let him be thrown into a dungeon, give him a quantity of wretched food sufficient to preserve him for the REVENGE. 343 torments to which I destine him.'* The courier withdrew, charged with these orders to them who had the Armenian in custody. But Aliverdi, growing cool again, cried out, '* What is it, O God, that I have done } Is it thus I maintain the glory of so many years > Shall one single moment eclipse all my virtue ! that stranger has cruelly provoked me 5 but what impelled him to it ! No man commits evil merely for the pleasure of doing it : there is always a motive, which pas- sion or prejudice presents to us under the mask of equity 3 and it must needs be some motive of this kind that blinded the Armenian to the dreadful con- sequences of his attempt. Doubtless, I must have injured the wretch ! '* He dispatches immediately an express to Aman- dabat with an order under his own hand, not to make the prisoner feel any other hardship than the privation of liberty. Tranquil, after this act of moderation, he applied himself again to public , business, till he should have leisure to sift this par- ticular case to the bottom. From the strict inqui- ries he ordered to be made, he learned, that one of his inferior officers had done very considerable da- mage to the Armenian, considering the mediocrity of his fortune : and that he himself had slighted the complaints brought against him. Eased by this discovery, he called for the Armenian, whose coun- tenance expressed more confusion than terror, and passed this sentence upon him : " Vindictive stranger, there were some grounds for thy resentment 5 thou didst think I had justly incurred thy hatred; I forgive thee the injury thou hast done to me. But thou hast carried thy S44 TREACHERY. vengeance to excess j thou hast attacked a man whom thou oughtest to respect j nay, thou hast at- tempted to make thy vengeance fall upon innocent head8> and therefore I ought to punish thee. Go, then, and reflect in solitude on the wretchedness of a man, that gives full swing to his passions. Thy punishment, which justice requires of me, will be sufficiently tempered by my clemency 5 and thy re- pentance may permit me to shorten the term.'^ TREACHERY- SENTIMENTS. Of all tlie vices to which human nature is subject^ treachery is the most infamous and detestable, being compounded of fraud, cowardice, and revenge. The greatest wrongs will not justify it, as it destroys those principles of mutual confidence and security by which society can only subsist. The Romans, a brave and generous people^ disdained to practise it towards their declared enemies 5 Christianity teaches us to forgive injuries 5 but to resent them under the disguise of friendship and benevolence argues a de- generacy, which common humanity and justice must blush at. EXAMPLES. Caracalla, the Roman emperor, sent a solemn embassy to Artabanus, king of the Parthians, desir- ing his daughter in marriage. Artabanus, overjoy- ed at this proposal, which he thought would be attended with a lasting peace, betwe«n the two empires, received the ambassadors with all possible TREACHERY. 345 marks of honour^ and readily complied with their request. Soon after Caracalla sent a second em- bassy, to acquaint the king that he was come to solemnise the nuptials. Whereupon Artabanus went to meet him, attended with the chief of the nobility, and his best troops all unarmed, and in most pom- pous habits : but this peaceable train no sooner approached the Roman army than the soldiers, on a signal given, falling upon the king's retinue, made a most terrible slaughter of the unarmed multitude, Artabanus himself escaping with great difficulty. Caracalla, having gained great booty by this inhu- man and barbarous treachery, wrote a long and boasting letter to the senate, assuming the title of Parthicus for this detestable action, as he had before that of Germanicus, for murdering in like manner some of the German nobility. — Univ, Hist» Ath ELBERT, the last king of the East- Angles, was of a very amiable temper, a fine person, and great virtues. The goodness of his nature, and the humility of his mind, the regard he showed to reli- gion in his actions, and to justice in his administra- tion, rendered him the delight of his people, who wanted nothing to complete their happiness but an heir to succeed to the crown in case of his decease. He was young : had been bred to letters, and being fond of books, had not been susceptible of any im- pression from beauty 5 perhaps the reigning passion of the age, inclining to celibacy, might have contri- buted, in some measure to his insensibility. The universal desire and common good of his people, the distraction and convulsions the kingdom would be exposed to for want of an heir, were the topics a5 346 TREACHERY. used by the nobility and bishops, which induced him to call a council to consider of the matter. It being their unanimous opinion that it would be best for him to marry j Athelrida, the daughter of Offa, king of Mercia, a princess of great beauty and merit, was immediately fixed on as a suitable match. The young king, not long after set out with a splendid retinue, accompanied by Count Oswald, the chief of his council, and the person who had first named the lady to the king. Being arrived on the borders of the Mercian territories, they waited for a safe- con- duct, and the consent of the lady's father, who was then keeping his court at Hereford. On the recep- tion of this message a council was held to consider on the manner in which Athelbert should be treated. The courtiers, who easily perceived the intentions of their monarch, and thinking this a fine oppor- tunity to annex the kingdom of East- Angles to that of Mercia, determined to murder Athelbert and seize his dominions. The more effectually to ac- complish this villainous design, he was invited with the greatest show of friendship to a conference w ith Offa, under pretence of settling the preliminaries of his marriage -, and going thither without any atten- dants, was seized in his way by Guimbert, and pri- vately beheaded. The young princess, shocked at her father's perfidious cruelty, sent the earliest notice of this catastrophe to the nobility who waited for the return of the king. Unable to revenge his death, and fearful of the like fate, they immediately mounted their horses, and made the best of their way to their own country. Athelbert's corpse and head were buried at first by Offa's order in an ob- scure place on the banks of the Lugge, but were TREACHERY. 347 afterwards removed to Fernley, since called Here- ford, the cathedral of which city is dedicated to his honour. — Hist of Engl. Elfrida, was the daughter of Ordgar, count of Devon, and though educated in a private manner, was so beautiful, that the fame of her charms reached the ears of Edgar, king of England. In order to satisfy himself whether her beauty answer- ed the report he had heard of it, he sent Ethelwold his favourite, who, under pretext of a visit to her father, got a sight of the daughter. As he was then young, and susceptible of the impressions of a fair face, he was so captivated with Elfrida*s charms, that he proved false to his trust, and made his ad- dresses to the lady. On his return to the king, he described her in such a manner as convinced Edgar, that sbe was neither a proper object for his curi- osity nor affections. Having thus diverted the king's thoughts from Elfrida, he took an oppor- tunity to represent to him that she would prove an advantageous match to himself, though by no means worthy of a monarch ; and having obtained his consent to demand her in marriage, succeeded in his suit. Ethelwold had not long enjoyed the fruits of his treachery, before the whole mystery was re- vealed to the king. Edgar, however, dissembled his resentment, till he had ocular demonstration of his perfidy. For this purpose he found some pre- tence for travelling near Ethelwold's house, and declared his intention of visiting a lady who was so much cried up for her beauty. The earl posted away with the news to his wife, at the same time advising her to use all the methods she could to conceal her graces from the eyes of an amorous 348' TREACHERY. monarchy who would satiate his desires at the ex- pence of her chastity. Elfrida, being by these means acquainted with the wrong done to herself as well as to the king, was filled with resentment, and in- stead of following her husband's advice, made use of every art to set her charms out to the greatest advantage, and to make herself appear the more amiable. This interview served only to convince the king that his favourite had abused his confidence. He dissembled his resentment, and sent Ethelwold a little while after (A.D. 962) to secure the coast of Northumberland against the Danes, and in his way thither he was found murdered. No steps were taken to find out the authors of this crime 3 but Elfrida, as soon as decency would permit, was mar- ried to the king. — Hist Engl, Edgar, Whbn Charles, duke of Burgundy surnamed the Bold, reigned over spacious dominions, now swallowed up by the power of France, he heaped many favours and honours upon Claudius Rhyn- sault, a German, who had served him in his wars against the insults of his neighbours- The prince himself was a person of singular humanity and justice, and being prepossessed in favour of Rhyn- sault, upon the decease of the governor of the chief town of Zealand, gave him that command. He was not long seated in that government, before he cast his eyes upon Sapphira, a woman of exquisite beauty, the wife of Paul Danvelt, a wealthy mer- chant of the city, under his protection and govern- ipent. Rhynsault was a man of a warm constitu- tion and violent inclination to women. He knew what it was to enjoy the satisfactions which are reaped from the possession of beauty 5 but was an TREACHERY, 349 utter stranger to the decencies, honours, and deli- cacies that attend the passion towards them in elegant minds. He could with his tongue utter a passion with which his heart was wholly untouched. In short, he was one of those brutal minds which can be gratified with the violation of innocence and beauty, without the least pity, passion, or love, to that with which they are so much' delighted. Rhynsault, being resolved to accomplish his will on the wife of Danvelt, left no arts untried to get into a familiarity at her house j but she knew his character and disposition too well, not to shun all occasions that might ensnare her into his conver* sat ion. The governor, despairing of success by ordinary means, apprehended and imprisoned her husband, under pretence of an information that he was guilty of a correspondence with the enemies of the duke, to betray the town into their possession. This design had its desired effect ; and the wife of the unfortunate Danvelt, the day before that which was appointed for his execution, presented herself in the hall of the governor's house, and, as he passed through the apartment, threw herself at his feet, and holding his knees, beseeched his mercy. Rhynsault beheld her with a dissembled satisfaction ; and as- suming an air of thought and authority, he bid her rise, and told her, she must follow him to his closet) and asking her whether she knew the hand of the letter he pulled out of his pocket j went from her, leaving this admonition aloud : ^* If you will save your husband, you must give me an account of all you know, without prevarication ; for every body is satisfied, that he is too fond of you to be able to hide from you the names of the rest of the conspira* tors, or any other particulars whatsoever." He went 360 TREACHERY. to his closet, and soon after the lady was sent for to an audience. The servant knew his distance, when matters of state were to be debated j and the go- vernor, laying aside the air with which he had ap- peared in public, began to be the supplicant, and to rally an affliction which it was in her power easily to remove. She easily perceived his inten- tion, and bathed in tears, began to deprecate so wicked a design. Lust, like ambition, takes all the faculties of the mind and body into its service and subjection. Her becoming tears, her honest an- guish, the wringing of her hands, and the many changes of her posture and figure in the vehemence of speaking, were but so many attitudes in which he beheld her beauty, and further incentives of his desire. All humanity was lost in that one appetite, and he signified to her in so many plain terms, that he was unhappy till he possessed her, and nothing less should be the price of her husband's life^3 ^"^^ she must, before the following noon, pronounce the death or enlargement of Danvelt. After this notifi- cation, when he saw Sapphira enough distracted to make the subject of their discourse, to common eyes, appear different from what it was, he called servants to conduct her to the gate. Loaded with insupportable affliction, she immediately repairs to her husband, and having signified to the gaolers that she had a proposal to make to her husband from the governor, she was left alone with him, re- vealed to him all that had passed, and represented the endless conflict she was in between love to his person and fidelity to his bed. It is easy to imagine the sharp affliction this honest pair was in upon such an accident, in lives not used to any but ordi- nary occurrences. The man was bridled by shame TREACHERY. 351 from speaking what his fear prompted upon so near an approach of death -, but let fall words that signified to her, he should not think her polluted, though she had not confessed to him that the go- vernor had violated her person, since he knew her will had no part in the action. She parted from him with this oblique permission, to save a life he had not resolution enough to resign for the safety of his honour. The next morning the unhappy Sapphira at- tended the governor, and being led into a remote apartment, submitted to his desires. Rhynsault commended her charms, claimed a familiarity after what had passed between them ; and with an air of gaiety, in the language of a gallant, bid her return and take her husband out of prison 3 but, continued he, my fair one must not be offended that I have taken care he should not be an interruption to our future assignations. These last words foreboded what she found when she came to the gaol, her hus- band executed by the order of Rhynsault. It was remarkable, that the woman, who was full of tears and lamentations during the whole course of her affliction, uttered neither sigh nor complaint, but stood fixed with grief at this consummation of her misfortunes. She betook herself to her abode : and, after having in solitude paid her devotions to Him who is the avenger of innocence, she repaired privately to court. Her person, and a certain grandeur of sorrow, negligent of forms, gained her passage into the presence of the duke her sove- reign. As soon as she came into the presence, she broke forth into the following words : ^^ Behold, O mighty Charles, a wretch weary of life, though it has 352 TREACHERY. always been spent with innocence and virtue : it is not in your power to redress my injuries, but it is to avenge them ; and if the protection of the dis- tressed, and the punishment of oppressors, is a task worthy of a prince, I bring the Duke of Burgundy ample matter for doing honour to his own great name, and of wiping infamy off mine.'* When she had spoken this, she delivered the duke a paper re- citing her history. He read it with all the emotion that indignation and pity could raise in a prince jealous of his honour in the behaviour of his officers and the prosperity of his subjects. Upon an appointed day Rhynsault was sent for to court, and in the presence of a few of the council, confronted by Sapphira. The prince asking, " Do you know that lady ? '* Rhynsault, as soon as he could recover his surprise, told the duke he would marry her, if his highness would please to think that a reparation. The duke seemed contented with his answer, and stood by during the immediate solem- nisation of the ceremony. At the conclusion of it he told Rhynsault, '^ Thus far you have done as constrained by my authority : I shall not be satisfied of your kind usage of her, without you sign a gift of your whole estate to her after your decease." To the performance of this also the duke was a witness. When these two acts were executed, the duke turned to the lady, and said to her, *' It now re- mains for me to put you in quiet possession of what your husband has so bountifully bestowed on you :" aild ordered the immediate execution of Rhynsault. WEALTH. 353 WEALTH (Contempt of). SENTIMENTS. If we regard poverty and wealth, as they are apt to produce virtues and vices in the mind of man, one may observe that there is a set of each of these growing out of poverty, quite different from those which rise out of wealth : humility and patience, in- dustry and temperance, are very often the good qua- lities of a poor man. Humanity and good nature, magnanimity and a sense of honour, are sometimes the qualifications of the rich 5 on the contrary, po'* verty is apt to betray a man into envy, riches into arrogance 5 poverty is sometimes attended with fraud, vicious compliances, repining, murmur, and discontent 3 riches expose a man to pride and luxury, a foolish elation of heart, and too great a fondness for the present world. Upon the whole, riches are the instruments of good or evil, according to the disposition of the possessor* or, in the words of Eucrates, a good fortune is an edged tool, which an hundred may get for one that knows how to use it. EXAMPLES. Philopcemen having delivered the Lacedemo- nians from the oppressions they had long groaned under, they ordered the palace and furniture of the usurper Nabis to be sold, and the sum accruing from thence, to the amount of one hundred and twenty talents, to be presented to Philopoemen, as a token of their gratitude. Deputies, therefore, were to be appointed, who should carry the money, and desire Philopoemen, in the name of the senate, to accept of wy i TSWWIifri' illlli^ri i T li lTl 1 354 WEALTH. • the present. And on this occasion it was, says Plu- tarch, that the virtue of the generous Achaean ap- peared in its greatest lustre 3 for so great was the opinion which the Spartans had of his probity and disinterestedness, that no one could be found who would take upon him to offer the present. Struck with veneration, and fear of displeasing him, they all begged to be excused. At last they obliged, by a public decree, one Timolaus, who had formerly been his guest, to go to Megalopolis, where Philopoemen lived, and offer him the present. Timolaus, with great reluctance, set out for Megalopolis, where he was kindly received and entertained by Philopoemen, Here he had an opportunity of observing the severity of his whole conduct, the greatness of his mind, the frugality of his life, and the regularity of his man- ners ; which struck him with such awe, that he did not dare once to mention the present he was come to offer him 5 insomuch, that giving some other pre- tence to his journey, he returned home with the present. The Lacedemonians sent him again, but he could no more prevail on himself now than the first time, to mention the true cause of hi& journey. At last, going a third time, he ventured, with the utmost reluctance, to acquaint Philopoemen with the offer he had to make him in the name of the Lace- demonians. Philopoemen heard him with great calmness -, but the instant he had done speaking, he set out with him to Sparta, where, after expressing the greatest obligations to the senate, he advised them to lay out their money in corrupting and pur- chasing the wicked, and such as divided the citizens, and set them at variance with their seditious dis- courses, to the end that, being paid for their silence. WEALTH. 355 they might not occasion so many distractions in the government} for it is much more adviseable, said he, to stop an enemy's mouth, than a friend's j as for me, I shall always be your friend, and you shall reap the benefit of my friendship without expense, PluU in Philop» A TREATY being on foot between the Romans and Pyrrhus, king of Macedon, for the exchange of pri- soners, the latter, after having given a general an- swer to the ambassadors, took Fabricius aside, and addressed him in the following manner : ^* As for you, Fabricius, I am sensible of your merit 5 I am likewise informed that you are an excellent general, and perfectly qualified for the command of an army j that justice and temperance are united in your cha- racter, and that you pass for a person of consummate virtue 5 but I am likewise as certain of your po-^ verty 3 and must confess, that fortune, in this par- ticular alone> has treated you with injustice, by misplacing you in the class of indigent senators. In order, therefore, to supply the whole deficiency, I am ready to give you as much gold and silver as will raise you above the richest citizen of Rome j -being fully persuaded. That no expense can he more honourable to a prince than that which is employed in the relief of great inen, who are compelled by their poverty to lead a life unworthy of their virtues: and that this is the noblest purpose to which a king can possibly devote his treasures. At the same time, I must desire you to believe, that I have no in- tention to exact any unjust or dishonourable ser- vice fromiyouj as a return of gratitude, I expect nothing from you but what is perfectly consistent with your honour, and what will add to your au- 356 WEALTH, thority and importance in your own country. Let me therefore conjure you to assist me with your credit in the Roman senate^ which has hitherto assumed an air of too much inflexibility, with re- lation to the treaty I proposed, and has never con- sulted the rules of moderation in any respect. I want a virtuous man and a faithful friend, and you as much need a prince whose liberality may enable you to be more useful, and do more good to man- kind. Let us therefore consent to render mutual assistance to each other in all the future conjunc- tures of our lives.** Pyrrhus having expressed himself in this manner^ Pabricius, after a few moments* silence, replied to him in these terms : '^ It is needless for me to make any mention of the experience I may possibly have in the conduct of public or private affairs, since you have been informed of that from others. With re- spect also to my poverty, you seem to be so well ac- quainted with it, that it would be unnecessary for me to assure you that I have no money to improve, nor any slaves from whom I derive the least revenue ^ that my whole fortune consists in a house of no con-* siderable appearance ; and in a little spot of ground that furnishes me with my support, But if you be- lieve my poverty renders my condition inferior to that of every other Roman, and that while I am dis- charging the duties of an honest man, I am the less considered, because I happen not to be of the num- ber of the rich, permit me to acquaint you, that the idea you conceive of me is not just, and that who- ever may have inspired you with that opinion, or you only suppose so yourself, you are deceived to entertain it. Though I do not possess riches, 1 never did imagine my indigence a prejudice to me. WEALTH. 357 whether 1 consider myself as a public or private person. Did my necessitous circumstances ever in- duce my country to exclude me from those glorious employments that are the noblest objects of the emulation of great souls ? I am invested with the highest dignities, and see myself placed at the head of the most illustrious embassies. I assist also at the most august assemblies, and even the most sacred functions of divine worship are confided to my care. Whenever the most important affairs are the subject of deliberation, I hold my rank in councils, and offer my opinion with as much freedom as another. I preserve a parity with the richest and most powerful in tlie republic 3 and if any circumstance causes me to complain, it is my receiving too much honour -and applause from my fellow-citizens. The employ- ments I discharge cost me nothing of mine, no more than any other Roman. Rome never reduces her citizens to a ruinous condition, by raising them to ihe magistracy. She gives all necessary supplies to those she employs in public stations, and bestows them with liberality and magnificence. Rome, in this particular, differs from many other cities, where the public is extremely poor, and private persons immensely rich. We are all in a state of affluence, as long as the republic is so, because we consider her treasures as our own. The rich and the poor are equally admitted to her employments, as she judges them worthy of trust, and she kndws no dis- tinction between her citizens but those of merit and virtue 3 as to my particular affairs, I am so far from repining at my fortune, that I think I am the hap- piest of men when I compare myself with the rich, and find a certain satisfaction, and even pride, in 358 WEALTH. that fortune. My little field, poor and unfertile as it is, supplies me with whatever I want, when I am careful to cultivate it as I ought, and to lay up the fruit it produces. What can I want more } Every kind of food is agreeable to my palate, when seasoned by hunger : I drink with delight when I thirst, and I enjoy all the sweetness of sleep when fatigued with toil. I content myself with an habit that covers me from the rigours of winter -, and of all the various kinds of furniture necessary for the same uses, the meanest is, in my sense, the most commodious. I should be unreasonable, unjust, did 1 complain of Fortune, whilst she supplies me with all that nature requires. As to superfluities, I confess she has not furnished me with any : but then she has formed me without the least desire to enjoy them. Why should I then complain ? It is true, the want of this abundance renders me incapable of relieving the ne- cessitous, which is the only advantage the rich may be envied for enjoying 5 but when I impart to the republic, and my friends, some portion of the little 1 possess, and render my country all the services I am capable of performing, in a word, when I dis- charge all the duties incumbent upon me, to the best of my ability, wherein can my conscience con- demn me ? If riches had ever been the least part of my ambition, I have so long been employed in the administration of the republic, that I have had a thousand opportunities of amassing great sums, and even by irreproachable methods. Could any man desire one more favourable than that which occurred to me a few years ago ? The consular dig- nity was conferred upon me, and I was sent against the Samnites, the Brutii, and the Lucanians, at the head of a numerous army. We ravaged a large tract WEALTH. 359 of land, and defeated the enemy in several battles. We took many flourishing and opulent cities by as- sault 5 I enriched the whole army with their spoils 5 I returned every citizen the money he had contri- buted to the expense of the war 3 and after I had received the honours of a triumph, I brought four hundred talents into the public treasury. After hav- ing neglected so considerable a booty, of which I had full power to appropriate any part to myself, after having despised such immense riches so justly acquired, and sacrificed the spoils of the enemy to the love of glory, in imitation of Valerius Publicola, and many other great men, whose disinterested ge- nerosity of soul has raised the glory of Rome to so illustrious a height, would it now become me to ac- cept of the gold and silver you offer me ? What idea would the world entertain of me ? And what an example should I set Rome's citizens ? How could I bear their reproaches } How even their looks at my return ? Those awful magistrates, our censors, who are appointed to inspect our discipline and manners with a vigilant eye, would they not compel me to be accountable, in the view of all the world, for the presents you solicit me to accept? You shall keep then, if you please, your riches to your- self, and I my poverty and my reputation/' Dion, Halicarn. Exc. Legat. p. 744 — 748. Valerius Publicola, by the consent of all the Roman people, was the greatest man of his age, and the most accomplished in every kind of virtue 3 I shall mention only one of them here, far superior to all his most noble exploits of war. This Ro- man, so worthy of praise, who, supported by three other patricians, had delivered Rome from the 360 WEALTH, tyranny and oppression of the Tarquins, and caused their estates to be sold by auction ; who had been four times consul -, who by two signal victories, the one over the Hetrurians, the other over the Sabines, had twice in his latter years deserved the honour of a triumph : who, with such favourable occasions, might have amassed great riches, even by methods exempt from injustice and reproach, did not suffer avarice, so capable of dazzling the eyes, and cor- rupting the heart to ensnare him. Contented with the moderate fortune he had received from his an- cestors, he used no endeavours to augment it. He believed that he had enough for bringing up his family nobly, and for giving his children an edu- cation worthy of their birth : convinced that true riches do not consist in possessing great treasures, but in knowing how to have few wants : and that the most precious and most noble inheritance that a father can give his children, is glory acquired by great actions, and the examples of virtue which he leaves them. However, at the time of his decease his little stock of wealth was so far expended as not to be sufficient to defray the expense of his funeral, which was celebrated with magnificence at the charge of the public. The Roman ladies renewed, in respect for Pub- licola, what they had done before for Junius Brutus, and went all into mourning, which they wore during a year, as much affected with his death as they would have been with that of their nearest re- lation. — Plut. in Public. THE END. l^ndon : Printed by T. MilleBi 5, Noble Street, Cheapside. 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