Licenced,  
Sept. 17. 1672. Roger L' Estrange.   

JUDGEMENT ON Alexander AND Caesar; And also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius.  
Translated out of the French.  
LONDON, Printed by A. Maxwell, for Jonathan Edwin at the sign of the three Roses in Ludgate-street. 1672.   

JUDGEMENT UPON Alexander and Caesar.  
'TIS a consent almost universal, That Alexander and Caesar have been the greatest men of the world; and all those who have concerned themselves to judge of them, have believed, they obliged Conquerors that have come after them, by finding some resemblance between their Reputation, and their Glory. Plutarch after having examined their Nature, their Actions, their Fortune, leaves to us a liberty of deciding, which he durst not take. Montaigne more bold, has declared himself for the first; and since the versions of Vaugelas and of D' Ablancour have made these Hero's the Object of all our Converse. Every one has taken part with the one or the other, according to his inclination or his fancy. For my part, who have possibly examined their lives, with as much curiosity as any one, I will not give myself the authoty to judge absolutely. But if you will dispense with me, to tell you what I think; you shall have some Observations I have made of the agreement and difference I find:  
They both had the advantage of great birth: Alexander the Son of a considerable King: Caesar of one of the chief Families of that Republic, whose Citizens esteemed themselves more than Kings. It seems, the Gods were willing to declare the future greatness of Alexander, by Olympia's dream, and several other presages: his own haughty inclinations from his infancy, his jealous tears for the glory of his Father, and the judgement of Philip, who believed him worthy of a greater Kingdom than his own, seconded the advertisement of the Gods. Many things of this Nature have been no less remarkable in Caesar: Sylla saw in him (young as he then was) many Marius'. He dreamt that he lay with his Mother, which the Augurs interpreted, that the Earth, the Common Mother of all men, should be submitted to his power. He was known to weep, looking on the Statue of Alexander, that he had yet done nothing, in an age, wherein that Conqueror had made himself Master of the Universe.  
The Love of Learning was a passion common to both: But Alexander every way ambitious, was touched with a jealously of superiority in his studies; and his chief design for knowledge, was to be more knowing than others; witness his complaint, that Aristotle had published certain secrets, which should have been known to him alone; he declared, that he aspired to raise himself above other men, no less by Letters than Arms. Having a curious and passionate spirit, he pleased himself closely with hidden mysteries, and was particularly affected with Poesy.  
There's none but have heard of the passions he had for Homer; and who is ignorant, that in favour of Pindar, the houses of his Descendants were saved in the ruin of Thebes, and general desolation of his Country.  
The spirit of Caesar, somewhat less vast, reduced Sciences to his use; and he seemed, not to have loved learning but for its benefits. In the Philosophy of Epicurus, which he preferred before all others, he principally applied himself to what regarded man: but it appears, that Eloquence had his first endeavours, as knowing it necessary in the Commonwealth to arrive at the greatest things; he pleaded in the Rostra, at the death of his Aunt Julia, with great applause; he accused Dolabella; and in the end made that excellent and delicate Oration for saving the lives of those Prisoners taken in Catiline's Conspiracy.  
There is left to us nothing that we can assuredly say was Alexander's, unless some divine sayings, of an excellent and admirable composure, which leave with us an impression equal to the greatness of his Soul, and the vivacity of his Spirit.  
But the greatest difference I find in their Sentiments, is, in the matter of Religion. For Alexander was devout, even to Superstition, fearing himself to be led away by Augurs and Oracles; which, besides his natural inclination, may be attributed to his ordinary reading the Poets, who begot in men a fear of the Gods, and did indeed compose all the Theology of those times.  
As for Caesar, whether it were his temperament, or his having followed the Opinions of Epicucurus, he passed to the other extremity. He expected nothing of the Gods in this life, and took little care what might happen in the other. Lucan represents him at the siege of Marseillia in a sacred Wood, with an Axe in his hand, where giving the first blow, he muted the Soldiers, (seized with a secret horror of Religion), by words sufficiently impious. Sallust makes him say, That death is the end of all Evils, and that beyond it, there is neither care nor thought of Joy.  
But men, how great soever they be, compared one with another are always feeble, defective, contrary to themselves, subject to error or ignorance. Caesar was troubled at a dream which presaged him the Empire, and laughed at that of his Wife, which advertised him of his death. His life did very well correspond with his faith, 'tis true, 'twas moderated indifferently as to voluptuousness, but yet he denied himself no pleasure that he affected, which gave occasion to Catullus to make so many Epigrams of him; and was in fine the cause of that saying, That Caesar was the wife of all husbands, and the husband of all wives.  
In this case Alexander had great moderation, yet he was not insensible. Barsinoe and Roxana won his affection, nor had he so much continence, but that he made use of Bagoas, whom Darius had used before.  
The pleasure of feasting, so dear to Alexander, and wherein he sometimes suffered himself to be carried to excess, was indifferent to Caesar. Not but that in the time of labour and action, Alexander was sober, and free from delicacy; but in time of repose, ease was irksome to him, unless he gave life to it by something sprightly.  
They were, both the one and the other, liberal in giving, even to profuseness; but Caesar with more design and interest; his largesses to the people, his excessive expenses in his Aedilship, his presents to Curio, were rather corruptions than true liberalities. Alexander gave to do good, out of the pure greatness of his Soul. When he went into Asia, he distributed all his desmeans, disfurnished himself of all things, rereserving nothing but the hopes of conquest, or resolution to perish. When he beheld himself Master of the East, and had no more need of any person, he paid the debts of his whole Army. Painters, Engravers, Musicians, Poets, Philosophers, all indigent brave fellows had share in his Magnificence, and part in his Glory. Not that Caesar was not likewise naturally very liberal, but in the design he had to raise himself, he was obliged to gain persons necessary; and scarce did he behold himself Master of the Empire, but it was unfortunately snatched from him with his life.  
I find not in Caesar such friendships as Alexander had for Ephestion, nor such confidence as he had in Craterus. His intercourses were either strengthenings of his affairs, or a procedure sufficiently obliging, but much less passionate for his friends. 'Tis true, his familiarity had nothing dangerous in it, and those who communicated it, need not fear, either his anger or caprichios. Whereas Alexander was extreme, either he was most obliging, or most terrible; nor was any one secure with a secret wherein himself was engaged. Notwithstanding, his friendship was his greatest passion next his glory; of which we need no other testimony than his own, when he cried out to Achilles' Statue. O Achilles! How happy wert thou to have so faithful a friend in thy life, and a Poet like Homer after thy death.  
Hitherto we have sought these two great men in their Natural qualifications, 'tis time to examine the Genius of Conquerors, and to consider them in all the extents of action. It is a kind of folly to reason of things only imaginary, nevertheless according to all appearance, If Alexander had been in the place of Caesar, he had only employed his great and admirable qualities to his ruin. It may be believed, that his haughty humour (enemy to precaution) would have difficulty secured him in the persecutions of Sylla; hardly could he have sought his safety by a voluntary withdrawing; as what he gave was out of a pure motion of liberality, his largesses would have been pernicious to him, instead of attaining the Aedilship, wherein magnificencies and profuseness were permitted; his gifts and presents out of season, would have made him suspected by the Senate; and 'tis very possible, he could not have subjected himself to Laws, which would have pinioned a Soul so imperious as his; and so attempting something unseasonably, he had found the fate of the Gracchis, Spurius, Manlius, or Catiline, but if Alexander would have lost himself in the Republic, Caesar whose Courage and Caution usually went hand in hand, had never conceived in his mind, that vast design of the Conquest of Asia.  
It is to be believed, that Caesar, whose conduct was so fine and close, that he was concerned in all the conspiracies, without being ever but once accused, and never convicted. Who in the divisions he stirred up amongst the Gauls, assisted one party to oppress the other, till he brought all under his Yoke. 'Tis to be believed, I say, that that very Caesar following his own Genius, would have settled his own Estate, brought under his Neighbours, and divided all the Republic of Greece, till he had fully subjugated them. For certainly, to leave Macedon without hopes of return; to leave Neighbours about him ill affected, Greece indeed as it were submitting, but scarce settled in a subjection, and with Five and thirty thousand men, Seventy Talents, few Provisions, to go to seek out the King of Persia, whom the Grecians called the great King, and whose single Lieutenants on the Frontiers made the whole world tremble; is that which passes all imagination; and seems somewhat more, than if in these days, the Republic of Genova, that of Lucca, or Rogusa, should undertake the Conquest of France. If Caesar had declared war against the great King; it had been on the Frontiers, by little and little, nor would he have thought himself unhappy to have bounded his Estates with the Granick, or if his Ambition had pressed him farther, can you think he would have refused the offers of Darius; he who daily offered peace to Pompey, or that he would not have contented himself with his Daughter and five or six Provinces, which Alexander, 'tis possible, insolently refused? In short, if my conjectures be reasonable, he would never have gone into the plain Country, to have sought the King of Persia, accompanied with a Million of men; how brave, how constant soever he were, I question, whether he would have slept so profoundly, that night which preceded the battle of Arbella. I believe indeed, he would have been of Parmenio's mind, nor should we have had from him any of the answers of Alexander; yet it was necessary to undertake this unequal fight to become Master of Asia; otherwise Darius had drawn on the War from Province to Province during life. 'Twas of force that he perish as soon as he arrived, or that a thousand different people should see him overcome with all his forces.  
'Tis true, that this immoderate desire of glory, and too vast Ambition, which permitted him no repose, rendered him sometimes so insupportable to the Macedonians, that they were all ready to forsake him. But 'twas in that Juncture he particularly made appear the greatness of that Courage which nothing could astonish. Go ingrateful wretches, (said he to 'em), go, and tell in your Country, that you have left Alexander with his Friends, labouring for the glory of Greece, among people who will obey him better than you. There is nothing in all his life, which the Prince of— did more admire than this his fierce answer to the Macedonians, and this confidence in himself Alexander (said he), forsaken by his own, amongst Barbarians scarcely conquered, conceives himself so worthy to command, that he does not believe they can refuse to obey him. To be in Europe or in Asia, amongst Greeks or Persians, is indifferent to him; he doubts not to find Subjects, where he can find Men.  
But what is said for Caesar's advantage, is, That the Macedonians had to deal with Nations soft and effeminate; and that the Conquest of the Gauls, whose people were fierce and warlike, was much more difficult to the Romans. I will not trouble myself to examine the Courages of the one, or the other; but it is certain, that Caesar found not among the Gauls any true Armies, there were whole entire Bodies of people, even to the women, children, and old men, who tumultuously armed themselves for the defence of their liberty; multitudes who fought without order or discipline; and to speak truth, if you except twice or thrice, Caesar might say, Veni, Vidi, Vici, in all those occasions; which makes me believe, that if Labienus had commanded those Legions, he had no less subjected those Provinces to the Republic; whereas Parmenio, according to the best appearance, would not at all have fought that great Battle, which decided the affairs of Asia. You will likewise find this particular remarkable: Parmenio stood in need of Alexander's assistance in this fight; whereas Caesar had one day been lost without Labienus, who, having routed all on his side, sent the tenth Legion to disengage him.  
But be it for the greater peril of their Erterprises, for the exposing their Persons in them, or for being the less fortunate in doing so. Alexander was a hundred times in manifest danger of his life, and received often very great wounds. Caesar truly had his hazards, but more rare, nor do I find him dangerously wounded in all his wars. Nor can I perceive, that the people of Asia were so soft and effeminate, they who were always formidable to Europe. In the greatest power of the Commonwealth were not the Romans unfortunate against the Parthians, which composed but a part of Darius his Empire? Crassus' perished with his Legions in the time of Caesar; and soon after, Anthony made a shameful and unhappy voyage. As for Conquests, none can be truly attributed to C●●sar, but that of the Gauls; for in the civil war he reduced the Commonwealth with the best part of its own forces; and the single Battle of Pharsalia made him Master of an hundred different people, which others had vanquished. Vespasian cannot be said to have conquered the Empire, because he was declared Emperor upon the defeat of Vitellius; so Caesar profited himself by the Labours of all the Romans, the Scipio's, Aemillus', Marcellus', Marius', Sylla, and Pompey, his own enemies fought for him, and all all that was done in six hundred years, was the fruit of one hours fight.  
But that which seems to me more incomprehensible of Alexander, is, that in twelve or thirteen years, he conquered more Countries, than the greatest Estates have done in the whole extent of their continuance: a Traveller is at this day famous, who has crossed but a part of those Nations he subdued; and that nothing might want to his happiness, he peaceably enjoyed his Empire, even to the point of being adored by those he had overcome. In which I lament the misfortune of Caesar, who could not give a form to the Estate of Rome, according to his designs; being assassinated by those he was about to subject.  
There yet remains one consideration to make, concerning Alexander, That all the Captains of the Macedonians were great Kings after his death, who were but mean men compared to him during his life. And certainly, I pardon him in some sort, if in a Country where it was a received belief, that the most part of the Gods had their Families on Earth, where Hercules was believed the Son of Jupiter, for having killed a Lion, or knocked some thief o'th' head, I pardon him, I say, if seconding the opinion of Philip, who believed his wife to have commerce with a God, if deceived by the Oracles, if finding himself so much above all other men, he has sometimes despised his true birth, and sought for his Original in the Heavens; possibly, he caused this belief to be spread among the Barbarians, to draw from them the greater veneration. Though whilst he gave himself out to the world for a kind of a God; sleep, pleasures with women, and the blood that distilled from his wounds, made him know, that he was but a man.  
After having spoken so much in favour of Alexander, I will say in one word with Cicero, that for the beauty of an universal Genius, Caesar was in all things the chief of all Romans, Orator, Historian, in affairs of the Commonwealth, and in Employs of War. In truth the enterprises of Alexander have something more astonishing, but his Conduct and Capacity appear not to have the same Equality. His War in Spain against Petreius and Afranius, is a thing which people of the utmost experience yet admire. The most memorable Sieges of the later times have been form after the manner of that of Alexia, and we owe to Caesar, our Forts, our Lines, and our Countervallations, and generally, all that which secures Armies before places. For the vigour of it, the Battle of Munda was more sharply contested than any of those of Asia; and Caesar ran as great hazard in Egypt, as Alexander did in the Town of the Mallians.  
They were no less different in their procedure than in action. When Caesar had not Justice on his side, he sought for appearances, and never wanted pretexts. Alexander would give the world no reason but his Will, he followed in all things his Ambition and his Humour, but Caesar was guided by his interest or his reason.  
There was scarce ever known a person of such evenness in his life, such moderation in his fortune and such clemency in injuries: those impetuosities which cost Clitus his life, those ill cleared suspicions which caused the loss of Philotas, and which, to Alexander's shame, drew in train with it, as a necessary evil, the death of Parmenio, all these Eruptions were unknown to Caesar: Who could not be reproached with any death but his own, for that he took not care enough of his proper preservation.  
It must therefore be acknowledged, that, far from being subject to the disorders of passion, he was the most active man of the World, and the least moved: great and little things found him still in the same posture, without appearing to be heightened by one, nor lored by the other.  
Alexander was not properly in his own nature, unless in extremes. If he were to run, it must be with Kings; if he were to hunt, it must be Lions; 'twas an affliction to him, to make a Present that was not worthy of him. Never was he more resolute, never more gay, then when his troops seemed discouraged; never so full of confidence as in their despair. In a word, he began to enjoy himself at that point, where other men, whether for fear or some other weakness, use to give themselves over; but his Soul, too exalted, did difficultly comply with the common course of life; and little careful of its self, it was to be feared, might take its flight in the midst of pleasure and repose.  
Here I cannot forbear to make reflection upon those Hero's whose Empire & Rule has so much sweetness in it, that it is no difficulty to obey; we cannot have for them those secret repugnances, nor those inward promptings to liberty which perplex us under a forced obedience; all that is within us is made supple and easy; yet what comes from them is sometimes insupportable. When they are our Masters by right of power, and so far above us by Merit, they think to have, as it were, a double Empire, which exacts a double subjection; and it is a troublesome condition, to depend on men so great, that they may lawfully despise us. However, since there is no reigning in deserts and solitudes, and that there is a necessity of their conversing with us; it should methinks be their interest, to accommodate themselves to our weakness; and we should reverence them like gods, if they they would be content to live with us like men.  
But let us finish this discourse, which becomes toilsome to myself, and say, that by all practicable ways, Caesar hath done the greatest things, and made himself chief of all the Romans.  
Alexander was naturally above all men; and you may say, that he was born Master of the Universe, and that in all his Expeditions, he went less to fight with his enemies than to make himself known to his Subjects.   

JUDGEMENT ON Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius.  
I Will begin with Seneca, and tell you, with an extremity of impudence, That I have a greater esteem for his Person than his Works. I honour the Master of Nero, the Lover of Agrippina, and that Ambition which pretended to the Empire; but for the Philosopher and the Writer, I have a very slender value; and am neither affected with his stile, nor his conceptions. His Latin has nothing in it, like that of Augustus his time, nothing that's easy, nothing that's natural; full of points, full of imaginations that breathe forth more of the heat of Africa or Spain, than the flame of Greece or Italy. You will find there things cut in two, which have the air and method of sentences, but have neither the solidity, nor good sense, which thrust and press upon the mind, without gaining the judgement. The continued violence of his discourse does as it were affright me; and the Soul, instead of finding satisfaction and content, meets with nothing but melancholy and perplexity.  
Nero, who though one of the wickedest Princes living, was a person of a great deal of wit; had ever about him, a sort of fine spruce delicate little Masters, who treated Seneca like a Pedant, and endeavoured to make a Fop of him. But I am not of the opinion of Bervillus, who thinks the false Eumolphus in Petronius was the true Seneca. If Petronius would have given him an injurious Character, he would rather have personated him under a Pedant Philosopher, than an impertinent Poet; besides it is almost impossible to find any resemblance of humour in it. Seneca was the richest man of the Empire, yet always praised poverty: Eumolphus was a Poet very low, and almost in despair with his condition, continually complaining of the Ingratitude of the Age, and for his sole comfort applying, that bonae mentis soror est paupertas. If Seneca had vices, he was precise to cover them under the cloak of Wisdom. Eumolphus boasted of his, and lived in the world like a Libertine.  
I cannot therefore perceive on what Bervillus grounded his conjecture. But I am deceived, if all that Petronius speaks of his time, of the corruption of Eloquence and of Poesy; if Controversiae sententiales vibrantibus Pictae, which troubled him so much; if vanus sententiarum strepitus, at which he was astonished, hinted not at Seneca. If the per ambages & deorum Ministeria, etc. was not meant of Lucan's Pharsalia. If the praises he gives to Cicero, Virgil, and Horace, were not designed to lessen both the Uncle and the Nephew. However it be, to return to my opinion of this Philosopher, I never could peruse his writings without finding an aversion to those principles wherewith he would inspire his readers. If he endeavour to persuade Poverty, I die with a desire of Riches; his Virtue makes me afraid; and the least vicious, would abandon themselves to pleasures, on the description he makes of it. In short, he talks so much of death, and wearies me with such dismal Ideas, that I do all I can, not to profit by reading him. That which I find most praiseworthy in his works, are the Examples and Quotations wherewith he adorms them. For he living in a very delicate Court, and knowing a thousand fine stories of all times, has brought in very pleasant ones, sometimes of the Greeks, sometimes of Caesar, of Augustus, of Maecenas. For after all this, he had abundance of wit, and an infinite knowledge, but his stile hath nothing in it agreeable to me, and his opinions are too crabbed; and 'tis ridiculous, that a man who enjoyed an excess of riches, and preserved himself with such mighty care, should preach nothing but poverty and death.  
Montaigne has found out a great agreement between Plutarch and Seneca; both great Philosophers, both Preachers of Wisdom and Virtue, both Masters of Roman Emperors; the one richer and greater in the world, the other more happy in the education of his Pupil. The opinions of Plutarch (as says the same Montaigne) are sweeter and better accommodated to society. Those of Seneca, according to his opinion, more strong and firm, but according to mine, more rugged and austere. Plutarch does sweetly insinuate Wisdom, and would make his Virtue familiar even in pleasures themselves, Seneca reduces all pleasure under Wisdom, and makes only the Philosopher happy. Plutarch, of his own Nature virtuous, and first persuaded, easily persuades others. The Spirit of Seneca aims and animates itself towards Virtue, and as if it were a thing strange to him, 'tis necessary he first surmount it.  
As for Plutarch's stile, not having any knowledge of the Greek; I cannot give you any assured Judgement, or pass my Sentence concerning it; but I must needs say, that amongst his Morals, there is a great deal I cannot at all comprehend, whether it be by reason of the difference of things and manners in his time and ours, or that they are truly above my little capacity: the familiar Daemon of Socrates, the Creation of the Soul, and the course of the Moon, may be admirable to those that understand them. I must confess, I cannot find out their excellencies; and if they be wonderful, 'tis a wonder beyond my reach. We may judge by the good words of the ancients which he hath left us, by those sayings left by him, and those gathered together with so much diligence, by the long discourses at table, how sensible he was of conversation, and yet there was either little delicacy in those days, or his palate was none of the most exquisite; he sustains grave and serious matters with a vast proportion of sense and reason, but on things depending purely on wit, there is nothing either ingenious or delicate.  
To say truth, the lives of the Illustrious men, are Plutarch's Masterpiece, and in my judgement one of the finest Works of the world; you may there see those great persons exposed to view, and yet retired within themselves; you may see them in the purity of Nature, and in all the extents of Action; One may behold the constancy of Brutus, and his fierce answer to the evil Genius that spoke to him; one may perceive, that maugre himself, there yet remained some impression of that Phantasm which all the reasoning of Cassius could hardly efface; a few days after you may see him ordering his Troops, and giving Battle, so happy on his side, and so unfortunate by the error of Cassius; you may behold him re-attempting his fortune, losing the fight, reproaching virtue, and finding more succour in his despair, than from that ungrateful Mistress he had so long faithfully served.  
There is a natural force in all his discourse, which equals the greatest action, and of him only it may properly be said, Facta dictis exaequata sunt; yet he forgets not the mean nor common things, but with diligence examines the ordinary course of the life.  
For his Comparisons, which Montaigne hath found so admirable, they appear indeed to me very polite; but I think, he might have exceeded them, and pierced farther into the depths of their Nature. There are windings and turnings in our Souls, which have escaped him; he hath given judgement of man too much in the gross, and has not believed him so different as he is from himsef, wicked, virtuous, just, unjust, merciful, cruel; and where man seems to belie himself, he attributes it to stranger causes. In short, had he been to define Catiline, he had given him us, either Covetous or Prodigal; that alieni appetens, sui profusens, was above his knowledge, and he could never have unravelled those contraries which Sallust has so well separated, and which Montaigne himself much better understood.  
To judge of the merit of Petronius, I would have perused what Tacitus says, and without lying, he must be one of the most honest men of the world, since he could oblige so severe an Historian, to renounce his Nature, and enlarge himself in the praises of a voluptuous person; not but that so exquisite a voluptuousness contributed as much to the delicacy of the spirit, as to that of the taste. That Erudito Luxu, that arbiter Elegantiarum, is the character of an ingenious politeness, much different from the grosser conceptions of the vicious: Nor was he so given over to his pleasure, as to become incapable of affairs; neither had the sweetness of his life made him an enemy to business. He retained the merit of a Governor in his Government of Bythinia, and the virtue of a Consul in his Consulate; but instead of subjecting himself to his dignity, as do most part of men, fetching thence all their perplexity, or all their joys; Petronius, with a spirit superior to his charges, reduced them to himself: and to explain myself better, according to Montaigne, he renounced not the Man in favour of the Magistrate.  
For his death, after having well examined it, either I am deceived, or it was the most exemplary of all antiquity. In that of Cato, I find melancholy, and some anger; his despair of the affairs of the Commonwealth, the loss of his Liberty, the hate of Caesar, were great assisters of his resolution; and I know not whether his natural fierceness, did not almost reach to fury, when he tore out his own bowels. Socrates indeed died like a wise man, and with indifference enough; however, he sought to assure himself of his condition in the other world; was continually reasoning with his friends in the prison; & to say all in aword, Death was to him a very considerable Object. Petronius only found a sweetness and unconcernment in his Audiebat referentes nihil de immortalitate animae, & Philosophorum placitis. Sed levia carmina & faciles versus. He not only continued his ordinary functions, to give liberty to his slaves, to cause others to be punished, but suffered himself to be transported to any thing that might delight him; and his Soul, at the point of so troublesome a separation, was more affected with the sweetness and facility of Verse, than all the sayings of Philosophers. Petronius at his death only left an image of life; no action, no word, no circumstance betrayed any trouble of a dying man; of him may properly be said, that dying is to cease to live, and to him the Vixit of the Romans justly appertains.   

ON PETRONIUS.  
I Am not of their opinion, who believe, that Petronius intended to reprove the vices of the times; or to compose a satire with the same design wherewith Horace writ his. I am deceived, or good manners were not so much obliged to him. 'Tis rather a delicate Courtier, who finds it ridiculous, that a Pedant should become the public Censurer, and undertake to blame the corruption of the times. And to speak truth, if Petronius would have left us an ingenious moral of the description of Sensualists, he had endeavoured to give us some disgust, but 'tis in this, that vice appears with all the graces of the Author; 'tis in this, that he sets forth with more excellency the acuteness and politeness of his spirit.  
Moreover, if he had a design to instruct us by a way more fine and intricate than that of Precept, we should at least see an example of divine or human justice upon some one of his Debauches: but so it happens, that the only good man, which he introduces, the poor Lycus, an honest faithful Merchant, fearing the gods, perishes miserably in the tempest, in the midst of those Varlets which are preserved. Encolpius and Giton bind themselves to one another, that they may die in the straighter embraces, and death dares not disturb their pleasure. The voluptuous Triphena saves herself in a skiff with all her baggage. Eumolphus was so little moved with the danger, that he had the leisure to make some Epigrams. Lycus, the pious Lycus, in vain invokes the gods for their assistance, and, to the shame of their providence, is the only innocent swallowed up among so many guilty. If we see sometimes Encolpion melancholy and grieved, his grief is not the effect of his repentance; he has murdered his Host, is a fugitive, there is no sort or manner of crime that he has not committed, yet thanks to a good Conscience, he lives without remorse; his tears, his sorrows proceed from a very different cause; he laments the unfaithfulness of Giton, who has forsaken him, and despairs to imagine he may be in the embraces of another, who laughs at the solitude to which he is reduced.  Jacent nunc amatores Obligati noctibus totis; & forsitan, mutuis libidinibus attriti derident solitudinem meam. 
All crimes ever succeeded happily to him, only one, which in truth brought upon him a very severe punishment; yet this was a sin to which neither divine nor human Laws had allotted any chastisement; he had too faintly answered the caresses of Carce; and the plain truth is, this fumbling is the only fault that ever afflicted him; he acknowledges he has many times erred, but never deserved death but in this occasion. In fine, not to tie myself to the order of the History, he relapses again into the same crime, and receives the deserved punishment with a perfect resignation; 'tis now that he begins to consider with himself, and feels the Anger of the gods.  Hellespontiaci sequitur gravis Ira Priapi. 
He laments the sad and miserable estate into which he is fallen: Funerata est pars illa corporis, qua quondam Achilles eram. And to recover his former vigour, he puts himself into the hands of a Priestess of that Gods, with most excellent reflections on Religion, but in effect, the only ones that ever proceeded from him in all his adventures.  
I could tell you likewise, that the good man Eumolphus is— by little boys, when he recites his Verses; but when he corrupts his Scholar, the Mother treats him as a Philosopher, and though they lie in the same Chamber, the Father sleeps dogs-sleep. So much is the buffoon severely punished in Petronius, and vice happily protected. Judge by this, if virtue had not need of another Orator to persuade it. I believe, he was of the opinion of—  That an honest man and good manners agree not together. Si ergo Petronium adimus, adimus virum ingenio vero aulico, Elegantiae arbitrum, non Sapientiae. 

CHAP. II.  
IT's not to be doubted, that Petronius designs, to describe the debauches of Nero; and that that Prince was the principal object of his Satyricon. But to know, if the persons which he introduces are true or feigned, if he give us Characters according to his own fancy, or else describes the proper Nature of certain people; is a thing very hard, and which in reason we cannot assure ourselves of. I believe for my part, that there is no one person in Petronius, that can generally agree with Nero. Under Trimalchio, he apparently derides his ridiculous Magnificence, and the extravagancy of his Pleasures. Eumolphus represents to us the foolish passion he had for the Theatre.  Sub nominibus exoletorum, faeminarumque & novitate cujusque stupri; Flagitia Principis perscripsit. 
And by an agreeable disposition of different imagined persons he touches divers impertinencies of the Emperors, and the ordinary disorder of his life.  
It may be said, that Petronius is very contrary to himself, to blame the sumptuousness of a Feast, and the delicacy and softness of other pleasures; he that was so diligent and ingenious an Inquisitor after voluptuousness!  Dum nihil amoenum & molle affluentia puta: nisi quod ei Petronius approvavisset. 
For to speak truth, though that Prince was in his own nature sufficiently corrupt, yet according to Plutarch's judgement, the complaisance of this Courtier contributed very much to throw him into all manner of Luxury and Profuseness. In this, as well as in most things of History, we must regard the difference of times.  
Before that Nero gave himself over to this strange kind of looseness, there was no person in the world, so agreeable to him as Petronius; insomuch, that every thing passed for gross and dull that had not his approbation. This Court was like a School of pleasure, or Inquisition of voluptuousness; where every thing was fitted to the delicacy of so exquisite a palate. I believe likewise, that the politeness of our Author, became pernicious to the public, and that he was one of the principal causes of the ruin of several considerable persons, who made a particular profession of Wisdom and Virtue. He was continually preaching Liberality to that Emperor who was already a Prodigal; softness, to one given over to sensuality; what ever had but an appearance of Austerity, seemed to him fond and ridiculous. If my conjectures be right, Traseas had his turn, Helvidius his, and whoever had merit without the art to please, was troublesome at his own cost.  
In this sort of life, Nero grew every day more and more corrupt; and as the delicacy of the pleasure began to yield to the disorder of the debauch, he fell into extravagancies beyond all bounds, and into an utter disorder of mind. 'Twas then that Tigellinus, jealous of the parts and favour of Petronius, and those advantages he had over him in the skill of contriving pleasures, endeavoured to ruin him, Quasi adversus aemulam & Scientiae voluptatem potiorem. Nor was it any difficult matter for him to do; for the Emperor, absolutely given over as he was, could not suffer so curious a witness of his infamies; he was less tormented with remorse for his Crimes, than with a secret shame, which his gross debauches threw upon him, when he remembered the sweetness and delicacy of his former delights. Petronius on his side, was not without his disgusts; and I am of the mind, that in the time of those concealed discontents, he composed that ingenious Satyricon, which we unhappily have but imperfect.  
We may see in Tacitus, the occasion of his disgrace, and how soon after Piso's Conspiracy, the Friendship of Scevinus, was the pretence of his fall.   

CHAP. III.  
PEtronius is through his whole writings to be admired for the purity of his style, and the excellency of his conception; but that which most of all surprises me, is the great facility wherewith he does ingeniously give us all sorts of Characters. Terence is possibly the Author of Antiquity, which dives best into the nature of persons. Yet I can find this to say against him, that he is too much confined, and all his talon is bounded, in putting fit words into the mouths of servants, and old men, a covetous father, a debauched son, a slave, or a kind of Pickpocket, behold at once the utmost extent of Terence his capacity: expect not from him, either the gallantry, or passion, or conceptions, or discourse of an honest man.  
Petronius, with an universal spirit, finds the genius of all sorts of professions, and forms, as he pleases, a thousand different natures; if he introduces a Declamer, he manages so well his air and his stile, that you would say he had Declamed all his life. Nothing in the world can better express the disorders of a debauched life, than the quarrels of Encolpius and Acyltor, about the matter of Giton.  
Does not Quartilla represent admirably those prostituted women?  Quarum sic acceusa libido, ut saepius peterent viros▪ quam peterentur? 
Does not the marriage of little Giton and the innocent Pannichris give us the perfect image of an accomplished unchastity.  
All that a Fop could do ridiculously, at a magnificent Banquet, a counterfeit gallant, and an impertinent; you have represented to the life, at the feast of Trimalchio.  
Eumolphus shows us Nero's folly on the Theatre, and his vanity, to recite his own works; and you may observe, in passing over so many curious verses, of which he makes a debauched use, that an excellent Poet is ordinarily no very honest man. And by the by, as Encolpion representing Eumolphus, for a Poet dogril, and maker of fantastic verses; yet forbears not to find in his Physiognomy, something of Great; you may perceive, he observes judiciously not to ruin those Ideas he had given us.  
That distemper he has, to compose out of due season, even in vicinia mortis, his volubility to tell his compositions in all places, answer to his ridiculous aim: Et ego, inquit, Poeta sum, & ut spero non humillimi spiritus, si modo aliquid Coronis credendum est, quas etiam ad imperitos graves defer solet.  
His knowledge general enough, his extraordinary actions, his expedients in misfortunes, his constancy to help his companions in Lycus his ship; that pleasant Court of searchers for successions, which he brings together in Crotona, have still and accord with those things which Encolpius had promised: Senex Canus Exercitati vultus, & qui videbatur magnum aliquid promittere.  
There is nothing so natural, as the personating of Crisis; all our Confidants come not near it; and without speaking of her first conversation with Polienos, that which she says of her Mistress, upon the affront which she had received, with an inimitable quickness and propriety: Verum enim fatendum est, ex qua hora accipit injuriam, apud se non est.  
Whoever has read Juvenal, knows very well, impotentiam Matronarum, and their wicked humour, Si quando vir aut familiaris infelicius cum ipsis rem habuerat, but there is no body but Petronius could describe Circe so fair, so sensual, and so gallant.  
Enothea, the Priestess of Priapus, ravishes me with the Miracles which she promises, with her Enchantments, her Sacrifices, her mourning for the death of the sacred Goose, and the manner how she was comforted; when Polienos made her a present, with which she might buy a Goose, and gods too, if she thought fit.  
Philumena, that honest Lady, is no less pleasant, who when she had devoured many Estates in the flower of her youth and beauty, being become old and consequently useless for pleasure, endeavoured to continue her excellent art by the means of her Children, which with a thousand fine discourses she introduces to old folks which had none. In short, there is neither nature nor profession, the genius of which Petronius does not admirably follow; he is a Poet, an Orator, a Philosopher when he pleases.  
For his verses, I find in them a pleasing force, and a natural beauty. Naturali pulchritudine carmen exsurgit. So that Douza could no longer endure the fire and tempest of Lucan, when he read the taking of Troy, or that little Essay of the War of Pharsalia, which he declares to love much better, Quam trecenta Cordubensis illius Pharsalicorum versuum Volumina.  
I know not whether I am deceived, but in my mind, Lucretius hath not so aptly discoursed the matter of dreams, as Petronius.  
Somina, quae mentis ludunt volitantibus umbris,  
Non delubra Deum, nec ab aethere numina mittunt,  
Sed sibi quisque facit; nam cum prostrata sopore,  
Vrget membra quies, & mens sine pondere ludit;  
Quicquid Luce fuit, Tenebris agit oppida bello  
Qui Quatit & flammis miserandas saevit in urbes;  
Tela videt: etc.  
And what can one compare to that voluptuous night, the representation of which so fills the Soul, that there is need of more than a little virtue, to contain within those simple expressions it makes upon the spirit.  
Qualis nox fuit illa! Dii, Deaeque,  
Quam mollis Thorus! Haesimus Calentes,  
Et transfudimus hinc & hinc labellis,  
Errantes animas. Valete curae!  
Mortalis ego sic perire coepi.  
What a night, O good gods! What warmth! What kisses! What breathe! What mixture of Souls in those hot and amorous respirations!  
Though the style of a Declamer seems ridiculous to Petronius, yet he forbears not to show a great deal of Eloquence in his Declamations; and to make it appear, that the most debauched are not incapable of meditation and return; Morality has nothing more serious, nor better applied than the reflections of Encolpius on the inconstancy of human things, and the uncertainty of death.  
What ever subject presents itself, it is impossible either to think more delicately concerning it, or to express it more lively. Oftentimes in his Narrations, he proceeds no farther than the simple nature, and contents himself with the naked graces, sometimes he puts his last hand to the work, and when he pleases, there's nothing dishonest, nothing hard. Catullus and Martial treated on the same things grossly, but if any one could find out the secret to cloth smutty things in language like his, I will answer for the Ladies, that they would praise his discretion.  
But that which Petronius is more particular in, is, that besides Horace in some Odes, he is possibly the only person of antiquity, that has known how to speak of Gallantry. Virgil is touching in the passions; the loves of Dido, the loves of Orpheus, and Eurydice, have charm and tenderness, but there is nothing gallant; and the poor Dido, such a charitable good Soul she was, became amorous of Aeneas upon the recital of his misfortunes. Ovid is witty and easy. Tibullus delicate. Yet it behoved all their Mistresses to be more learned than my Lady— whilst they bring in the gods, fables, examples drawn from the farthest antiquity. They are still promising Sacrifices, and I believe Mr.— took from them the manner of burning hearts in Holocaust. Lucian, as ingenious as he was, becomes dull when he talks of love, and makes his Gallants discourse rather in the language of the Country than Court.  
For my part, though I am a great admirer of the Ancients, I cannot forbear to render justice to our own Nation, and do certainly believe, that we have over them a great advantage in this point; and without lying, after having well examined the matter, I know none of those great Genius's, that could make Massinissa, Sophonisha, Caesar, and Cleopatra, speak so gallantly of love as we have heard them speak in our language; but as much as others yield to us, Petronius exceeds us. There is no Roman can furnish us with so agreeable a story as the Matron of Ephesus. Nothing so gallant as the love-Epistles of Circe and Polienos; and all their adventure, whether in the entertainments, or in the description, has a Character much above all the politeness of our age. Judge then, how delicately he would have treated a just passion, when this was only the business of two persons, who at first sight were to come to the last enjoyments.    

The Matron of Ephesus, according to Petronius.  
THere was a certain Lady at Ephesus, in so great reputation for Chastity, that even the women of neighbouring Nations came to see her as a wonder; this excellent woman, when her husband was to be carried to sepulture, was not content, according to custom, to attend his corpse, with dishevelled hair, and to beat her naked breast in the sight of the people, but would follow his beloved body to its monument, and when it was after the Greek manner placed in the Sepulchre, would become a Guard to it; and began whole nights and days to weep over it: from thus afflicting herself, and seeking her own death, neither her friends nor neighbours could withdraw her; the Magistrates at last, finding both their power and prayers repulsed, left her; and every one deplored this woman of so singular an Example, who had now past the fifth day without sustenance. There accompanied her a faithful Handmaid, who with her tears assisted her mourning, and as often as the light placed in the Monument began to fail renewed it. She now was grown the talk of the whole Town; and all sorts of people confessed her to be the only rare exemplar of true Love and Chastity. When it happened, that the Governor of the Country having caused certain Thiefs to be crucified near the place where this Lady thus consumed herself over the body of her dead Husband; the next night after, a Soldier who had the guard of the Crosses, lest any should give the body's burial, took notice of a light within the Monument, and heard certain mournful voices; and Curiosity, that vice of Mankind, made him desirous to know who or what it was; going therefore into the Monument, he espied a wonderful fair Lady, and stood astonished, and took it at first for an Apparition; but when he beheld the dead body, and considered the tears, and saw the lacerated countenance, he soon conceived what it might be, and that the dead object had made the other careless of living; he than brought his Supper into the Monument, and began to exhort the dying Lady, not to afflict herself with so vain a mourning, and with a grief that could bring no benefit, that we must all die, and all go to the same home, and many such like things wherewith we use to reduce minds overcharged with sorrow; but she obstinate to all consolation, rend more violently her breasts, and tearing off her hair, strewed it on the bosom of her dead Husband. Yet would not the Soldier be so repulsed, but with fresh exhortations, began to persuade her to eat; till the Maid corrupted with the sent of the Wine, first reached out her vanquished hand to the humanity of the Inviter; and being enlivened with meat and drink, began to combat her Lady's obstinacy; and what will it profit you, said she, thus to consume yourself? why will you bury yourself alive? or why will you render you spirit to the Fates before they ask it?  Think you the gods do for our ashes care? 
Will all your mournings give light to what the Fates have extinguished? why will you not rather renounce this womanly error, and enjoy life while you may? that very dead body lying there, should admonish you, to live. There's none do unwillingly give ear, when they are compelled either to eat or live. The Lady wearied with several days abstinence, permits her resolution to be broken, and with the same desire which before had vanquished her Maid, falls to, and eats; you might guests the rest, who know the effects of human satiety. With the same allurements wherewith the Soldier had persuaded the Matron to live, with the same he assaults her Chastity. The young man appeared to her neither deformed, nor of unpleasant discourse; and the Maid was assistant with her counsel: 
Will you (said she) a pleasing love disdain?  
Think how you are restored to life again.   
Why should I prolong my story? Neither in this case could the woman preserve her vowed abstinence; the Soldier becomes Victor both ways: they therefore lay together, not only that night in which they made their close and sudden Nuptials, but likewise the following, and the third day; shutting up the entrance of the Tomb, that both known, or unknown, which passed that way, believed this Mirror of Chastity to be expired on the body of her dead Husband. The Soldier in the mean time, delighted as well with the woman's excellent beauty, as the secret of the adventure, bought all necessaries, as far as his slender means would go, and every night brought them to the Monument. But whilst he thus enjoyed his love, some of the friends of one of the crucified persons, perceiving the guard neglected, took down the body and paid it the last Rites; which when the Soldier the next day found himself thus robbed off, and beheld one of the Crosses without a body, he runs to his woman, bitterly complaining, and tells her, the like punishment was to be inflicted upon him; nor would he stay the Judge's sentence, but with his own Sword do justice upon himself for his neglect. So that now she was like to behold in the same fatal Sepulchre, the dead bodies of her Husband and her Gallant; but the woman was as merciful as she was chaste. The gods forbid, said she, that I should at once behold the Funerals of two men whom I held so dear; I had rather hang up the dead than kill the living; and accordingly she bids him take the body of her dead Husband out of the Coffin, and hang it on the Cross that wanted one, the Soldier steads himself of the ingenuity of this prudent woman; and the next day, all the Town admired, how a dead body could creep to the Cross.  
FINIS.