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UNIVERSITY OF MIGHIGAN
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º B 00 KS,
PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE BY
Grigo a E L L IO T.
No. 9, N. Poºh ST., PHILADELPHIA,
And for Sale by Booksellers generally in the United States.
The following books are particularly adapted for family reading, and we
do hope, as our political troubles are ended for awhile, that our friends will
now settle down to their “sober second thoughts,” and as “knowledge is
power,” and “information capital,” that instead of being satisfied with the
periodical trash of the day, they will store their minds with something
more solid, and for that purpose make a selection from the following list
MASON'S POPULAR SYSTEM OF FARRIERY: comprising a
general description of the noble and useful animal the Horse. together with
the quickest and simplest mode of fattening; necessary treatment while
undergoing excessive fatigue, or on a journey; the construction and man.
agement of stables; different marks for ascertaining the age of a Hºs.
|also, a concise account of the diseases to which the Horse is subject; with
such remedies as long experience has proved to be effectual. By Richard
Mason, M.D., formerly of Surrey Co., Va. Ninth edition, with additiºns
To which is added, a pºº. Essay on Males, and ºn Appendia containing
observations and recipes for the cure of most of the ººmmon disempers
incident to Horses. Oxen, Cows, Calves, sheep, Lambs, swine. Dogs º
&c. Selected from different authors. Also, an ºldend. containing ºl
ºf the Turf, American Stud º 'º, Rules for Training, Racing, &c.
The *. have received numerous flattering notices of the great practical
value of these works. The distinguished editor of the American Farmer speak.
|ing of them, observes--"We cannot too highly recommend these books, and
therefore advise every owner of a horse to ºn them.”
THE STOCK RAISERS MANUAL: a guide to the raising and im-
ºvement ºf Cattle, being a Treatise on their Breeds, Management and
|Diseases. By W. Yonati, author of a “Treatise on the Horse,” with
|numerous Illustrations. Complete in 1 vol. 8vo.
This work will be ſound of the greates. importance to Farmers and Cattle Rais.
ers throughout the United States, and should be in the possession of every Farmer
as it is the most complete work on this subject ºver published.
HIND’s POPULAR sys"EM OF FARRIERY, taught on a new
geon, and Member of the London vºte
2nd. -
inary Medical Society. In vol.
and easy plan, being a Treatise on all the diseases and aº to which
the Horse s liable. With considerable additions and improvements,
adapted Paºleularly to this country, by Thomas M. Smith, Veterinary Sur.





2. cººr ºooºs publisºn ºdºlº & ELLIor.
LETTERS FROM A FATHER TO HIS SONS IN COLLEGE,
By Samuel Miller, D.D., Professor in the Theological Seminary, Prince-
on, New Jersey.
The writer of this volume has had five sons
of New Jersey. These Letters, not indeed
in substance, were actually addressed to the
contained in this manual which was not, during course in the Institution, dis-
inctly communicated to them, either orally or in writing. The influence of these
counsels on their minds, it is believed, was not wholly useless. May they prove
still more useful when presented in this revised and more public form.
THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY IRELIGION: with a Selection
of Hymns and Prayers, adapted to Family Worship, and Tables for the
regular Reading of the Scriptures. By the Rev. S. G. Winchester, A. M.,
late Pastor of the Sixth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia, and the Pres-
byterian Church at Natchez, Miss. In 1 vol. 12mo,
The subject is one of incalculable practical importance, and is treated in a mas-
terly manner. It contains an able, elaborate and highly instructive Essay on the
obligation, nature and importance of Family Religion; and we hope, ere long, it
will be found in the Library of every family.
BOOK OF POLITENESS.—The Gentleman and Lady's Book of Po-
liteness and Propriety of Deportment. Dedicated to the Youth of both
sexes. By Madame Celmart. Translated from the Sixth Paris edition,
enlarged and improved. Fifth American edition.
THE BEAUTIES OF HISTORY, or Examples of the opposite
Effects of Virtue and Vice, for the use of Schools and Families, with
Questions for the Examination of Students. 1 vol. 12mo, with plates.
This work is introduced into our High School. It is particularly adapted for a
| Class Book in all our male and female Seminaries, &c.
“We have received from the publishers, Messrs. Grigg & Elliot, a very neat
duodecimo volume, entitled ‘The Beauties of Histºry or, Examples of the oppo-
|site effects of Virtue and Vice, drawn from real life. After a careful examination
of this book, we can conscientiously recommend it to parents and teachers as a
most meritorious performance. There are here collected, within a narrow com-
ass, the most striking examples of individual virtue and vice which are spread
* on the pages of history, or are recorded in personal biography. The noblest
precepts are recommended for the guidance of youth; and in the most impressive
manner is he taught to conquer the degrading impulses which lower the standard
of the human character. e have not lately met with a volume which, in design
and execution, seemed so acceptable as this. The book, moreover, is º
got up, and illustrated with wood engravings.”
GRIMSHAW'S LADIES LEXICON, and Parlour Companion; con-
aiming nearly every word in the English º and exhibiting the
plurals of nouns and the participles of verbs, being also particularly adapted
to the use of Academies and Schools. By William Grimshaw, Esq., author
of the Gentlemen's Lexicon, &c.
THE GENTLEMEN'S LEXICON, or Pocket Dictionary; containing
nearly every word in the English language, and exhibiting the plurals of
nouns and the participles of verbs; being also particularly adapted to the
| use of Academies and Schools. By William Grimshaw, author of the
|Ladies' Lexicon, History of England, of the United States, &c.
* The public are again indebted to the talents of Mr. Grimshaw, for the very
| useful books which he has called “The Ladies' and Gentlemen's Lexicon.” The
peculiarity and advantages of these works may be collected from the following
nd graduated in the College
y in their present form, but
re is, probably, not one idea










































































*m
| CHEAP BOOKS PUBLISHED BY GRIGG &’ ELLIOT,
portion of the preface. “They differ from all preceding works of the kind in this,
that they exhibit the plurals of all nouns which are not formed by the mere addii
tion of the letter S, and also ſhaparticiples of every verb now generally used, and
unless accompanied by a *: caution. No word has been admitted which
not now of polite or popular use, and no word has been excluded which is required
either in epistolary composition ºr conversation.’”
A DICTIONARY OF . ECT AND POPULAR QUOTATIONS:
which are in daily use : taken from the Latin, French, Greek, Spanish, and
Italian languages; together with a copious collection of Law maxims and
Law terms; translated into English, with illustrations, historical and idio.
matic. Sixth American edition, corrected with additions. 1 vol. 12mo.
In preparing this sixth edition for the press, care has been taken to give the work
a thorough revision, to correct some errors which had before escaped notice, and
to insert many additional Quotations, Law maxims and Law terms. In this state
it is offered to the public in the stereotype form. This little work should find i
way into every family library. . .
MALTE-BRUN's NEW AND ELEGANT QUARTO ATLAS;
containing forty coloured maps.
The Atlas is particularly adapted for Colleges, Academies, Schools, and privat:
families. There is no work that ever was published in this country which had
received more numerous and flattering recommendations. -
THE AMERICAN CHESTERFIELD; or “Youth's Guide to th:
Way to Wealth, Honor, and Distinction,” &c.: containing also a completé
treatise on the aft of Carving. -
“We most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to general atten:
tion; but to voung persons particularly, as one of the best works of the kind that
has ever been pi' lished in this country. It cannot be too highly appreciated, no
its perusal be unproductive of satisfaction and usefulness.”
SENECA'S MORALS-By way of abstract to which is added, a Dis:
course under the title of an After-Thought, by Sir Roger L’Estrange, Knt.
A new fine edition, in 1 vol. 18mo. -
A copy of this valuable little work should be found in every family library.
THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK; Or Practical Hints from a Fa
ther to his Daughter. In 1 vol. 18mo. - |
This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises on the culture and
discipline of the female mind, which has hitherto been published in this country;
and the publishers are very confident, from the great demand for this invaluable
little work, that ere long it will be found in the library of every young lady. -
GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE, in 2 vols. 8vo., beautifull 4
illustrated.
“Goldsmith can never be made obsolete, while delicate genius, exquisite feeling:
º ºnton, the most harmonious metre, and the happiest diction are at al.
Val U1601. - -
This is a work, that should be in the library of every family, being written by
one of the most talented authors in the English language. .#
THE WORKS OF LAURENCE STERNE, in 1 vol. 8vo., with a
life of the author, written by himself. #
The beauties of this author are so well known, and his errors in style and
expression sº few and far between, that one reads with renewed delight his deli-
cate turns, &c.
cheap Books PUBLISHED BY GR1GG & ELLIOT.
JOSEPHUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS. By the late William Whiston,
A. M. From the last London edition, complete.
As a matter of course, every family in our coº has a copy of the Holy Bible
—and as the presumption is, the greater portion often consult its pages, we take
the liberty of saying to all those that do, that the perusal of the writings of Jose-
phus will be found very interesting and instrucº
All those who wish to possess a beautifulºd correct copy of this invaluable
| work, would do well to purchase this edition. . It is for sale at all the principal
bookstores in the United States, by country merchants generally in the Southern
and Western States.
SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. A Treatise on Political Economy,
or the Production, Distribution, and Consumption of Wealth. By Jean
Baptiste Say. Fifth American edition, with Additional Notes, by C. C.
Biddle, Esq., in 1 vol. 8vo.
The editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, observes, that
“he is the most popular, and perhaps the most able writer on Political Economy,
since the time of Smith.”
BENNET'S (Rev. John) LETTERS TO A YOUNG LADY, on a
variety of subjects calculated to improve the heart, to form the manners,
and enlighten the understanding. “That our Daughters may be as polished
corners of the Temple.”
The publishers sincerely hope, (for the happiness of mankind,) that a copy of this
valuable little work will be found the companion of every young lady, as much of
i the happiness of every family depends on the proper cultivation of the female mind.
BURDER'S VILLAGE SERMONS, or 101 plain and short Discourses
iſ on the principal doctrines of the Gospel; intended for the use of families,
Sunday schools, or companies assembled for religious instruction in country
| villages. By George Burder. To which is added, to each Sermon, a short
| Prayer, with some general prayers for families, schools, &c., at the end of
# the work. Complete in 1 vol. 8vo. -
: These sermons, which are characterized by a beautiful simplicity, the entire
| absence of controversy, and a true evangelical spirit, have gone through many and
lºft editions, and been translated into several of the continental languages.
|*They have also been the honored means not only of converting many individuals,
|º also of introducing the Gospel into districts, and even into parish churches,
where before it was comparatively unknown.”
“This work fully deserves the immortality it has attained.”
This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work, and when we say that it
should be found in the possession of every family, we only reiterate the sentiments
and sincere wishes of all who take a deep interest in the eternal welfare of mankind.
NEW SONG BOOK.—Grigg's Southern and Western Songster; being
# a choice collection of the most fashionable songs, many of which are ori-
iginal, in 1 vol. 18mo.
Great care was taken in the selection, to admit no song that contained, in the
slightest degree, any indelicate or improper allusions, and with great propriety it
* may claim the title of “The Parlour Song Book or Songster.” The immortal ||
Shakspeare observes—
f
i
i * The man that hath not music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
la fit for trehsons, stratagems, and spoils.”
| FAMILY PRAYERS AND HYMNs, adapted to family worship, and
tables for the regular reading of the Scriptures. By Rev. S.C. Winches:
iter, A. M., late Pastor of the Sixth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia, and
the Presbyterian Church at Natchez, Miss. 1 vol. 12mo.
































ſ
º m
-º-
chEAP Books PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & ELLIOT. 5
BYRON's works, complete in 1 vol. 8vo., including all his Sup-l
pressed and Attributed Poems. -
fºr This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London edition of
Mr. Murray, and made complete by the addition of more than fifty pages of poems
heretofore unpublished in England. Among these there are a number that have
never appeared in any American edition; and the Publishers believe they are war-l
ranted in saying, that this is tº most complete edition of Lord Byron's Poetical
Works ever published in the United States. -
COWPER AND THOMSON'S PROSE AND POETICAL WORKS,
complete in 1 vol. 8vo., including two hundred and fifty Letters, and sundry
Poems of Cowper, never before published in this country; and of Thom-
son a new and interesting Memoir, and upwards of twenty new Poems, for
the first time printed from his own Manuscripts, taken from a late edition
of the Aldine Poets now publishing in London.
The distinguished Professor Silliman, speaking of this edition, observes, “I am
as much gratified by the elegance and fine taste of your edition, as by the noble
tribute of genius and moral excellence which these delightful authors have left for
all future generations; and Cowper especially, is not less conspicuous as a true :
Christian moralist and teacher, than as a poet of great power and exquisite taste.”
THE POETICAL WORKS OF MRS. HEMANS, complete in 1 vol.
8vo.
fºr This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved likeness of
Mrs. Hemans, on steel.
“As no work in the English language can be commended with more confidence,
it will argue bad taste in a female in this country to be without a complete edition ||
of the writings of one who was an honor to her sex and to humanity, and whose ||
productions, from first to last, contain no syllable calculated to call a blush to the
cheek of modesty and virtue. ... There is, moreover, in Mrs. Hemans' poetry a
moral purity, and a religious feeling, which commend it, in an especial manner, to
the discriminating reader. No parent or guardian will be under the necessity of i.
imposing restrictions with regard to the free perusal of every production emanating ||
from this gifted woman. There breathes throughout the whole a most eminent
exemption from impropriety of thought or diction; and there is at times a pen-
siveness of tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions, which tells
of a soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things, to jº
divine communings with beings of a purer world.”
THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, MONT.
GOMERY, LAMB, AND KIRK WHITE, complete in 1 vol. 8vo.
MILTON, YOUNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND COLLINS' POETI-||
CAL WORKS, complete in 1 vol. 8vo.
HEBER, POLLOK AND CRABBE'S POETICAL WORKS, com-
plete in 1 vol. 8vo. |
gentleman or lady of taste and refinement. The prize poems, hymns, and mis-
*r----------
“Among the beautiful, valuable, and interesting volumes which the enterprise
and taste of our publishers have presented to the reading community, we have sel-
dom met with one which we have more cordially greeted and can more confidently |
and satisfactorily recommend, than that, embracing in a single, substantial, well- |
bound, and handsomely printed octavo, the poetical works of Bishop Heber, Ro- ||
bert Pollok, and the Rev. George Crabbe. What a constellation of poetic ardor,
#.; piety, and intellectual brilliancy . Such writers require no eulogy. Their ||
ame is established and universal. The sublimity, pathos, and piety of all these
writers, have given them a rank at once with the lovers of poetry and the friends
of religion, unsurpassed perhaps by that of any other recent authors in our lan-
guage. A more delightful addition could scarcely be made to the library of the
—r w








-- ---
-
| coloured engravings.
beginners.
º
#6 cHEAP Books PUBLISHED BY GR1GG & ELLIOT.
cellaneous writings of Bishop Heber, the ‘Course of Time’ by Pollok, and the
rich, various, and splendid productions of the Rev. George Crabbe, are among i.
standard works, the classics of our language. To obtain and preserve them in
one volume, cannot but be a desirable object to their admirers.” And it is to be
hoped it will be found in the library of every family. ... •
A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language with reference to ||
these valuable editions: 3:
Mr. Editor—I wish, without any idea of pu fing, to say a word or two upon the
“Library of English Poets” that is now published at Philadelphia, by Grigg &
lliot; it is certainly, taking into consideration the elegant manner in which it is
printed, and the reasonable price at which it is afforded to purchasers, the best
edition of the modern British Poets that has ever been published in this country.
Each volume is an octavo of about 500 pages, double columns, stereotyped, and
accompanied with fine engravings, and biographical sketches, and most of them
are reprinted from Galignani's French edition. As to its value we need only men-
tion that it contains the entire works of Montgomery, Gray, Beattie, Collins, By-
ron, Cowper, Thomson, Burns, Milton, Young, Scott, Moore, Coleridge, Rogers,
#: bell, Lamb, Hemans, Heber, Kirk White, Crabbe, the Miscellaneous Works
O *ś. and other martyrs of the lyre. The publishers are doing a great
service by their publication, and their volumes are almost in as great demand as
the fashionable novels of the day, and they deserve to be so, for fly are certainly
printed in a style superior to that in which we have before had the works of the
nglish Poets.
... BIGLANDS NATURAL HISTORY of Animals, Birds, Fishes, Rep-
tiles and Insects, illustrated with numerous and beautiful engravings. By
John Bigland, author of a “View of the World,” “Letters on Universal
History,” &c. Complete in 1 vol. 12mo.
fºr This work is particularly adapted for the use of Schools and Families, form-
ing the most elegantly written and complete work on the subject of Natural His-
tory ever published, and is worthy of the special attention of the Teachers of all
our Schools and Academies. •.
BIGLAND’S NATURAL HISTORY OF ANIMALS, illustrated with
12 beautifully coloured engravings.
BIGLAND’S HISTORY OF BIRDS, illustrated with 12 beautifully
PERSIA. A DESCRIPTION OF. By Shoberl, with 12 coloured
plates.
These works are got up in a very superior style, and well deserve an introduction
to the shelves of every family library, as they are very interesting, and particularly
adapted to the juvenile class of readers.
CONVERSATIONS ON ITALY, in English and French, designed for
the use of Schools, Academies, &c., by Miss Julia S. Hawkes, in 1 vol.
12mo. -
fºr This work is spoken very highly of by Miss C. Beecher, (who formerly
taught in Hartford, Conn., and who Has done as much for the elevation of the
female character, and for education generally, as any other lady in this country),
and has received the highest recommendation from our most distinguished Teach-
ers, and the American Press. -
Miss Hawkes was for many years, and now is, one of the most accomplished and
distinguished female teachers in the City of Philadelphia.
SMILEY'S ARITHMETICAL RULES AND TABLES, for young
This is the best work of the kind now in print; but teachers are particularly
requested to examine for themselves.

































































cheap Books PUBLISHED BY GRIgg & ELLIot. 7
SMILEY'S ARITHMETIC, or the New Federal Calculator, in dollars
and cents. This work contains, among other important improvements,
Questions on the Rules and Theory of Arithmetic, which are considered by
teachers generally, very conducive to the improvement of the pupil.
Although a prejudice exists among some teachers in favour of the old works on
arithmetic, yet the very liberal patronage which this work has received, must be
considered as decisive evidence of the great estimation in which it is held by most
of the instructors of youth. Upwards of 250,000 copies have been printed and ||
sold. The sums being altogether in dollars and cents, gives it a decided preference
over any other arithmetic in use. The most distinguished teachers of our city
F. it superior to any other like work; therefore the publisher sincerely
opes this useful improvement will overcome the prejudice that many teachers |
have to introducing new works, particularly those preceptors who wish to discharge
their duty faithfully to parent and child. - e - º -
The editors of the New York Telegraph, speaking of Smiley's Arithmetic,
observe, “We do not hesitate to pronounce it an improvement upon every work
of that kind previously before the public, and as such recommend its adoption in
all our schools and academies.”
A KEY TO THE ABOVE ARITHMETIC; in which all the exam-
ples necessary for a learner are wrought at large, and also solutions given
of all the various rules. Designed principally to facilitate the labour of ||
teachers, and assist such as have not the opportunity of a tutor's aid. By
T. T. Smiley, author of the New Federal Calculator, &c. &c.
CONVERSATIONS ON CHEMISTRY ; in which the Elements of
that Science are familiarly explaimed and illustrated by Experiments and
Engravings on wood. From the last London edition. In which all the
late Discoveries and Improvements are brought up to the present time, by
Dr. Thomas P. Jones.
All preceptors who have a sincere desire to impart a correct knowledge of this
important science to their pupils, will please examine the present edition, as the
correction of all the errors in the body of the work renders it very valuable.
The eminent Professor Bigelow, of Harvard University, in noticing this work,
observes, “I am satisfied that it contains the fundamental principles and truths of -
that science. cxpressed in a clear, intelligible, and interesting manner. The high
character of the author, as a lecturer, and a man of science, will, I doubt not,
secure for the work the good opinion of the public, and cause its extensive adoption
among seminaries and students.” -
The learned Professor Silliman observes, that this edition is decidedly more
valuable than any preceding one.
CONVERSATIONS ON NATURAL PHILOSOPHY ; in which
the Elements of that Science are familiarly explained. Illustrated with
plates. By the author of “Conversations on Chemistry,” &c. With con-
siderable additions, corrections, and improvements in the body of the work,
appropriate Questions, and a Glossary. By Dr. Thomas P. Jones.
The correction of all the errors in the body of the work, renders this edition
very valuable; and all who understand the subject, consider it superior to any
other in use.
CARPENTER'S NEW GUIDE. Being a complete Book of Lines,
for Carpentry, Joinery, &c., in 1 vol. 4to. -
The Theory and Practice well explained, and fully exemplified on eighty-
four copperplates, including some observations, &c., on the strength of
Timber; by Peter Nicholson. Tenth edition.
This invaluable work superseded, on its first appearance, all existing works on
the subject, and still retains its original celebrity.
Every Carpenter in our country should possess a copy of this invaluable work.

is T cheap Books PUBLISHED BY GRIGG & Elliot.
wer:Ms’ LIFE OF GEN. MARION.
WEEMS’ LIFE OF GEN. WASHINGTON.
| || LIFE OF ANDREW JACKSON.
GRIMSHAW'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, - - gº bound.
66 QUESTIONS TO Do., - - - - stitched.
66 KEY TO \ Do., - - - - stitched.
66 HISTORY OF ROME, - & ſº gº bound.
66 QUESTIONS TO Do., - - - - stitched.
66 KEY TO Do., - - & - stitched.
66 HISTORY OF THE U. STATES, - - bound.
66 QUESTIONS TO Do., - tº- tº a - stitched.
66 KEY TO Do., - gº * > - stitched.
&6 HISTORY OF GREECE, - tº gº bound.
66 QUESTIONS TO Do., - º wº - stitched.
66 KEY TO Do., - tº wº - stitched.
66 HISTORY OF FRANCE, gº ºn º bound.
66 KEYS AND QUESTIONS TO Do., - stitched.
66 HISTORY OF NAPOLEON, - - º bound.
66 KEYS AND QUESTIONS TO Do., - stitched.
THE YOUNG GENTLEMEN'S LEXICON, - - º sheep.
THE YOUNG LADIES” LEXICON, tº tº º tº sheep.
MALTE-BRUN’S NEW COLLEGE AND FAMILY AT-
LAS, with 40 coloured Maps, 4to., - • * • • sº bound.
VIRGIL DELPHINI, - - * > tº # - .* º bound.
HORACE DELPHINI, - - - - " - - - bound.
HUTCHINSON'S XENOPHON, (with notes), - . -, - bound.
TORREY'S FIRST BOOK FOR CHILDREN, - - stitched.
66, PLEASING COMPANION, - - - - - half-bound.
66 MORAL INSTRUCTOR, - - - - half-bound.
MURRAY'S EXERCISES, 12mo., - - - - - half-bound.
66 KEY TO Do., ( → * > º tº
. - half-bound.
FIRST READING LEssons. - -
G R IG G & E L L IO T'S
NEW SERIES OF
C O M M ON SC H 0.0 L R EAD E R S,
NUMBERs, FIRST, SECOND, AND THIRD.
These books are particularly adapted for an introduction into the Schools
generally in the South and West; and Teachers who feel a deep interest
in promoting the welfare of their pupils, will no doubt after a careful exa-
mination give them a preference over all other Readers now in use.
Public, private, and social libraries, and all who purchase to sell
again, supplied on the most reasonable terms with every article in the
Book and stationary time; including new movels, annd all new works
lan every department of literature and sciemcee All orders will be
i thanakfully received and promptly attended to•
EHENRY W. OF ENGLAND.

_2_rz, Z7
Grigg & Elliot's Fourth Reader.
T H E
BEAUTIES OF HISTORY:
O R ,
*-
EX A M P L E sº o F THE
OPPOSITE EFFECTS OF VIRTUE AND VICE.
DRAWN FROM REAL LIFE.
35
FI III ISEOR FIMHIES IND CHIS
W IT H )
QUESTIONS FOR EXAMINATION OF STUDENTs.
~
--
BY L. M. STRET CH.
——
PHILADELPHIA: •
PUBLISHED BY GR IG G & E L LIOT,
No. 9 North Fourth streET. *
* * 1845. w

***
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1844, by
G RIG G & ELLIOT,
in the clerk's office of the district court of the United States,
in and for the eastern district of Pénnsylvania.
—r— -sº
strapotyped BY J. FAGAN......PHILADELPHIA.
PRINTED BY T. K. AND P. G. COLLINS.
(2)
PR E FA C E.
º
*=ºmº
LoRD BoLINGBROKE says, “History is philoso-
phy teaching by example;” and Montaigne, at
the conclusion of his chapter on three good
women, adds, “These are my three very true
stories, which I find as diverting and as tragic
as any of those we make out of our own heads,
wherewith to entertain the common people; and
I wonder they who are acquainted with such
relations, do not rather cull out ten thousand
very fine stories, which are to be found in very
good authors, that would save them the trouble
of invention, and be more useful and diverting;
and he who would make a collection of them
would need to add nothing of his own.”
This truthful remark is sufficient to justify the
general plan of this work. As to the manner
in which it is executed, the reader must judge.
The compiler has endeavoured to select the
móst striking and useful parts of history, and
to unite pleasure with instruction.
The observâtions which precede every exam-
ple are also drawn from the best authors.
1 * * .* (5)
Aº
*
~~~
added, where other writers did not furnish them;
*
*
vi | PREFACE.
Where the expression seemed capable of amend-
ment, it has been attempted, and maxims are
and if they can escape without censure in such
company, nothing more is"desired.
If it had been thought prudent to have re-
course to feigned characters, 'this work might
have been greatly enlarged; but as "fiction,
however well it may be adapted, only lessens
the force of the doctrine or duty to be incul-
cated, it has been almost universally avoided ;
and nothing is inserted that has not its founda-
tion in truth. - *.
e style must necessarily be various, on
account of the multitude of authors concerned;
but perspicuity is always consulted, to engage
the attention of youth.
I shall only add, that readers of more mature
age may find their advantage in this Collection,
by using it as a common-place, where they will
have some head or other under which to range
whatever they think worthy of note in the course
of their reading.
&
Philadelphia, June, 1844.
CONT ENTS. *
AFFECTION, PARENTAL.”
Sentiments, 13.−ExAMPLEs: In Agesilaus king of Sparta, 13–Cam
balus, a wealthy citizen of Mulgentum, 14.—Cornelia, mother of the
Gracchi, 14.—Cato, 15–Paulus AEmilius, 15–Henry W., 15–Queen:
Caroline, 18–Character of a good father, 19.
AFFECTION, FILIAL.
Sentiments, 21–ExAMPLEs: In young Manlius, son of the Roman
dictator, 22–The son of Quintus, brother to Cicero the Ronan ora-
tor, 23.−The conduct of young Appius, and that of Æneas referre
to, 24.—Pompey to his father Cinna, 25–Cyrus the Great, king of
Persia, 25.—The son of Metellus, 26–Alexander to Olympias, his
own mother, 26.-Epaminondas the Grecian general, 27–Reflections
from Rollin on the preceding example, 27.-In Servilia to her father
Soranus, 28–A singular example related by W. Maximus, 28–Cha-
racter of a good son, 28. sº
AFFECTION, FRATERNAL.
Sentiments, 29-–Examples: In the noble contention of two brothers
which should die to save the other's life, 30–Titus the Roman emi-
peror, 34.—Darius king of Persia, 34.
AMIBITION.
Sentiments, 36. ExAMPLEs: In Tullia, who plots the death of her hus-
band and sister, then marries her brother-in-law, whom she instigates
to murder her father, in order to obtain the crown of Rome, 37.--The
various fortunes of Marius the famous Roman, 40.
BENEFICENCE. *
Sentiments, 45. ExAMPLES: In Acaces bishop of Amida, 46.-Pisis
tratus the Athenian, 46–Cyrus the Great, 46.—Pliny, 47.-Alfred
the Great, 47. The honourable Mr. Boyle, 48.—Julius Caesar, 49 -
Marcus Aurelius, 49.-In Mark Antony, 49.-Cato, 49.
7
z
-viii CONTENTS.
~r
CLEMENCY.
Sentiments, 50–ExAMPLEs: In Marcus Aurelius, 50–Seleucus, 51.—
Thrasybulus, after the defeat of the council of Athens, 52.-Pau-
sanias, 55.-The Syracusans, towards Ducetius, the Sicilian chief, 55.
—The noble speech of Nicolaus, 58–King Alfred, of England, to-
wards Hastings the Dane, 61.
COMPASSION.
Sentiments, 62.-ExAMPLEs: In the daughter of Damophilus, 62.—
Vespasian, 64.—Alexander the Great,'64—The Czarina, 66.
CONSCIENCE.
Sentiments, 66–ExAMPLEs: In the caliph Montaser, 67–A Jewel-
.er, 67.-Herod, 69.-Alexander the Great, 69. -
CONSTANCY.
Sentiments, 69–ExAMPLEs: In Regulus the Roman general, 70.—
Agis king of Sparta, and his mother Agesistrata, 73.
COURAGE.
Sentiments, 75.-ExAMPLEs: In P. Horatius, 76-Young Manlius,
78.-Cyrus, 79.-In Leonidas and his 300 men, 80.—Lord Clive, at
the siege of Arcot in India, 84.—King Richard II., 88.
CRUELTY.
Sentiments, 92–ExAMPLES: In Olympias, 93.—Commodus, the Ro-
man emperor, 94.—Dunstan, 95-Odo, archbishop of Canterbury, 95.
—Alexander, high-priest of the Jews, 97–The Carthaginian wor-
ship, 97.-Reflections, 98–The Siege of Jerusalem, 99. -
DISINTERESTEDNESS.

Sentiments, 102-ExAMPLES: In Lycurgus, 102.-Epaminondas, 104.
—The ambassadors of Ptolemy Philadelphus, 107.—Phocion, 108.-
Two brothers who refused the kingdom of Sidonia when offered it by
Hephæstion, the friend of Alexander the Great, as being contrary to
the laws of their country, 109.-Quintus Cincinnatus, 111.-Cheva-
lier Bayard, 114.—A door-keeper at Milan, 114. º
DRUNKENNESS.
Sentiments, 117–ExAMPLEs: Very agreeably exposed by Cyrus the
Great, when a youth, 117–In Clitus, the friend of Alexander the
Great, 119.-Alexander himself, 122, 123–Anachonis, the puiloso
pher, 124.—Dionysius, king of Syracuse, 124. . . /
.*
ſ CONTENTS. ix
EDUCATION.
Sentiments, 124.—ExAMPLEs: A remarkable instance of the untoward.
.* of two children, (extracted from Fordyce,) 127–A fine
example in Eugenio, (from Dr. Watts) 130—Phronissa and her
daughters, (from Dr. Watts,) 139. ** -
**.
EQUITY.
Sentiments, 143—Examplis: In the Roman Senate, 144—Brutus,
144.—Trajan, the Roman emperor, 145–Mysias, brother of Antigo-
nus, 145–Phocion, 145.-The Persians, 146.
FAITH-PUBLIC.
Sentiments, 147–ExAMPLEs: In Brasides, general of the Lacedge-
monians, 148,--Shameful conduct of Philip, King of Macedoñ; 148,-
Reflections, 149.
FIDELITY IN SERVANTS, *
Sentiments, 150–ExAMPLEs: In two slaves towards their mistress at
the siege of Grumentum, in Lucania, 151.-The servants of Cornu.
tus, 151. *
FLATTERY.
Sentiments, 152—ExAMPLES: In Conon to Ptolemy, 152.-The Per.
sians to their king, 153–Prusias, king of Bithynia, 153.−Antiochus
Sidetes, 154—The courtiers of Canute the Great, 154.—Timo.
leon, 155. g
FREEDOM witH GREAT MEN DANGEROUS.
Sentiments, 156–ExAMPLES: In Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse, 156
—Cambyses, king of Persia, 157.—Alexander the Great, 157.-Da-
rius, 160,-The banishment of Plato, 163.
*
FRIENDSHIP. .
Sentiments, 164—ExAMPLEs: Between Caius Gracchus, Licinius
Crassus, and Pomponius, 166.-Scipio and Laelius, 167—Damon and
Pythias, 169. p
GAMING.
Sentiments, 171,-ExAMPLE: Tn the late Colonel Daniel, 172.
GENEROSITY.
Sentiments, 175—Exaurºrs: In Camillus, J75.—Licinius Crassus,
177—Brutus, 177—Scipio Africanus, 178–AEschines and Demos.
thenes, 180.-Alexander the Great, 181.
S.
X: - CONTENTS.
*, *
+ HAPPINESS. *
Sentiments, 183—Exauries: In Croesus, 184—Perseus, king of
• ‘Macedon, 188—Lysimachus, 189—Damocles, 190—Dionysius, 192.
—Richard II., 194.
- l— HONOUR.
Sentiments, 198—ExAMPLEs: In a Moorish story, 198—Arabs and
Saracens; 1992–Spanish story, 199-African story,200,—Cleomenes,
201—Wilfred, 202. -- *
*
HUMANITY.
Sentiments, 202-ExAMPLEs: In Q. Caecilius Metellus, 204,-The
late M. Keith, 204–M. Brutus, 295-Czar of Muscovy, 207–Pyrr-
hus, 207–Alexander, 209–Admiral Watson, 210. . *
INDOLENCE,
Sentiments, 211–ExAMPLE: In Theodosius, 212.
INDUSTRY. *
Sentiments, 212—Examries: In Demosthenes, 213—Alfred, 216–
Pliny,216. &
INGRATITUDE. *.
*
Santiments, 217–Examples: In a Macedonian soldier, 217.-Calip-
sº
pus, 218.
JUSTICE.
Sentiments, 220. Examples: In Aristides, 220, 222, 225.-Artax-
erxes, king of Persia, 224.
~, -- KING.
* **
Sentiments, 225–ExAMPLEs: In Cyrus, king of Persia, 227.—Gelon
of Syracuse, 230.
•º LUXURY. **
Sentiments, 233–ExAMPLEs: In the Persians, 233.-Athenians, 235.
—Romans, 236. y
MAGISTRATE.
Sentiments, 236–sºxAMPLEs: In Cicero, 237–Glauco and Socrates,
238—Dentatus, 240. *
*"
* contenTs. x:1
tº, • MAGNANIMITY.
Sentiments, 245. ExAMPLEs: In a Privernian prisoner, 245–Philip
of Macedon, 246.-Socrates, 246–Porus, an Indian prince, 249–
Scythian ambassador, 250–Thesta, sister to Dionysius, 251–Ber-
tram de Gourdon, 252.-Sir William Gascoign, .252.--Caractacus,
253.—Richard I. 254.—Of Luitprand, 254.
PATIENCE. T
Sentiments, 258. Exauries. In Epictetus, 259.-Socrates, 259.--
Philip, king of Macedon, 262
* PATRIOTISM. •
Sentiments, 263–Examples: In Alexander, the Roman eº;
263–The Fabii, 265–The Corsicans, 268–Eustace St. Piérré:tº:
—Galgacus, 274. *
POLITENESS.
Sentiments, 278–ExAMPLEs: In Dante, 280–In the character of a
fine gentleman, 281–Dr. Delany, 282–Edward the Black Prince,
and John of France, 285. e- --
PRIDE.
Sentiments, 287,-ExAMPLEs: In Demetrius, 287.-Timothéus, 288.
—Menecrates, 288–Alcibiades, 289.-Xerxes, 290.
*
A.
PRODIGALITY.
Sentiments, 290–ExAMPLEs: In Heliogabalus, 291.-Cleopatra, 292.
—Lucullus, 293. -
PRUDENCE.
Sentiments, 294–ExAMPLE: In Henry V., 295.
-X RELIGION.
Sentiments, 297. ExAMPLEs: In Cyrus, 298–Constantius, 299.-
Cicero, 300,—Seneca, 300–Emperor Aurelius, 300.-Socrates, 300.
—Mr. Boyle, 301,–Mr. Locke, 302.-Sir Isaac Newton, 304.—Mr. .
Addison, 304.—Cardinal Wolsey, 305.-Cardinal Richelieu, 305.-
Sir Philip Sidney, 305,
REVENGE.
Sentiments, 306–ExAMPLE: In Aliverdi, 307



Xīl --~~ contents.
TREACHERY. -

Sentiments, 309–Esauries: In Caracalla, 309–The Spartans, 310.
—Pélopidas, 311.-Offa, king of Mercia, 313–Antićchus, towards
Hannibal, 314.—Ethelwold, 316.-The Egyptians towards: Pompey,
317–Eiffida, 323.
+ weALTH, CONTEMPT OF.
Sentiments, 324.—ExAMPLEs: In Philopoemen, 324.—Fabricius, 326.
—Walerius. Publicola, 330. --- .*
* g *
* WOMAN.
Sentinents, 331. ExAMPLEs: The widow at Lisbon, 331.-The
Rüssian Mother, 332–The Empress Catherine I. of Russia, 333
*—Philippa of Denmark, 335.-The French Princess Monaco, 335-
Madame Roland, 335. Z
THE & *
B E AUTIES OF HISTORY.
º
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 a balm to all other sorrows, and disappoint
the injuries of time. Parents repeat their lives in their
offsprings; and their concern for them is so near, that
they feel all their sufferings, and taste all their enjoy-
ments, 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.
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 hé
would play with them and divert himself and them with
riding upon a stick; and that having been surprised by
a friend in that action, he desired him not to tell any body
of it till he himself was a father—Rollin's Anc. Hist.
What is observed of parents?—Of the mother?—What is related of
Agesilaus 7
>
18
14 e AFFECTION.—PARENTAL.
CAMBALUs, a young gentleman of character and for-
tune 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 gentleman's father,
happened to come by at the very instant, to whom Cam-
balus related the danger he was in. The son was on
foot, the father on horseback; but no sooner had he
heard the melancholy tale, than he leapt from his horse,
desiring his son to mount, 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 contrary, he conjured his father to leave him, and to
take care of himself. ... The father, struck with the gene-
rosity 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. 4 º'

CoRNELIA, the illustrious mother of the Gracchi, 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 universal esteem. Only
three out of the twelve lived to years of maturity; one
daughter, Sempronia, whom she married to the second
Scipio Africanus; and two sons, Tiberius and Caius,
whom she brought up with so much care, that, though
they were generally 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 show, after having displayed in a visit she made
her, her diamonds, pearls, and richest jewels, earnestly
of Cambalus and Gorgust–Of Cornelia? *
*
AFFECTION.—PARENTAL. 15
&
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. Tand such ornaments, which are
the strength and support of society, add a brighter.lustre
to the fair than all the jewels of the East.
CATO, though he kept a master expressly for his son
in his own house, yet frequently examined him as to the
progress he made in his learning; and, when time per-
mitted, would take great pleasure in teaching him himself.
PAULUs AEMILIUs, after the expiration of his first con-
sulship, substituted the sweets of repose for the splendour
of employments. As augur, he applied 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 magnificent 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, painters,
masters expert in breaking and managing horses; hunt-
ers, 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 Romans, he was
the father who had most love and tenderness for his
children.—Plut. in AEmil.


. HENRY V. entered into a war with France; and,
owing to the madness of the French King Charles VI.,
the quarrels of the nobles, and his own great skill, cou-
Of Cato ?—Of Paulus AEmilius 7–What is said of Henry V.7
sº
16 • AFFECTION.—PARENTAL.
+}
rage, and perseverance, he conquered nearly the whole
kingdom, and was declared regent and heir of France.
He married Katherine, the French king's daughter, and
was treated as king of France, whilst Charles himself
was neglected. * *
But all Henry's greatness, his victories, and his
power, lasted only a short time; for, after a reign of
nine years and a half, he died, in France, in the thirty-
eighth year of his age, at the Castle of Vincennes, near
Paris. When we think of all the misery he poured out
upon a people who never injured him, the towns he
burnt-the peaceful citizens whom he ruined, or who
perished during his sieges with hunger, in his very
T sight-the famine and disease which followed whereso-
ever he went, we rejoice that he did not long dwell in
a world which he made wretched. But we must not
forget that he was brave and temperate, quick in seeing
what was best to be done, and steady in doing it. Like
William I., he talked little; but he was ready to listen
to all who had cause to come to him. We are happy
that we live in days when the conquest of foreign, na-.
tions is not thought an object of praise; and when men
with Henry’s prudence, wisdom, and quickness, can
more surely count on wealth and fame by employing
themselves in doing good to their fellow-creatures than
by destroying them. º
Henry V. had three brothers, the Dukes of Bedford,
of Gloucester, and of Clarence. When he died, he de-
sired that they would take care of his son King Henry
VI., who was only nine months old,—that his brother,
the Duke of Bedford, should govern France,—and that
he should never make peace with the young Prince
Charles who was fighting to free his country. The little
thought what misery his weak and unfortunate son
would undergo, and how little all his father's glory and
conquests would avail him.—Historical Pictures.
Of Katherine?—Of Henry's short reign?—Of his wars and the miscry
they caused?—Of his character and abilities 7–How did he show his
affection for his son ?—What is said of his son's misfortunes?
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- AFFECTION-PARENTAL. 19
*}
The best proof undoubtedly which pārents can give
of their affection to their children, is to endeavour 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, pro-
vision, 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 de-
sign of the matrimonial alliance, so the fulfilling that
design is the most important and dignifierºef all the
parental duties. In 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 apart
to employ those talents which are the peculiar excel-
lency 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 exer-
tion of the intellectual and móral 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, mas-
culine vigour, and that superior authority which is com-
monly ascribed 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 conversation
and the softness and decency of her manners, for social
life, for politeness of taste, and the élegant decorum and
enjoyments of humanity; and to improve and refine the
tenderness and modesty of her female pupil, and form
-º-,
what is the best proof of parental affection ?—What is the first class
of duties?—The second?—The father's duty?—The mother's 7
*.
20 AFFECTION-PARENTAL,
&
her to all those mild domestic 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; and, at length, with all these ad-
vantages, to produce the young adventurers 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 heaven reward the task, where the
parents behold those dear images and representations of
, themselves inheriting their virtues as well as fortunes,
snstaining their respective characters gracefully and
worthily, and giving them the agreeable prospect of
transmitting their names with growing honours and ad-
vantage to a race yet unborn
THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD FATHER.
The good father is ever humane, tender and affection-
'' ate to his children; he treats them, therefore, with lenity
*; and kindness; corrects with prudence, rebukes with tem-
per, and chastises with reluctance: he never suffers his
indulgence to degenerate into weakness, nor his affection
...to be biassed by partiality: as he rejoices in their joy,
*and participates in their afflictions, he never suffers them
to want a 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 pro-
vides for their future felicity when he shall be removed
from them; he is doubly cautious in preserving his own
character, because theirs depend upon it: he is prudent,
- therefore, that they may be happy; industrious, that they
may be rich; good and virtuous that.they may be re-
spected: he instructs by his life, and teaches by his ex-
ample: as he is thoroughly satisfied that piety is the
source and foundation of every virtue, he takes care to

rº
§
*
Describe the character of a good father.
/
AFFECTION.—FILIAL. 21
bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord; 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 and tranquillity hereafter.
*ś
.*
AFFECTION-FILIAL.
SENTIMENTS.
It may be truly said, that if persons are undutiful to
their parents, they seldom prove good to aßf other re-
lations.
The honour which children are required to give to
their father and mother, includes in it love, reverence,
obedience, and relief. It is usual with Providence 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 received
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 enjoy-
ments of life. :--
No one will expect a return of kindness; however
considerable, from him who can show himself unmind-
ful of what he owes his parents. *f
To see a father treating his sons like an elder brother,
and to see sons covet their father's company and con-
versation, because they think him the wisest and most
agreeable man of their acquaintance, is the most amiable
picture the eye can behold: it is a transplanted self-love,
as sacred as friendship, as pleasurable as love, and as
happy as religion ean make it. * *
If every father remembered his own thoughts and in-
climations when he was a son, and every son remember-
What is observed of undutiful children?—Of the honour due to a
parent?—Of Providence 2 *
22 AFFECTION.—FILIAL.
*
*
ed what he expected from his father, when he himself
was in a state of dependency; this one reflection would
keep fathers from being rigid, or sons dissolute.
EXAMPLES.
T. Manlius, the Roman dictator, having exercised
reat violence and cruelty over the citizens, 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 apprizing any body, he came to the city, armed
with a dagger, and went directly to the house of the
tribune Pomponius, who had accused his father. Pom-
onius 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 father'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 de-
clared 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.” Pom-
ponius, who saw the dagger glittering at his breast, him-
self alone without arms, and attacked by a robust young
man, full of a bold confidence in his own strength, took

What is related of T. Manlius 7–Of his son?—Of Pomponius?—
Of the son's stratagem? 4.
***
AFFECTION.—FILIAL. 23
the oath demanded of him, and afterwards confessed,
with a kind of complacency in the thing, and a sincerity
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. l. 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 proscription 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 informers as domestics, his
return was immediately known, and the house of course
filled with soldiers and assassins. Quintus concealed
himself so effectually, that the soldiers could not find
him: enraged at their disappointment, they put his son
to the torture, in order to make him discover the place
of his father's concealment; 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 generous youth. His
agonies were increased ; but with amazing fortitude he
still persisted in his resolution 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 son 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 generous beha-
viour the triumvirs themselves, if informed of the fact,
What is said of Cicero and Quintus 7–Of Quintus's son 7
24 AFFECTION-FILIAL
...”
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; the father be-
cause he was proscribed, and the son because he had
concealed his father. Then a new contest of tender-
ness arose who should die first; but this the assassins
soon decided, by beheading them both at the same
time.—Appian. Dio. Plut. Val. Maa. &c. º
s"

THE conduct of young Appius during the proscription
above mentioned, renewed the example of the piety of
AEneas, and with the like success. His father Appius,
aged and infirm, seeing himself proscribed, did not
think that what remained of a languishing life was worth
the pains of preserving, and was willing to wait for the
murderers quietly at his own house. He could not, how-
ever, resist the pressing instances and zeal of his son,
who took him on his shoulders, and loaded with this
precious burden, went through the city unknown to some,
and 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 assisting his
father to walk, and sometimes carrying him, when the
fatigue was too great, conducted him to the sea, and con-
veyed him safe to Sicily. The people preserved the
remembrance of this affectionate conduct, and on his
return to Rome, after the triumvirs had put a stop to the
proscription, all the tribes unanimously concurred in
raising him to the aedileship. But the goods of his
father having been confiscated, he had not money to
defray the expenses of the shows belonging to that
office; on which account, the artificers charged nothing
for their labour, and the people taxing themselves will-
ingly, each according to his ability, not only enabled him
to defray the expense of the usual sports, but to pur-
chase an estate twice the value of that which he had lost.
—Appian. A
Of the circumstances of their death?—Of Appius?—Of his son 7– gº
How was young Appius's filial affection rewarded ?
AFFECTION.—FILIAL. * 25
CINNA, the Roman Consul, who scrupled no attempt,
how villanous soever, which could serve his purpose,
undertook to get Pomponius Strabo murdered in his
tent; but his son saved his life, which was the first, re-
markable action of Pompey the Great. The treacherous
Cinna, by many alluring promises, had gained over one
Terentius, a confidant of Pompey's, to his interest, and
prevailed on him to assassinate the general, and seduce
his troops. Young Pompey being informed of this de-
sign 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 endeavoured
to appease the fury of the soldiers, who hated the gene-
ral 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 after-
wards wrought so effectually upon them by his affecting
speeches and engaging carriage, that he reconciled them
to his father. — Plut. in Pomp.
CYAxAREs, uncle of Cyrus the Great, having been an
bye-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 favour-
ite princess he offered in marriage to Cyrus, with an as-
surance of the kingdom of Media for her portion. Cy-
rus, 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; leaving therein a noble example to all future
What is related of Cinna?—Of young Pompey 7–Of Cyaxares?—
Of Cyrus 2 *& *
•:
3
26 AFFECTION.—FILIAL. º
ages of the respectful submissión and dependence 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 greatness they may have arrived.
—Xenoph. Cyrop. l. 6. *
WHILE Octavius was at Samos, after the famoffs bat-
tle of Actium, which made him master of the world, he
held a council to examine the prisoners who had been
Jengaged in Antony's party. Among the rest these was
brought before him an old man named Metellusºppress-
ed with years and infirmities, disfigured withºa 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
*-
deplorable condition in which he saw him. Aſ last, how-
º ag wº º 1 r.º. ~. **
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
Iyour officer; 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 com-
passion at this affecting 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 government. She used
frequently to make very severe complaints on that
account; but he always submitted 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, will obliterate
ten thousand such letters as this. A behaviour like this,
Of Octavius 7–Of Metellus?—Of Olympias
: AFFECTION.—FILIAL. - 27
and such an answer, show at one and the same time, that
Alexander was both an affectionate son and an able
politician. — Q. Curt.
EPAMINoNDAs, without any 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 virtues, but its misfortunes, till it
sunk into its griginal obscurity ; so that it saw its glory
Bºgºre with this great man. The victory
he obtained at Leuctra had drawn the eyes and admira-
tion of all the neighbouring people upon Epaminondas,
who looked upon him as the support of Thºbes, as the
triumphant conqueror of all Sparta, as the deliverer 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 universal applause, so capable of
making the general of an army forget the man for the
victor, Epaminondas, little sensible to so affècting and
so deserved a glory, JMy joy, said he, arises from my
sense of that which the news of my victory will give my
father and my mother.— Plut. in Coriol. p. 215
Nothing in history seems so valuable to -me, says
Rollin, as those sentiments which do honour to human
nature, and proceed from a heart which neither false
glory, nor false greatness, have corrupted. I confess it
with grief, I 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 good
friends; and who would think it a disgrace to express
for 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
Temperor of Rome, was one Bareas Soranus, a man, as
wº-
Of Epaminondas?—Of Nero?—Of Soranus?


28 AFFECTION.—FILIAL.
Tacitus informs us, of singular vigilance and justice in
the discharge of his duty. During his confinement, his
daughter Servilia was apprehended and brought into the
senate, and there arraigned. 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, replied,
“That she had indeed consulted magicians, but the
whole of her inquiry was to know whether the emperor -
and senate would afford protection and safety to her
dear and indulgent parent against his accusers. With -
this view,” said-she, “I 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 what-
ever 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, along with her father, condemned
to die, but in what manner history is silent. — Tacit.
.Ann. l. 16. c. 20.
THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD SON.
THE good and dutiful son is one who honours his pa-
rents, by paying them the utmost deference and respect;
by a reverential awe and veneration for themſ; a filial
affection for their persons, and a tender regard for their
safety and preservation; a constant and cheerful atten-
tion to their advice, and a ready and implicit obedience
to their commands. As he becomes every day more
sensible of his obligations to them, he gróws every day
more willing and solicitous to repay them. He employs
his youth to support their age; his abundance to relieve
their wants; his knowledge and strength to supply their
infirmities and decay. He is more careful of his cha-
Of Servilia?—Describe the character of a good son.
AFFECTION-FRATERNAL. 29 ,
racter and reputation in the world, 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 assured, that God will not
only bless obedient children here, but will reward them
with the blessing of heaven, where it shall be well with
him for ever; where we all shall join—son and father,
daughter and mother, wife and husband, servant and
master; all the relations and connexions of this life, to
honour one great Parent, Protector, Lord, and Master
of us all. g *.
AFFECTION.—FRATERNAL.
SENTIMENTS.
Though all mankind spring from the same head, and
are bound to cultivate a mutual good will to each other;
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 frater-
nal affection: and there is but a short remove from our
own-concerns and happiness to theirs who come from
the same stock, and are partakers of the same blood.
Nothing, therefore, can be more horrible than discord
and animosity among members so allied, and nothing so
beautiful as harmony and love.
This relation is formed by nature, not by choice; and
though it has many things in common with, yet it is
prior to the obligations of friendship; consequently na-
ture and reason dictate that there should be a peculiar
affection between brethren. We are not obliged, how-
ever, to make a brother or sister an intimate or bosom
friend in preference to one who is not akin. Diversity
of temper, and want of suitable qualifications may ren-
der it unsafe and improper. But where friendship and
What is said of fraternal affection?—Of fraternal discord?—Of the
obligations to fraternal affection ? f
3 * -
30 AFFECTION.—FRATERNAL.
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 readiness to
serve and promote it, are the peculiar offices of this re-
lation; 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 Portu-
guese carracks sailed from Lisbon to Goa, a very great,
rich, and flourishing colony of that nation in the East
Indies. There were no less than twelve hundred souls,
mariners, passengers, priests, and friars, on board one
of these vessels. The beginning of their voyage was
prosperous; they had doubled the southern extremity of
the great continent of Africa, called the Cape of Good
Hope, and were steering their course north-east, to the
great continent of India, when some gentleman on board,
who 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 dis-
covery, than they acquainted the captain of the ship
with the affair, desiring him to communicate the same
to the pilot; which request he immediately granted, re-
commended 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 com-
mit 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 belong-
ing to private traders; and he is under no manner of
direction from the captain, who commands 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
--->
What is related of the Portuguese vessel ?—What discovery was made
by some of the passengers ?
.*
AFFECTION-FRATERNAL. T 31
---
their profession derogatory from their understandings,
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 carried before. They had
not sailed many hours, when just about the dawn of da
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 hundred persons, all in the same inevitable dan-
ger; beholding, with fearful astonishment, that instanta-
neous death which now stared them in the face
, In this distress, the captain ordered the pinnace to be
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 condition,
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 agreed implicitly 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 sustain 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 leak, or other accident. The same compliment
What was done by the pilot 7—How many took to the pinnace 7–To
what extremity were they driven 7 -
32 AFFECTION--FRATERNAL.
they paid to their new captain, he being the odd man,
and his life of much consequence. He refused their in-
dulgence a great while; 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 received
absolution, submitted to their fate. The fourth, whom
fortune condemned, was a Portuguêse gentleman that
had a younger brother in the boat, 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 depend.
ed upon him; that as for himself, he was single, and his
life of no great importance: he therefore conjured him
... to suffer him to supply his place. The elder brother, as-
**.
tonished and melting with this generosity, 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 pur-
pose, would take no denial; but throwing himself on his
knees, held his brother so fast, that the company could
not disengage them. Thus they disputed for a while, the
elder brother bidding him to be a father to his children,
and recommended his wife to his protection, and as he
would inherit his estate, to take care of their common
sisters; 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 in-
to 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,
What is related of a Portugese gentleman 7–Of his brother?—Which
was cast overboard 7 .*-
ºn AFFECTION.—FRATERNAſ. 33
he cut off his hand with his sword; then aropping into
the sea, he presently caught hold again with his left,
which received the same fate by a second blow: thus
dismembered of both hands, he managed notwithstand-
ing 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;” and he was accordingly
taken into the boat, where he had his hands bound up as
well as the place and circumstances 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 mountainous Mosambique, in Africa, not .
far from a Portuguese colony. Thither they all safely
arrived, where they remained until the next ship from
Lisbon 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 Van Linschoten's Voyages, A. D. 1598.
WESPASIAN, the Roman emperor, being informed that
Domitian had abandoned himself to all manner of de-
bauchery, and assumed more authority than was suita-
ble to a son only, was highly incensed against him :
upon this Titus, his eldest son, pleaded with great affec-
tion and earnestness in favour of his brother, entreating
the emperor to beware of being rashly incensed by in-
telligence from such as bring criminal accusations. “To
your own son,” said he, “it is but just you should bear a
spirit of gentleness, free from all prejudice. Not from
fleets, not from legions, are such powerful bulwarks
formed for the support of the imperial dignity, as from
assº-
What followed ?–How did the affair terminate 7—What is related of
Vespasian and Domitian 7
34 AFFECTION.—FRATERNAL.
a numerous issue in the imperial house. The number
of our friends is diminished with time: they often de-
sert 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 will partake with us; but our
nearest in kindred alone will bear us company in our
adversities. Even between brothers,” added he, “con-
cord and unanimity will not prove lasting, if their com-
mon parent sets them not an example.” Vespasian,
though not entirely reconciled to Domitian by this rea-
soning, was nevertheless charmed with the tender affec-
tion of Titus. Upon the death of the emperor, the
government fell to Titus; 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; yet Titus could not prevail upon
himself either to punish or banish him: but, on the con-
trary, treated him as his colleague in the empire, con-
juring 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. 2. & 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; 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. Artabazanes alleged, in his own behalf, that the
right of succession, according to the custom and prac-
tice of all nations, belonged to him preferably to all the
rest. Xerxes's argument for succeeding his father was,
that he was the son of Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus,
who founded the Persian empire, it was more just that
What was the effect of his intercession ?—What took place on the
death of the emperor 7—What is related of Darius and his sons 7
-
º
*
AFFECTION.—FRATERNAL. 35
the crown of Cyrus should devolve upon one of his de-
scendants, than upon one that was not. Demaratus, a
Spartan king, at that time at the court of Persia, secret.
ly suggested to Xerxes another argument to support his
pretensions; that Artabazanes was indeed the eldest son
of Darius; but he, Xerxes, was the eldest son of the
king; and therefore Artabazanes beingſborn when his
father was but a private person, all he could pretend to,
on account of his seniority, was only to inherit his pri-
vate estate; but that he, Xerxes, being the first-born son
of the king, had the best right to succeed to the crown.
He further supported this argument by the example of .
the Lacedemonians, who admitted none to inherit the
kingdom but those children that were born after their
father's accession. The right of succession was accord-
ingly 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; and Xerxes immediately
assumed all the marks, and exercised all the functions
of the sovereignty. But upon his brother'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 showed him all imaginable respect.
They agreed to make their uncle Artabanes the arbitra-
tor of their difference; and without any further appeal,
to acquiesce in his decisions.
All the while this dispute lasted, the two brothers
showed one another all the demonstrations of a truly
fraternal affection, by keeping up a continual intercourse
of presents and entertainments; whence their mutual
esteem and confidence for each other banished all fears
aud suspicions on both sides, and introduced an uncon-
strained cheerfulness, and a perfect security.
This is a spectacle, says Justin, highly worthy of our
-
Which son became king?—How did he behave on his accession 7–
On his brother's arrival 7–Who was made umpire 7—What is said by
Justin 7
º
º
- 36 AMBITION.
admiration: to see, whilst most brothers are at daggers-
drawing with one another about a small patrimony, with
what moderation and temper both waited for a decision,
which was to dispose 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 showed a greatness of soul truly royal,
and infinitely superior to all human dignities. This
ready acquiescence in a sentence so contrary to his in-
terest, 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, it proceeded
from a real respect for the laws, a sincere affection for
his brother, and an indifference for that which so warmly
inflames the ambition of mankind, and so frequently arms
the nearest relations against each other. For his part,
during his whole life, he continued firmly attached to the
interests of Xerxes, and prosecuted them with so much
ardour and zeal, that he lost his life in his service at the
º of Salamis-Plut. de frat. Amore, p. 448. Just. l.
. c. 10.
.."
* A M BIT IO N.
x-re SENTIMENTS.
AMBITION to rule is more vehement than malice to re-
Venge. It must be confessed that no passion has pro-
duced more dreadful effects than ambition; and yet,
methinks, ambition is not a vice but in a vicious mind.
In a virtuous mind it is a virtue, and will 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!
How did Artabanes conduct, when his brother was declared king 7–
What is said of ambition ?
AMBITION. *. 37
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
cousing-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
respect for her father. Arcius, the younger brother,
much more humane and tractable, found in young Tul-
lia, one of those bold enterprising women, who are capa-
ble of the blackest deeds. Perceiving neither 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, admire, extol him, as a man of
spirit, as a prince worthy his birth. She spoke with con-
tempt of her sister, for so ill seconding such a husband.
Likeness of temper and inclinations quickly united Lu-
cius Tarquin and young Tullia. In the private conver-
sations which she often procured with her brother-in-law,
she used the most injurious and contumelious language
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 languish 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
immediately plotted the death, the one of her husband,
the other of his wife : and, after the execution of the
double murder, they joined together their fortunes and
What is related of Servius Tullius and his children?—How were they
married ?—What was the consequence of these ill-assorted matches 7-.
What was Tullia's object after her marriage with Lucius Tarquin 7
4
38 2 AMBITION. * **
furious tempers in marriage, which Servius dared not
oppose, though he dreaded the fatal consequences of it.
As they now saw no other obstacle to their ambition.
but Servius's life, the thirst of dominion carried them
from their first crime to another still more horrible; that
fury which Tarquin had always by his side, not letting
him rest night or day, for fear of losing the fruit of her
former murders. What words did she not use! “She
had indeed found a man that was called her husband,
and with whom she might live in a private and disho-
nourable servitude; 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 Tarquinii to acquire with diffi-
culty 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 grand-
father.” •
Tarquin, encouraged and incessantly spurred on by
this domestic fury, throws off all restraint, and resolved-
ly pursues the wicked design. He labours to gain the
senators, especially of the new creation: he engages the
Wouth by presents; and daily increases 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 disco-
ver his intentions, surrounded with a guard, he abruptly
What arguments did she use with her husband 7—How did he pro.
cccd?
AMIBITION. 39
gº
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 beforehand,
others for fear their absence should be deemed a crime;
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 on my
throne?” Tarquin fiercely replied, “He sat in his grand-
father's seat, to which a grandson had more. right than
a slave; Servius had too-long insulted his betters, and
abused their patience. Their favourers on both sides
made a great noise; the people at the same time rushed
into the senate, and it appeared that the quarrel was to
be decided by force.
Tarquin seeing a necessity of coming to extremities,
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 bruised, 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 hé"was
overtaken and murdered by persons sent after him by
Tarquin. It is believed, 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 decen
cies of her sex, 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 Cyprian-street, the coachman turning to the left
What was done by Servius —What was the result —What part did
Tullia take in the tragedy ? *
40 AMBITION.
*
to go up the Esquiline-hill, stopped short, struck with
horror, and showed his mistress Servius's body covered
with blood. The sight served only to exasperate and
harden Tullia. “The Furies, avengers 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, but even of humanity, she ordered
the chariot to be driven over her father's body, which oc-
casioned the street to be called Vicus Sceleratus, the
Street of Wickedness.” 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 hus-
band but to pay him these last 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 perpetual 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. l. iv. p. 232.-Liv. l. i. c. 46–48.
*
MARIUS, so famous in the Roman History, was a man
that had but one passion, the desire of aggrandizing
himself, to which he never made any scruple to sacri-
fice every thing; for he never knew either integrity,
sincerity, or gratitude, when the pursuit of his views
was in question. It was this ambition that made him
quit the plough, and take up the profession of arms, by
which he was in hopes of making his fortune. He suc-
*—
What was Servius's character?—What was the fate of Tarquin and
Tullia?—What was the character of Marius?—How did he become rich 2
AMBITION. > 4|
ceeded beyond all expectations; but after having passed
through every honour in the Roman government; 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 Mithridates, king of Pontus.
He imagined that this war furnished an occasion of ac-
quiring great glory and riches, without much danger.
But Sylla, as consul, was general of the Roman armies,
and had a just right to appropriate the first and most
glorious province to himself: he was likewise appointed
to this command by the senate. " Marius opposed him.
The contest ran high, 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 suffer-
ing a variety of difficulties, dangers, and distresses, both
by sea and land, he is at last treacherously set on shore
in the province of an enemy, without aid, without de-
fence, and abandoned by all the world. He however
did not abandon himself, but crossing marshes, difches
full of water, and maddy 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 es-
caped danger, would reward him beyond 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; but if
he fled from enemies, he would show him a safer retreat.” .
Marius having accepted the last offer, the man conducted
him to a hollow place, near a marsh, where he covered
What was the object of his ambition ?—Who was his opponent 7--
What was the result 7 s
4 #
tº
42 AMBITION.
\
sº
*
*
*
him with leaves, reeds, and rushes. Marius had scarce
entered this dismal retreat, before he heard his enemies
in pursuit of him. They questioned, pressed, and me-
naced 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.
His pursuers ran to him, 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 Minturnaº,
where they delivered him to the magistrates.
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 greatness and glory, had plunged him into an
abyss of 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 insa-
tiable 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 lowest state of
misery, he yet rose to the pinnacle of what is, falsely,
called honour and greatness. By the intrigues of a fac-
tion, he returned to Rome, 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 protected by Cinna, who was then master of Rome,
he affected an air of dejection; but his unextinguished
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, dig-
To what was Marius reduced ?—Relate his adventures in his adver-
sity.—How did he recover his power ?
AMIBITION. 43
nity, nor virtue; a look, a nod, determined at once the .
fate of the most illustrious persons; every one whom he
in the least suspected or disliked was put to death with-
out 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; unpitied
shrieks and cries were everywhere heard, the streets
were defiled with human blood, while the lifeless bodies,
even of the most eminent senators, were trampled under
foot; for it was prohibited to give them burial. These
were the glorious fruits of ambition! by these, without
doubt, Marius intended to render himself great and hap-
py; but he found it quite otherwise. The state of pros-
perity in which he was did not calm the disquiets
occasioned by the fear of Sylla’s return, who was car-
rying on the war with Mithridates. So formidable an
avenger made Marius tremble; and he could not even
dissemble his fears. These thoughts tormented him
continually, and occasioned his nights to pass without
sleep, which began to affect his health and spirits. He
therefore abandoned himself to the excesses of the table;
and spent all his nights in drinking with his friends and
dependants. By this means he soon inflamed his blood,
He was attacked with a ſever, which presently seized
his head; and, in his delirium, he raved of nothing but
the war with Mithridates: he imagined he had the com-
mand of it; and not only spoke, but made gestures, and
assumed the attitude of a man that fights, or of a genes
ral giving orders: so violept and incurable was the pas-
sion, 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 sufficed for seve-
ral kings, he lamented as one suffering indigence, and
How did he abuse it?—Describe the state of things in Rome.—What
disturbed Marius 7–How did he seek to drown care 7—What was his
fate 7
*
*. sº
44 AMBITion:
\ $º
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, Louis XIV., are treated as
great men, or as heroes, it holds forth the most flagrant
example of the weakness of mankind, who so little un-
derstand their interests, as to annex the idea of great-
ness and heroism to the fatal art of destroying their
species; and who can admit that such heroism can sub-
sist with vices most pernicious to society. *
To the foregoing examples I will only add that of Rome
itself, of which Marius was both the preserver and exe-
cutioner. What a dreadful situation was she in, amidst
all her prosperity and greatness! She is victorious over
all her enemies, and tyrannized Óver 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
caprice 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 practice of virtue; and that
virtue is much more the friend and companion of medi-
ocrity, than of too great an elevation of fortune.
sº-
What is said by Plutarch 2—What is said of Rome?—What is the
only means of attaining solid felicity ? º
~gº
, BENEFICENCE. 45
BENEFICENCE.
SENTIMENTS.
MAN is naturally a beneficent creature. The greatest
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. s º
- Defer not charities till death. He that doth so, is
rather liberal of another man's substance than of his owh.
To relieve the oppressed is the most glorious act a
man is capable of; it is in some measure doing the busi-
ness 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 circumstances
will answer our intended bounty; for there are some
who are generous to strangers, to the prejudice of them-
selves, their friends, and relations. -
We ought to consult the worth of the person whom
we have chosen for the object of our liberality. 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 is the
noblest part,
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; but it almost chokes
him in the going down. 3.
ur-
*.
What is said of Man?—Of charities?—What should regulate our
charities?—What is said of the manner of conferring them?
#6 BEAEFICENCE.
EXAMPLES.
WHEN the province of Azazene was ravaged by the
Romans, seven thousand Persians were brought prison-
ers to the city of Amida, where they fell into extreme
want. A cases, 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 sac
rifice, he would certainly be better pleased with the
rélief of these his creatures, than with being served with
gold and silver vessels in their churches. The clergy
entertained this notion not only with readiness, but with
applause ; sold all the consecrated vessels; and having
maintained the Persians during the war, sent the seven
thousand home at the conclusion of the peace, with
money in their pockets. Veranes, the Persian monarch,
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 Christians many
favours at his request.—Socrat. Hist. Eccles. lib. vii. c. 7.
PISISTRATUS, the Athenian, was exceedingly courteous
and affable, and as he was blessed with a fair estate, so
he was generous without profusion, and beneficent with-
out 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 proper sum, and buried the
other at his own expense. If he perceived people me-
lancholy, he inquired the cause, 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, JVot. in Vit. Solon. Plut.
“I have prodigious riches.” says Cyrus to his friends,
- “and I am glad the world knows it; but you may assure
g y y
What is related of Acases? — Of the clergy 7 — Of Veranes 7 — Of
* Pisistratus?—Of Cyrus 7
«
*
BENEFICENCE. 47
yourselves they are as much yours as mine. For to
what end should I heap up wealth? For my own use,
and consume it, myself! 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 faith-
fully; and to succour and relieve those that will acquaint
me with their wants and necessities.”—Xenoph. Cyr. 209.
PLINY, that excellent Roman orator, will be ever ad-
mired 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 beneficeaee and
good nature: Isshall, however, only mention the follow-
ing. 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
hand, satisfied every body else, and became his sole
creditor. When his friend died, his daughter Calvina
would have given up her father's effects; but Pliny, ex-
céllent man I generously forgave her what her father
owed him, and even contributed a considerable sum as "
an addition to her fortune when she was married.
ALFRED the Great, who was one of the best princes
England ever produced, divided his revenue 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; another
dedicated for religious houses of his own founding; a
third was given to the public schools; and the fourth
employed in ebuilding and repairing monasteries, and
other public foundations both at home and abroad. The
other moiety, devoted to secular uses, was likewise sub-
divided into thrée parts, one for the support of his house-
hold; the other for the payment of his workmen; and
Of Pliny ?—Of his friend?—Of Calvina 7–Of Alfred the Great?
48 BENEFICENCE.
the third for the entertainment and relief of strangers
who resorted to his court. — Hist. Eng.
* ? -
º * s:
THE honourable Mr. Boyle was a man of extensive
learning, one of the most exact inquirers 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 distinguished 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 be-
nevolence. But Mr. Boyle's generosity and beneficence
did not stop here; it was discovered in innumerable in-
stances relating to the external wants and distresses of
his fellow-creatures; and conferred too in such a man-
ner as enhanced their value. But these I shall omit, and
represent.him only as an example of beneficence in the
propagation of Christianity. “He was at the charge of
the translation and impression of the New Testament
Into the Malayan language, which he sent over all the
East Indies. He gave a noble reward to him that trans-
lated 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 countries where that language is
inderstood. He was resolved to have carried on the
impression of the New Testament in the Turkish lan-
guage; 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 ordered to be
What is said of Mr. Boyle's learning 7—His religion ?—His benefi-
cence?
*
BENEFICENCE. 49
distributed in Ireland; 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 hun-
dred 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 proposi-
tions for the like design in the East, he presently sent an
hundred pounds for a beginning and an example; but in-
tended to carry it much farther when it should be set on
foot to purpose. He had designed, though some acci-
dents did upon great consideration divert him from set-
tling 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 sermons, ºvery year
set forth the truth of the Christian religion, in general,
without descending to the subdivisions amongst Chris-
tians; 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 mas-
ters of the argument. — Life of Mr. Boyle, p. 36, 37.
It was a common saying of Julius Caesar, that no
music was so charming in his ears as the requests of
his friends, and the supplications of those in want of his
assistance. w -
"MARcus Aurelius 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,
Describe his exertions in spreading the knowledge of Christianity.—
What is said of Julius Caesar 7—Of Marcus Aurelius 7–Of Mark An,
tony ?—Of Cato ? f
:
- 5 e
50 CLEMENCY,
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. Per-
sons conscious of their own integrity, satisfied with
themselves, and their condition, and full of confidence in
a Supreme Being, and the hopes of immortality, survey
all about them with a flow of good-will; like trees which
love their soil, they shoot out in expressions of kindness,
and bend beneath their own precious load to the hand of
the gatherer.
C L E MEN C Y.
SENTIMENTS.
CLEMENCY is not only the privilege, the honour, and
the duty of a prince, but it is also his security, and bet-
ter than all his garrisons, forts, and guards, to preserve
himself and his dominions in safety. It is the brightest
jewel in a monarch's crown.
As meekness moderates anger, so clemency moderates
punishment.
That prince is truly royal who masters himself; looks
upon all injuries as below him; and governs by equity
and reason, not by passion.
Clemency is profitable for all; does well in private
persons, but is much more beneficial in princes.
Mischiefs contemned lose their force.
* EXAMPLES.
Avidius CASSIUs having revolted from the Emperor
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 Cas-
sius with the utmost severity. But the emperor, hèark-
ening only to the impulse of his own good-nature, re-
What is said of Clemency?—Of Avidius Gassius 7–Of Marcus Au.
relius —Of his wife?
*
CLEMENCY, 51
turned her the following answer: “I have read your
letter, my dear Faustina, wherein you advise me to
treat the accomplices of Cassius with the utmost sever-
ity, 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; and to write to the senate in their behalf. Nothing
can more recommend a Roman emperor to the esteem
of the world than clemency; this placed Caesar among
the gods; this consecrated Augustus; this procured to
your father the title of Pius. I am grieved even for the
death of Cassius, and wish it had been in my power to
save him. Be therefore satisfied, and do # abandon
yourself to º; Marcus Aurelius Antonius is pro-
tected by the gods.” Some of his friends openly bla-
ming his clemency, and taking the liberty to tell him
that Cassius would not have been so generous, had for-
tune proved favourable 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) de-
served the doom that overtook them; neither. Otho nor
Vitellius was equal to the empire; and the downfall of .
Galba was occasioned by his avarice, an unpardonable
fault in a prince.”— Vulcat. Gall p. 32.

WHEN Seleucus was informed of the resolution which
Demetrius had taken, viz. of resigning himself his prison-
er, he was exceedingly pleased, and having given the
necessary directions for the reception of so great a per-
son, 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
Of Aurelius's answer to her ?—What remarks did he make to his
friends?—What is related of Seleucus 7
£52 CLEMENCY.

safety, but mine, which hath been watchful for my glory.
I thank her more for this, than for all the favours she
hath done me, because I 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.
He 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 promises of liberty intermixed; and Seleu-
cus seemed inclined to have done much more for him,
had he not been over-ruled by the insinuations of his
ministers. — Plut. in Demet.

THE Council of Thirty, established at Athens by Ly-
sander, 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 thousand of the citizens
for that purpose, and at the same time disarmed all the
rest. The whole city was in the utmost terror and dis-
may. Whoever opposed 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; which the thirty tyrants divided among them-
selves. They put more people to death, says Xenophon,
in eight months of a peace, than their enemies had done
in a war of thirty years. All the citizens of any consi-
deration in Athens, and who retained a love of liberty,
quitted a place reduced to so hard and shameful a
slavery, and sought elsewhere an asylum and retreat,
where they might live in safety. At the 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 endeavour
to deprive those unhappy fugitives of this last resource.

What is related of the Thirty Tyrants?—Of the state of Athens?—
What is said by Xenophon ?—What was done by the Lacedemonians?
CLEMENCY. 53
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;
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 expense,
and sent them to the aid of the common country of elo-
quence. Thrasybulus lost no time. After having taken
Phyta, a small fort in Attica, he marched to Piraeus, of
which he made himself master. The thirty flew toge-
ther 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 cried out, “Wherefore do you fly
from me as from a victor, rather than assist me as the
avenger of your liberty! We are not enemies, but
fellow-citizens; nor have we declared war against the
city, but against the thirty tyrants.” . He continued with
bidding them to remember, that they had the same
origin, country, laws, and religion: he exhorted them
to compassionate their exiled brethren, to restore 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 flourishing, 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
By Megara and Thebes 7–By Lysias 7 — By Thrasybulus?— How
did he use his victory 7—What government was established at Athens !
What was the fate of the Thirty? \
5 *
54 .* CLEMENCY.
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 obli-
vion. The government was re-established upon its
ancient footing, 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 benevolence,
and has served as a model to successive ages in all good
governments.
Never had tyranny been more cruel than that which
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 license and impunity 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 divisions, 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 render it important services from the view of
making amends for past behaviour.
LEoNIDAs, the Lacedemonian, having, with three hun-
dred men only, disputed the pass of . Thermopylae,
against the whole army of Xerxes, and being killed in
that engagement, Xerxes, by the advice of Mardonius,
one of his generals, caused his dead body to be hung
*—
How did Thrasybulus proceed?—What is said by Rollin?—Of the
Athenians?—Of Thrasybulus?—Of Leonidas?—Of Mardonius?
j
CLEMENCY. 55
upon a gallows, making thereby the intended dishonour
of his enemy his own immortal shame. But some time
after, Xerxes being defeated, and Mardonius slain, one
of the principal citizens of Ægina came and addressed
himself to Pausanias, desiring him to avenge the indig-
nity that Mardonius and Xerxes had shown to Leonidas,
by treating Mardonius's body after the same manner.
As a farther motive for doing so, he added, that by thus
satisfying the manes of those who were killed at Ther-
mopylae he would be sure to immortalize his own name
throughout all Greece, and make his memory precious
to the latest posterity. “Carry thy base counsels else-
where,” 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 Ægina is not to be purchased
but by such a proceeding, I shall be content with pre-
serving that of the Lacedemonians only; 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. ix. 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 power-
ful, and formed several great enterprises.
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 related of it; and
still more for the sacred nature of the 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 superior power; and especially for slaves who were
*
—ºmº-
Of Pausanias 7–0f Deucetius–Of Palicia?
56 CLEMENCY. *
unjustly abused or cruelly treated by their masters.
They continued in safety in this temple, till certain arbi-
ters and mediators had made their peace; and there
was not a single instance of a master's having forfeited
'the promise he had made to pardon his slaves.
This Deucetius, after having been successful on a
great many occasions, and gained several victories, par-
ticularly over the Syracusians, saw his fortune change
on a sudden by the loss of a battle, when he was aban-
doned by the greatest part of his forces. In the conster-
nation and despondency into which so general and sud-
den 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 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 peo-
ple to it. The magistrates immediately convened the
people, and debated on the affair. They first heard the
orators, whose business was generally to address the
people by their speeches; and these animated them pro-
digiously 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 represented, “That they
were not to consider what punishment Deucetius de-
served; 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, especially of cruelty and impiety; and who,
doubtless, would not suffer that to go unpunished; that
What misfortunes befel Deucetius'—Where did he take refuge?—
What did his enemies wish 7–What was the opinion of the wisest
... sendtors 7
ULEMENCY. 57
besides the baseness and inhumanity there is in insulting
the unfortunate, and in crushing those who are already
under one's foot, it was worthier the grandeur and good-
ness 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 ordered to
reside in Corinth; and the Syracusians engaged to fur-
nish Deucetius with all things necessary for his subsist-
ing honourably there. What reader, who compares
these two different opinions, does not perceive which of
them was the noblest and most generous?
e Diod. p. 67.70.

THE Athenians having made war upon the Syracu-
sians, 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 great-
est authority among the people, 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; 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 ex-
ceedingly disgusted all wise and compassionate Syracu-
sians. Hermocrates, who was very famous for his pro-
bity and justice, attempted to make some remonstrances
to the people, Tbut they would not hear him; and the
shouts which echoed from all sides prevented him from
continuing his speech. At that instant, an ancient 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
What was the result 7—What is related of the Athenians at Syracuse?
58 CLEMENCY.
for harangues, 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 Syracusian the fatal
effects of this war, by the death of two sons, who form-
ed all the consolation, and were the only supports of my
old age. I cannot, indeed, forbear admiring their cou-
rage and felicity in sacrificing to their country's welfare
a life which they would one day have been deprived of
by the common 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 unhappy
war, as the murderers of my children. But, however,
I cannot conceal one circumstance, which is, that I am
less sensible of private afflictions, than for the honour
of my country; and I see it exposed to eternal infamy,
by the barbarous advice which is now given you. The
Athenians, indeed, merit the worst kind of treatment
that could be inflicted on them, for so unjustly declaring
war against us; but have not the gods, the just avengers
of crimes, punished them, and avenged us sufficiently?
When their generals laid down their arms, and surren-
dered, did they not do this in hopes of having their lives
spared? And if we put them to death, will it be possible
for us to avoid the just reproach of our having violated
the law of nations, and dishonoured our victory by un-
heard-of cruelty? What! will you suffer your glory to
be thus sullied in the face of the whole world; 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, the
using moderation in the greatest prosperity, and the
fearing to offend the gods, by a haughty and insolent
pride. With º 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. l. xiii. p. 149.
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King Alfred's Clemency..









CLEMENCY. 61
ONE of the most skilful and obstinate of all the ancient
Danish leaders was called Hastings. Like his country-
men he was fierce, and so brave as to be fond of danger.
The ships in which his followers had invaded France,
and afterwards invaded England, were their homes.
Battles were their joy, and quiet was painful to them.
During three years Hastings kept the south of England,
and the whole country between the Thames and the
Severn, in a continual state of terror and warfare.
Twice king Alfred took his wife and sons; the first
time he caused the boys to be baptized, and sent them
back again to their father, who promised to leave Eng-
land. But these Danes or Northmen despised all faith
with an enemy; they lived only to fight; fierceness they
thought a virtue, and the only virtue worthy of reve-
rence. Again Alfred's thanes or noblemen took all the
family of this northern pirate or sea-robber, and again
the king delivered them up under promises that Hastings
would leave England, which promises he never fulfilled.
At last finding that king Alfred never left him one mo-
ment unwatched, but followed him and fought with him
wherever he went, Hastings determined to leave Eng-
land with his defeated and lessened army. He resolved
however, in the first place, to attack the eastern coast
of the country by sea, and to pillage it.
But Alfred knew that the best way of defending Eng-
land from the Danes was to prevent them from landing,
and to attack and destroy them in their ships. He
therefore had vessels built larger than those used in
England before his time. They would certainly be
thought poor ships now, for they were more like light
sloops with many oars. Until Alfred's reign the kings
of England had no fleet; but Alfred used these ships, as
the fleet is used now in the time of war, to watch the
shore, and prevent enemies from coming near it.
Alfred's fleet pursued Hastings, and after a long fight,
What is said of Hastings?—The Danes —Alfred ?—The North-
men? – Of Alfred's thanes 7–The king's clemency 7 – Hastings?—
Alfred's mode of defence?
**s
6
(52 COMPASSION.
.*
with the aid of a tempest, scattered his vessels; and this
Dane went over to France, never again to disturb Eng-
land by his cruelty and rapine—Historical Pictures.
COMPASSIO N.
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 occa-
sions; so that the services we do the unfortunate are in
reality so many anticipated kindnesses to ourselves.
Compassion proper to mankind appears,
Which Nature witness'd when she lent us tears;
To show by pitying looks, and melting eyes,
How with a suffering friend we sympathize.
Who can all sense of others' ills escape,
Is but a brute, at best, in human shape.
EXAMPLES.
THE Sicilians in general exercised a kind of tyranny
over their slaves; 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
Fº and let. out early in the morning to their daily
abour in the fields; though, at the same time, they
were scarcely allowed the necessary provisions to sup-
port themselves. On the other hand, Megallis, the wife
of Damophilus, was no less cruel towards the slaves of
her sex, exacting their tasks with insupportable rigour,
and causing them to be unmercifully whipped for the
least fault. These two tyrants had a daughter, who was
What is compassion?—What is related of Damophilus 7–Of his
wife?—Of his daughter 7
COMPASSION. 63
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 furi-
ous mother; supplied, as far as she was able, the wants
of the necessitous; 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
woman. The oppressed slaves, not being able to bear
any longer the unspeakable miseries they groaned under,
entered into a plot against the authors of them. On the
day appointed, the slaves in the city joined their com-
rades in the country, to the number of four hundred, on
Damophilus's estate, armed with forks, hooks, and other
instruments of husbandry; and marching directly to
Enna, 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 circumstances of barbarity;
however, they treated the daughter with all the humani-
ty and respect due to her virtue; so true it is that good-
ness commands regard, even from the most furious.
Ennus, being now master of Enna, assembled the slaves
he commanded 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 Danophilus
was endeavouring to raise compassion, and some began
to show 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 despatched him. His
wife, Megallis, was sentenced to be delivered up to the .
slaves of her own sex, whom she had treated without
mercy. These furies set no bounds to their cruelty; in-
flicted on their mistress every torment that revenge could
Of his slaves?—How did they execute their plot ?—How was Damo.
philus treated?—His wife?
64 COMPASSION.
invent; at length, after having satiated their rage, threw
her down a precipice, and put an end to her unhappy
life. As for the daughter, she was treated with the
utmost respect, conducted with the unanimous consent
of all to Catena, and there delivered untouched into the
hands of her relations—Liv. Epit. l. lvi.-Diod. Sic, in
Excerpt. .
WESPASIAN, the Roman emperor, was so far from seek-
ing the destruction of any man, that he could not be-
hold, 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 hap-
pened among these women to perceive one who appear-
ed in deeper affliction than the rest, and who by a
modest, and at the same time, a noble confusion, disco-
vered a greater reluctance than the others to appear in
public. She was a perfect beauty; 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 inquiring 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 married
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 condition to which she was re-
duced, not only gave her her liberty, but returned all her
possessions, and caused her husband to be sought for,
in order that she might be restored to him.—-Q. Curt.
l. vi. c. 6. f
As Alexander drew near the city of Persepolis, he
perceived a large body of men, who exhibited a memo-
His daughter?—What is said of Vespasian —Of Alexander 7—What
did Alexander find at Persepolis 7 º
COMPASSION. * 65
rable example of the greatest misery. These were
about four thousand Greeks, very far advanced 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 been cut off, the feet of others,
and others again had lost their noses and ears; after
which the Persians having impressed by fire barbarous
characters on their faces, had the inhumanity to keep
them as so many laughing-stocks, with which they
sported perpetually. They appeared like so many
shadows rather than men; speech being almost the only
thing by which they were known to be such. Alexander
could not refrain from tears at this sight; and, as they
unanimously besought him to commiserate their condi-
tion, he bid them with the utmost tenderness not to
despond; and assured them, that they should again see
their wives and native country. This proposal, which
one might have supposed should naturally have filled
them with joy, seemed to heighten their misery; 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 re-
duced; a condition still more shameful than dissatis-
factory ! 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 already ac-
customed to their misfortunes. Alexander granted their
request; and presented to each of them three thousand
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 commanded the governor of
the province not to suffer them to be molested in any
manner; and ordered that they should be free from
taxes and tributes of every kind. Such behaviour as

What did he offer them 7–What was their answer ?—How were they
disposed of?
*
6 #
66 CONSCIENCE
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. *
WoLTAIRE, 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 pro-
mised that during her reign nobody shouki be put to
death; and she has kept her word. She is the first
sovereign that ever showed this regard 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; 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 chastisement
and hard labour, renewed every day.”

Co N S CIENCE.
SENTIMENTs.
Most men are afraid of a bad name, but few fear
their consciences. - *
. The severest punishment of an injury is the conscious-
ness of having done it; 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 anywhere else.
No man ever offended his own conscience, but first or
last it was revenged upon him.
~€
*
What is said of the Czarina of Russia 7—What remarks are made
on Conscience 2 -
*º-f
aſ k.
*
• "
conscience. 67
Even you yourself, to your own breast, shall tell your
crimes; and your own conscience be your hell.
*
EXAMPLES.
THE caliph Montaser having caused his father to be
put to death; some time after, looking over the rich
furniture in the palace, and causing several pieces of
tapestry to be opened before him, that he might examine
them the more exactly; among the rest, he met with one
which had in it the figure of 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 caliph, charmed with the beauty of the
tapestry, sent for a Persian who understood the ancient
Persic, and desired him to explain that inscription. The
man read it, changed colour, and, after some hesitation,
told the caliph it was a Persic song, and had nothing in
it worth hearing. The prince, however, would not be
put off; he readily perceived there was something in it
extraordinary; and therefore he commanded the inter-
preter 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 1
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
perfectly well attested.— Univ. Hist, vol. xi. p. 197.
A JEwBLLER, 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 occa-
sion to dismount on the road, the servant, watching his
Tell the story of caliph Montaser ?—Of the servant that murdered his
master?
s
68 CONSCIENCE.
-
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 hanging 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 observa-
tion, and in the course of a good many years, seemed to
rise by the natural progress of business into wealth and
consideration; so that his good fortune appeared at once
the effect and reward of industry and virtue. Of these
he counterfeited the appearance so well, that he grew
into great credit, married into a good family, and by
laying out his sudden stores discreetly, as he saw occa-
sion, 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 cho-
sen 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; till one day as he sate
on the bench with some of his brethren, a criminal was
brought before him, who was accused 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. Meanwhile, he appeared to be in unusual
disorder and agitation of mind; 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' concealment, presents to you
a greater criminal than the man just now found guilty.”
Then he made an ample confession of his guilt, and of
How was his conscience awakened?
CONSTANCY. 69
all its aggravations. “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. How-
ever, they proceeded, upon his confession, to pass sen-
tence upon him, and he died with all the symptoms of
a penitent mind.
Mr. D. Fordyce, in his Dialogues on Education, vol.
ii. p. 401, says-the above is a true story, and happened
in a neighbouring state not many years ago. -
HERoD having put to death his wife Mariamne, from
an ill-grounded suspicion of infidelity, soon after grew
melancholy and dejected, retiring from the public admin-
istration of affairs into a solitary forest, and there aban-
doning 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; and in all
probability would soon have followed her, had not his
thoughts been called off from so sad an object by pub-
lic storms, which at that time very nearly threatened
him. — Josephus. w:
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.
C O N S T A N C Y.
SENTIMENTS.
CoNSTANCY of mind gives a man reputation, and makes
him happy in despite of all misfortunes.
What was the result 7—What is said of Herod 7–Of Alexander?—
Of Nero?—What remarks are made on constancy?
70 constancy.
There is not on earth a spectacle more worthy the
regard of the Creator, intent on his works, than a brave
man superior to his sufferings.
What can be more honourable than to have courage
enough to execute the commands of reason and con-
science; 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; to avoid them; 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 offspring of the Deity.
“He lives in fame who dies in Virtue's cause.”
ExAMPLEs.
AFTER the Carthagenians had defeated the Roman
army, and taken Regulus, that illustrious commander, pri-
soner, they met with such a series of misfortunes as in-
duced 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 Regulus's confinement; and endea-
voured to engage him to go to Rome with their ambassa-
dors, 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 upon a solemn oath, to
return to his chains, if the negotiation did not succeed.
The Carthaginian ship arrived säfe in Italy: but when
Regulus came to the gates of the city, he refused 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 Marcia went out
to ineet him, and presented to him 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
wº-
Tell the story of Regulus's constancy.
CONSTANCY, 71
*-
embraces of his wife, and the caresses of his children.
When the senators assembled in the suburbs, with the
view of receiving him, he was introduced to them with
the Carthaginian ambassadors: and, together with them,
made the two proposals wherewith 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 fathers. In
vain the Senate pressed him to stay. He gave his
opinion as an old senator and counsel, and refused to
continue in the assembly till his African mastesseerdered
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 follow-
ing words:–“Though I am a slave at Carthage, yet I
am free at Rome; and will therefore declare my senti-
ments with freedom. Romans l it is not for your interest
either to grant the Carthaginians a peace, or to make an
exchange of prisoners with them. Carthage is extreme-
ly exhausted; 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; a fault which Metellus has repaired by a
signal victory. But the Carthaginians have been so
often overcome, that they have 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 mercenaries, who have no other tie than that of
interest, and will soon be disobliged by the republic they
serve; Carthage being already quite destitute of money
to pay them. No, Romans, peace with Carthage does
not, by any means, suit your interest, considering the
condition to which the Carthaginians are reduced; I
What did he say to the Senate?
72 CONSTANCY.
therefore advise you to pursue the war with greater
vigour than ever. As for the exchange of prisoners,
you have among the Carthaginian captives several offi-
cers of distinétion, who are young, and may one day
command the enemies' armies; 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 disinte-
restedness, 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 extort-
ed 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 reserved for him at Carthage; but that he had so
much of the true spirit of a Roman, as to dread less the
tortures of a cruel rack than the shame of a dishonour-
able 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 a 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 leave of him.
Amidst the lamentations and tears of the whole city, he
embarked with the Carthaginian ambassadors, to return
to the place of his slavery, with as serene and cheerful
a countenance as if he had been going to a country-seat
for his diversion. The Carthaginians were so enraged
How did they try to detain him 7—How was he treated by the Cartha-
ginians?
CONSTANCY. 73
against him, that they invented new torments to satisfy
their revenge. First they cut off his eye-lids; keeping
him for a while in a dark dungeon, and then bringin
him out, and exposing him to the sun at noon-day. After
this they shut him up in a kind of chest, stuck with
nails, having their points inwards, so that he could
neither sit nor lean without great torment; and there
they suffered him to die with hunger, anguish, and want
of sleep. — Val. Max. lib. i. c. i., and lib. ix. c. 2. Liv.
Epit. c. xviii. Cic. de Offic. lib. iii. A. Gellius, lib. iv.
Agis, the colleague of Leonidas in the government 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 sublimity of his virtues, not only
exceeded Leonidas, who reigned with him, but all the
kings of Sparta, from king Agesilaus. He was of a
very handsome person, and of a graceful behaviour;
yet, to check 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; yet, before the age of twenty-
four, he so far overcame himself, as to renounce effemi-
nate pleasures. In his diet, bathings, and in all his ex-
ercises, he chose to imitate the old Lycurgic frugality
and temperance; 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, who were equally willing to bring about
the great design he had formed of thoroughly reforming
the state, now sunk into luxury and debauch. For this
purpose attempts were made; and so far succeeded, that
Leonidas thought it advisable to abdicate the throne.
But Agesilaus, from interested views, acted so precipi-
tately, that, while Agis was leading a body of Spartan
What was the character of Agi. 7—Of Leonidas 7
7 -
74 CONSTANCY.
troops to the assistance of the Achaeans, a conspiracy
was formed for restoring Leonidas, 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 drag-
ged 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 to
alter the government?” At which he smiled, without
affording an answer; which provoked one of the Ephori
to tell him, “That he ought rather to weep; for they
would make him sensible of his presumption.” Another
asked him, “Whether he was not constrained to do what
he did by Agesilaus and Lysander?” To which the
king, with a composed 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 ordered
him to be taken away, and strangled. The officers of
justice refused to obey, and even the mercenary soldiers
declined so unworthy an action. Whereupon Democha-
res, 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 be-
wailing his misfortune: “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 submit-
ted with a constancy worthy both of the royal dignity,
and his own great character. Immediately after Agis
was dead, Amphares went out of the prison-gate, where
he found Agesistrata; who kneeling at his feet he gently
How did he supplant Agis 7 —Bow did he take him 7–What was
Agis's conduct before the Ephorit—At his last hours?
CONSTANCY. 75
raised her up, pretending still the same friendship as for-
merly. He assured her she need not fear any further
violence should be offered against her son; and that if
she pleased she might go in and see him. She begged
her mother might have also the favour of being ad-
mitted: 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 had now grown very old, and
had lived all her days in great reputation for wisdom
and virtue. As soon as Amphares thought she was des-
patched, he told Agesistratus 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 specta-
cle; 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; 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 P’
Amphares, who stood watching behind the door, rushed
in hastily, 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 tears from the execu-
tioner. — Plut. in Agid.
C O U R A G E.
SENTIMENTS.
THAT man only is truly brave who fears nothing so
much as doing a shameful action; and that dares reso-
How was his mother-in-law treated 7–His wife?—What remarks are
made on courage 7
*s.
76 & COURAGE.
lutely and undauntedly go where his duty, how danger-
ous soever it is, may call him. e
Perfect courage consists in doing, without witnesses,
all we should be capable of doing before the whole world.
Courage without conduct is like fancy without judg-
ment; all sail, and no ballast.
“To die or conquer proves a hero's heart.”
EXAMPLES.
PortsBNNA, 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 banished for their
cruelty and oppression, sent proposals to the senate for
that purpose; 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
numbers, prepared to fight. The two armies being en-
gaged fought with great bravery, and long contended
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 a passage to the ene-
my, if Rome had not found, in the heroic courage of one
of her citizens, a bulwark as strong as the highest walls.
Publius Horatius was the man, surnamed Cocles, 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;
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
What is said of Porsemma 7—The battle 7—The retreat?—The con-
duct of Horatius 7
COURAGE. 77
Romans followed his example, and partook of his dan-
ger; nay, when he saw but a few planks of the bridge
remaining, he obliged them to retire, and to save them-
selves. Standing alone against a whole army, but pre-
serving his intrepidity, he even dared to insult his nume-
rous enemies; and cast terrible looks upon the principal
Hetrurians, one while challenging them to single combat,
and then bitterly reproaching them all. “Wile slaves
that you are,” said he, “not satisfied with being unmind-
ful of your own, ye are come to deprive others of their
liberty who have had the courage to assume it.” Cover-
ed with his buckler, he sustained a shower of darts; and
at last, when they were all preparing to rush upon him,
the bridge was entirely demolished, and Cocles, throw-
ing 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
conspicuous part of the Forum. As much land was
given him as he could surround with a plough in a day. .
All the inhabitants, both men and women, contributed
to his reward; and in the midst of a dreadful scarcity,
almost every person in the city, depriving themselves of
a part of their subsistence, made him a present of pro-
visions.— Liv. lib. ii. c. 11.


WHILE the Romans were at war with the Gauls (A. B.
394.) the latter advanced as far as the banks of the river
Anio, within three miles of Rome. The Romans march-
ed against them; the two armies continued some time
in sight of each other, without coming to action, sepa-
rated 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; the success of our
combat shall determine which is the most valiant nation.”
His extraordinary size and fierce looks struck the Romans
sº
His reward 7–What is said of the Romans and Gauls f
#
78 COURAGE.
*
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 page 22,) touched with a just
sense of the affront offered to the Roman name, quitted
his post, and flying to the dictator, asked leave to en-
counter the enemy: “Though I were sure of victory,”
says he, “I would not fight this proud Gaul without your
order; but if you will give me leave, I will make this
huge boaster know, that I am of the blood of that Man-
lius whose valour proved so fatal to the Gauls in the
Capitol.” The dictator, who had been very uneasy that
no Roman had accepted the challenge before, readily
complied with the request of the brave youth. “Go,
Manlius,” said he, “and humble the pride of this insult-
ing enemy; revenge the cause of the city where 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
Roman 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 show 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,
stabbed him in two places, 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; and hence he got the name of Tor-
quatus, which he transmitted to his posterity. The event
Describe the conduct of young Manlius—The combat—The spoil.
COURAGE. 79
of this combat so discouraged the Gauls, that they aban-
doned their camp in the night, and retired into Campania.
Livy, lib. ii. p. 11.
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,” replied Cy-
rus; “at the time that I am endeavouring to make my-
self king, would you have me show myself unworthy
of being so?” . That wise and generous answer proved
that he knew the duty of a general, especially on a day
of battle. Had he withdrawn when his presence was
most necessary, it would have argued his want of cou-
º and intimidated others. — Xenoph. in. Exped. Cyr.
1O. l.

XERXEs, having ascended the throne of Persia, em-
ployed the first year of his reign in carrying on the pre- .
º”. begun by his father for the reduction of Egypt.
uffed 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 Scriptures, we ought to call, with great propriety,
Robbers 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; that was ever satisfied with
his past conquests, or that was not forming, some new
project or enterprise, when death surprised him? Nor
ought we to be astonished at such a disposition,” adds
the same author; “for ambition is a gulf, and a bot-
tomless 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.” &

—º-
What is related of Cyrus —Of Xerxes —Of the Persian kings?
80 COURAGE.
The war being resolved upon, Xerxes, that he might
omit nothing which could contribute to the success of
his undertaking, entered into a confederacy, with the
Carthaginians. The Carthaginians fade Amilcar their
general, who did not content himself with raising as many
troops as he could in Africa, but engaged a great num-
ber of soldiers out of Spain, Gaul, and Italy, in his ser-
vice: so that he collected an army of three hundred
thousand 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 assembled all the
men in his kingdom that were fit to bear arms; for when
he arrived at Thermopylae, his land and sea forces
together made up the number of two millions, six hun-
dred and forty-one thousand, six hundred and ten men,
without including servants, women, sutlers, and other
people of that sort, which usually follow an army, and
whose number, according to Herodotus, Plutarch, and
Isocrates, was equal to that of the forces. This pro-
digious armament struck such a panic into almost 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 Persians, in order to dispute their entrance into
Greece. One cannot see, without the utmost astonish-
ment, with what a handful of troops the Grecians deter-
mined to oppose the innumerable army of Xerxes. All
their forces joined together, says Pausanias, amounted
only to eleven thousand two hundred men.
Thermopylae is a strait or narrow pass of Mount CEta,
between Thessaly and Phocis, not more than twenty-five
feet broad; which, therefore, might be defended by a
small number of forces, and which was the only way
Of Xerxes's war against Greece —His army?—Its effect on the
Greets?—The conduct of the Lacedemonians and Athenians ?
COURAGE, SI
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 ene-
my: the person who commanded it was Leonidas, one
of the two kings of Sparta.
Xerxes continued his march through Thrace, Ma-
cedonia, and Thessaly, every thing giving way before
him, till he came to the Strait of Thermopylae. Here
he was strangely surprised to find that Leonidas, with
only four thousand men, attempted to dispute 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 a handful of men. He sént 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 en-
trenchments, and that they were diverting themselvess
with military exercises, and combing their hair. This
was the Spartari manner of preparing for battle. Xerxes,
still entertaining some hopes of their flight, waited four
days, on purpose to give them time to retreat. In this
interval of time, he used his utmost endeavours to gain
Leonidas, by making him magnificent promises, and as-
suring him that he would make him master of all Greece,
if he would come over to his party. Leonidas rejected
his proposal with scorn and indignation. Xerxes having
afterwards written to him to deliver up his arms, Leon-
idas, in a style and spirit truly laconical, answered him
in these words, Come and take them. Nothing now re-
mained, but to prepare themselves to engage the Lace-
demonians. 4.
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 showed, says Herodotus, that Xerxes had a
Thermopylae 7—Who defended it?—Xerxes' arrival there?—His pro-
posal to Leonidas?—The result?—The battles?
82 COURAGE.
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 extremely
perplexed, and could not tell what resolution to take,
when an inhabitant of the country came to him, and dis-
covered a secret path at the top of an eminence, which
overlooked and commanded the Spartan army. He
quickly despatched a detachment thither, which, march-
ing all night, arrived there at the break of day, and pos-
sessed themselves of that advantageous post. The
Greeks were soon apprized of this misfortune. They
now saw it was impossible to repulse the enemy, or es-
cape with life if they engaged them. Leonidas (know-
ing 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
- resolved to die with their leader. Looking, now upon
Thermopylae as their burying-place, the king desired his
men to take some refreshment; 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 kin
to battle. The shock was exceedingly violent and bloody.
Leonidas himself was the first that fell. Their endea-
vours to defend the 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 country, and no-
body would keep company or converse with him; but,
soon after, he made glorious amends for his fault at the
battle of Plataea. .
. Thus ended this celebrated contest of Thermopylae;
where, though the Persians had the honour of killing
three hundred Spartans on the spot; yet this was not

The treachery 7—The desperate resolution?—The final action?
COURAGE. 83
3btained 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, and not of a wise and noble conduct. But
Diodorus Siculus has taken care to inform us otherwise;
for Leonidas, says he, knowing that Xerxes marched at
the head of all the forces of the East, in order to over-
whelm 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 dispute the
victory with them; that it was therefore necessary to
point out to Greece another means of safety and preser-
vation, whilst she was under these alarms; and that
they ought to show 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 :
true courage and bravery against blind impetuosity; the
love of liberty against tyrannical oppression; and a few
disciplined veteran troops, against a confused multitude,
though ever so numerous. These brave Lacedemonians
thought it became them, who were the choicest soldiers
of the chief people of Greecc, to devote themselves to
certain death, in order to make the Persians sensible
how difficult it is to reduce freemen to slavery; and to
teach the rest of Greece, by their example, either to
vanquish or perish. The event showed the justice of
their sentiments. That illustrious example of courage
astonished the Persians, and gave new spirit and vigour
to the Greeks. The lives, then, of this heroic leader, and
his brave troops, were not thrown away, but usefully
employed; 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
What was the beneficial effect of this affair 7
84 COURAGE.
seed of their ensuing victories; which made the Per-
sians for ever afterwards lay aside all thoughts of at-
tacking 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;
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 who made the first
attempt of that kind with success. Agesilaus afterwards
pushed the design so far, that he made the great mon-
arch tremble in his palace of Susa. And Alexander, at
last, accomplished it with incredible facility.— Rollin’s
Ant. Hist, vol. iii. p. 202—236.
I Do not recollect any example of courage and intre-
idity, all things considered, more similar to that which
have just now related, than in the resolute 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 was the arbitrary sovereign of the
East Indies: and besides him there were many Indian
princes, who were permitted to enjoy their respective
sovereignties, without molestation, on condition that
they paid the stipulated tribute, and did not infringe any
of the articles of the treaties by which they or their
ancestors acknowledged the sovereignty of the Great
Mogul. These Indian princes are called Rajahs, i. e.
Kings. More than one half of the empire of Indostan,
or, as it is now more generally written, Hindostan, (pro-
perly called India) was then subject to these Rajahs, of
which some were princes of very small territories; and
others, as also the kings of Mysore and Tanjore, pos-
sessed dominions larger than those of the kings of Prus-
sia and Portugal. A very large army, ready to move at
the first warning, was found necessary to overawe and
be a check on the Rajahs; the same force divided under
Who was the great Mogul?—His tributaries?—What made a large
army necessary for the Great Mogul ?—Who were the Rajahs?
COURAGE. 85
several distinct commanders, would have been ineffectual.
Hence it was necessary to give a large tract of country
to the government of a single officer; or to relinquish
the design of extending the dominion. Another branch
of the duty of this officer is to collect the annual revenues
of the crown, and pay them to the Saubahdah, or Mo-
gul's viceroy, who remits them to the treasury of the
empire; and to attend him in all his military expeditions
within his viceroyalty. These officers are now well
known in Europe by the title of nabob, which signifies
deputy, though originally they were no more than com-
manders of a body of forces, were frequently called to
court, kept there, or translated to another government,
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 ac-
quiring a stability in their governments little less than
absolute; 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 apparent to an hereditary do-
minion. The nabobship being thus attended with so
much power, honour, and profit, the right of succession
became an affair of importance, and it has given rise
to disputes and wars as cruel and bloody as any recorded
in history. The English and French who had settlements
in this parf of the world, 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
º. and, in the course of the war, Captain
(afterwards Lord) Clive, who had many times before
distinguished himself in a very extraordinary manner.
proposed to attack the possessions of Chunda-saheb in
the territory of Arcot, and offered to lead the expedition
The nabobs 7—Their disputes ?—That between Chunda Saheb and
Mahomed Ally 7—The French and English 7–Lord Clive?
8
86 COURAGE.
himself. His whole force, when completed, consisted of
no more than three hundred sepoys, and two hundred
Europeans, with eight officers; six of whom had never
before been in action, and feur of these six were young
men in the mercantile service of the company, who, in-
flamed by his example, took up the sword to follow him.
This handful of men, with only three pieces for their
artillery, marched from Madras on the 20th of August,
1751. On the 31st he halted within ten miles of Arcot;
where the enemies' spies reported, that they had discov-
ered the English marching, with unconcern, through a
violent storm of thunder, lightning, and rain; and this
circumstance, from their notion of omens, gave the gar-
rison so high an opinion of the approaching enemy, that
they instantly abandoned the fort; and, a few hours after,
the English entered the city, and marching through an
hundred thousand spectators, took possession of the
fort, which was inhabited by between three and four
thousand persons. The merchants had, for security,
deposited in the fort effects to the value of 50,000l. but
these were punctually restored to the owners; 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 be-
ginning 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 diminished
to an hundred and twenty Europeans, and two hundred
sepoys. These were besieged by an hundred and fifty
French, two thousand sepoys, three thousand cavalry,
and five thousand peons. The English sustained the
attack with invincible resolution. On the 30th of Octo-
ber, Rajah-saheb, who conducted the operations of the
siege for his father, Chunda-saheb, sent a flag of truce,
with proposals for the surrender of the fort. He offered
honourable terms to the garrison, and a large sum of
His force 7–When did he march 7–The affair of the fort?—The
merchants 7–The Siege?—What happened October 30th —The offer?
COURAGE. - S7
money to Captain Clive; adding, that if his terms were
not accepted, he would storm the fort immediately, and
put every man to the sword. Captain Clive, in his
answer, reflecting on the badness of Chunda-saheb's
cause, treated the offers of money with contempt; and
said, that he had too good an opinion of Rajah-saheb's
º to believe that he would attempt a storm, until
e had got better soldiers than the rabble of which his
army was composed. Exasperated by this answer, he
immediately prepared to storm the fort. Besides a mul-
titude that came with ladders to every part of the wall
that was accessible, there appeared four principaldivisions,
two of which advanced to the two gates, and two were
allotted to the breaches. In these different attaeks the
enemy continued the storm for an hour, when they re-
linquished 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; and these, besides serving
five pieces of cannon, fired twelve thousand musket car-
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 re-
newed 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 difficulties
and dangers only served to increase the courage 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 precipi-
tation. sº
The defiance?—The assault?—The loss on each side?—Why was the
siege raised?
88 • COURAGE.
Thus ended this siege, maintained fifty days under
every disadvantage of situation and force, by a handful
of men in their first campaign, with a spirit worthy of
the most veteran troops; and conducted by their young
commander with indefatigable activity, unshaken con-
stancy, 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 JMilitary
Transactions of the British Nation in Indostan.

Edward the Black Prince died during the reign of his
father Edward III., and Richard II., the son of Edward
the Black Prince, succeeded his grandfather. He was
only eleven years old when Edward III. died, and he
became a weak, worthless, and cruel young man.
The nobles who made King John sign Magna Charta,
did a great deal to make the people free; but there still
remained in England a large number of men who were
called Villains. Villain now means a bad man, but at
first it only meant a low man, a labourer or dweller in
a vill, or village, as it is now called. The labourers
from the time of the Saxons had been bondmen: they
were sold with the land, which they could not quit with-
out leave of their landlords. Instead of paying a fixed
rent, they were obliged to do service for their land. This
service consisted in working a certain number of days
in the year on their lords' farms or houses, neglecting
their own land during the harvest, or whatever their own
need might be. They could not take corn to be ground
except at the lord’s mill; they could not take their goods
to sell at market without paying a heavy toll; and there
was nobody sent by them to parliament, to make laws
to protect them from oppression. The tilling the fields
How long was it?—What is said of this 2—Who succeeded Edward
III., of England 7—What is said of the nobles?—The villains?—Tha
bondmen?—Their service 7
COURAGE. 89
for the owners of the land, who were called their lords,
was considered a base and degrading service. Tenants
of a higher class were also bound to do service to their
lords for their land, as knights and barons were bound
to do service to the king; but this knight service consist-
ed in following their lords or the king in war, which in
those savage times was thought nearly the only honour-
able occupation.
These things made the people very discontented; and
as in all such cases, a very little matter made them rebel,
or fight against the king. *
A tax-gatherer at Maidstone behaved ill to the daugh-
ter of a tiler, who lived there, and attacked the father,
who killed him on the spot. The people sided with the
tiler, armed themselves with staves and pitchforks, and
some with bows and a few rusty arrows, and, being
joined by the workmen of Essex, came up in vast num-
bers to London. There they acted very cruelly and
foolishly, killing all the clergymen, all the noblemen, all,
the foreigners, and all the lawyers they could find; but
they did not act more cruelly than the Black Prince had,
without cause, behaved in Spain and France, or than
Richard II. and his counsellors treated them afterwards.
Their leader took the name of Wat Tyler, and they
were much moved by the preaching of a priest named
John Ball, who seems to have been a brave man and
sincere; he talked and wrote very good sense to them,
and made rhymes which they could easily remember.
King Richard sent Sir John Newton, a knight, to Wat
Tyler, entreating him to come and talk to the king about
the demands of the people. Wat Tyler followed. Sir
John to Smithfield, where the king was, who again sent
Sir John to know his requests. Wat Tyler, seeing the
knight come to him on horseback, told him that it would
better become him to be on foot in his presence, and
they drew their daggers; but the king bade Sir John
Knight service 7—What caused the bondmen to rebel?—Who was
their leader ? — What is said of the king 7–Of Wat Tyler ?— Of Sir
John Newton 7 g t
8 + * *
90 CRUELTY.
f
Newton to alight, and deliver his dagger to Wat Tyler.
The rebel was not, however, softened by this; for he
was made bold by success, by the multitude around him,
and by his trust in the king. Then William Walworth,
mayor of London, obtained leave from the king to seize
him; and riding forward with the knights who attended
the king, the mayor struck Wat Tyler on the head, and
he was pierced by the daggers of the knights, and drag-
ged away from his mob into Bartholomew's Hospital,
which was then not a hospital for the sick, but a monas-
tery.
The people cried out that their captain was treacher-
ously slain; but the young king rode among them, say-
ing-" I am your king, I will be your captain, follow
me into the field, there to have whatever you require.”
. They went with him to Islington, where he pardoñed
them for their rebellion, and they returned home. But
&afterwards he caused hundreds of them to be executed;
and he told messengers whom they sent with petitions
to him, that as they had been bondmen, so should they
remain in more vile bondage than before; and that he
would use his endeavours to keep them under, and com-
pel from them all their ancient services.
&
C R U E L T Y.
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 förward in doing them.
There never was found any pretended conscientious
zeal, but it was always most certainly attended with a
fieree spirit of implacable cruelty.
Of William Walworth —Of Wat's death —Of the people 7–Of the
king 2—How did the king break his promises? — What remarks are
made on cruelty 7
*
( 91 )
|
Death of Wat Tyler.

CRUELTY. 93
…”
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
differences in the way of following the example of their
Saviour.
EXAMPLES.
OLYMPIAs, after the death of her son, Alexander the
Great, having taken king Philip and his wife Eurydice
prisoners, confined them in so small a place, that they
could scarely turn themselves in it; 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 despatched. In order to this,
certain' Thracians, armed with poignards, entered the
place of their confinement, and with numberless wounds,
left the king dead upon the floor. Then a messenger
presented Eurydice with a dagger, a rope, and a cup
of poison, telling her that Olympias left it to her choice
by which she would 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 intre-
pidity, she strangled herself with her own garter. After
having thus murdered the king and queen, Olympias,
with unhéard-of cruelty, broiled their innocent babe be-
tween 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; and therefore, taking with her many persons of
quality, she, as if infatuated, shut herself 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.
Relate the story of Olympias's cruelty.—Its punishment.
&
94 CRUELTY.
At last she surrendered the place and her person to Cas-
sander, who permitted the relations of those she had
murdered to glut their vengeance on her person. After
upbraiding her with her cruelty, and treating her with
great indignity, they put an end to her life by cutting
her throat; 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.
CoMMODUs, the Roman emperor, when but twelve years
old, gave a shocking instance of his cruelty at Centum-
cellae, now called Civita Vecchia; when finding the
water in which he bathed somewhat too warm, he com-
manded the person who 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 equal-
led, if he did not exceed in cruelty, Caligula, Domitian,
and even Nero himself; 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; 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 imme-
diately cut him asunder, partly to try his strength, in
which he excelled 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 belonged to the nation
of the Monopodii; and the latter, that they were now
Of Commodus.
rº- CRUELTY. 95
become Luscenii, alluding to the words luscinia, a night-
ingale, 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 ordering
several persons, though not guilty of any crimes, to be
disguised like inonsters, that, by knocking out their brains,
he might have a better claim to the title, the great de-
stroyer of monsters. In short, the shedding of blood
seemed to be his chief diversion.
Dunstan separating Edwy and Ælgiva.
Edwy ascended the throne of England in the year
955. This young monarch was so remarkably handsome
that he acquired the surname of Panculus, or the Fair
At his accession to the throne, he was highly esteemed
by Odo, Archbishop of Canterbury, who crowned him
with his own hands at Kingston. The king had married
a beautiful lady, AElgiva, or Æthelgiva, whose very
name imports that she was of a noble extraction, if not
nearly related to the crown. But this match not pleas-
Who was Edwy 7–Whom did he marry 7

96 CRUELTY.
*
ing 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 excessive drink-
ing then too common in such entertainments, withdrew,
to enjoy the conversation of his beautiful bride, who was
in company with her mother in a private apartment.
The nobility resenting Edwy’s absence as a great-inde-
corum, the archbishop commanded him to be fetched
back again. When every body else refused, one Dun-
stan, an unworthy favourite of the late king, was very
ready to execute Odo's orders: he rushed into the queen's
apartment, and after reproaching him with his fondness,
dragged him to the company.
Such an outrage on majesty could not fail to excite
the resentment of the young monarch; and the king's
friends, who were offended at the overbearing pride of
Dunstan, used all their interest to have him removed
from court. In short, after being accused, not without
justice, of embezzling the public moneys in the late reign,
he was banished the kingdom. Odo, the archbishop,
thinking the honour 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, com-
manded her face to be seared with a red-hot iron, and
then transported her into Ireland. A conspiracy 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 direction. 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
Who was her enemy —What outrage did he commit —What was
done by Odo?—Who was made king?
CRUELTY. 97
obliged his brother Edwy to take shelter in the city of
Gloucester. Thither the queen was hastening, havin
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 dependants 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 loved; 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. — Rapin. —ºrer
ALEXANDER JANNEUS, 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, Alex-
ander 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; and this sight was to him and them the principal
part of the entertainment.— Jos. Antiq. 13. 21.
THE principal deity worshipped by the Carthaginians
was called Chronus, who, according to Q. Curtius and
many other authors, was the Saturn of the Latins; 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
What instances of cruelty and suffering followed 7—What is related
of Alexander Jannaeus 7—What is related of the Carthaginians ?–Ot
Moloch 7–The sacrifices made to him 7
9
98 CRUELTY.
A him, the hands of which were extended in act to receive, -
and bent downwards in such a manner as that the child
laid thereon immediately dropped into a hollow, where
was a fiery furnace, in which it was burnt alive. Some-
times 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
citizens voluntarily offered up themselves, to render him
more propitious to their country. The ceremonies ob-
served upon this occasion by the Carthaginians, were
pretty nearly the same as those practised by the Canaan-
ites, as may be learned from Plutarch, Selden, and Sca-
liger. To such a pitch of phrensy, or rather infernal
barbarity, were they arrived, that mothers, who are
naturally the most susceptible 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 children, 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 regret
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 ca-
lamities, the Carthaginians endeavoured to appease the
offended god by vast numbers of such oblations; nor
were even the children of the most distinguished families
suffered to escape. —Selden de diis Syr. Plut. de Su-
perst.
WE are not to conclude from the foregoing instances,
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 insensibility of a few
miscreants, to the temper and texture of the whole spe-
cies? A Nero, or a Caligula, is, in reality, not the rule
of nature, but an exception to it: and notwithstanding
What apology is made for mankind 7
CRUELTY.
these untoward appearances, which arise fº
nature of liberty and virtue, an exact and thºſ:
quiry into the formation of the human mind, would
vince every unprejudiced person that all those qualities
which are truly original and inherent, are beneficial and
salutary; 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 endearing characters,
“The Father of mercies,” and “God of all consolation,”
should notwithstanding be influenced by so diabolical a
spirit; should pretend they are pleasing the Maker of
mankind, while they are destroying his works in the
most cruel and barbarous manner; not fortſeasonable
practices, nor for atrocious crimes, nor being bad mem-
bers of the community, but for difference in opinion; for
not receiving as true, the most inconsistent falsehoods.
EIGHTEEN days elapsed before the works were com-
pleted; on the seventh of September, the engines were
advanced to batter down the last bulwark of the besieged.
Some did not await the conflict but crept down into the
lower city, others shrunk into the subterranean passages,
others more manfully endeavoured to beat down the en-
gineers. The Romans advanced in the pride ºf victory,
the Jews were weary, famine-stricken, disheartened. A
breach was speedily made, some of the towers fell, the
leaders did not display their customary valour and con-
duct; they fled on all sides. Some who were accus-
tomed to vaunt the most loudly, now stood pale, trem-
bling, inactive; others endeavoured to break through the
Roman works and make their escape. Vague rumours
were spread abroad that the whole western wall had
fallen, that the Romans were in the city; the men looked
around for their wonted leaders; they neither saw their
What was the conduct of the Jews, when the Romans advanced to the
final assault of Jerusalem 7


100 CRUELTY.

active figures hurrying about in the thickest of the fray,
nor heard their voices exciting them to desperate resist-
ance. Many threw themselves on the ground and
bitterly lamented their fate. Even John and Simon,
instead of remaining in their three impregnable towers,
where nothing but famine could have reduced them,
descended into the streets, and fled into the valley of
Siloam. They then made an attempt to force their way
through the wall; but their daring and strength seemed
alike broken, they were repulsed by the guard, dispersed,
and at length crept down into the subterranean vaults.
The Romans ascended the wall with shouts of triumph
at a victory so much beyond all hope, easy and blood-
less; they spread through the streets slaying and burning
as they went. In many houses where they expected
rich plunder, they found nothing but heaps of putrid
bodies, whole families who had died of hunger; they
retreated from the loathsome sight and insufferable
stench. But they were not moved to mercy towards
the living; in some places the flames were actually
retarded or quenched with streams of blood: night alone
put an end to the carnage. When Titus entered the
city, he gazed with astonishment at the massy towers,
and recognised the hand of God in a victory which had
thus made him master of such fortresses without a strug-
gle. The multitudes of prisoners who pined in the dun-
geons, where they had been thrown by the insurgents,
were released. The city was ordered to be razed ex-
cepting the three towers, which were left as standing
monuments of the victory.
The soldiers themselves were weary of the work of
slaughter, and orders were issued to kill only those who
resisted. Yet the old and infirm, as unsaleable, were
generally put to death. The rest were driven into a
space of the Temple, called the Court of the Women.
here a selection was made; the noted insurgents were
put to deatn, excepting some of the tallest and most

Relate the progress of the Romans through the city ?–Did they spare
any of the Jews?
CRUELTY. , 101
handsome, who were reserved to grace the triumph of
Titus. Of the rest, all above seventeen years old were
sent to Egypt to work in the mines, or distributed among
the provinces to be exhibited as gladiators in the public
theatres, and in combats against wild beasts. Twelve
thousand died of hunger—part from want or neglect of
supplies, part obstinately refusing food. During the
whole siege, the number killed was 1,100,000, that of
prisoners 97,000. In fact, the population, not of Jerusa-
lem alone, but that of the adjacent districts—many who
had taken refuge in the city, more who had assembled
for the feast of unleavened bread—had been shut up by
the sudden formation of the siege. -
Yet the chief objects of their vengeancesthe daunt-
less Simon son of Gioras, and John the Gischalite, still
seemed to baffle all pursuit. The Roman soldiers pene-
trated into the subterranean caverns; wherever they
went they found incalculable treasures, and heaps of
dead bodies—some who had perished from hunger,
others from their wounds, many by their own hands.
The close air of the vaults reeked with the pestilential
effluvia: most recoiled from these pits of death; the
more rapacious went on, breathing death for the sake
of plunder. At length, reduced by famine, John and his
brethren came forth upon terms of surrender; his life
was spared—a singular instance of lenity, if indeed his
conduct had been so atrocious, as it is described by his
rival Josephus. He was condemned to perpetual impris-
onment, and finally sent to Italy. - .
Thus fell, and for ever, the metropolis of the Jewish
state. Other cities have risen on the ruins of Jerusalem,
and succeeded, as it were, to the inalienable inheritance
of perpetual siege, oppression, and ruin. Jerusalem
might almost seem to be a place under a peculiar curse;
it has probably witnessed a far greater portion of human
misery than any other spot upon the earth-Milman’s
History of the Jews. -


How many Jews perished ?—What was the fate of John?
9 % 3.
102 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
*
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 conve-
niences of life, with respect to which most are either
uneasy without them, or intemperate with them.
THE GOVERNMENT OF SPARTA, AND THE LAWS OF LYCURGUS.
LACEDEMON was in the beginning governed by kings
of whom thirteen in succession held the reins of power,
of the race of the Pelopidae. Under the Heraclidae,
who succeeded them, instead of one king, the people
admitted two, who governed with equal authority.
This change is said to have been owing to the follow-
ing circumstance: Aristodemus dying, left two sons,
Eurysthenes and Procles, who were twins, and so very
much alike, that it was hardly possible to distinguish the
one from the other: the mother equally attached to both,
and desirous of advancing both to the throne, pretended
that she really could not tell which of them was born
first, or which had the best claim; the people therefore
invested both with the sovereign power; and this form
of government, however strange, continued to subsist for
several centuries.
It was during this latter period the Helots, or peasants
of Sparta, were enslaved; for these people, having taken
up arms in order to vindicate their right to the same
F. as the citizens enjoyed, which the first two
ings had bestowed upon them, but of which Agis, the
son of Eurysthenes, had deprived them, they were, after
a violent struggle, subdued.
To punish them for their rebellion, they and their pos-
terity were condemned to perpetual slavery ; and, to
render their condition as disgraceful as it was remarka-
What is said of Lacedenon ?—Of Aristodemus 7–His sons?—The
Helots. º
sº DISINTERESTEDNESS. 103
ble, all other slaves were called by the general name of
Helots.
To prevent the repetition of these and the like disor-
ders, to which this little state was subject, Lycurgus in-
stituted his celebrated body of laws, which make so
considerable a figure in the history of Greece, and
which continued for a long time to render Lacedaemon -
at once the terror and the umpire of the neighbouring
kingdoms.
But before he thus displayed his patriotism and his
abilities as a legislator, he gave, if possible, a still more
striking proof of his disinterestedness and love of justice.
For, having succeeded to the throne by the death of his
elder brother, Polydectes, without issue, the queen-dowa-
ger, his sister-in-law, offered to destroy the posthumous
child, provided he would marry her, and admit her into
a share of power. *
Lycurgus dissembled his resentment at so unnatural
a proposal; and fearing that she might use means to put
her design in execution, he assured her that he would
take care to remove her son out of the way.
|
|
ill. | º
But Lycurgus commanded the boy to be brought to
him; and presenting him to the people as their lawful
Of Lycurgus 7—How did he show his disinterestedness 2

104 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
sovereign, by the name of Charilaus, he continued
thenceforward to act, not as king, but as regent.— Gold-
smith's Greece. *.
NEveR man showed a more generous disinterestedness
with regard to himself, nor a more sincere and unshaken
zeal for the public good, than the Theban general Epami-
nondas. He was of one of the greatest and most opulent
families in Thebes; and Polymnus, his father, had been
so liberal in his education, furnishing him with the best
masters Greece could produce, not only in philosophy,
rhetoric, 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 upon him
in this manner. Epaminondas trod so closely in his
father's steps, and showed 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 corrupting his integrity, that they re-
ceived 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,
º over a favourite of his, named Micythus, to sound
im upon it. Epaminondas rejected the offer with scorn
and indignation; telling him, “That he would never set
the wealth of the whole world in competition with the
interest of his country. It is plain,” continued he,
tºº-- -
Who was Epaminondas?—What was his character ?—What is related
of Pelopidas?—The Persians?—Diomedon 2
IDISINTERESTEDNESS, 105
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, and therefore am ready
to forgive you; but I advise you, at the same time, to
make the best of your way home, before you get a fur-
ther 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 sin-
gular. He was lately come to Thebes to negotiate an
alliance with the Thebans. As he did not doubt but
Epaminondas's narrow circumstances would- easily in-
duce 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; but, to his great surprise, he found
them not only rejected with the utmost scorn and indig-
nation, but himself severely reproved for offering them.
“This attempt to corrupt me,” said that noble patriot,
“I 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 selling the freedom of
voting of my fellow-citizens, that I will maintain 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, who was bold and successful, and
at the head of an army hitherto victorious.
Not long after this arrived Theanor, with presents
from Arcesius; and upon debating whether they should
be accepted, Epaminondas declared against it in words
to this effect, addressed to Theanor: “Jason resented
my rejecting the vast presents with which he designed
to corrupt me, and I gave him such an answer as his
attempt deserved. Your offers are indeed more honour-
able, and consistent with virtue, and as such we esteem
them; but then, they are like physic to a man in health.
Micythus?—Jason?—Theanor?
106 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
Were you, or any of our allies who imagined us to be
at war, and incapable of maintaining it, to send us a sup-
ply of men, arms and provisions, would 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; 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; 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.” Theanor, still desirous to engage
him to accept something 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 maake him
cherish the practice of poverty.” This occasioned some
friendly debate between them, in which Theanor endea-
voured to make him sensible of the necessity of acquiring
at least an honourable competency; which only gave
the other an opportunity of displaying his talents in praise
of his favourite notion of poverty, which he did with
such forcible reasoning, as left Theanor without reply.
The truth is, Epaminondas had a double view in prac-
tising 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 lux-
ury 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 tha.
made him go and fight for it as a private sentinel, when
What was Epaminondas's view in this conduct?—What instance of
nis patriotism is mentioned ?
DISINTERESTEDNESS. 107
ais ungrateful countrymen had been induced, by the pre-
vailing faction, to strip him of all his posts. – Plut. —
Cor. Nep. in Vit. Epam.
PToleMy PHILADELPHUS, king of Egypt, having sent
to desire the friendship of the Roman people, an embassy
was despatched 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. Ogulnius. The disinterested air with
which they appeared, sufficiently indicated the greatness
of their souls. Ptolemy gave them a splendid entertain-
ment, and took that opportunity to present each of them
with a crown of gold, which they received, because they
were unwilling to disoblige him by declining the honour
he intended them; 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 considerable presents at their audience
of leave, they received them as they had accepted the
crowns; but before they went to the senate to give an
account of their embassy, after their arrival at Rome,
they deposited all those presents in the public treasury,
and made it evident, by so noble a conduct, that persons
of honour ought, when they serve the public, to propose
no other advantage to themselves than the honour of ac-
quitting themselves well of their duty. The Republic,
however, would not suffer itself to be exceeded in gen-
erosity 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 vic
tory. Where shall we now find men who devote them-
selves in such a manner to the public good, without any
What is said of Ptolemy and the Roman ambassadors ?—Relate the
instances of disinterestedness in the Romans.
|
108 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
interested expectatations of a return, and who enter upon
employments in the state without the least view of en-
riching themselves?
But let me add too, where shall we find states and
princes who know how to esteem and recompense merit
in this manner ? “We may observe here,” says Valerius
Maximus, “three fine models set before us, in the noble
liberality of Ptolemy, the disinterested spirit of the am-
bassadors, and the grateful equity of the Romans.”—
Val. JMaz. Jib. iv. c. 3.

THE deputies of Philip, king of Macedon, offering
reat sums of money, in that prince's name, to Phocion,
the Athenian, and entreating him to accept them, if not
for himself, at least for his children, who, were in such
circumstances that it would be impossible for them to
support the glory of his name: “If they resemble me,”
said Phocion, “the little spot of ground, on the produce
of which I have hitherto lived, 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 Great, son of Philip, having sent him a hundred
talents, Phocion asked those who brought them, upon
what design Alexander 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.” “Then,” said Phocion,
“let him suffer me still to enjoy that character, and be
really what I am taken for.”—Cor. JVepos. in Phoc.
STRATO, king of the Sidonians, having declared in
favour of Darius, the Persian monarch, Alexander the
Great expelled him the kingdom, and permitted Hephaes-
tion, his beloved friend, to give the crown to whomso-
ever of the Sidonians he should judge worthy of so ex-
alted a station. This favourite was quartered at the
- What is said by Valerius Maximus?—Tell the story of Phocion.—
Of the young Sidonians. s
* f
DISINTERESTEDNESS. 104.
house of two brothers, who were young, and of the most
considerable family if the city: to these he offered: the .
crown, but they declined 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
. Hephæstion, 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
thinking: you who are already sensible that it 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 a 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, declared that they did not know
any person more worthy of the diadem than one Abdo-
lonymus, descended, though at a great distance, from
the royal line; but who at the same time was so poor,
that he was obliged to get his bread by day labour in a
garden without the city. His honésty and integrity had
reduced him, as well as many more, to this extreme.
poverty. Immediately the two brothers went in search
of Abdolonymus with the royal garments, and found him
weeding his garden; they then salutéd him king, and
one of them addressed him thus: “You must new 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 3. and death over all your
citizens, be sure never toºrget the condition in which,
or rather for which, you were elected.” Abdolonymus
looked upon the whole as a dream, and, unable to guess
the meaning of it, asked if they were not ashamed to
ridicule 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 robé.


10 *
1 10 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
richly embroidered with gold; then, after repeated oaths
of their being in 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 showing their resentment upon that account in
the king's court. Alexander commanded the new elected.
prince to be sent for; and, after surveying him attentively
a long while, spoke thus: “Thy, air and mien do not
contradict what is related of thy extraction; but I should
be glad to know in 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 Alexan-
der an high idea of Abdolonymus's virtue; so that he
º: him not only with all the rich furniture which
ad belonged to Strato, and part of the Persian plunder,
but likewise annexed one of the neighbouring provinces
to his dominions.— Q. Curt. lib. iv. c. l. & lib. viii. c. 14.
THE domestic troubles which happened at Rome about
the year 294, excited great animosity and division among
the people, the Senate and inferior officers. Herodonius,
a yery rich and powerful Sabine, and still more bold and
ambitious, taking advantage of the present unhappy pos-
ture of affairs, endeavoured to make himself master of
the city. With a body of exiles and slaves, to about the
number of four thousand five hundred, he seized the
Capitol in the night. The consul Valerius Publicola
with much difficulty assembled an army, and defeated
the insurgents, but was unfort ately killed at the head
of his troops. Another consuſ was now to be chosen;
but where to find a man possessed of such eminent
abilities as could silence discord, reconcile the jarring
sentiments of the people, act with moderation on the one
How did" Alexander treat Abdolonymus 2—What circumstances led
to the appointment of Cincinnatus to the office of dictator 7
DISINTERESTEDNESS. * 11 |
:-º-º-º-º:--> --> -s;
-º-º-º:
zºº
& sº
, Cincinnatus called to the Dictatorship.--
hand, and resolution on the other, and have nothing so -
mūch at heart as the good of the republic, was extreme-
ly difficult. However, after much deliberation, the
choice fell on L. QUINTUs CINCINNATUS, who was in-
vested with dictatorial power. In consequence of which, .
the Senate despatched deputies to invite him to take pos-
session of his office. He was at that time at work in
his field, holding the plough himself. When he saw the
deputies of the Senate, he stopped his oxen, much sur-
prised at the crowd of 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 immediate-
ly saluted consul. The purple robe was put on him, the
lictors with their axes placed themselves 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. Admirable simplicity poverty was not
universally practised, but it was esteemed and honoured;
and not considered as a disqualification for the highest
Give an account of his conduct on the occasion of his appointment


*
ii.2 DISINTERESTEDNESS.
r
^.
-
dignities of the state. The conduct of Quintus, during
his eonsulship, fully evinced what a noble’ nature, what
constancy, and what greatness of soul inhabited a poor
wretched cottage. . s
Quintus, having entered upon office, informed himself
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 of harangues, and in a
discourse, full of spirit, resolution, and zeal for the public
welfare, he first reproached the Senate for their indo-
lence and pusillanimity, in giving way to the pretensions
of the tribunes, “whose whole merit consists,” said he,
“in making seditious speeches, sowing discord between
the two orders of the state, and prevailing by their in-
trigues to be continued two or three years'in office, and
to act in it with tyrannical license.” The people he
severely reprimanded for their disorders and rebellion;
and then, with an intrepidity that amazed the Senate,
and struck terror into the people, he laid before them the
vigorous measures he intended to pursue; 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 judiciary
Fº which had been interrupted or many years.
uring the remainder of his consulship, he rendered
justice to all that applied for it; and terminated most
disputes in an amicable manner. He continued the
whole day at his tribunal; was always easy of access;
and whatever the affairs to be contested might be, he
acted with the utmost good nature and moderation. By
so wise a conduct, he rendered the government of the
- nobility so agreeable, that the poor, the common peo-
ple, and persons of the most contemptible condition, had
no longer occasion either to have recourse to the tri-
bunes against the oppression of the powerful, or to de-
mand new laws for the establishment of equality in
trials; so much were they satisfied with that law which
---sº
How did he discharge his duty 7 - -
*- *. *- ,-
DISINTERESTEDNESS. 113
Jhe consul’s equity distributed to all alike, and with his
.mpartiality in all affairs.
So peaceful a government could not fail of applause;
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 hé 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; but all their entreaties
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 7 It is your-
selyes that render it contemptible. Because the people
violate your decree, in continuing their magistråtes, you"
are for doing the same, that you may not be outdone by
them in temérity, as if to show most levity and license
were to have most power in the commonwealth. As to
myself, that I may act directly the reverse to the tri-
bunes, I declare, that I will not suffer myself to be re-
elected consul, in contempt of your decree.” Then ad-
• dressing himself to his colleague, “I conjure you, Clau-
dius,” said he, “to prevent the Senate from committing
so gross a fault, and strenuously to oppose their design;
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 considerit as a mark of your friendship
for me, 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 continua-
tion of the consulship might otherwise draw upon me.”
With the highest praises and blessings, and having
become the object of universal esteem, admiration, and
love, Quintus divésted himself of the purple, and made
haste to return to the oxen, plough, and cottage, where
he lived, as before, by the labour of his hands.
Give an account of his conduct on the close of his term.—Whither
did he retire 7 sº *
10% f wº-
.
º:
**
rº.
` 114 ~ DISINTERESTEDNESS. *
*:: a;
~'
*.
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 the illustrious
husbandman? Do they leave behind them, in the minds
of thºse that behold them, the same sentiments as the
simple relation of what regards Quintus gives the
reader 7 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. -- - -
~ºn
.*.*.*
- WHEN Bresse was taken by storm from the Vene.
tians, 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, as a mark of her
gratitude, offered him a casket containing two thousand
five hundred ducats, which he obstinately refuséd; but
observing that his refusal was very displeasing to her,
and not caring to leave, her dissatisfied, he consented
to accept of her present, and calling to him the two
young ladies to take 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 distri-
buted among the inhabitants that had been plundered.—
Vie du Chev. Bayard.
BUT that we may have a better notion of the noble-
ness and greatness of a disinterested mind, let us con-
sider 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 have nothing
about them but the virtue itself to raise our admiration.
A poor man who was door-keeper to a bóarding-house
in Milan, found a purse with two hundred crowns in it.
What remarks are made on his conduct —What is related of the Che.
valier Bayard 2 - *
( 115 )
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The disinterested Door-Keeper.

* DRUNKENNESS. 117
The man who had lost it, informed by a public adver-
tisement, came to the house, and giving good proof that *
the purse belonged 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 after-
wards to five; but finding him still inexorable, hē throws
his purse upon the ground, and in an angry tone, “I have.
lost nothing,” says he, “nothing at alſº if you thus re-
fuse to accept of any thing.” The door-keeper then
accepted of five crowns, which he immediately distri-
buted among the poor. — Rollin's Belles Lett.
DRUNKENNESS... .
SENTIMENTS.
It is very common that events arise from a debauch
which are fatal, and always such as are disagreeable.
With alſ a man's reason and göod sense about him, his
tongue is apt to utter things out of a mere gaiety of heart,
which may displease 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 imagina-
tion and depresses the judgment? *:
However this tribe of people may think of themselves,
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 châracter which appears more des-
picable and depraved, in the eyes of all reasonable per-
sons, than that of a drunkard. sº
EXAMPLEs.
Cyrus, according to the manners of the Persians, was
from his infancy accustomed to sobriety and temper-
ance; of which he was himself a most illustrious exam-
ple through the whole course of his life. When Cyrus
What remarks are made on drunkenness?—What is related of Cyrus? .
gº
*
~.
I-18 DRUNKENNESS,
ºn ,
was twelve years old, his mother, Mandane, took him
with her into Media, to his grandfather Astyages, who,
from the many things he had heard said in favour of that
young prince, had a great desire to see him. In this
court young Cyrus found very different manners from
those of his own country: pride, luxury, and magnifi-
cence reigned here universally: all which did not affect
Cyrus, who, without criticising or condemning what he
saw, was contsºated to live as he had been brought up, ,
and adhered to the principleš he had imbibed from his
infancy. He charmed his grandfather by his sprightli-
ness and wit, and gained everybody's favour by his no-
ble and engaging behaviour. Astyages, to make his
grandson unwilling to return home, made a sumptuous
entertainment, in which there was a vast plenty and pro-
fusion of everything 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.” Astyages desiring Cyrus to
dispose of all the meats as he thought fit, the latter im-
mediately distributed them to the king's officers in wait-
ing; to one, because he taught him to ride; to another,
because he waited well upon his grandfather; 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, who took this occa-
sion to show his resentment. 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; “if that be suffi-
How did he reward his friend?—How did he treat Sacrast—Why?
DRUNKENNESS. I 19
cient to merit your favour, you shall see I will quickly
obtain it; for I will take upon me to serve you better
than he.” Immediately Cyrus is equipped as a cup-bearer,
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
dexterity and grace that charmed both Astyages and his
mother, Mandane. 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 un-
done; I shall have thy place l’’ Astyages embraced him
with great fondness, and said, “I am mighty well pleased,
my son 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 before
he presented it to the king. “No,” replied Cyrus, “it was
not through forgetfulness that I omitted this ceremony.”
“Why, then,” says Astyages, “for what reasbn did you
omit it?” “Because 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
drunk a little of that liquor, I perceived all their heads
were turned: they sang, made a noise, and talked they
did not know what; you yourself seemed to have for-
gotten that you were a king, and they that they were
subjects; 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?” “Nó, never,” says Cyrus. “What then I how
is it with him when he drinks?” “Why, when he has
drunk; his thirst is quenched, and that is all.”—Xenoph.
Cyr. lib. i.
CLITUS was one of Alexander’s best friends, an old
officer, who had fought under his father Philip, and sig-
How did he elegantly censure intemperance —What services were
rendered Alexander by Clitus?
*
120 DRUNKENNESS. •
nalized himself on many occasions. At the battle of the
Granicus, as Alexander was fighting bare-headed, and
Rosâces had his arm raised in order to strike him behind,
he covered the king with his shield, and cut off the bar-
barian's hand. Hellenice, his sister, had nursed Alex-
ander, and he loved her with as much tenderness as if
she had been his own mother. As the king, from these
several comsiderations, had a very great respect for Cli-
tus, he entrusted him with the government of one of the
most important provinces of his empire, and ordered
him to set out the next day. "In the evening Clitus was
invited to an entertainment, in which the king, after
drinking to excess, began to celebrate his own exploits,
and was so excessively lavish of self-commendation,
that he even shocked those very persons who knew.what
he spoke was in general true. Clitus, who by this time,
as well as the rest of the company, was equally intoxi-
cated, began to relate the actions of Philip, and his wars
in Greece, preferring them to whatever-was done by
Alexander. Though the king was prodigiously vexed,
he névertheless stifled his resentment; and it is probable
that he would have quite suppressed his passion, had Cli-
tus stopped there: but the latter growing more and more
talkative, as if determined to exasperate and insult the
king, he was commanded to leave the 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 dif-
ficulty, out of the hall. However, he returned into it
next moment by another door, singing, with an air of
insolence, verses reflecting highly on the prince, who,
seeing the general near him, struck him with his javelin
Relate the circumstances of his death.
I)RUNKENNESS, 121
* :: §sº gºs
º __º ...sº
* #ºssº **
º, sº - sº A.
S&=&#sº
Alexander killing Clitus.
dead at his feet, crying out at the same time, “Go now
to Philip, to Parmenio, and to Attalus.”
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 ex-
tenuate, in some degree, or throw, in some measure, a
veil over Clitus's conduct. When a king makes a sub-
ject his companion in 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 cir-
cumstances, is always a fault; but, then, it ought never
to be expiated with the blood of the offender. This Alex-
ander had generosity enough to acknowledge, and, at
the same time, perceived that he had done the vile office
of an executioner, in punishing, by an horrid murder,
the utterer of some indiscreet words, which ought to be
imputed to the fumes of wine. Upon this, he threw him-
self on his friend’s body, forced out the javelin, and











11
123 DRUNKENNESs. *
would have dispatched himself with 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 Alea:
Just lib. xii. c. 6, 7, **
PUBLIUS SyFIUS compares anger, when united with
power, to thunder; and, indeed, what havoc, does it then
make 1 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 educa-
tion. But what can be meaner, and more unworthy a
king, than drinking to excess | What can be more fataf
or bloody than the transports of anger!
DURING Alexander's stay in Persepolis, he entertained
his friends at a banquet, at which the guests drank, as
usual, to excess. Among the women who were admit-
ted to it masked, was Thais, the courtezan, a native of
SAttica, and at that time mistress to Ptolemy, who after-
wards was king of Egypt. About the end of the feast,
during which she had studiously 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
inexpressible joy to her, were she permitted, (masked as
she was, and in order to end the entertainment nobly),
to burn the magnificent palace of Xerxes, who had
burned Athens; 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 expedi-
tion to Asia, had taken much better vengeance on the
Persians, for the many calamities they had brought on
the Grecians, than all the generals who had fought for
them, both by sea and land.” All the guests applauded
How does drunkenness resemble anger?—Relate the story of the
purning of Persepolis. J
DRUNKENNESS. A
fz3
wº
the discourse; when immediately the king rose from
table, (his head being crowned with flowers), and taking
a torch in his hand, he moved forward to execute
this mighty exploit. The whole company followed him,
breaking out into loud exclamations, and afterwards
singing 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, and thereupon gave orders for extinguish-
ing the flames; but it was too late. j
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, eighteen 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 whole night in carousing, a second 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 Macedonian of the company, Proteas by
name; and afterwards 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 Seneca, describing thºs fatal effects of drunken-
ness,) this hero, unconquered by all the toils of prodigious
marches, exposed to the dangers of sieges and combats,
to the most violent extremes of heat and cold, here he
Of Alexander's drinking match?—Of his last drunken frolic and its
consequences?
124 DRUNKENNESS. *
lies, subdued by his intemperance, and struck to the
earth by the fatal cup of Hercules.” . 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 hād reigned twelve.
No one, says Plutarch and Arria, Suspected then that
Alexander had been poisoned; the true poison which’
brought him to his end was wine, which has-killed many
thousands besides Alexander. It was, says Seneca,
(Epist. 83.) Intemperantia bibendi: et ille Herculancus
ac fatalis Scyphus condidit. •
> ... i-
ANACHONIs, the philosopher, being asked by what
means a man might best guard against the vice of
drunkenness, made answer, “By bearing constantly in
his view the loathsome, indecent behaviour of such as
are intoxicated in this manner. Upon this principle, I
suppose, was founded the custom of the Lacedaemonians
of exposing their drunken slaves to their children, who,
by that means, conceived an early aversion to a vice
which makes men appear so monstrous and irrational.
DIONYSIUs, the younger, king of Syracuse, was so
addicted to this enervating folly, that he would some-
times be drunk for a week or ten days together. By
this means he ruined his constitution, impaired his facul-
ties, and became so cruel, ridiculous, and contemptible,
that, for their own preservation and happiness, his sub-
jects were obliged to dethrone him.
º EDU CATION.
º
w
* SEYºMENTs. e t
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
4.
What is said of Anachonis?—Of the Lacedæmonians?—Of Diony.
sius?—Of a good education?
EDUCATION. 135
riches, and have no concern what manner of heirs you
leave them to ? tº
The foundation of knowledge and virtue is laid in our
childhood, and without an early care and attention we
are almost lost in our very cradles; for the principles
we imbibe in our youth we carry commonly to our
graves. . It is education that makes the man, . To speak
all in a few words, children are but blank paper, ready
indifferently for any impression, good or bad: 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 at the
beginning is enough to poison the peace and reputation
of a whole life. There is, however, in somé"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 instructing youth,) “a
child that is sensible of praise, and touched with glory,
and that will cry at the shame of being outdone, and I
will keep him to his business by emulation; 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 off
the taste of the remedy; 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 application 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
Oſ Quintilian 7—Of some pedagogues?—Of superficial accomplish
ments? As
11 #
126 EDUCATION * -
know how to behave among great persons, comprehends
the whole duty of a gentleman; 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 apd fine gentlemen. ~ *
Agesilaus being asked what he thought most proper
for boys to learn, answered, “What they ought to do
when they come to be men.”
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 and pro-
tection. 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
conscientious 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; and half their errors should only be
attributed to inexperience and inadvertency.
A more dangerous, and certainly a much more fre-
quent error in parents, is an unrestrained and eaccessive
fondness. The various passions and affections of human
nature begin very early to exert and display themselves;
Of Agesilaus 7—What is in every man's power 7—Of tyranny ?—
Of over-fondness 2
EDUCATION. 127
and, if they are not properly restrained and directed,
will of necessity have a fatal and unconquerable influ-
ence 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, uncontrolled by judgment, and unawed by parental
authority, 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 complied with, the
man will be always unhappy.
“Pity it is,” says the celebrated Ascham, “that com-
monly 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 children. 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 rewardeth their liberality as it
should be. For he suffereth them to have tame and
well-ordered horses, but wild and unfortunate children; *
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 visit,
I observed a very remarkable instance of the untoward
management of two children. Young master is a boy
of strong ungovernable pâssions, of no mean capacity,
and an open, liberal temper; add to this the disadvan-
tage that he is brought up to the prospect of a great
estate. ... The girl is of surprising natural parts, but pet- .
tish, sullen, and haughty, though not without a consider-
able fund of native goodness. Both of them are exces-
sively indulged by their, parents. The father, who
What is said by Roger Ascham 7–What is said of a family visited
by the author 7—Of the son?—The daughter t—The father ?
128 EDUCATION.
*
jumped into the estate by means of his relationship to a
wealthy citizen, is a strange, ignorant, unpolished crea-
ture; 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
chanees 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 educa-
tion, 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 fondness would baffle
the nicest management. . Her son is her favourite, in
whom she sees no faults; 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
complaints to some unreasonable partiality or prejudice
against her darling boy. The young gentleman, finding
himself so secure of mamma's favour, takes all advan-
tages, and stretches his prerogative to the utmost. The
servants of the family he disciplines with his fists and
feet; and uses strangers who come to 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 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; 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 dex-
terity. . 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 this little passions. If he
The mother?—Describe the conduct and character of the son.
'EDUCATION. --- 129
won, he triumphed over his adversary with immense
eagerness 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 was provoked, at
any time, to take notice of his irregularities, 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 reconciliation. She showed no
care, and steady indignation, such as would have been
sufficient to produce a lasting effect; nor were her re-
bukes seconded with any substantial marks of dis-
pleasure, so as to make a deep impression Öff"stſch 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; there-
fore the little thing imagines herself already a very con-
siderable personage, takes state upon her in all com-
panies, swells with rage at every little imaginary affront,
and never thinks she is treated with respect enough; the
servants must pay her uncommon homage; she must be
helped at table before strangers of an ordinary rank.
Her pretty features must not be discomposed by crossing
her: in short, humoured she must be in all things; and
when her ladyship is dressed in all her finery, she is ad-
mired, caressed, and exalted into a little queen. This
makes her vain and insolent to a degree of extrava-
gance. She and her brother have pretty nearly the
same task set them. They read, write, dance, and play
together; 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; are restless and impatient till it
is over; and mind their tutor almost as much as the
maid that puts them to bed: for his authority, not being
duly supported by their parents, has no weight. In fine,
they are so much humoured, so little restrained and
*
Of the daughter 7
130 EDUCATION.
kept under proper government, that he must have more
than the patience of a man, who can bear with their in-
solence; 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
anything, or moulded into any form, were they under
the influence of proper discipline and authority. Upon
the whole I could not help thinking them an instance of
the indiscreet conduct of parents in the management of
their children, whom, by an ill-judged fondness, they ex-
}. to the contempt and derision of mankind, and per-"
aps 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 father's acquaint-
ance covet his company; and indeed they may learn by
his discourse the art of good reasoning, as well as the
precepts of religion from his example. He is an enter-
taining companion to the gay young gentleman his
equals; and yet divines and philosophers take a pleasure
to have Eugenio amongst them. He is caressed by his
superiors in honours and years; and though he is re-
leased from the discipline of parental education, yet he
treats the lady his mother with all the affectionate 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 Eugenio already promises
greater things than Agathus did at thirty.
If you ask whence these 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 attending 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
Describe the character of Eugenio—Whence does it proceed?
-*
EDUCATION. . 131
a'
reward suited to his age: and never was driven to prac-
tise anything by a frown or a hasty word, where it was
possible for kinder affections to work the same effect by
indulgence and delay. a
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; while
every departure from duty was shown to be so contrary
- to reason, as laid an early foundation for conscience to
work upon: conscience began here to assume its office,
and to manifest its authority in dictates, and reproofs,
and reflections 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 Almighty
and invisible Being, who made this world and every
creature in it, he was taught to pay all due regard to
this God, his Maker; and from the authority and love
of his father on earth, he was led to form right ideas
(as far as childhood permitted) of the power, govern-
ment, and goodness of the universal Father of all in
heaven. sº
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 vir-
tue; 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 was hereby
directed into the doctrine of the Mediator between God
and man; and thus he knew him as an intercessor,
before he could well understand the notion of his sacri-
fice and atonement.
*
How was he educated in reasoning?—In religion ?–In forgiveness?
132 EDUCATION, *.

In his younger years he passed but twice under the
correction of the rod; once for a fit of obstinacy, and
persisting in a falsehood; 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. , *
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 diligence and improve-
ment in others. &
There was nothing required of his memory but what
was first (as far as possible) let into his understanding;
and by proper images and representations, 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 trea-
suring up the cant and jargon of mere names, instead
of the riches of solid knowledge.
Where any abstruse and difficult notions occurred in
his course of learning, his preceptor postponed them till
he had gone through that subject in a more superficial
way; for this purpose, he passed twice through all the
sciences; and to make the doctrines of Christianity
easy to him in his childhood, he had two or three Cate-
chisms 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 childhood, so
he was instructed to prove every thing, according to
the nature of the subject, by natural or moral argu-
ments, as far as years would admit; and thus he drew
much of his early knowledge from reason or from reve-
lation, by the force of his judgment, and not merely
from his teachers, by the strength of his memory. -
In truth?—In obedience 7––In letters?—In Christianity ?–In argu-
mentation ?
. EDUCATION. 133
His parents were persuaded, indeed, that they ought
to teach him the principles of virtue while he was a
child, and the most important truths of religion, both
natural and revealed, before he was capable of derivin
them from the fund of his own reason, or of framingºa
religion for himself out of so large a book as the Bible.
They thought themselves under the obligation of that
divine command, “Train up a child in the way that he
should go, and when he is old he will not depart from
it.” And, therefore, from a child they made him ac-
quainted with the Holy Scriptures, and persuaded him
to believe that they were given by the inspiration of
God, before it was possible for him to take in the argu-
ments from reason, history, tradition, &c. which must
be joined together to confirm the sacred canon, and
prove the several books of the Bible to be divine.
. Thus, like Timothy, “he continued in the things which
he had learned, and had been assured of, knowing of
whom he had learned them.” Yet, as his years ad-
vanced, they thought it requisite to show him the solid
and rational foundations of his faith, that his hope might
be built upon the authority of God, and not of men.
After he arrived at fifteen, he was suffered to admit
nothing into his full assent, till his mind saw the rational
evidence of the proposition itself; or at least till he felt
the power of those reasons which obliged him to assent,
upon moral evidence and testimony, where the evidences
of sense or of reason were not to be expected. He
, knew that he was not to hope for mathematical proofs
that there is a Pope at Rome; that the Turks have do-
minion over Judea; that St. Paul wrote an Epistle to .
the Romans; that Christ was crucified without the gates
of Jerusalem, and that in thee days' time he rose from
the dead; and yet that there is just and reasonable evi-
dence to enforce and support the belief of all these facts.
"Where truths were too sublime for present comprehen-
sion, he would never admit them as a part of his faith,
In the Scriptures 7–In estimating the value of evidence?
12 f
134 EDUCATION.
till he saw the full evidence of a speaking God, and a
Divine Revelation.
His tutor never imposed any thing on him with a
.* §. air, but, by way of advice, recommended to
h
A such studies and such methods of improvement, as
his experience had long approved; he gave frequent
hints of the dangers of some opinions, and the fatal con-
sequences of some modish and mistaken principles. He
let him know generally what sentiments he himself em-
braced among the divided opinions of the age; and what
elear and comprehensive knowledge, what satisfaction
of judgment, serenity of mind, and peace of conscience
were to be found in the principles which he had chosen;
but he exhorted his pupil still to choose wisely for him-
self, and led him onward in the sciences, and in common
and sacred affairs, to frame his own sentiments by just
rules of reasoning. Though Eugenio did not blindly
confine his belief to the opinions of his instructor, yet he
could not but love the man that indulged him in such
a liberty of thought, and gave him such an admirable
clue, by which he could let himself into the secrets
of knowledge, human and divine. Thus, under the
happy and insensible influences of so prudent a super-
visor, he traced the paths of learning, and enjoyed the
unspeakable pleasure of being his own teacher, and of
framing his opinions himself. By this means he began
early to use his reason with freedom, and to judge for
himself, without a servile submission to the authority of
others; and yet to pay a just and solemn deference to
persons of age and experience, and particularly to those
-who were the proper and appointed guides of his youth,
and who led him on so gently in the paths of knowledge.
He was not kept a stranger to the errors and follies
of mankind, nor was he let loose amongst them, either
in books or in company, without a guard and a guide.
His preceptor let him know the gross mistakes and ini-
quities of man, ancient and modern, but imbued him with
proper principles of truth and virtue, and furnished him

How was he treated by his tutor?
EDUCATION. 135
with such rules of judgment, as led him more easily to
distinguish between good and bad: and thus he was
secured against the infection and the poison, both of the
living and the dead. •
He had early cautions given him to avoid the banter-
ing tribe of mortals, and was instructed to distinguish a
jest from an argument; so that a loud laugh at his reli-
gion never puts him nor his faith out of countenance.
He is ever ready to render a reason of his Christian
hope, and to defend his creed; but he scorns to enter
the lists with such a disputant as has no artillery but
squib and flash; no arguments besides grimace and ridi-
cule. Thus he supports the character of a Christian
with honour: he confines his faith to his Bible; and his
practice to all the rules of piety; and yet thinks at least
as freely-as that vain herd of atheists and deists, who
arrogate the name of Free-thinkers to themselves.
You will inquire, perhaps, how he came to attain so
manly a conduct in life at so early an age, and how every
thing of the boy was worn off so soon. Besides other
influences, it is much owing to the happy management
of his mother, Eraste; she was frequent in the nursery,
and inspired sentiments into his childhood becoming riper
years. When there was company in the parlour, with
whom she could use such freedom, she brought her son
in among them, not to entertain them with his ºwn noise,
and tattle, and impertinence, but to hear their discourse,
and sometimes to answer a little question or two they
might ask him. When he was grown up to a youth, he
was often admitted into the room with his father's ac-
quaintance, and was indulged the liberty to"ask and in-
quire on subjects that seemed to be above his years: he
was encouraged to speak a sentence or two of his own
thoughts, and thus to learn and practise a modest assu-
rance. But when the company was gone, he was ap-
º, and praised if he behaved well, or received kind
ints of admonition, that he might know when he had
been too silent, and when too forward to speak. Thus,


—a-
By his mother ?
136 EDUCATION. *
by enjoying the advantage of society above the level of
his own age and understanding, he was always aspiring
to imitation; and the excesses and defects of his conduct
were daily noticéd and cured. . *-
His curiosity was gratified abroad with new sights
and scenes, as often as his parents could do it with con-
venience, that he might not stare and wonder at every
strange object or occurrence; but he was made patient
of restraint and disappointment, when he seemed to in-
dulge an excessive desire of any needless diversion. If
he sought any criminal pleasures or diversions, attended
with great danger and inconvenience, the pursuit of them
was absolutely forbidden; but it was done in so kind a
manner, as made the guilt or peril of them appear in the
strongest light, and thereby they were rendered hateful
or formidable, rather than the objects of wish or desire.
When Eugenio first began to go abroad in the world,
his companions were recommended to him by the pru-
dence of his parents; or if he chose them himself, it was
still within the reach of his tutor’s observation, or the
notice of his father's eye: nor was he suffered to run
loose into promiscuous company, till it appeared that
his mind was furnished with steady principles of virtue,
till he had knowledge enough to defend those principles,
and to repel the assaults that might be made upon his
faith and manners. *
Yet it was hardly thought fit to trust him to his own
conduct for whole days together, lest he should meet
with temptations too hard for his virtue, till he had gain-
ed resolution enough to say JVo boldly, and to maintain
an obstinate refusal of pernicious pleasures. He was
told beforehand how the profane and the lewd would use
all the arts of address, and how subtilely they would
practise upon his good humour with powerful and tempt-
ing importunities. This set him ever upon his guard;
and though he carried his sweetness of temper always
about with him, yet he learned to conceal it wheresoever
-A-
Give an account of his entering on the duties of life, and going abroad z
in the world. &
.*
EDUCATION. 137.
it was neither proper nor safe to appear. By a little
converse in the world, he found that it was necessary to
be positive, bold, and unmovable in rejecting every pro-
posal which might endanger his character or his morals;
especially as he soon became sensible that a soft and
cold denial gave courage to new attacks, and left him
liable to be teased with fresh solicitations. He laid down
this therefore for a constant rule, that where he had fully
convinced himself that any practice was either plainly
sinful, or utterly inexpedient, he would give so firm a
denial, upon the principles of virtue and religion, as
should forever discourage any farther solicitations. This
gave him the character of a man of resolute virtue, even
among the rakes of the time, nor was he ever esteemed
the less on this account. . At first indeed he thought it a
happy victory which he had gotten over himself, when
he could defy the shame of the world, and resolve to be
a Christion in the face of vice and infidelity: he found
the shortest way to conquer this foolish shame was to
renounce it at once; then it was easy to practise what
might be termed singularity amidst a profane multitude.
And when he began to get courage enough to profess
resolute piety without a blush, in the midst of such com-
pany as this, his father and mother permitted him to
travel abroad, and to see more of the world, under the
protection of their daily prayers. His first tour was
through the neighbouring counties of England; he after-
wards enlarged the circuit of his travels, till he had vis-
ited foreign nations, and learned the value of his own.
In short, the restraints of his younger years were
tempered with so much liberty, and managed with such
prudence and tenderness, and these bonds of discipline
were so gradually relaxed as fast as he grew wise
enough to govern himself, that Eugenio always carried
about with him an inward conviction of the great love
and wisdom of his parents and his tutor. The humours
of the child now and then felt some reluctance against
the pious discipline of his parents; but now he is arrived
to man's estate, there is nothing that he looks back upon

12 #
& i **, *.
Tº
138 EDUCATION.
with greater satisfaction than the steps of their conduct,
and the instances of his own submission. He often re-
counts these things with pleasure, as some of the chief
favours of heaven, whereby he was guarded through all
the dangers and follies of youth and childhood, and
effectually kept, through Divine Grace operating by these
happy means, from a thousand sorrows, and perhaps
from everlasting ruin.
Though he has been released some years from the
strictness of paternal government, yet he still makes his
parents his chosen friends: and though they cease to
F. authority upon him, and absolute command, yet
e pays the utmost deference to their councils, and to
the first notice of their inclinations. You shall never
find him resisting and debating against their desires and
propensities in little common things of life, which are
indifferent in themselves; he thinks it carries in it too
much contempt of those whom God and nature require
* him to honour. Whensoever he enters into any impor-
tant action of life, he takes a filial pleasure to seek advice
from his worthy parents; and it is uneasy to him to at-
tempt anything of moment without it. He does not in-
deed universally practise all their sentiments, but he gains
their consent to follow his own reason and choice.
Some of the wild young gentlemen of the age may
happen to laugh at him for being so much a boy still,
and for showing such subjection to the old folks, (as they
call them): with a scornful smile they bid him “break
off his leading-strings, and cast away his yokes of bond-
age.” But for the most part he observes, that the same
persons shake off all yokes at once, and at once break
the bonds of nature, duty, and religion: they pay but
- little regard to their superior in heaven, any more than
to those on earth, and have forgotten God and their
parents together. “Nor will I ever be moved (says he)
with the reproaches of those who make a jest of things
sacred as well as civil, and treat their mother and their
Maker with the same contempt.” -
__*
--- What are his present views and conduct?
EDUCATION. 139
PHRoNISSA, when her daughters were little children,
used to spend some hours daily in the nursery, and taught
the young creatures to recite many a pretty passage out
of the Bible, before they were capable of reading it
themselves: yet at six years old they read the Scriptures
with ease, and then they rejoiced to find the same stories
in Genesis and in the Gospels which their mother had
taught them before. As their years advanced, they were
admitted into the best conversation, and had such books
put into their hands, as might acquaint them with the
rules of prudence and piety in an easy and familiar way;
the reading the lives of eminent persons who were ex-
amples of this kind, was one of the daily methods she
used, at once to instruct and entertain them. By such
means, and others which she wisely adapted to their ad-
vancing age, they had all the knowledge bestowed upon
them that could be supposed proper for women, and that
might render their character honourable and useful in
the world.
Long has Phronissa known that domestic virtues are
the business and the honour of her sex. Nature and
history agree to assure her, that the conduct of the
household is committed to the women, and the precepts
and examples of Scripture confirm it. She educated
her daughters therefore in constant acquaintarice with
all family affairs, and they knew betimes what belonged
to the provisions of the table, and the furniture of every
room. Though her circumstances were considerable in
the world, yet, by her own example she made her chil-
dren know, that a frequent visit to the kitchen was not
beneath their state, nor the common menial affairs too
mean for their notice, that they might be able hereafter
to manage their own house, and not be directed, im- .
posed upon, and perhaps ridiculed, by their own ser-
Vants. e
They were initiated early in the science of the needle,
and were bred up skilfully in all the plain and flowery
what is related of Phronissa and her children?—How did she edu
cate her daughters in domestic affairs? .
jº
wº- t
140 15 DUCATION.
arts of it; but it was never made a task nor a toil to
them, nor did they waste their hours in those nice and
tedious works, which cost our female ancestors seven
years of their life, and stitches without number. To
render this exercise pleasant, one of them always enter-
tained the company with some useful author while the
rest were at work; every one had freedom and encour-
agement to start what question she pleased, and to make
any remarks on the present subject, that reading, working,
and conversation, might fill up the hour with variety and
delight. Thus, while their hands were making garments
for themselves or for the poor, their mainds were enriched
with treasures of human and divine knowledge.
At proper seasons the young ladies were instructed in
the gayer accomplishments of their age: but they were
taught to esteem the song and the dance some of their
meanest talents, because they are often forgotten in ad-
vanced years, and add but little to the virtue, the honour,
or the happiness of life.
Phronissa herself was sprightly and active, and she
abhorred a slothful and lazy humour; therefore she con-
stantly found out some inviting and agreeable employ-
ment for her daughters, that they might hate idleness, as
a mischievous vice, and be trained up to an active and
useful life. Yet she perpetually insinuated the superior
delights of the closet, and tempted them by all inviting
methods to the love of devout retirement. Whensoever
she seemed to distinguish them by any peculiar favours,
it was generally upon some new indication of early
piety, or some young practice of a self-denying virtue.
They were taught to receive visits in forms agreeable
to the age, and though they knew the modes of dress
sufficient to secure them from any thing awkward or un-
fashionable, yet their minds were so well furnished with
richer variety, that they had no need to run to those poor
and trivial topics, to exclude silence and dulness from
the drawing-room.
Here I must publish it to their honour, to provoke
*–
In needlework?—In accomplishments?—In industry?
*
EDUCATION. 141
the sex to imitation, that though they comported with
the fashion in all their ornaments, so far as the fashion
was modest, and eould approve itself to reason or reli-
gion, yet Phronissa would not suffer their younger judg-
ments 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 har-
mony and agreeableness; in the beauties of colour and
figure her delicacy of taste was exquisite; and where
the mode ran counter to nature, though she indulged her
daughters to follow it in some innocent instances, because
she loved not to be remarkably singular in things of in-
difference, yet, she took care always to teach them to
distinguish gay folly and affected extravagañce from

natural decencies, 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 herwise 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 managing a
visit with some useful improvement of the hour, and
without offence. If a word of scandal occurred in com-
pany, it was soon diverted or suppressed. The children
were charged to speak well of their neighbours, as far
as truth would admit, and to be silent as to any thing
besides; but when the poor or the deformed were men-
tioned 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 ajest thrown
upon natural infirmities: she thought there was some-
thing 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 rail-

How did she manage the affairs of dress —Visiting 7
Ҽ.
*
...”
ºr”
*
142 EDUCATION.
lery was indulged, vice and wilful folly were the constant
subjects of it.
Persons of distinguished characters she always dis-
tinguished in her respect, and trained up her family to
pay the same civilities. . Whensoever she named her
own parents, it was with high veneration and love, and
thereby she naturally led her children to give due hon-
our to all their superior relatives. *
Though it is too much the fashion of the licentious to
laugh at the clergy in all forms, and to teach every boy
to scoff at a minister, Phronissa paid double honours to
all those whose personal behaviour upheld the dignity of
their office; for she was persuaded St. Paul was a bet-
ter director than the gay gentlemen of the mode. Be-
sides she wisely consideréd that a contempt of their per-
sons would necessarily bring with it a contempt of all
their ministrations; and then she might carry her daugh-
ters to the church as much as she pleased; but preaching
and praying, and all sacred things would grow despica-
ble and useless, when they had first learned to make a
jest of the preacher.
But are these young ladies always confined at home 7
Are they never suffered to see the world? Yes, and
sometimes without the guard of a mother too; 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 common
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 no-
thing but liberty; an admonition of their parents meets
with cheerful compliance, and is never debated. A wish
or desire has the same power over them now, as a com-
mand had in their infancy and childhood; for the com-
inand was ever dressed in the softest language of author-

Respect of religion and its ministers?
&
EQUITY. 143
ity, and this made every act of obedience a delight, till
it became an habitual pleasure. - A
In short, they have been educated with such discre-
tion, tenderness, and piety, as have laid a foundation to
make them happy and useful in the rising age; their
parents with pleasure-view the growing prospect, and
return daily thanks to the Almighty, whose blessing has
attended their watchful cares, and has thus far answered
their most fervent devotions.
EQUITY.
SENTIMENTS.
e *
Equity is the band of human society, a kind of tacit.
agreement and impression of nature, without which
there is not anything we do that can deserve commend-
ation.
Equity judges with lenity, laws with extremity. In
all moral cases, 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 perform-
ing, from this fair and equitable temper, every necessary
act of justice that relates to their persons or properties;
being just to their merits, and just to their infirmities;
making all the allowance in their favour which their
circumstances require, and a good-natured coſtstruction
of particular cases will admit of; being true to our
friendships, to our promises and contracts: just in our
traffic, just in our demands, and just by observing a due
moderation and proportion even in our resentments.
EXAMPLES.
M. Popilius LæNA, the Roman consul, being sent
against the Stelliates, a people in Liguria, bordering on
the river Tanarus, killed and took so many of them
How has this plan of education succeeded?—What is remarked of —:-
equity ?—Relate the conduct of Lena-Of the Roman Senate.
144 *. Equity. *
-ºš
3.
prisoners, that, finding the forces of their nation reduced
to ten thousand men, they submitted to the consul with-
out 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
resented 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 un-
tractable enemy; but it becomes shameful, when it is
made use of to oppress the unfortunate.”—Liv. 1. xliii. c. 8.
BRUTUs, upon the accusation of the inhabitants of
Sardis, publicly condemned and branded with infamy
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,
had absolved, in public, two of his own friends, and con-
tinued them in their offices, though accused of the same
crime, contenting himself only with reprimanding them
in private. He did not conceal his sentiments on this
head from Brutus, whom he accused, in a friendly man-
ner, of too much rigour and severity, when gentleness
and favour 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 op-
pressed 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 bet-
ter 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; whereas
Describe the occasion of the quarrel between Brutus and Cassius.
EQUITY. 145
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 observes, what was the rule of all Brutus's ac-
tions.— Plut. in Brut. — See Shakspeare's Jul. Caes.
TRAJAN, the Roman emperor, would never suffer any
one to be condemned upon suspicions, however strong
and well-grounded; saying, it was better a thousand
criminals should escape unpunished, than one innocent
person be condemned. When he appointed Suburranus
captain of his guards, to present him, according to cus-
tom, with a drawn sword, the badge of his office, he
used those memorable words: Pro me; si mered?, in me.
“Employ this sword for me; but turn it, if I 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 for-
bidden to private citizens was equally forbidden to
F. who, as they are not above the laws, are no
ess 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 pros-
perity of the emperor, he added these conditions: “If he
observes the laws; if he governs the republic as he...ought;"
if he procures the happiness of the people.”—Plin. Paneg.
p. 134.
MYSIAs, the brother of Antigonus, king of Macedon,
desired him to hear a cause, in which he was a party,
in his chamber: “No, my dear brother,” answered An-
tigonus; “I will hear it in the open court of justice, be-
cause 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 Macedonians, “An-
What is related of Trajan?—Of Mysiast—of Phocion
I 3
146 * EQUITY.
tipater,” 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 condemn-
ed a judge to death for some prevarication in his office,
and afterwards, 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 going to
be executed; and acknowledged, that he had pronounced
it with more precipitation than wisdom. But one im-
portant and essential rule which they observed 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;
and, in the second place, if the person accused was found
innocent, 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 king's favourites, ambitious of getting a place
possessed by one of his best officers, endeavoured to
make the king suspect the fidelity of that officer; and, to
that end, sent information to court full of calumnies
against him, persuading 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 busi-
ness to shut out the innocent from all access to their
prince, and thereby put it out of their power to vindicate
*m.
Of the Persians?—Of Darius 7–Of Artaxerxes 7
FAITH-PUBLIC. I47
themselves. The officer was imprisoned: but he desired
of the king, before he was condemned, 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 letters which his enemy had
written against him, he was cleared, and his innocence
fully justified by the three commissioners that sat upon
his trial. All the king's indignation fell upon the perfidi-
ous 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 subjects stand
moré in awe of the law than of informers, would have
thought an epposite conduct a direct violation of one of
the most common rules of natural equity and humanity.
It would have been opening a door to envy, hatred, and
revenge; it would have been exposing the honest sim-
plicity of good and faithful subjects to the cruel malice
of-detestable informers, and arming these with the sword
of public authority; in a word, it would have been di-
vesting the throne of the most noble privilege belonging
to it, namely, of being a sanctuary for innocence, against
violence and calumny. — Herod. lib. vii. c. 194.
U-
sº
F A IT H – P U B L I C.
|NOT TO BE VIOLATED.
SENTIMENTS.
EvKRy wise man, especially in authority and command,
ought to regard justice, probity, and the faith of engage-
ments, as the most precious treasure he can possess; and
as an assured resource, and an infallible support in all
the events that can happen.
What remarks are made on public faith ?
148 |FAITH-PUBLIC.
EXAMPLES.
Duane the war between the Athenians and Lacedæ-
monians, Brasides, general of the latter, laid siege to the
city of Amphipolis; but, before he proceeded to hostili-
ties, 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; 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 al-
liance with him; and that he ought to be considered as
the most abandoned of men, should he employ oaths to
ensnare their fidelity. “For a fraud,” said he, “cloaked
with a suspicious pretence, reflects greater dishonour on
persons in my station than open violence: because the
latter is the effect of the power which fortune has put
into our hands, and the former, is founded wholly on
perfidy, which is the bane of society. Now I,” con-
tinues he, “should do a great disservice to my country,
besides dishonouring it eternally, if, by procuring it some
slight advantages, I should ruin the reputation it enjoys,
of being just and faithful to its promises; which renders
it much more powerful than 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 always formed his conduct; believing
that the strongest bulwark of a nation is justice, mode-
ration, and integrity; 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 see in this prince a bound-
less ambition conducted by an artful, insinuating, subtle
genius; but we do not find him possessed of the qualities
which form the truly great man. Philip had neither
faith nor honour; every thing that could contribute to
*
What is related of Brasides 7–Give his own reasons for his conduct.
—Its effect.—What was the character of Philip of Macedon 7
FAITH-PUBLIC. 149
the aggrandizing 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; and made his glory consist
in deceiving all with whom he treated. He did not
blush to say, “That children were amused with play-
things, and men with oaths.”— AElian, lib. vii. c. 2. —
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 negotiation succeed. But thºugh this
were the case, can it ever be lawful to purchase such
snceess at the expense of probity, honour, and religion ?
“If your father-in-law, Ferdinand the Catholic,” said
Lewis XII. to Philip archduke of Austria, “has acted
perfidiously, I am determined not to imitate him; and I
am much better 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 re-
covered.” # *
But those politicians who have neither honour nor
religion, deceive themselves, even in this particular. 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 administration of public af.
fairs, in treaties of peace and war, in a word, in the
most important negotiations, without the 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
allowed 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 ca-
pable of drawing upon him the contempt and hatred of
*
What is said of Lewis XII. of France? –
13 *
I 50 FIDELITY IN SERVANTs.
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
ignominy which arise from breach of faith and perjury.
—Roll. An. Hist, vol. vii.
*s---
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 contract; when
we have agreed, in return for the benefits and advan-
tages of daily support and protection, to promote the
interest and welfare of those who thus support and pro-
tect us, the obligation is doubtless of double force, and
the neglect of it totally unpardonable. A good servant
will therefore not only be obedient, honest, and diligent,
but will place himself in the circumstances and situa-
...tion of his master, and do as he then would wish to be
done by. He will be strictly just and faithful, with re-
gard to every thing committed to his care; endeavour-
ing to promote in others that fidelity which he himself .
practises. He will be too active and diligent in the dis-
charge 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 free-
dom. In a word, should his master be in danger, the
good servant will testify his regard and friendship, even
at the hazard of his life.
EXAMPLES.
THE Romans besieged Grumentum, in Lucania; and
when the city was reduced to the last extremity, two
Of Cyrus 7—Describe a good servant.
FIDELITY IN SERVANTs. 151
slaves escaped into the camp of the besiegers. Soon
after the place was taken by storm, and plundered. The
two slaves, at this time, ran to the house of their mis-
tress, whom they seized with a kind of violence, and
carried off, threatening her both with their words and
gestures; and when they were asked, Who she was 7
they answered, She was their mistress, and a most
cruel mistress: upon whom they were going to take re-
venge for all the barbarous treatment they had suffered
from her. In this manner they made her quit the city,
and conveyed her to a safe retreat, where they con-
cealed 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 be-
fore. She gave them their liberty, which was the
greatest reward in her power to bestow; but certainly
extremely short of the favour she had received. — Sen,
de Benef. iii. 23.
No sooner was Marius returned to Rome, and his
former greatness, (see Ambition, p. 40,) 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; and very few escaped. The unfortunate found
neither faithful friends nor relations, and almost all of
them were betrayed by those to whose houses they fled
for security. This ought to make the fidelity of Cornu-
tus'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 be
lieved that it was their master, who had hanged himself;
and showed him in that situation, with a gold ring on
his finger, to the soldiers who sought him. They after-
terwards acted the whole ceremony of a funeral, with-
out any body's suspecting the truth; and during that
time Cornutus escaped to Gaul. —Plut. — Appian.
*
Relate the story of the two slaves.
152– FLATTERY.
FLATTERY.
SENTIMENTS. Tºº-
Nothing misbecomes
The man that would be thought a friend, like flattery;
Flattery, the meanest kind of base dissembling,
And only used to catch the grossest fools.
Please not thyself the flatt’ring crowd to hear;
'T is fulsome stuff, to please thy itching ear.
Survey thy soul; not what thou dost appear,
But what thou art. sº
THE heart has no 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 nowhere be placed, but in a just
sense of our own integrity, without regard to the opin-
ion of others.
sº. EXAMPLES.
WHEN Ptolemy Euergetes first set out on his expe-
dition into Syria, his queen, Berenice, who tenderly
loved him, being apprehensive of the dangers to which
he might be exposed in the war, made a vow to conse-
crate her hair, which was her chief ornament, in case
he should return safe. The prince returned not only
safe, but was crowned wish glory and success; where-
—upon Berenice, to discharge her vow, immediately cut
off her hair, and dedicated it to the gods, in the temple
which Ptolemy Philadelphus had built in honour of his
beloved Arsinoe, under the name of the Zephryan
Venus, on the promontory of Zephryan, in Cyprus. But
this consecrated hair being lost soon after, or perhaps
contemptuously 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
What remarks are made on flattery 7–Tell the story of Berenice's
hair.
ee
--"
FLATTERY. 153
the king's wrath, and gain his favour, gave out that the
queen's locks had been conveyed up to heaven, and
pointed out seven stars which, at that time, had not be-
longed 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,
affirmed the same thing; and hence coma Berenices, or
the hair of Berenice, became one of the constellations,
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 presence,
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 remaining, 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
shown his detestation of the barbarons cruelty of the
prince, condemns still more the cowardice and mon-
strous flattery of the father. Sceleratius telum illud law-
datum est, quam missum. — Sen. de Ira. lib. iii. c. 14.
PRUSIAs, king of Bithynia, being come to Rome to
make the senate and Roman people his compliments 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; and saluting 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,
prostrating himself, kissed the threshold: afterwards, ad-
dressing himself to the assembly, “I salute you, gods.
Of Cambyses and Praxaspes—Of the flattery of Prusias.
154 FLATTERY.
-
preservers,” cried he, 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.
ANTIOCHUS SIDETEs, king of Syria, was a prince esti-
mable for many excellent qualities. As a proof of his
wisdom, he detested flattery. One day, having lost him-
self a hunting, and being alone, he rode up to the cot-
tage of a poor family, who received him in the best
mamer they could, without knowing him. At supper,
having himself turned the conversation upon the con-
duct 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 cour-
tiers, 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. in Apophthegm. p. 185.
As Canute the Great, king of England, was walking
on the sea-shore at Southampton, accompanied by his
courtiers, who offered him the grossest flattery, com-
paring him to the greatest heroes of antiquity, and even
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; no one ever broke my commands with impunity:
I therefore charge thee to come no farther on my land,
Of Antiochus-Of Canute and his flattering courtiers.
~ *
e-
155
Canute reproving his Courtiers.
and not presume to wet either my feet or myrobe, who
am thy sovereign.” But the sea, rolling on as before,
and without any respect, not only wet the skirts of his
robe, but likewise splashed his thighs. On which he
rose up suddenly, and addressing himself to his attend-
ants, upbraided them with their ridiculous flattery, and
very judiciously expatiated on the narrow and limited
power of the greatest monarchs on earth. — Hunting-
don, lib. vi. Florileg. in A. D. 1035.
TIMOLEoN having expelled the tyrants, and restored
Syracuse to its ancient liberty, his wisdom, valour, and
glory were very much extolled in his presence; yet such
were 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 ministra-
tion; for he was fully persuaded, that all human events
are guided and disposed by the secret decrees of Divine
Providence. What a treasure—what a happiness for a
state, is such a minister! — Cor. Nep. in Timol. c. iv.
Of Timoſeon.

156 FREEDOM witH THE GREAT
*
FREEDOM witH GREAT MEN DANGEROUS.
SENTIMENTS.
m—
• 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; and more men's fortunes overthrown
thereby, than by their vices.
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 pas-
sionate, inconstant, or vicious, give not your advice; it
is in vain, for such will do only what shall please them-
selves.
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 resentment.
EXAMPLES.
Dionysius the Elder, king of Syracuse, without the
qualifications, had a strong passion for the character of
a great poet. Having read one day some of his verses
to Philoxenus, and having pressed 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. — Rollin's Am. Hist.
What is said of men's fortunes?—Of good counsel ?—Of advice?—-
Of Dionysius
{
FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 157
CAMBYSEs, king of Persia, having obliged Praxaspes,
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
majesty, but they are somewhat surprised at your im-
moderate love of wine.” “I understand you,” replied
the king; “that is, they pretend that wine deprives me
of my reason. You shall be judge of that immediately.”
Upon which he began to drink excessively, pouring it
down in larger quantities 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; and, declaring he aiméd at his
heart, let fly, and actually shot him in the heart. He
then ordered his body to be opened, and showing 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 p. 153.) Herod. lib. iii.
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. Alexander was in-
formed that the swords of the soldiers were of gold and
ivory; and the king, now the greatest monarch in the
world, being determined not to yield to any person
whatsoever, in any circumstance, 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 en-
terprise at the head of a hundred and twenty thousand
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 design he had so
What is related of Cambyses and Praxaspes?—Of Alexander the
Great 7
14 a-
158 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT.
§
long meditated, viz. to have divine honours paid him.
To soothe and cherish this ridiculous pretension, there
were not wanting flatterers, those common pests of
courts, who are more dangerous to princes than the
arms of their enemies. With this view he appointed a
festival, and made an incredibly pompous banquet; to
which he invited the greatest lords of his court, both
Macedonians and Greeks, and most of the highest quali-
ty among the Persians. With these he sat down at
stable for some time, after which he withdrew. Upon
this, Cleon, one of his flatterers, began to speak, and ex-
patiated very much in praise 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 ex-
pense, merely with two grains of incense, which they
should offer to him as to a God, without the least scru-
ple, since they believed him such. To this purpose he
cited the example of the Persians, and added, that in
case the rest should not care to pay this justice to Alex-
ander's merits, 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 Aris-
totle, who had presented himself to Alexander, his pupil,
that he might attend upon that monarch in the war of
Persia. He was considered, upon account of his wis-
dom 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 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,
addressed himself to Cleon in the following words:
“Had the king been present when thou madest thy

Of Cleon'?—Of Callisthenes 7
FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. 159
speech, none among us would have attempted to answer
thee, for he himself would 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 adulation: 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;
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 com-
mendations only, and awful respect.
“We salute the latter, and look upon it as glorious to
pay them submission, obedience, and fidelity; but we
adore the former. We institute festivals to theffhonour,
and sing hymns and spiritual songs to their glory. We
must not, therefore, confound things, either by bringing
.down the gods to the condition 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 sacred person only; ought we not to
dread the indignation of the gods as much, should we
bestow upon mortals the honour due to them alone 7 I
am sensible that our monarch is vastly superior to the
rest; he is the greatest of kings, and the most glorious
of all conquerors: 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 expressly commanded it. The
Persians are cited as an example for our imitation; but
how long is it that the vanquished have given law to the
victor? Can we forget that Alexander crossed the Hel-
lespont, not to º Greece to Asia, but Asia to
Greece 7”
The deep silence which all the company observed
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 in-
sisting any farther, he would only require the Persians
What was the substance of Callisthenes's speech?
*
rº
f60 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT.
to fall prostrate, according to their usual custom; a little
after which he came in, pretending he had been busied
in some affairs of importance. Immediately the Persians
fell prostrate to adore him. Polysperchon, who stood
near him, observing 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 Callisthe-
nes, 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 innocence to the last, and ex-
pired in the midst of his tortures.
Nothing has reflected a greater dishonour on Alexan-
der's memory than this unjust and cruel death of Callis-
thenes; and, by this dreadful example, he deprived all
virtuous men of the opportunity of exhorting him to
those things which were for his true interest. From that
instant no one spoke with freedom in the council; even
those who had the greatest 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 ascendency
over that prince, as entirely depraved him, and justly
punished him, for having sacrificed to the wild ambition
of having adoration paid him, the most virtuous man
about his person. “The murder of this philosopher,”
says Seneca, “was a crime of so heinous a nature, as
entirely obliterates the glory of all his other actions.”—
Senec. JVat. 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 Alexander the Great
What passed when it was ended ?–How was Callisthenes treated 7–
What remarks are made on Alexander's conduct?—How was he punish-
ed?—What is related of Darius 7
FREEDOM WIºI THE GREAT. 161
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 Alexan-.
der for having caused him to be banished from Athens.
Darius, turning to this Athenian, asked, whether he be-
lieved him powerful enough to defeat his enemy? Chari-
demus, who had been brought up in the bosom of liberty,
and forgetting 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 for telling you the truth:
but in case I do it not now, it will be too late hereafter.
This mighty parade of war, this prodigious number of
men, which has drained all the East, mightºndeed be
formidable to your neighbours. Gold and purple shine
in every part of your army, which is so prodigiously
splendid, that those who have not seen it could never
form an idea of its magnificence. But the soldiers who
compose the enemy's army, terrible to behold, and brist-
ling in every part with arms, do not amuse themselves
with such idle show. Their only care is to discipline in
a regular manner their battalions, and to cover them-
selves close with their bucklers and pikes. Their pha-
lanx is a body of infantry, which engages without flinch-
ing, and keeps so close in their ranks, that the soldiers
and their arms form a kind of impenetrable wark. 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 7 they satisfy their appetites with any kind
of food. Are they weary 7 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
Of Charidemus 2—What was the substance of his speech?
14 +
I62 FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT.
that of Acarnania and Ætolia, 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 experience. Send therefore thither all
the useless gold and silver which I see here, and purchase
formidable soldiers.” Darius was naturally of a mild,
tractable temper: but good fortune will corrupt the most
happy disposition. Few monarchs are resolute and cou-
rageous 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 pro-
posed to him: however, as this cruel treatment could
not silence Charidemus, he cried aloud with his usual
freedom, “My avenger is at hand, the very man, in op-
position to whom I gave you counsel, and he will punish
you for despising it. As for you, Darius, in whom sove-
reign power has wrought so sudden a change, you will
teach posterity, that when once men abandon themselves
to the delusions of Fortune, she erases from their minds
all the seeds of goodness implanted in them by nature.”
Darius soon repented his having put to death so valuable
a person, and experienced, but too late, the truth of all
he had told him. — Q. Curt. — Rollin.
PLATO was descended from an ancient and illustrious
family possessed of a considerable estate, and universally
admired as the profoundest scholar of his age; 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, be-
ing charmed with the character of Plato the Divine, for
How did he treat Charidemus 7—How was he punished 7—What was
the character of Plato!—How was he treated by Dionysius 7
FREEDOM WITH THE GREAT. E63
so he was generally styled, expressed a great inclination
to have some conversation with him. The philosopher
then about forty years of age, paid the king a visit.
The liberty, however, which he took of discoursing on
the subject of tyranny, and the arguments he used to
persuade the king to divest himself of his despotic
power, had like to have cost him dear; his death, in all
probability, would have proved the consequence, had
not his friends Dion and Aristomenes pleaded hard in his
behalf. Though the king, indeed, through their inter-
cession, spared his life, yet he showed his resentment so
far, that he delivered him up to one Polides, a Lacedae-
monian 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 Ægina,
and there executed the commission. It was fortunate for
poor Plato that one Anniceres, a native of Cyrene, hap-
pened at that time to be in the island. This person paid
down the sum demanded for the philosopher; 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 expect-
ation, was under some apprehension that Plato would
study some way or other to revenge the insult and in-
dignity offered him. He wrote therefore a yery com-
plaisant 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; for his thoughts were so much taken
up with the charms of philosophy, that he had no time
to spare in the gratification of any private resentment—
JMartin’s Lives, &c. }
How did he escape to Athens t—what followed his return ? -
sº
164 FRIENDSHIP.
* - FRIEND SHIP.
SENTIMENTS.
Without 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 per-
fect integrity of heart.
Friendship is a disinterested affection, founded only
on esteem, and of all the passions most nearly resembles
love: nor 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 pro-
bity. It requires more time to be certain with regard to
this point; and till we are as well assured of it, as it is
possible for us to be, we 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; we ought to enter with
him into an intercourse of sentiments, of tastes, plea-
sures, 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; thus it is with friendship: that is commonly the
most firm and durable which grows up but slowly; while
that which is hastily contracted is more liable to be dis-
solved. Lovers of virtue should have none but virtuous
What is friendship?—How should you choose a friend ?–From what
society —Why?
FRIENDSHIP: I65
men for their friends; and on this point the proof 'ought
principally to turn: because where there is no virtue there
is no security that our honour, confidence, and friend-
ship will not be betrayed and abused. In general they
suffer most from pretended friendship who least deserve
to suffer. It is very rare for the honest heart to prove
distrustful; and more rare still for him not to be deceived,
who is a stranger to suspicion. 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; but
when these contract a friendship they risk more than
others: for so many advantages arise from aspiring after
their esteem, that they never can be certain that it is not
courted with a view to interest; 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 deceived 7
The necessary appendages of friendship are confi-
dence and benevolence. The purse and the heart ought
to be open to a friend; 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 no hazard in
trusting to a well-chosen friend, either our secret or our
strong box, for we are certain he will use them both
with discretion.
Confidence produces two effects: the one is such a
perfect reliance on the prudence, the probity, the con-
stancy, and affection of the person beloved, as prevents
every injurious suspicion; the other effect, which is in-
deed a natural consequence of such, a reliance, is that
openness and unreserve with which two friends disclose
their most intimate sentiments, their thoughts, their pro-
jects, and, in a word, every thing in which either the
one or the other may appear concerned; and this fre-
quently extends even to trifles, because, between friends,
trifles themselves become interesting.
Such faults only as are inconsistent with the sincerity
What are the necessary appendages of friendship 7—What are the
effects of confidence 7—What faults should we overlook?
*.
166 FRIENDSHIP.
of friendship, ought to be unpardonable: overlook in
your friend all the faults in which his heart is not con-
cerned; all those which do not prove that his affection
for you is extinguished. º
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 offices:
these are to friends what caresses are to lovers; not rea
sons for beginning to love, but motives to love more af.
fectionately: like a breath of wind, which, though it pro-
duces 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 peo-
ple, having carried his regard for the plebeians so far as
to draw on himself the resentment of the nobility, an
open rupture ensued. The consul Opimius, who es-
poused the cause of the latter, seized a post which com-
manded the city. Gracchus, and Fulvius his friend,
with a confused multitude, took possession of Mount
Aventine; so that the two extremities of Rome, to the
east and west, were like two camps. Overtures of
peace were made, but not being accepted, a battle en-
sued, in which the consul, meeting with a more vigor-
ous 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
Fulvius, 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 homes. Fulvius, by the vigilance of the consular
party, was taken and beheaded. As for Gracchus, he
How is friendship preserved?—Who was Caius Gracchus 7–Relate
the circumstances of his quarrel with the consul—What obliged Caius
Gracchus to flee 7
FRIENDSHIP. 167
would have taken refuge in the Temple of Diana, but
Licinius Crassus, his brother-in-law, and Pomponius, a
Roman knight who attended 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
Cocles 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 Gracchus was out of their reach;
but, at length, being overpowered by nurºpers, 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 him-
self 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, covered hing with his
own body, so that his enemies could not hurt him with-
out first killing the faithful slave, who, after receiving
many wounds, breathed his last over Gracchus, whom
the rabble despatched. — Plut. in Gracch.
NEvKR, perhaps, was there a more sincere and ele-
vated friendship than that which existed between Scipio
and Laelius. The former was one of the greatest gene-
rals and best men that Rome ever produced; the other,
for his probity and prudence, was distinguished by the
surname of the Wise. They were almost of the same
age, and had the same inclination, benevolence of mind,
3-
+.
Who defended him 7–How did he die?—Describe the friendship of
Scipio and Lælius.
168 TRIENDSHIP.
taste for learning-of all kinds, principles of government,
and zeal for the public good. If Scipio took place in
point of military glory, (though Laelius did not want
merit even of that kind,) his friend had, perhaps, the su-
periority in respect of eloquence: but let us hear Laelius
himself upon so interesting a subject: “As for me,” says
Laelius, “ of all the gifts of nature or fortune, there are
none, I think, comparable to the happiness of having
Scipio for my friend. I found in our friendship a per-
fect conformity of sentiments in respect to public affairs;
an inexhaustible fund of counsels and supports in pri-
vate life, with a tranquillity and delight not to be ex-
pressed. 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; for in war, in travelling, in
the country, we were always together. I do not mention
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 commerce of the
world.”
Is there any thing comparable to a friendship like that
which Laelius 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 sensi-
bly, if we had no other 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 l’”
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 admira-
tion of his virtues; and his to me, from the favourable
idea he had of my character and manners. This friend-
What exalts such friendship f
FRIENDSHIP. 169
ship increased afterwards on both sides, by habit and
commerce. We both of us, indeed, derived great ad-
vantages 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; 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 passions 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 Syra-
cuse to die on a certain day, he begged permission, in
the interim, to retire to his own country, to set the affairs
of his disconsolate family in order. This the king in-
tended peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he con-
ceived, on the impossible conditions of his procuring
some one to remain as hostage for his return, under
equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the conditions,
and did not wait for an application on the part of
Damon; he instantly offered himself as security for his
friend, which being accepted, Damon was immediately
set at liberty. The king and all the courtiers were
astonished at this action, and therefore, when the day of
execution drew near, his majesty had the curiosity to
visit Pythias in his confinement. After some conversa-
tion on the subject of friendship, in which the king de-
livered it as his opinion, that self-interest was the sole
mover of human actions; as for virtue, friendship, bene-
volence, love of one’s country, and the like, he looked
upon them as terms invented by the wise, to keep in
awe and impose upon the weak. “My lord,” said Py-
thias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, “I would it
were possible that I might suffer a thousands deaths,
rather than my friend should fail in any article of his
Relate the story of Damon and Pythias.
15
I'70 FRIENDSHIP.
honour. He cannot fail therein, my lord: I am as con-
fident of his virtue, as I am of my own existence. But
I pray, I beseech the gods, to preserve the life and in-
tegrity 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 thousand times of more
consequence, of more value, than my own; more esti-
mable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents,
to his friends, to his country. 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; he
was exalted on a moving throne that was drawn by six
white horses,’ and sat pensive and attentive to the
prisoner. Pythias came, he vaulted lightly on the scaf.
fold, and beholding for some time the apparatus of his
death, he turned with a placid countenance, and ad-
dressed the spectators: “My prayers are heard,” he
cried; “the gods are propitious. You know, my friends,
that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. Damon
could not come; he could not conquer impossibilities; he
will be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to-
day shall have ransomed the life of my friend. O could
I erase from your bosoms every doubt, every mean sus-
picion, for 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; that he is now on his way,
hurrying on, agcusing himself, the adverse elements, and
the gods; but I haste to prevent his speed; executioner,
do your office.” As he pronounced the last words, a buzz
began to rise among the remotest of the people; a dis-
tant voice was heard; the crowd caught the words, and

GAMING. 171
“Stop, stop the execution,’ was repeated 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 en-
dangered a life so much dearer than my own.” Pale,
cold, and half-speechless in the arms of his Damon,
Pythias replied in broken accents—“Fatal hastel Cruel
impatience What envious power hath wrought impos-
sibilities in your favour? But I will not be wholly dis-
appointed. Since I cannot die to save, I will not sur-
vive you.” Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all
with astonishment. His heart was touched, he wept,
and leaving his throne, he ascended the scaffold. “Live,
live, ye incomparable pair!” he cried, “ye have borne
unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue ! and
that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to re-
ward it. Live happy, live renowned: and, O form me
by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your exam-
ple, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a
friendship.”—Cic. de Officiis. lib. 3. n. 43.


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 during the
What remarks are made on gaming 7
• ?:
173 GAMING.
course of our lives, continually missing the fortune we
have lost. *
All play debts must be paid in specie, or by an equiva-
lent. The man that plays beyond his income pawns his
estate: the woman must find out something else to mort-
gage when her pin-money is gone: the husband has his
lands to dispose of; 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 conse-
‘quences,
The love of cards let sloth infuse;
The love of money soon ensues:
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
And all the charms that wit can boast
In dreams of better 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.
EXAMPLE.
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 Gaming, 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 passion. “In Queen Anne's wars he was an en-
sign in the English army-then in Spain: but he was so
absolutely possessed by this evil, that all duty, and every
thing else that prevented his gratifying his darling pas-
sion, was to him most grievous: he scarcely allowed
himself time for rest; or if he slept, his dreams presented

*
Relate the story of Colonel Daniel,
•"
GAMING. 173
acks of cards to his eyes, and the rattling of dice to
É. ears: — his meals were neglected, 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; 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 recruiting
duty, and at Barcelona he raised one hundred 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. After 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 distress he applied to a captain of the same regi-
ment with himself for a loan of ten guineas; which was
refused with this speech, “What! lend my money to a
professed #. No, Sir, I must be excused: for of
necessity I must lose either my money or my friend; I
therefore choose to keep my money.” With this taunting
refusal he retired to his lodgings, where he threw him-
self on the bed, to lay himself and his sorrows to a mo-
mentary rest, during the heat of the day. A gnat, or
some such vermin, happening to bite him, he awoke;
when his melancholy situation 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; and should they de-
sert for want of their pay, he must be answerable for it;
he could expect mething but cashiering for disappointing
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 acquaint-
ance there; and strangers he knew would not let him
have so large a sum as was answerable to his real ne-



15 #
174 *. GAMING, .
cessity. This naturally led him to reflect seriously on
what had induced him to commence gamester, and this
he presently perceived was idleñéss. He had now found
the cause, but the cure was still wanting: how was that
to be effected so as to prevent a relapse? Sopmething
must be done: some method must be pursued so effectu-
ally 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 encourage 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 purchasing 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 laudable resolution you
have made, for be assured that IDLENESS AND GAMING ARE
THE RUIN of YoUTH. My interest, advice, and purse,
are now at your command: there, take it, and provide
yourself with what is necessary to subsist yourself and
recruits to the regiment.” . This presently brought the
colonel off the bed; and this afternoon’s behaviour en-
tirely obliterated the harshness of his friend's morning
GENEROSITY. 175
.*
refusal; 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 commission, he had well
nigh lost by one morning's folly; he immediately solicit-
ed for, and purchased the adjutancy; 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.
G E N E R O S IT Y.
SENTIMENTS.
TRUE generosity is a duty as indispensably necessary
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 generosity does not con-
sist in obeying every impulse of humanity, in following
blind passion for our guide, and in impairing our circum-
stances by present benefactions, which may render us
incapable of future ones, or doing justice where it is due.
EXAMPLES.
THE conduct of the war against the Falisci being
committed to the care of Camillus, the Roman dictator,
he besieged Falerii, their capital city, and surrounded 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 committing 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, -
What remarks are made on generosity?—Relate the story of Camily
lus's generosity.
176 GENEROSITY.
and see them perform the exercises preper for their age.
The children had used often to walk with their master
without the walls of the city before the siege; and the
fears of an enemy, who kept quiet, and at such a dis-
tance, were not great enough to make them discontinue
their exercise afterwards. But the present school-mas-
ter proved a traitor. He at first led the youths along
the walls, then he carried them a little farther; 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, addressed him thus:
“With these children I deliver the place you besiege into
your hands: they were committed to my care and
tuition, but I prefer the friendship of Rome to my em-
ployment at Falerii.” Camillus, struck with horror at
the treachery, and looking at him with a menacing air,
“Traitor,” says 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 formal
alliance with the Falisci, but that which nature has es-
tablished between all men both does and shall subsist
between us. War has its rights as well as 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; men who, without any previous
injury from us, attacked the Roman camp at Veii.
Thou, to the utmost of thy power, hast succeeded them
by a new and different kind of crime; but for me, I
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
Of its reward.
~
GENEROSITY. 177
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 inconsolable
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
entirely changed their disposition 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,
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 man-
ner that can give no offence to gods and men, we are
come to surrender ourselves to you; and we assure our-
selves, than which nothing can be more glorious for
victors, that we shall live happier under your govern-
ment than under our own laws. The event of this war
has brought forth two excellent examples for mankind.
You, Fathers, have preferred justice to immediate con-
quest; and we, excited by that justice which we admire,
voluntarily present you the victory.”— Liv. lib. v. c. 27.
PAPIRIUS CARBO, the Roman Consul, being impeached
as an accomplice in the assassination of the second Af.
ricanus, 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 Papirius, 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,
–mº.
Relate the story of Crassus's generosity.
178 GENEROSITY.
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, who was sent for that purpose, the place
where he had buried his wealth. This citizen was im-
mediately seized, and brought, together with the treach-
erous informer, before Brutus. The mother of the accu-
sed followed them, declaring, with tears in her eyes, that
she had hid the treasure without her son's knowledge,
and consequently ought to be punished. On the other
hand, the slave stood to his first information, maintaining
that his master, and not his mother, had transgressed
the edict. Brutus heard both parties with great patience,
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 the son, and
condemned the slave to be crucified. This judgment,
which was immediately published all over Lycia, gained
him the hearts of the inhabitants, who came in flocks to
him from all quarters, offering, 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 Æmilia, who had left him a large fortune, to 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 Gracchus 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 different times. Young Scipio answered, that he
How did Brutus punish the faithless slave, and reward the affectionate
mother ?—What was his reward?—How did Scipio behave to his aunts?
GENEROSITY. 179
knew very well what the laws directed on this occasion;
that they might, indeed, be executed in the greatest rig-
our with strangers, but that friends and relations ought
to treat one another with a more generous simplicity;
and, therefore, he desired them to receive the whole sum.
They were struck with such admiration at the generosity
of their kinsman, that in their return home, they re-
proached themselves with their narrow 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 admired, because no person in Rome, so far
from consenting to pay so large a sum before it was
due, would pay even twenty pounds before the tºe of
payment was elapsed.
PAPIRIA, the mother of Scipio, having been divorced
from her husband, was not in circumstances to support
the dignity of her birth, and therefore lived in great ob-
scurity, never appearing in the assemblies, 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 conve-
niences of life, but to appear, as usual, in the best com-
pany, with an equipage and splendour every way suitable
to her birth, and the august house to which she was
related. This noble generosity of Scipio did him great
honour, especially in the minds of the ladies, who expa-
tiated 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; and his sisters, accord-
ing to the custom of those times, had not the least claim -
to them. Nevertheless, Scipio thought it would be dis-
honourable, had he taken them back; he therefore made
over to his sisters whatever he had presented to his
mother, which amounted to a very considerable sum;
His mother ?—His sisters ?
180 , GENEROSITY.
and by this fresh proof of his glorious disregard of
wealth, and the tender friendship he had for his family,
acquired the applause of the whole city.— Excerp. e
Polyb. 3}
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, An-
tiochus Sidetes sent him rich and magnificent presents.
Some generals would have appropriated them to their
own use; Scipio received them in public, sitting upon
his tribunal, in the view of the whole army, and gave
order that they should be delivered to the treasurer of
the army, (the quaestor), to be applied in rewarding those
officers and soldiers who should distinguish themselves
in the service. — Epit. Liv. lib. 57.
AESCHINEs and Demosthenes were the two greatest
orators which Greece, or, perhaps, any other nation,
ever produced. The former having drawn up an accu-
sation against one Ctesiphon, or rather against Demos-
thenes, 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; for
what sight could be more noble than a conflict between
two orators, each of them excellent in his way; both
formed by nature, improved by art, and animated by
perpetual dissensions, and an insuperable jealousy.' The
disposition of the people, and the juncture of the times,
seemed to favour AEschines; nevertheless he lost his
cause, and was justly sentenced to be banished for his
rash accusation. He thereupon went and settled at
Rhodes, where he opened a school of eloquence, the
fame and glory of which continued for many ages. He
began his lectures with the two orations that had occa-
sioned his banishment. Great encomiums were given
His officers and soldiers?—Relate the instance of generosity in AEschi-
neš.
GENEROSITY. wº 181
to that of Æschines; but when they heard that of De-
mosthenes, the plaudits and acclamations were redoubled;
and it was then he spoke these words, so greatly laudable
in the mouth of an enemy: “But what applauses would
ou have bestowed, had you heard Demosthenes speak
it himself!”
The victor likewise made a good use of the conquest;
for the instant AEschines left Athens, in order to embark
for Rhodes, Demosthenes ran after him, and forced him
to accept of a purse of money, which must have obliged
him so much the more, as he had little room to expect
such an offer. On this occasion AEschines 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!”
THE character of Alexander is so completely unex-
ampled, his career so unlike every thing that has been
recorded of all other conquerors, that we must not be
surprised to find him by some writers described as a
scourge of the human race, and by others represented as
a great benefactor of mankind. That his establishment.
of a permanent empire in the TEast would have greatly
advanced the great cause of civilization and social hap-
piness is perfectly undeniable. When we consider how
much he effected before he had attained even his thirty-
fourth year, it is not easy to assign the limits of what he
might have done, if his life had been protracted to old
age. To change the barbarous habits of the Asiatic
nations, and substitute for their savage customs the re-
finements of Greek civilization, was an enterprise of
greater difficulty and of greater glory than the conquest
of Darius, or the subjugation of Persia: but it might
probably have been effected by the royal pupil of Aris-
totle, combining, as he did, the enthusiasm of the hero,
and the wisdom of the philosopher. Other invaders
Of Demosthenes?—What opposite accounts are given of Alexander's
character ?—Why may we suppose that he could have executed his pro-
jects —What designs of his would have been most difficult to execute 7
16
M82 GENEROSITY,
º
º -- E. Fº A * *
§º ſº sº
Alexander refusing to drink the water.
sºns
have passed over the plains of Asia, both in ancient, and
modern times, but their career has been like the pc ison
wind of the desert, traceable only by the ruin and deso-
lation that marked their progress. The march of Alex-
ander was not wholly unattended with evil, for every
invading army must cause calamity; but the monuments
of his glorious career were seventy cities founded under
his auspices, commercial marts established on all the
principal rivers, and improved systems of agriculture
and social life taught to wandering tribes. The army
of the southern Greeks, who had not shared in the glo-
ries of the conquest of Asia, the jealousy of the Romans,
who could not bear to remember that the banners of
Macedon were displayed in regions unvisited by the
Román eagle, and the republican prejudices of most
ancient historians, have led to a great depreciation of
Alexander's merits, and a great exaggeration of his
faults. It would be idle to assert that he was a perfect
character, but “take him for all in all,” and it will be
difficult to point out in history a better general, a wiser
sovereign, a more merciful victor, and a more sincere
How did he differ from other conquerors of Asia?—Why has the
character of Alexander been misrepresented 7




THAPPENESS. 183
friend. Alexander understood the means of rendering
himself popular with the soldiers not less thoroughly
than Napoleon. When the army were on a forced
march through a dry region, some soldiers at a great
risk procured a little water, and brought it in a helmet
for the king to drink. Seeing the soldiers gazing upon
it with eagerness, he took the helmet and poured it on
the ground, saying that their seeing him drink it would
only increase their thirst. *
HAPPINESS NOT FOUNDED ON WEALTH, OR THE
VICISSITUDES OF HUMAN LIFE. *
SENTIMENTS.
You see here a notable instance of the uncertainty of
human grandeur, and the mutability of fortune; 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 as to make
him behave with arrogance towards 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 miserable by `
turns. Divine Wisdom will have it so, and it is exceed-
ingly for our advantage it should be so. By the medi-
tation of this mixture, we have the comfort 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 justice, the other of his goodness and
mercy; the one tells us that there is no trusting in our
strength, the other preaches faith and resignation in the
º of an over-ruling Providence who takes care
OI lls,
-º-
What is said of prosperity?—The lot of mankind?—Of vicissitude 7
*
184 HAPPINESS.
SXAMPLES.
~.
CROEsus was king of Lydia. His very name, 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 to 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 millions. We may partly accºunt for the
treasures of this prince from certain mines that he had,
situated, according to Strabo, between Pergamos and
Atarnes; 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 soften the
courage of Croesus. He thought it unworthy of a
prince to spend his time in idleness and pleasures. He-
rodotus 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 extraordinary 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, attended
with a numerous court, appeared in all his regal pomp
and splendour, dressed in the most magnificent apparel,
which was all over enriched with gold, and glittered with
diamonds. Notwithstanding the novelty of this specta-
cle 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; on the contrary, people
of sense might sufficiently discern from his behaviour.
that he looked upon this outward pomp as an indication
of a little mind, which knows not in what true greatness
Of Croesus?—His wealth ?–His court 7–0f Solom?
HAPPINESS. 185
consists. This coldness and indifference in Solon's first
approach, gave the king no favourable opinion of his
new guest. He afterwards ordered that all his treasures,
his magnificent apartments, and costly furniture, should
be shown him; as if he expected, by the multitude of
his fine vessels, diamonds, statues, and paintings, to con.
quer the philosopher's indifference, But it was the king
that Solon was come to visit, and not the walls or cham-
bers of his palace. He had no notion of making an es-
timate of his worth by these outward appendages, but
by himself and personal qualities.
When Solon had seen all, he was brought back to the
king: Croesus then asked him, which of mankind, in all
his travels, he had ſound the most truly happy : “One
Tellus,” replied Solon, “a citizen of Athens, a very
honest and good man, who lived all his days without in-
digence, 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, flat-
tered himself with being ranked in the second 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 friendship,
and of the respect due from children to their parents.
Upon a solemn festival, 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, moved with admiration, congratulated the
priestess on the piety of her sons. She, in the transport
of her joy and thankfulness, earnestly intreated the god-
dess to reward her children with the best thing that hea.
Solon's first answer ?—His second 7
16%
186 º HAPPINESS.
ven could give to man. Her prayers were heard.—
When the sacrifice was over, her two sons, fell asleep in
the very temple, and there died in a soft and peaceful
slumber. In honour of their piety, the people of Argos
consegrated statues to them in the temple of Delphos.”
“What! then,” says Croesus, “you do not reckon me in
...the number of the happy?” Solon, who was not willing
either to flatter or exasperate him, replied calmly: “King
of Lydia, besides many other advantages, the gods have
iven 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 philosophy, con-
sidering what an infinite number of vicissitudes and ac-
cidents 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 superficial.” From hence he took
occasion to observe 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
various accidents which cannot be foreseen. Therefore,
in our opinion (continued he) no man can be esteemed
happy, but he whose happiness God continues to the end
of his life. As for others who are perpetually exposed
to a thousand dangers, we account their happiness 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 Groesus experienced the truth :
of what Solon had told him. He had two sons, one of
whom being dumb, was a perpetual subject of affliction
to him. The other, named Atys, was distinguished by
every good quality, and was his 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
His third answer?—What was Croesus first misfortune?
HAPPINESS. 187
***
young lords of the court were to be at this hunting.
Atys very earnestly importuned his father that he would
give him leave to be present. The king granted his re-
quest, but put him under the care of a discreet young
prince, who had taken refuge in his court, and was
named Adrastus; and this very Adrastus, as he was
aiming his javelin at the boar, unfortunately killed Atys.
It was impossible to express either the affliction of the
father, when he heard of this fatal accident, 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 sustainéd.
But the growing reputation and great qualities of Cyrus,
king of Persia, who then began to make himself known,
roused his martial spirit, and diverted 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 condemned by the conqueror to
be burnt alive, with fourteen young Lydians, as a sacri-
fice and first fruits of his victory. Accordingly, the
funeral pile was prepared, and that unhappy prince being
laid thereon, and just upon the point of execution, recol:
lecting the conversation he formerly had with Solon,
was wofully convinced of the truth of the philosopher's
admonition, and in remembrance thereof cried out aloud
three times, “O Solon, Solon, Solon l’ Cyrus, who,
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 vehe-
mence in his extremity. Being told the reason, and re-
flecting upon the uncertain state of all sublunary things,
he was touched with commiseration of the prince's mis-
fortunes, caused him to be taken from the pile, and

His second 7—How did he escape death 2
HSS HAPPINESS
*
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. 86.91. –
Plut. in Solon.— Roll. Ant. Hist, vol. ii.
PERSEUs had reigned eleven years king of Macedon.
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 children, led in triumph
through the streets of Rome. After being made a pub-
*lic spectacle, he was bound in chains, and thrown into
prison. It would melt the most obdurate heart to read
the sufferings he there endured. Though deeply sensi-
ble of his misery, all that P, AEmilius, who had conquered
him, could do for his relief, was to get him removed from
the common gaol into a more commodious prison. Hun-
ger 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 sufferings.
Of the three children of Perseus, two, his eldest
daughter and son, did not survive him long. Touched
with their own and their royal father's misfortunes, they
gave themselves up to vexation and grief, which put an
early period to their days. His youngest son, Alexan-
der, was reduced to work with his own hands for the
means of life; and afterwards, as he had learned the
Latin tongue, he became a register under the magis-
trates 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 l— Liv. — Plut.
Who was Perseus 7–What were his misfortunes?
HAPPINESS. 189
Lysimachus, at the division of Alexander's empire,
had several provinces allotted to his share; besides
which, he afterwards obtained the kingdom of Mace-
donia, having also fifteen children living to be the com-
forts of his old age. In such a situation, he thought
himself contented and happy; but so it was, that, like
the fair city of Lysimachia, which he had built and
called after his own name, and which was swallowed
up by an earthquake, he suddenly saw himself and his
fortunes, his foreign and domestic hopes, not only turned
upside down, but destroyed forever. His eldest son,
Agathocles, a prince of great hopes, because of great
rudence, he had married to Lysandra, the daughter of
tolemy by Eurydice, the daughter of Antipater; and,
some time after, he hims ºf married Arsinoe, the daugh-
ter of Ptolemy by Berenice, a widow, who had accom-
anied his other wife into Egypt as her friend. These,
urydice, Berenice, Lysandra, and Arsinoë, introduced
scenes of blood and confusion into both courts. In that
of Ptolemy, Berenice prevailed upon the king in favour
of 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 re-
ceived 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 powerful,
and more implacable than she. She infused it into her
husband's head, that his eldest son, Agathocles, who had
conquered for him half his empire, and in whom the
army and people had their hopes bound up, was secretly
his enemy; upon which the young prince was first im-
prisoned, and then poisoned; a fact, which struck not
only the family, but all the subjects of Lysimachus, with
horror; 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 Lysimachus’s
army, and some of the principal lords of his court, fol-

Who was Lysimachus?—Describe his misfortunes.
I90 HAPPINESS.
*
2 lowed them, and all concurred in beseeching him to
make war upon his unnatural parent, who, vexed with
the reflections made on what he had already done, grew
every day more and more cruel. 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 Lysimachus; and him once subdued, he saw no
cause to doubt but that his own empire would be ex-
tended 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 Coru-
pedion, in Phrygia, a battle ensued, where, in the seven-
ty-fourth year of his age, º having 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 conqueror. — Appian. in Syriacis-Just.
lib. xvii. c. 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 magnificence of
his palaces, and the universal abundance of all good
- things and enjoyments in his possession; always repeat-
ing, that never man was happier than Dionysius. “Be-
cause you are of that opinion,” said the tyrant, “will
you taste and make proof of my felicity in person 7"
The offer was accepted with joy; Damocles was placed
upon a golden bed, covered with carpets of inestimable
value. The sideboards 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 most exquisite essences and
perfumes had not been spared. The table was spread
with proportionable magnificence. Damocles was all
joy, and looked upon himself as the happiest man in the
Relate the story of Damocles.
HAPPINESS. 191
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Dſ. ocles.
world; when, unfortunately, casting up his eyes, he be-
held over his head the point of a sword, which hung
from the roof only by a single horse-hair. He was im-
mediately seized by a cold, sweat, every thing disap-
peared in an instant: he could see nothing but the sword,
nor think of any thing but his danger. In the height of .
his fear he desired permission to retire, and declared he
would be happy no longer. — Cic. Tusc. Quest. lib. v. n.
61, 62. ſº
This was a very natural and striking representation
of the uncomfortable manner in which the tyrant passed
his days, as appears from the extraordinary precau-
tions he thought necessary for the security of his life. ,
He wore under his robes a cuirass of brass. He never
harangued the people but from the top of a high tower;
and thought proper to make himself invulnerable by be-
ing 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 condemn himself to a kind of imprison-
Of Dionysius's caution.
Aº





192 HAPPINESS.
ment. These extraordinary preeautions regard, no
doubt, certain intervals of his reign, when frequent con-
spiracies against him rendered him more timid and sus-
picious than usual; 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 arms against him.
. A word which escaped his barber, who boasted, by way
of jest, that he held a razor at the tyrant's throat every
week, cost him his life. From henceforth, not to aban-
don his head and life to the hands of a barber, he made
his daughters, though very young, do him that despica-
ble office; and when they were more advanced in years,
he took the scissors and razor from them, and taught
them to singe off his beard with hot shells. . He was at
last reduced to do himself that office, not daring it seems
to trust his daughters any longer. His bed was sur-
rounded with a very broad and deep trench, with a
small draw-bridge over it for the entrance; after having
securely locked and bolted the doors of his apart-
ments, he drew up the bridge that he might sleep in se-
curity. 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; but in the midst
of all his greatness, his citadel was attacked, his trea-
sures seized, and he himself was obliged to surrender up
his person. He was sent to Corinth, with only one gal-
ley, without convoy, and with veryºlittle money. He
served.there for a sight, every body running to gaze at
him; some with a secret joy of heart to feed their eyes
with the view of the miseries of a man, whom the name
of king rendered odious; others with a kind of com-
What is related of Dionysius the Younger?
HAPPINESS. 193
passion, from comparing the splendid condition from
which he had fallen, with the inextricable abyss of dis-
tress into which they beheld him plunged. We are told,
likewise, that the extreme poverty to which he was re-
duced at Corinth, obliged him to open a school, and to
teach children to read; perhaps, says Cicero, (without
doubt jestingly) to retain a species of empire, and not
absolutely to renounce the habit and pleasure of com-
manding. Whether that was his motive or not, it is cer-
tain 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; that the same
Dionysius, reduced now almost to beggary, and from a
king become a school-master, was a good lesson for per-
sons of exalted stations not to confide in their grandeur,
nor to rely too much upon their fortune. The Lacedae-
monians, 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 vicissitudes of joy;
To thank the gracious gods for what they give,
Possess our souls, and while we live, to live.
- Dryd. Pal, and Arc.
Richard II., in the early part of his reign, had confis-
cated the estates of the Earl of Hereford and banished.
him. These injuries served to inflame the resentment
of Hereford against the king; and although he had
hitherto concealed it, he now set no bounds to his in-
dignation, but even conceived a desire of dethroning a
person who had shown himself so, unworthy of power
Indeed, no man could be better qualified for an enterprise
By whom was the king opposed ?
17
194 HAPPINESS. .
-
of this nature than the earl of Hereford; he was cool,
cautious, discerning, and resolute. He had served with
distinetion against the infidels of Lithuania; and he had
thus joined to his other merits those of piety and valour.
He was stimulated by private injuries, and had alliance
and fortune sufficient to give weight to his measures. He
only waited the absence of the king from England to
put his schemes into execution; and Richard's going over
into Ireland, to quell an insurrection there, was the op-
portunity he had long looked for.
Accordingly he instantly embarked at Nantz, with a
retinue of sixty persons, in three small vessels, and landed
at Ravenspur, in Yorkshire. The earl of Northumber-
land, who had long been a malcontent, together with
Henry Percy, his son, who, from his ardent valour, was
surnamed Hotspur, immediately joined them with their
forces. After this junction the concourse of people
coming to enlist under his banner was so great, that in
a few days his army amounted to sixty thousand men.
While these things were transacting in England,
Richard continued in Ireland in perfect security. Con-
trary winds, for three weeks together, prevented his re-
ceiving any news of the rebellion which had begun in
his native dominions; wherefore, upon landing at Milford
Haven with a body of twenty thousand men, he saw
himself in a dreadful situation, in the midst of an enra-
ged people, without any friend on whom to rely; and
forsaken by those who, in the sunshine of his power, had
only contributed to fan his follies. His little army gradu-
ally began to desert him, till at last he found that he
had not above six thousand men who followed his stand-
ard. Thus not knowing whom to trust, or where to turn,
he saw no other hopes of safety but to throw himself
upon the generosity of the enemy, and to gain from
pity what he could not obtain by arms. He therefore
sent Hereford word that he was ready to submit to
whatever terms he thought proper to prescribe, and that
By whom was Hereford joined on his arrival in England 7–In what
manner did the king conduct himself?
HAPPINESS. * 195
*
he earnestly desired a conference. For this purpose the
earl appointed him to meet at a castle within about ten
miles of Chester, where he came next day with his army.
Richard, who the day before had been brought thither
by the duke of Northumberland, descrying" his rival's
approach from the walls, went down to receive him;
while Hereford, after some ceremony, entered the castl
in complete armour, only his head was bare, in compli,
ment to the fallen king. Richard received him with
that open air for which he had been remarkable, and
kindly bade him welcome. “My lord king,” returned
the earl, with a cool respectful bow, “I am come sooner
than you appointed, because your people say, that for
one-and-twenty years you have governed with rigour
and indiscretion. They are very ill satisfied with your
conduct; but if it please God, I will help you to govern
them better for the time to come.” To this declaration
the king made no other answer but “Fair cousin, since
it pleases you, it pleases us likewise.” *
But Hereford's haughty answer was not the only
mortification the unfortunate Richard was to endure.
After a short conversation with some of the king's at-
tendants, Hereford ordered the king's horses to be brought
out of the stable; and the wretched animals being pro-
cured, Richard was placed upon one, and his favourite,
the earl of Salisbury, on the other. In this mean equip-
age they rode to Chester; and were conveyed to the
castle with a great noise of trumpets, and through a vast
concourse of people, who were no way moved at the
sight. In this manner he was led triumphantly along
from town to town, amidst multitudes, who scoffed at
him, and extolled his rivals. “Long live the good duke
of Lancaster, our deliverer!” was the general cry; but
as for the king, to use the pathetic words of the poet,
“None cried God bless him " Thus, after repeated in-

Can you mention the indignities the king afterwards suffered 7–How
did Richard receive the earl of Hereford t—and what passed at the in-
terview between them —To what other mortifications was the Ring
obliged to submit? e
§
:
h
196 -- HAPPINESS.
Richard II. surrendering his crown.
dignities, he was confined a close prisoner in the Tower,
there, if possible, to undergo a still greater variety of
studied insolence and flagrant contempt. The wretched
monarch, humbled in this manner, began to lose the
pride of a king with the splendours of royalty, and his
spirit sunk to his circumstances. There was no great
difficulty, therefore, in inducing him to sign a deed, by
which he renounced his crown, as being unqualified for
governing the kingdom. Upon this resignation Hereford
founded his principal claim: but, willing to fortify his
pretensions with every appearance of justice, he called
a parliament, which was readily brought to approve and
confirm his claim. A frivolous charge, of thirty-three
articles, was drawn up, and found valid against the king;
upon which he was solemnly deposed, and the earl of
Hereford elected in his stead, by the title of Henry the
Fourth. Thus began the contest between the houses of
York and Lancaster; which, for several years after,
What circumstances preccded his resignation of the crown 7 — By
whom was he succeeded?—What dreadſul contest now commenced.

HAPPINESS. 197
deluged the kingdom with blood; and yet, in the end,
contributed to settle and confirm the constitution.
When Richard was deposed, the earl of Northumber-
land made a motion in the house of peers, gemanding
the advice of parliament with regard to the ſtiture treat
ment of the deposed king. To this they replied, that he
should be imprisoned in some secure place, where his
friends and partizans should not be able to find him.
This was accordingly put in practiee; but while he still
continued alive, the usurper could not remain in safety.
Indeed, some conspiracies and commotions which fol-
lowed soon after, induced Henry to wish for Richard's
death: in consequence of which, one of those assassins
that are found in every court, ready to commit the most
horrid crimes for reward, went down to the place of this
unfortunate monarch's confinement in the castle of
Pomfret, and with eight of his followers, rushed into his
apartments. The king, concluding their design was to
take away his life, resolved not to fall unrevenged, but
to self it as dearly as he could; wherefore, wresting a
pole-axe from one of the murderers, he soon laid four
of their number dead at his feet. But he was at length
overpowered, and struck dead by the blow of a pole-axe;
although some assert that he was starved in prison.
Thus died the unfortunate Richard, in the thirty-fourth
year of his age, and the twenty-third year of his reign.
Though his conduct was blameable, yet the punishment
he suffered was greater than his offences; and in the
end his sufferings made more converts to his family and
cause than ever his most meritorious actions could have

procured them. He left no posterity, either legitimate
or otherwise.
After Richard was deposed, in what manner was he treated ?—Relate
. circumstances which attended the murder of Richard.—Describe his
character.
17 #
198 HONOUR.
H O N O U R.
SENTIMENTS.
Not all the threats, or favour of a crown,
A prince’s whisper, or a tyrant's frown,
Can awe the spirit, or allure the mind
Of him who to strict honour is inclin'd.
Honour, that spark of the celestial fire,
That above nature makes mankind aspire;
Ennobles the rude passions of our frame,
With thirst of glory, and desire of fame:
The richest 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.
* ºr
THERE is nothing honourable that is not innocent, 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 instance
of honour and regard to truth. A Spanish cavalier in
a sudden quarrel slew a Moorish gentleman and fled.
His pursuers soon lost sight of him, for he had unper-
ceived thrown himself over a garden 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 implored 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
t was night he would provide for his escape to a place
What remarks are made on honour? — Relate the story of the hon
ourable Moor. <,
HONOUR, 199
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 description given, that the fatal deed was
done by the very person then in his power. He men-
tioned this to no one; but as soon as it was dark retired
to his garden, 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 as-
tonished 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;
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; the effects of which remain to this day; so that
when there is any fear of a war breaking out between
England and Spain, an English merchant there, who ap-
prehends the confiscation 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. The following
instance of Spanish honour, deserves to be handed down
to the latest posterity.
In the year 1746, when England was contending with
Spain, the Elizabeth of London, Captain William Ed-
wards, coming through the Gulph from Jamaica, richly
laden, met with a most violent storm, in which the ship

What is said of the Moors and Spaniards?
*
--sº
200 HONOUR.
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 directly waited on the go-
vernor, 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
}. in fair war at sea, or approaching our coast with
ostile intentions, your ship would then have been a
prize, and your people prisoners; but, when distressed by
a tempest, you come into our ports for the safety of
your lives, we, though enemies, being men, are bound as
such by the laws of humanity, to afford relief to dis-
tressed 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 necessary,
to stop the leak; you may refit her here, and traffic so
far as shall be necessary to pay the charges; 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 will then be a lawful prize; but now you are only a
stranger, and have a stranger's right to safety and pro-
tection.” The ship accordingly departed, and arrived
safe in London. ge
A REMARKABLE instance of the like honour is recorded
of a poor unenlightened African negro, in Captain Sea-
grove'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 contracted an ac-
quaintailce during their trade. He recovered, and the
sloop being gone, he continued with his black friend till
some other opportunity should offer of his getting home.
In the meantime a Dutch ship came into the road, and
some of the blacks coming on board her, were treacher-
ously seized, and carried off as their slaves. The rela-
Relate the story of the Spanish governor of Havannah.
HONOUR. - 201
tions and friends, transported with sudden rage, ran to
the house of Cudjoe to take revenge by killing Murray;
Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and demanded what
they wanted. “The white men,” said they, “have car-
ried 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 you must not kill him.”—“But
he is a white man,” 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; 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 f"
The negroes seeing this resolution, and being con-
vinced 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, “That they were glad they had not
killed him; for he was a good (meaning innocent) 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 re-
nounce their league with the Achaeans, and enter into a
friendship and confederacy with Sparta. But, notwith-
standing this offer was extremely advantageous, they
declined it without the least hesitation; and rather chose
to see themselves deprived 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
Relate the story of Cudjoe-Of Cleomenes and the Megalopolitans.
202 HUMANITY.
#s
famous, Philopoemen, who was then at Messene, con-
tributed not a little to this generous resolution. — Rollin's
Ant. Iłist. . *
WILFRED, bishop of the Northumbrians, having ren-
dered himself disagreeable to Egfrid, his sovereign, and
Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, the king resolved
to have him deposed, and the archbishop soon found a
very plausible pretext for that purpose. No sooner was
Wilfred acquainted with their design, than he imme-
diately prepared to lay his complaints before his Holi-
ºness. Sailing with a fair wind, he landed at Friezland,
where he was bonourably 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, ordered
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, bidding them tell
their masters 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 mem-
of Wilfred—what is said of humanity?
HUMANITY. 203
sº
bers of the same family, of which God is the Creator
and Father. Let us illustrate this by the circular undu-
lations 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 im-
pression is in proportion to the largeness of their cir-
cumference, till the last seems to escape from our sight.
Here is an image of the different degrees of our affec-
tions. We love principally that which touches us the
º and less and less, in proportion to the dis-
tance. e consider mankind, with relation to us, as
divided into different classes, every one of which in-
creasing gradually, consists of greater numbers that ſhe
former: we place ourselves in the smallest, which is sur-
rounded by others more extended, and from thence we
distribute to the different orders of men which they con-
tain, different degrees of affection, more or less strong,
in proportion to their distance from us, in such a man-
mer, as that the last has hardly any share of it. These
different classes may be ranked in the following order:
a wife, children, relations, friends, men of the same re-
ligion; next are those of the same trade or profession as
ourselves; the other classes comprehend our neighbours,
fellow-citizens, and countrymen; the last, which incloses
all the rest, is the universal class of mankind.
Pity, compassion, and even forgiveness, when not in-
consistent with prudence and our own safety, are due
to our enemies.
We must not do that to another which we would not
have him to do to us. This is the rule which determines
what kind of treatment is forbidden with respect to the
rest of mankind: every thing which, were it done to our
selves, would appear hard, barbarous, and cruel, is com
prised in this prohibition.
Of general benevolence?—How is it illustrated ?—What are due to
out enemies —What is the golden rule of humanity ?
204 HUMANITY.
*
bºxAMPLES.
WHEN Q. Caecilius Metellus, the Roman proconsul,
had invested Nertobrigia, a chief lord of the country,
named Rhetogenes, came out of the place, and surren-
dered himself to the Romans; but as he had left in the
city his wife and children, the inhabitants, enraged at
his desertion, placed them in the breach which the le-
gionaries were to mount. Hereupon the good-natured
general, finding he could not attack the city without
spilling their blood, abandoned 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 armies to re-
pel the invaders. The one commanded by Count Lasci,
an Irish gentleman of great courage and experience,
which broke through the Turkish entrenchments, and
ravaged Crim Tartary with fire and sword. The other
army was under the command of Count Munich, des-
tined 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 service
of the Czarina. By his valour and skill, at the head of
eight thousand men, the place above mentioned was in-
vested and taken, at least the success was chiefly attri-
buted to him. In storming this city, he gave such in-
stances of tenderness and humanity as diffused additional
lustre round his military glory; for while the furious
Muscovites were sanguine in their revenge, he checked
their ferocity, and exhorted them to spºre the lives of
Relate the story of Metellus's humanity.—How was it rewarded ?–
What is related of the Turks and Russians?—Of Count Lasci?—Of
Count Munich 7–Of Mr. Keith ?
HUMANITY, 205
their enemies. 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; 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; 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 affectionate fidelity and ex-
emplary discretion, that the saving this young innocent
from destruction may be deemed not the least consider-
able of Mr. Keith's services. -

MARCUs BRUTUs, the Roman general, was of an ex-
traordinary mild disposition, and great magnanimity,
and therefore, before he began hostilities, sent to the
Lycians, to demand a supply of men and money; but
the Lycians despising his humanity and good-nature,
would hearken to no terms, so that Brutus was forced,
against his will, to lay siege to Xanthus, º capital
city, which he foresaw would bring innumerable evils on
a brave and gallant people. The besieged made a most
vigorous defence, and behaved in their sallies with un-
paralleled bravery, 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 Romans pursued
them close, and entered the city to-the number of two
thousand, with the besieged ; but the portcullis falling,
either by stratagem of the enemy, or by accident, many
of the Romans were crushed to pieces, and the rest shut
What is related of Brutus?—What city did he besiege 7—How were
a party of Romans inclosed in the city?
18
206 HUMANITY.
in without any possible means of retiring, or receiving
the least assistance from their friends. In this desperate
condition they resolved at least to sell their lives dear;
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 en-
deavours were to no effect, the Xanthians defending it
with a bravery and resolution which surprised the Ro-
mans 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 became general. Brutus,
fearing the whole would be destroyed, ordered his sol-
diers 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 inhabitants, beg-
ging of them that they would spare their own lives and
save their town; but his entreaties were not regarded.
The Xanthians were immoveably determined not to out-
live the loss of their liberty, and therefore repulsed with
showers of arrows the Romans whom the good-natured
general sent to their assistance. Nay, they themselves
gathering together reeds, wood, and other combustible
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 children, 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
How did they proceed?—How was the city set on fire?—Describe
the destruction of it and the inhabitants.
iº
HUMANITY. 207
children were seen offering their throats, or opening
their breasts to their fathers’ swords, and begging they
would take away that life which they had given. When
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 de-
clining to see so tragical an object, he proclaimed a re-
ward to any soldier who should save a Xanthian : but,
with all his care and good-nature, he could only pre-
serve one hundred and fifty; and those much against
their will. — Plut. in Bruto. *
As soon as the soldiers of the truly gallārſt Czar of
Muscovy were masters of the town of Narva, they fell
to plunder, and gave themselves up to the most enor-
mous barbarities. The Czar ran from place to place, to
put a stop to the disorder and massacre. He turned
upon his own victorious, but ungovernable 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 own hands several Muscovites who did
not hearken to his orders. — Hist. Ch. XII.
PyRRHUS, having put to flight the army of Antigonus,
seized his kingdom (Macedonia); but both ariñies meet-
ing again at Argos, the inhabitants sent deputies, hum-
bly requesting that neither of them would enter the city.
Their request was granted; but, contrary to his pro-
mise, the same night, Pyrrhus 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, having been killed by a stone
thrown from a building by a mother, whose son he had
first wounded. Alcyoneus, the son of Antigonus, taking
How did Brutus show his humanity ?—What is related 6f Peter the
Great?—Of Pyrrhus 7
* .
-º-
208 HUMANITY
A . ~~
Death of Pyrrhus. .
the head by the hair, rode with it full speed to his father,
and finding him talking with some of his 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 batoon: “Barbarous wretch,”
said he, “why dost thou think that he whose grand-
father was slain, 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, Alcyoneus, having discovered
Helenus, the son of Pyrrhus, 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 ; however you have
done less than your duty still, in that you have suffered
a person 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
Pyrrhi. — Justin. lib. xxv. c. 5.
—º
Of Alcyoneus 7—Antigonus 7–Of Helenus 7

HUMANITY. 209
Alexander visiting the family of Darius."
As Alexander, after one of his victories over the Per
sians, 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, concluding that he was dead. Alexander,
after some pause, during which he was rather commise-
rating their misfortunes, than rejoicing in his own suc-
cess, sent Leonatus to assure them “that Darius was
not dead; that they had nothing to fear from Alexander,
for his dispute with Darius was only for empire; and
that they should find themselves provided for in the
same manner as when Darius was in his greatest pros-
perity.” - If this message to the captive princesses was
gracious and humane, his actions were still more so.
He visited them himself, and allowed them to do the fu-
neral 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 ap-
pointments were greater. But there was another part
Relate the story of Alexander's treatment of the family of Darius.

18 #
210 HUMANITY,
wº *
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 #. modesty
and virtue, and took care that they should not hear an
indecent word, nor have the least cause to suspect any
Aº
danger to their honour. Nay, as if they had been in a
holy temple, or an asylum of virgins, rather than in an
enemy's camp, they lived unseen and unapproached, 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
t more glorious and worthy of a king to conquer him-
self, than to subdue his enemies; and, therefore, never
approached one of them. — Plut. in Alex.
In the year 1736, the notoriously infamous pirate An-
gria had his strong fortress of Geriah, in the vicinity
of Bombay, taken by a squadron under the command
of Admiral Watson, and the land forces commanded by
Colonel (afterwards Lord) Clive.
Angria himself escaped, having left the fort three
days before it was attacked, but committed the govern-
ment thereof to one of his wives’ brothers, 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 unfortunate
captives; and the interview between them was beyond
measure affecting. Upon his entering their house, the
whole family made a grand salaam, or reverential bend-
ing of their bodies, touching the very ground with their
faces, and shedding floods of tears. The admiral de-
sired them to be comforted; adding, “that they were
now under his protection; and that no kind of injury
should be done them.” They then again made the
salaam. The mother of Angria, though strongly af-
*=-
What is related of Angria?—Of Admiral Watson 7
INDOLENCE. 211
\
ſected 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 P’ The admiral replied, “that from hence-
forward 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;” and immediately took the admiral by the
hand, and called him father. This action of the #.
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. *ºr,
IN DO LEN CE.
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 from
his insensibility. He is his own burthen, and would
fain fly from himself, but is not able: that eternal inap-
petency which he drags about with him assumes a thou-
sand different forms for his own punishment, and that of
others. *
Supineness and effeminacy have ruined more consti
tutions than excessive labour; and moderate exercise,
far from being destructive to health, establishes 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, demonstrate, that
the hand which formed us, formed us for a busy and
active life; and the end for which the Creator designed
What is said of lazy people?—Of supineness and effemimacy 7—Of
activity ?
212 INDUSTRY."
us is, undoubtedly, the best to which we can possibly at-
tain. That the necessity of labour ought to be regarded
as a punishment, is a mean and sordid opinion, invented
by the effeminate and lazy; on the contrary, if God had
prohibited labour, such prohibition might justly have
been deemed a token of his displeasure; 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 brought to
him by his ministers without reading them; $nd he was
so indolent and thoughtless as to continue the same cus-
tom even after he was married. 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 did : but was so ashamed of his
past indolence and neglect, that he never after signed
any papers till he had either attentively read them him-
self, or was well informed what they contained.— Univ.
Hist, vol. xvi.
IN D U S T R Y.
SENTIMENTS.
LovE labour: if you do not want it for food, you
may for physic. He is idle that might be better em-
ployed. 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 innocent. By
doing nothing, we learn to do ill.
Of Theodosius 7—Of labour and idleness?
INDUSTRY. 213
#
*
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 business,
shall in a little time have no business to follow.
Of all the diversions of life, there is none so proper to
fill up its empty spaces, as the reading of useful and en-
tertaing authors; and, with that, the conversation of a
well-chosen friend.
A man of letters never knows the plague of idleness:
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, become so mean and
despicable, as to be an incumbrance 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 the supreme power of eloquence over the
minds of men; and not being able to resist its charms,
he gave himself up to it: from thenceforth he renounced
all other studies and pleasures, and during the continu-
ance 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 part of his fortune. Encou-
raged by this success, he ventured to speak before the
people, but with very ill success. He had a weak voice,
a thick way of speaking, and a very short breath; not-
withstanding which, his periods were so long, that he
was often obliged to stop in the midst of them for respi-
ration. This occasioned his being hissed by the whole
audience. As he withdrew, hanging down his head, and
in the utmost confusion, Statyrus, one of the most excel-
lent actors of those times, who was his friend, met him ;
Of recreations ?—Of reading 7—Of Demosthenes?—Of his first es.
say?—Of his defects?—Of Statyrus :
214 INDUSTRY.
Demosthenes declaiming at the sea-side.
and having learned 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 desperate
as he imagined. He desired him to repeat some of the
verses of Sophocles or Euripides to him, which he ac-
cordingly did. Statyrus spoke them after him, and gave
them such graces by the tone, gesture, and spirit, with
which he pronounced them, that Demosthenes himself
found them quite different 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 utterance,
and to perfect himself in pronunciation, of which his
friend had made him understand the value, seem almost
incredible, and prove that àn industrious perseverance
can surmount all things. He stammered to such a de-
ree, that he could not pronounce some letters; among
others, that with which the name of the art he studied
begins; and he was so short-breathed, that he could not
utter a whole period without stopping. He overcame
these obstacles at length, by putting small pebbles into
his mouth, and pronouncing several verses in that man-
ner without interruption; and with walking and going
up steep and difficult places, so that at last no letter made
His industry?—His expedients for curing defects?

INDUSTRY. 215
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 accustom himself, by the confused noise
of the waters, to the roar of the people, and the tumult-
uous cries of public assemblies.
Demosthenes took no less care of his action than his
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 public. To correct a fault,
which he had contracted by an ill habit of shrugging up
his shoulders, he practised standing upright in a kind of
very narrow pulpit, or rostrum, over which hung a hal-
bert, in such a manner, that if in the heat of the action
that motion escaped him, the point of the weapon
º serve, at the same time, to admonish and correct
1II].
His application to study was no less surprising. To
be the more removed from noise, and less subject to dis-
traction, he caused a small room to be made for him
under ground, in which he shut himself 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 admirable orations which were said by those who
envied him, to smell of the oil, to imply that they were
too elaborate. “It is plain,” replied he, “yours did not
cost you so much trouble.” He rose very early in the
morning, and used to say, that he was sorry when any
workman was at his business before him. We may
further 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 that great man fa-
miliar to him.
His pains were well bestowed: for it was by these
means that he carried the art of declaiming to the high-
2st degree of perfection of which it was capable; whence
His application to study ?—His success 2
*
|
216 INDUSTRY.
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 “Pronunciation;” 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 con-
siderable 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 monarchs
that ever swayed the sceptre of England. Every hour
of his life had its peculiar business assigned it. He di-
vided the day and night into three parts of eight hours
each; and though much afflicted with a painful com-
plaint, assigned only eight hours to sleep, meals, and ex-
ercise, devoting the remaining sixteen, one half to read-
ing, writing, and prayer, and the other to public business.
—History of England. -
PLINY, in one of his letters, where he gives an ac-
count of the various methods by which he used to fill
up every vacancy of time, after several employments,
which he enumerates; “Sometimes,” says he, “I hunt;
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 something that may be
useful to me in my studies; 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.”
Of Alfred the Great?—Of Pliny ?
*. INGRATITUDE. f 217
3-4-
f
~ * ..ºf | .* *
f * \ INGRATITUDE.
&
* *
• - === SENTIMENTs.
INGRATIfüDI, is a crime so shameful, that there never
was a man found-who would own himself guilty of it.
. The ungrateful aré never fit to serve their God, their
country, nor their friends. •.
Ingratitude perverts all the measures of religion and .
society, by making it dangerous to be charitable and
good-natured: however, it is better to 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. Af
º EXAMPLES. $
• A MACEDonian soldier had in many instances distin-
guished himself by extraordinary acts of valour, and
had received many marks of favour and approbation
from Philip.king of Macedon. On 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 appearance 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 unhappy stranger. He bore him to his house,
laid him in his own bed, revived, 6herished, and for
forty days supplied him freely with all the necessa-
ries and conveniences which his languishing condition
could require. The soldier, thus happily rescued from
death, was incessant in the warmest expressions of gra-
titude to his benefactor, assured him of his interest with
the king, and of his power and resolution of obtainin
for him, from the royal bounty, the noble return whic
such extraordinary benevolence had merited. He was
Of ingratitude 7—Relate the story of the Macedonian soſdier,
I9 .* *
4.
*
*.
218 INGRATITUDE. &
now completely recovered, and his kind host supplied
him with money to pursue his journey. . Some time
after, he presented himself before the king; he recounted
his misfortunes, and mágnified his services; and this in-
human wretch, who had looked with an eye of envy on
the possessions of the man who had preserved his life,
was now so abandoned to all sense of gratitude, as to
request that the king would bestow upon him the house
and lands where.he had been so kindly and tenderly en-
tertained. Unhappily, Philip, without examination, in-
considerately and precipitately granted his infamous re-
quest; 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 this instance
of unparalleled ingratitude, and insensibility, boldly de-
termined, instead of submitting to his wrong, to seek
relief, and, in a letter addressed to Philip, represented
his own and the soldier's conduct in a lively and affect-
ing manner. The king was fired with indignation, and
ordered that justice should be instantly done; that the
possessions should be immediately restored to the man
whose charitable offices had been thus horribly repaid;
and having seized his soldier, caused these words to be
branded on his forehead: “The ungrateful guest;” a
character 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 Dion, 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 freedom and unbounded
confidence. Calippus having given himself up to ambi-
tious views, and entertained thoughts of making himself
Inaster of Syracuse, threw off all regard for the sacred
- ties of friendship and hospitality, and contrived to get
*
What is related of Calippus and Dion ?
.*
*
***
TINGRATITUDE. .* 219
s
rid of Dion, who was the sole obstacle to his designs.
Notwithstanding his care to conceal his designs, 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 anybody should suspect him
of such a crime, or think him capable of so black a de-
sign. They insisted upon his taking the great oath. The
person who swore it was wrapped in the purple 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 im-
agine. The oath cost him nothing, but did riot-convince
the princesses. They daily received 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 that he had rather
die a thousand deaths, and present his throat himself to
whoever would kill him, than to live under the necessity
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 assassinated in his own
house by the Zacynthian soldiers, who were entirely de-
voted to his interest. The sister and wife of that prince
were immediately cast into prison. After the murder
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 sudden and extraordinary man-
ner in this life; and Plutarch observes, that the success
of Calippus occasioned very great complaints against ,
the gods, as suffering calmly, and without indignation,
the vilest of men to raise himself to so exalted a fortune -
**
sº-
of Dion's wife 2
220 e JUSTICE. º
by so detestable and impious a method. But Providence
remained not long without justifying itself, for Calippus
soon suffered the punishment of his guilt. Having
... marched"with his troops to take €atanea, Syracuse re-
volted against him, and threw off, so shameful a subjec-
tipn. He afterwards attacked Messina, where he lost
abundance of men, and particularly the Zacynthian sol-
... diers, who had murdered Dion. No city of Sicily would
receive him; but all detesting him as the most execrable
of wretches, he rétired to Rhegium, where, aftef havin
* led for some time a miserable life, he was killed by Sep-
tinus and Polyperchon, and it was said with the same
º with which Dion had been assassinated.— Plut.
Dion. s -



.*
JUSTICE.
SENTIMENTS.
JUSTICE, in the general acceptation of the word, is
that virtue by which we render to God, our neighbour,
and ourselves, that which is their due. It comprehends
all our duties; 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 con-
duct, and excites us to render our species what in par-
ticular 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 which
he was most renowned was justice, because this virtue.
is of most general use, its benefits extending to a greater
How was Calippus punished 7–What remarks are make on justice?
- What was the character of Aristides 7 gºt
*
JUSTICE. 22i
number of persons, as it is the foundation, and, in a
manner, the soul of every public office and employment.
Hence it was that Aristides, though in low circum-
stances, and of mean extraction, obtained the glorious
surname of the Just; a title, says Plutarch, truly royal,
or rather truly divine; but of which princes are seldom
ambitious, because generally ignorapt of its beauty and
excellency. They 5. rather to be called, the Con-
querors.of Cities, and the Thunderbolts of War, pre-
ferring the vain honour of pompous titles, which convey
no other idea than violence and 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, 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. ass-
Themistocles having conceived the design of sup-
planting the Lacedaemonians, and of taking the govern-
ment 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 mea-
sures, whatever tended towards the accomplishing of
the end he had in view, he looked upon it as just and
lawful. sº
On a certain day, then, he declared in a full assembly
of the people, that he had a very important design to
propose, but that he could not communicate it to the
people, because its success required it should be carried
on with the greatest secrecy; he therefore desired they
would appoint a person to whom he might explain him-
self upon the matter in question. Aristides was unani-
mously 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.
Themistöcles, 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’
Relate the story of him and Themistocles.
19 #, sº
"**r
222 JUSTICE.
.* h
then lay in the neighbouring port; and by this means .
- Athens would certainly become mistress of all Greece.
Arístides hereupon returned to the assembly, and only
declared to them, that indeed nothing could be more ad-
vantageous to the commonwealth than Themistocles's
project; but that, at the same time, nothing in the world
could, be more unjust. All the people unanimously or-
dained that Themistedles should entirely desist from his
project. . . . “. 7 .#
I do not know whether all history can afford us a fact
more worthy of admiration than this. It is not a com-
pany of philosophers (to whom it costs nothing to estab-
lish fine maxims and sublime notions of morality in the
schools) who determine on this occasion that the con-
sideration of profit and advantage ought never to pre-
vail in preference to what is honest and just; but the
whole people, who are highly interested in the proposal
made to them, that are convinced it is of the greatest
importance to the welfare of the state, ahd who, how-
ever, reject it with unanimous consent, and without a
moment’s hesitation;-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 confede-
"rates, at the time of entire peace, solely to aggrandize
the power of the Athenians ! Had he a hundred times
the merit ascribed to him, this single action would be
sufficient to sully all his glory: for it is the heart, that is
to say, integrity and probity, that constitutes and dis-
... tinguishes true merit.— Plut. in Themist.— In Arist.
* *
AFTER the famous battle of Marathon, Aristides was
the only general who stayed to take care of the spoil and
the prisonérs. *Gold and silver were scattered about
in abundance in the enemy's (the Persian) camp. All
the tents, as well as galleys, that were taken, were full
What remarks are made on this conduct of the Athenians?—On that
of Themistocles?—How did Aristides discharge his trust after the bat-
tle of Marathon 7 *
*
JUSTICE. * 223
**
<&
of rich clothes and costly furniture, and treasures of all
kinds, to an immense value. 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 prevented, to the utmost of his power, everybody
else from meddling with it. .
And we cannot have a stronger proof of the justice
and integrity of Aristides than this, that notwithstanding
he had possessed the highest employments in the repub-
lic, and had the absolute disposal of its treasures, yet he
died so poor as not to leave 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 Prytaneum,
which also gave the daughter of the latter, after his
death, the pension with which those were honoured who
had been victorious at the Olympic games. Plutarch
relates, on this occasion, the liberality (and indeed the
justice) of the Athenians in favour of the posterity of
Aristogiton, their deliverer, who was fallen to decay;
and he adds, that ēven in his time (almost six hundred
years after) the same goodness and liberality still sub-
sisted. It was glorigus for a city to have preserved for
so many centuries its generosity and gratitude; and a
strong motive to animate individuals, who were assured
that their children would enjoy the rewards which death
might prevent themselves from receiving. It was de-
lightful 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,
maintained 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 hon-
our, and called up the remembrance of their ancestors
with much greater splendor, than a multitude of citizens

-*
*
How did Aristides discharge his trust after the battle of Marathon?--
What other proofs have we of his justice and integrity ?
---
224 . . . JUSTICE.
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 oppres:
sión by which they were acquired.— Plut. in Arist.
This last observation is verified in the following ex-
ample, and is at the same time a fine contrast to the cha-
racter of Aristides. * *.
After the battle of Marathon above mentioned, not-
withstanding all the care which Aristides took to pre-
serve 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 Persians 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 use, but most inhumanly put to death
the poor man who showed it him, to prevent his disco-
vering what he had done. By this action he not-only
blemished his own reputation, but, as was hinted before,
transmitted infamy to his posterity, who, notwithstanding
their eminency in the state, were styled by the common
poets laccopluti, i. e. enriched by the well.— Plut.
ARTABARZANES, an officer of Artaxerxes, king of Per-
sia, begged his majesty to confer a favour upon him,
which, if complied with, would be an act of injustice
The king being informed that the promise of a conside-
rable 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 nature
cannot make me poor, but complying with your request
would make me poor indeed, for it would make me
unjust.” * º,
g-
What story is told of Callias 7
------ - - - ~
Aristides and the Peasant.
ſt was upon the occasion of Aristides' banishment,
hat a peasant who could not write, and did not know
him personally, applied to him, and desired him to write
the name of that citizen upon the shell, by which his
vote was given against him. “Has he done you any
wrong,” said Aristides, “that you are for condemning
him in this manner!”—“No,” replied the peasant, “but
I hate to hear him always praised for his justice.” Aris-
tides, without saying a word more, calmly took the shell,
wrote down his name upon it, and contentedly retired
into exile.
•
KIN G.
SENTIMENTS.
“PERSIST in the religion you have received from your
forefathers, but be assured, that the most grateful ado-
ration 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
Of Artabarzanes and Artaxerxes'—What is the advice of Isocrates
to a king 7
gº
§ *

226 ^ - KING.
gº
the oath, of others. Be a-warrior by your ability in
military affairs, and by such a warlike provision, as may
untimidate your enemies; but let your inclination be pa-
cific, and be rigidly exact in never pretending to, or un-
dertaking anything unjustly.... The only certain proof
that you have reigned well, will be the power of bearing
this testimony to yourself, that your people are become-
both more happy and more wise under your government.”
—Isoc. ad JVicoc. sſ **
Princes seldom form to themselves a right judgment
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. chap. iv.) under the
image of a very large and strong tree, whose top reaches
to the heaven, and whose branches extend to the extremi-
ties 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. *s
Can there be a more just or more instinctive idea of
the kingly office? whose frue grandeur and solid glory
does not consist in that splendour, pomp and magnifi-
cence which surround it, nor in that reverence and ex-
terior homage which are paid to it by subjects; but in
the real services and solid advantages it procures to na-
tions, 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, especially with regard to the poor and
weak, who ought to find beneath the shade and protection
of royalty, a sweet peace and tranquillity not to be in-
terrupted or disturbed; whilst the monarch himself sac-
rifices his ease, and experiences alone those storms and
tempests from which he shelters others.
What is said of princes !—Of the true glory of the kingly office?
KING. 227
**.
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 plea-
sures of kingly power." When I think of the painful and
-hazardous paths he is forced to tread to arrive at pub-
lic tranquillity; 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
welfare, if not the morality of his people; 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? *
tº:
EXAMPLES.
Cyrus, king of Persia, may be justly considered as
one of the wisest conquerors and most accomplished
princes to be found in profane history. He was pos-
sessed of all the qualities requisite to form a great man;
wisdom, moderation, courage, magnanimity, noble senti-
ments, a wonderful ability in managing men's tempers,
and gaining their affections, a thorough knowledge of
all the parts of the military art as far as that age had
carried it, a vast extent of genius and capacity for
forming, and an equal steadiness and prudence for exe-
cuting 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 thºse is between a ge-
neral and a great man; to see what low sentiments and
mean things they are capable of in private life; how
they are influenced by jealºusy, and governed by in

i *... •
Of the cates of royalty 7–Describe the character of Cyrus.
*
22S 2 * KING.
terest; how disagreeable and odious they render them-
selves by their haughty deportment 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 indif-
ferent matters. Being assured of his greatness, of which
real merit was the foundation and support, he thought
of nothing more than to render himself affable, and
easy of access; and whatever he seemed to lose by his
condescension, was abundantly compensated by the cor-
dial 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 per-
fectly what advantage may result from a single word
rightly timed, from an obliging carriage, from a com-
mand tempered with reason, from a little praise in grant-
ing a favour, and from softening a refusal with expres-
sions of concern and 'good-will. History abounds with
beauties of this kind. He was rich in a sort of wealth
which 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; for, has a man
any friends, or does he deserve to have any, when hé
himself-is void of friendship? Nothing affects us more
than to see in Xenophon, the manner in which Cyrus
lived and conversed 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 pleasures 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 authority. His friends
had received from him not, only the liberty, but an ex-
His affability—His popularity.—His treatment of his friends.
•- *
§
*...
KING.. * 229
press eommand, to open their minds freely; and though.
he was much superior to all his officers in understanding,
yet he never undertook anything without asking their
advice; and whatever was to be done, whether it was to
reform anything in the government, to make-changes
in the army, ors to form a new enterprise, he would
always have every man speak his sentiments, and would
often make use of them to correct his own. So different
was he from a person mentioned by Tacitus, (Hist. l. 1.
c. 26.) who thought it a sufficient reason for rejecting
the most, excellent project or advice, that it did not pro-
ceed 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 encomium for a
prince is comprehended in that short sentence 1 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, and un-
foreseen accidents, should ever ruffle its tranquility, or
provoke him to utter any harsh or offensive expression.
But what was still greater in him, and more truly
royal than 3 ºthis, was his steadfast persuasion, that all
his labours and endeavours ought to tend to the happi-
ness of his people; and that it was not by the splendour
of riches, by-pompous equipages, luxurious living, or a
magnificent table, that a king ought to distinguish him-
self from his subjects, but by a superiority of merit in
every kind, and particularly by a constant indefatigable
care and vigilance 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
*…*r
What does Cicero say concernin Cyrust—what is said of Cyrus's
self-command 7—His patriotism?—What did he compare a prince with *
I
230 g KING. *
to have the same vigilance,?are, and goodness. “It is
his duty,” says he, “to watch that his people may live,
in safety and quiet; to charge himself with anxieties and
cares, that they may be exempted from them; to choose
whatever, is salutary for them, and to remove whatever -
is hurtful,and prejudicial; to place his delight in seeing
Jhem increase and multiply, and valiantly oppose his
own person in their defence and protection. This,” says
he, “is the natural idea, and the just image of a good
king. It is reasonable at the same time that his subjects
should render him all the services he stands in need of;
but it is still more reasonable, that he should labour to
make them happy, because it is for that very end that
Jhe is their king, as much as it is the end and office of a
shepherd 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 con-
quests for several years; that he made himself so much
esteemed and beloved, not only by his own natural sub-
jects, but by all the nations he had conquered; and that
after his-death he was universally regretted as the com-
mon father of all his people.— Rollin's Ant. Hist.
º
*
*
GLEoN was born in Syracuse, yet all tº inhabitants
of that city, though extremely jealous of their liberty,
forced him in a manner to be their king. Though an
alien, the supreme power went in search of him: nor
had the Syracusans any cause to repent 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 them more important services: for by
a change till 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 himself
what was the effect of these kingly virtues of Cyrus 7—What was
the charactor of Gleon ? .
KING. 23H-
only king for the defence of the state, to preserve 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 every civil virtue.
The whole royalty which he assumed was the toils and
cares of it, a zeal for the public welfare, and the sweet
satisfaction which results from making millions happy
by his cares; in a word, he considered the sovereignty
as an obligation, and a means to procure the felicity of
a great number of men. • He banished from it pomp,
licentiousness, and impunity from crimes. He did not
affect the appearance of reigning, but contented himself
with making the laws reign. He never made his inferiors
feel that he was their master; but only inculcated on
them, that both himself and they ought to submit to rea-
son and justice. To induce their obedience, he employed
the arts of persuasion and a good example, which are
the weapons of virtue, and alone produce a sincere and
uninterrupted obedience. S
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 revenues which might be pro-
duced from so rich a soil when industriously improved.
He animated the husbandmen by his presence and com-
mendations, and distinguished the most deserving by
some mark of his favour. His attention, 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 which inevitably follow a soft and
indolent life. For this purpose he laboured to make the
'cultivation of the lands to be considered as an honoura-
ble employment. *
There are few maxims in point of policy, on which
the ancients have more strongly insisted than.on that re-
lating to the improvement of husbandry; a manifest
* * g - fº
*
what was a chief object of attention with him —What is said by
Plutarch 7 *...* *.
3.
Aº.
232 KING.
*.
proof of their great wisdom, and the profound knowledge
they had of what constitutes the strength and solid hap-
piness of a state. Xenophon, in a dialogue, the subject
of which is government, entitled, Hiero, shows the great
advantage it would be of to a state, where the king stu-
dies 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 improvement of these arts.
But Gelon was more particularly famous for his invio-
lable sincerity, truth and fidelity to his engagements; 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 con-
sidered as the basis of all just policy, and good govern-
ment. Having occasion for money to carry on an ex-
pedition he meditated, he addressed the people, in, 6rder
to obtain a contribution from them ; but finding the Sy-
racusans unwilling to be at so great an expense, 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 government 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, a name highly dear to all his
subjects, a reputation equally diffused within and without
his kingdom; these were the fruits of that wisdom which
he retained on the throne to his last moments. His reign
was short, and only just showed him in a manner to
Sicily, to exhibit in his person an example of a great,
*—
By Xºnophon -What is said of Gelon's sincerity, &e?—How did he
raise money —What were the fruits of his virtues —How long did he
reign 7 &
&
--->
ºf A.
* *.
LUXURY. 233
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.
N
ºr
LUX U R Y.
SENTIMENTS, “...
THAT which is splendour, sumptuousness, and mag-
nificence, in people of quality, is in private men extra-
vagance, folly, and impertinence.
If sensuality were pleasure, beasts are happier than
men. Pleasures unduly 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 7 (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 at-
tended with that of empire and dominion.
* tº t
• EXAMPLES.
WHAT made the Persian troops in Cyrus's time looked
upon to be invincible, was the temperate and hard life
towhich they were accustomed from their infancy. Add
to this the influence of the prince's example, who made
it his ambition to surpass all his subjects in regularity;
was the most abstemious and sober in his manner of life,
as plain in his dress, and as much inured to hardships
and fatigue 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 º not to degenerate from their ancient
How was his death regarded by tº: !—What remarks are made
on luxury —What is observed of Cy ūgstroops?—Of his exhortations?
20 + º
e *ś
:-º
*
Af
.# T
f
234 LUXURy.
virtue, that they might not eclipse the glory they had ac-
quired; but carefully 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 lux-.
ury 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 regal dignity, toº
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 appa-
rel, as also that of his officers, 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 exchanged for vessels of gold and silver without
number, and then the most exquisite meats, the rarest
birds, and the postliest dainties were procured, though
not without an immense expense, from the most distant
places. It must be acknowledged that the rank of king
requires a suitable grandeur and magnificence, which
may on certain occasions be carried even to a degree of
pomp and splendour: but princes possessed of real and
solid merit, have a thousand 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 conduct,
than by the greatness of his expenses; and that affec-
tion and confidence produće a closer attachment to his
person, than a vain admiration of unnecessary pomp and
grandeur. Be that as it will, Cyrus's last example be-
came very contagious; his courtiers, his generals, and
officers, first caught the infection, and in time carried
their extravagance and Juxury to such an excess, as was
little better than downright madness. This taste for
How did Cyrus unintentionally gorrupt his own troops?—What was
the consequence 7 ; : *:
**.
{-
•v
LUXURY. , 235
vanity and expense, 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 prin-
cipal causes of the ruin of that empire which Cyrus
himself had founded." *
. What is here said of the fatal effects of luxury is not
peculiar to the Persian empire. The most judicious his-
torians, the most learned philosophers, and the profound-
est politicians all lay it down as a certain indisputable
maxim, that wherever luxury prevails, it never fails to
destroy the most flourishing states and kingdoms; and
the experience of all ages and nations but too clearly
demonstrates this maxim. {
THERE is a single passage in Herodotus that might
supply the place of many examples. When Cyrus had
received an account that the Lydians had reyolted 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 he 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 ele-
gance and richness of their dress. Order them to sing
and play-off 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 com.
manded by Hannibal. The moment Capua was taken,
that moment the walls of Carthage trembled. They
caught the infection, and grew fond of pleasure, which
rendered them effeminate, and of course an easy prey
to their enemies. .#
What is an indisputable maximº-Tell the story of Cyrus and Croe.
sus.—What is said of Capua - - -
~
236 MAGISTRATE. . &#
*
f t *g:
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 festi-
vals, and all the studied arts of ease and luxury, that he
might, in the meantime, securely guide the reins of em-
pire, and riot in dominion! He it was that first laid the
foundation of Philip's power; nor had a man of Mace-
don ever thought of enslaving Greece, if Pericles had
not first made them slaves to pleasure.
It is from the victory over Antiochus, and the conquest.
of Asia, that Pliny dates the corruption of the manners
of the Roman commonwealth, and of the fatal change.
that happened in it, by introducing at Rome, with the
rićhes it brought thither, a taste for luxury and voluptu-
ousness. Asia, conquered by the arms of Rome, in its
turn conquered Rome by its vicés. 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 triumph, with the
superb spoils of Asia, brought with it in its train all
kinds of disorders and crimes, made more havoc than
the most numerous armies could have done, and in that
manner avenged the conquered globe. Thus, the face
of the State was changed; virtue, valour, and disinter-
estedness, were no longer esteemed; the opposite vices
prevailed, and the government, from just and wise, be-
came tyrannical and insupportable.
-->
M A G IS T R A TTE.
SENTIMENTS.
THE judge, in giving his suffrage, ought not to con-
sider himself as alone, nor that he is at liferty to pro-
nounce according to his own inclinations; but to repre-
sent to himself that he has around him, law, fêligion,
*
Of Athens 7—What corrupted the manners of the Romans?—What
was the consequence 7–What is the duty of a judge 7
MAGISTRATE. r 337
*
equity, integrity, and fidelity, which form his counsel,
and ought to dictate his words. ſ - H
Tn the same manner as the people are subservient to
the magistrates, magistrates are subservient to the laws:
and it may be truly said, that the magistrate is a speak-
ing law, and the law a mute magistrate. ~
. Religion in a magistrate strengthens his authority be-
cause it procures veneration, and gains repute to it; and
in all the affairs of this world, so much reputation is, in-
deed, so much power. **
It is not the placé that makes the person, but the per-
son that makes the place, honourable. . .
Men must have public minds as well as salaries, or
they will serve private ends at the public coster-It-was
Rpman virtue that raised the Roman glory.
EXAMPLES.
# &:- w -
By the taking of Syracuse, all Sicily became a pro-
vince of the Roman empire; and Sicily would have
been happy in being governed by the Romans, if they
had always given her such magistrates as Cicero; know-
ing, like him, in the obligations of his functions, and,
like him, intent, upon the due discharge of them. It is
highly pleasing to hear him explain himself upon this
subject. . . . -
After having invoked the gods as witnesses 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 reli-
gion, 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 office, I thought all
eyes were tdºhed upon me, and that my person and ad-
ministration were in a manner exhibited as a spectacle .
*:
*3.4
ºr
What is said of the subserviency magistrate to the laws?—
Of religion?—Of men 7–How did Gºrdºgóvern Sicily?
,’ - 2 & Fºr Aºt

238 MAGISTRATE.
to 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 authorized by nature and ne-
cessity. I am now intended-for aedile. 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 ahd pleasure
from it: so much I desire to make it appear that it was
not bestowed upon me by chancé, or the necessity of
being filled up, but confided deservedly by the choice
and discernment of my country.” – Cic. Ver. vii. n. 35.
& & #
THE young people of Athens, dazzled with the glory
of Themistocles, Cimon, and Periches, and full of a wild
ambition, after having received, for some time, the les-
sons of the sophists, who promised to make 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,
meeting 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. “True,” replied Glauco. “You cannot have
a more honourable design,” answered Socrates; “for if
you succeed, yāu will have it in your power to serve
your friends effectually, to aggrandize your family, and
to extend the confines of your country. You will make
yourself known not only to Athens, but throughout all
Greece; and perhaps your renown, like that of Themis-
tocles, may spread abroad among the barbarous na-
, tions.” So smooth and insinuating a prelude was ex-
tremely pleasing to the young man. He stayed willing-
ly, and the conversation continued. “Since you desire
to be esteemed and honoured, no doubt your view is to
—r—
*4.
What desire did Glauco entertain?—How did Socrates begin his con- *
versation with him? 2- iº a
*
-esº-
MAGISTRATE. 239
*
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 meditated upon what he should
answer, “I presume,” continued Socrates, “it is to en-
rich it, that is to say, to augment its revenues.”—“My
very thought.” “You are well versed, then, undoubted-
ly, in the revenues 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 enteréd into mythoughts.”—
“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 superfluous.”—“I own,” says
Glauco, “I am as little informed on this point as the
other.”—“You must, therefore, refer your design of en-
riching the state to another time, for it is impossible you
should do it whilst you are unacquainted with its reve-
nues 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; “but that depends upon
its being the strongest, otherwise 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; that, if he finds his own party stföngest, he may
boldly advise the war; and, if weakest, dissuade the
people from undertaking it. Now do yotºfow the
strength of our republic, and that of our enemies by
sea and land? Have you an account of them in writing
he 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
# t
How did Socrates show Glauco's unfitness for a financial office 7–
For a military one 7 . º w£º ſº
arº
&
- S - * +F *f; ºr, .
249. MAGISPRATE. . •.
of inquiries to make, and much pains to go through, be
fore you will resolve uppn it.” 's * ~ *
He ran over several other artieles.no less important,
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, with-
out any other preparation for the service of the public
, ºtharf that' of a high esteem for themselves, and an im-
moderate ambition of rising to the first places and dig-
nities. “Have a caré, dear Glauco,” said Socrates,
“lest a too warm desire of honours should deceive you
into pursuits that may cover you with Shame, by set-
ting your incapacity and slender abilities, in full light.”
Glauco improved 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 to persons in all stations
and conditions in life. tºr
, "THE commonwealth of Rome had, for nearly sixty
years, been fluctuating between the contending orders
that composed it, till at length each side, as if weary,
was willing to respire awhile from the mutual exertions
of its claims. The citizens, of every rank, began to
complain of the arbitrary decisions of their magistrates,
and wished, to be guided by a written body of laws,
which, being known, might prevent wrongs, as well as
punish them. In this both the senate and the people con-
curred, as hoping that such laws would put an end to
the commotions that so long had harassed the state. It
was thereupon agreed that ambassadors should be sent
to the Greek cities in Italy, and to Athens, to bring
home such laws from thence, as, by experience, had
been found most equitable and useful. For this purpose
• three senators, Posthumus, Sulpicius, and Manlius, were
fixed-upon, and galleys assigned to convoy them, agree-
º
for other offices?—What was the effect of this conversation ?—Of
what did the Roman citizens &mplain, and what did they wish 7–Was
this assented to by the fiation at large —What means were adopted for
this purpose ? ~
*. MAGISTRATE. ' 241
ably to the majesty of the Roman people. While they
were upon this commission abroad, a dreadful plague
depopulated the city at home, and supplied the interval
of their absence with other anxiety than that of wishes
for their return. In about a year the plague ceased, and
the ambassadors returned, bringing home a body of
laws, collected from the most civilized states of Greece’
and Italy, which, being afterwards formed into ten
tables, and two more being added, made that celebrated
code, called, The Laws of the Twelve Tables. These
laws were engraven on brass, and hung up in the most
conspicuous part of the Forum.
The ambassadors were no sooner returned, than the
tribunes required that a body of men should be chosen
to digest their new laws into proper form, and to give -
weight to the execution of them. After long debate,
whether this choice should not be made from the people,
as well as the patricians, it was at last agreed that ten
of the principal senators should be elected, whose power,
continuing for a year, should be equal to that of kings
and consuls, and that without any appeal. Thus the
whole constitution of the state at once took a new
form, and a dreadful experiment was about to be tried,’
of governing one nation by laws formed from the man-
ners and customs of another.
These Decemviri, being now invested with absolute
power, agreed to take the reins of government by
turns, each to administer justice for a day. For the first
year, they wrought with extreme application: and their
work being finished, it was expected that they would be
content to give up their office; but, having known the
charms of power, they were unwilling to resign: they
pretended that some laws were yet wanting to complete
their design, and entreated the senate for a continuance
in office; which request was readily granted.
What happened during their absence?—How long did this calamity
last?—What steps were taken on the return of the ambassadors ?—Who
were chosen for this purpose ?—Was this proceeding an important one :
—In what manner did the decemviri govern?—How did they discharge
the duties of their office? * .
*-
21
242 MAGISTRATE.
But they soon threw off the mask of moderation, and,
regardless of the approbation of the senate or the peóple,
resolved to continue, against all order, in the decemvi-
rate. A conduct so tyrannical produced discontents, and
these were as sure to produce fresh acts of tyranny.
The city was become almost a desert, with respect to
all who had any thing to lose, and the rapacity of the
decemvirs was then only discontinued when they wanted
fresh subjects to exercise it upon. In this state of
slavery, proscription, and mutual distrust, not one citi-
Zen Was É. to strike for his country's freedom; these
tyrants continued to rule without control, being con-
stantly guarded, not by the lictors alone, but by a nu-
merous crowd of dependants, clients, and even patri-
cians, whom their vices had confederated round them.
In this gloomy situation of the state, the AEqui and Wol-
sci, those constant enemies of the Romans, renewed their
incursions, and, resolving to profit by the intestine divi-
sions of the people, advanced within about ten miles of
Rome.
The decemviri, being in possession of all the military
as well as of the civil power, divided their army into
three parts; whereof one continued with Appius in the
city, to keep it in awe; the other two were commanded
by his colleagues, and were led, one against the Equi,
and the other against the Volsci. The Roman soldiers
had now adopted a method of punishing the generals
whom they disliked, by suffering themselves to be van-
quished in the field. They put it into practice upon this
occasion, and shamefully abandoned their camp upon
the approach of the enemy. Never was victorious
news more joyfully received at Rome, than the tidings
of this defeat; the generals, as is always the case, were
blamed for the treachery of their men; some demanded
Did they continue in the conscientious discharge of their duties?—
What was the consequence of this conduct?—Was no patriot to be
found bold enough to be a champion in his country's cause ?—What
added to the miseries of the Romans?—What steps were taken to op-
pose them —What was the conduct of the Roman soldiers on this oc
casion?—How was the news received at Rome 2
MAGISTRATE. 243
**
that they should be deposed, others cried out for a dic-
tator to lead the troops to conquest. Among the rest,
old Siccius Dentatus, the tribune, spoke his sentiments
with his usual openness; and, treating the generals with
contempt, pointed out the faults of their discipline in the
camp, and their conduct in the field. Appius, in the
mean time, was not remiss in observing the dispositions
of the people. Dentatus, in particular, was marked out
for vengeances and, under pretence of doing him par-
ticular honour, he was appointed legate, and/put at the
head of the supplies which were sent from Rome, to re-
inforce the army. The office of legate was held sacred
among the Romans, as in it was united the authority of
a general, with the reverence due to the priesthood.
Dentatus, no way suspecting the design, went to the
camp with alacrity, where he was received with all the
external marks of respect. But the generals soon found
means of indulging their desire of revenge. He was
appointed at the head of a hundred men to go and ex-
amine a more commodious place for encampment, as he
had very candidly assured the commanders, that their
present situation was wrong. The soldiers, however,
who were given as his attendants were assassins;
wretches who had long been ministers of the vengeance
of the decemviri, and who had now engaged to murder
him, though with all those apprehensions which his re-
putation (for he was called the Roman Achilles) might
be supposed to inspire, With these designs they led
him into the hollow bosom of a retired mountain, where
they began to set upon him behind. Dentatus too late
perceived the treachery of the decemviri, and was re-
solved to sell his life as dearly as he could; he therefore
set his back against a rock, and defended himself against
those who prest most closely. Though now grown old,
sº-
Who appeared most conspicuous on this occasion ?—How was this
honest sincerity received?—Was the office of legate a respectable ope?
—Did Dentatus suspect treachery 7—What plan of revenge was adopt-
ed?—What was the character of his attendants?—How did they com
mence their base design —Was Dentatus aware of their treachery, and
what resistance did he make 7
244 MAGISTRATE.
**
sº-ſº
Death of Dentatus.
he had still the remains of his former valour, and with
his own hand, killed no less than fifteen of the assailants,
and wounded thirty. The assassins now, therefore, ter-
rified at his amazing bravery, showered their javelins
upon him at a distance, all which he received in his
shield with undaunted resolution. The combat, though
so unequal in numbers, was managed for some time with
doubtful success, till at length the assailants bethought
themselves of ascending the rock, against which he
stood, and pouring down stones upon him from above.
This succeeded : the old soldier fell beneath their united
efforts; after having shown, by his death, that he owed
to his fortitude, and not his fortune, that he had come
off so many times victorious. The decemviri pretended
to join in the general sorrow for so brave a man, and
decreed him a funeral with the first military honours;
but their pretended grief, compared with their known
hatred, only rendered them still more detestable to the
people.
Did the assassins boldly engage the hero?—What new method of at-
tack did *y attempt?—What was the conduct of the decemviri on this
OCC881Orl

MAGNANIMITY. 245
*
MAGN ANIMIT Y.
$ENTIMENTS.
Ivi AGNANIMITY is sufficiently defined by its name; 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 the free use of their reason in the most
surprising and dreadful accidents.
It admires the same quality in its enemy; 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 de-
served, answered with great intrepidity: “We deserve
that punishment which is due to men who are jealous of
their liberty, and think themselves worthy of if" Plau-
tinius, perceiving that his answer exasperated "some of
the senators, endeavoured to prevent the ill effects of it,
by putting a milder question to the prisoner: “How
would you behave,” says he, “if Rome should pardon
you?”—“Our conduct,” replied the generous captive,
“depends upon yours. If the peace you grant be an
honourable one, you may depend on a constant fidelity,
on our parts: if the terms of it be hard and dishonour-
able, lay no stress on our adherence to you.” Some of
the judges construed these words as menaces; but the

sº-
what is said of magnanimity ?—How did Plautinius save the Pri-
vernian 7 -- ſº
21 *
246 MAGNANIMITY. *
-
... 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 be-
come Roman.” Accordingly, a decree passed, in favour
of the prisoners, and Privernum was declared a munici-
pium. Thus the bold sincerity of one man saved his
country, and gained it the privilege of being incorporated
into the Roman state. — Liv. lib. viii. c. 10, 21.
Philip hearing the poor woman's appeal.
THERE were many fine traits in the character of
Philip of Macedon. It is related of him, that on one
occasion a poor woman, against whom he had just de-
cided a cause when under the influence of wine, exclaim-
ed, “I appeal!” “To whom?” asked Philip. “To
Philip in his sober senses P’ replied the woman, firmly.
The king, struck with this answer, examined the affair
again, and finding his former decision unjust, made ample
reparation at his own expense.
WHILE Athens was governed by the thirty tyrants,
Socrates, the philosopher, was summoned to the senate-
house, and ordered to go with some other persons, whom
* How did the Privernian save his country 7

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Alexander and Porus.

MAGNANIMITY. 249
they named, to seize one Leon, a man of rank and for-
tune, whom they determined to put out of the way, that
they might enjoy his estate. This commission Socrates
flatly refused, and, not satisfied therewith, added his rea-
sons for such refusal: “I will never willingly,” said he,
“assist an unjust act.” Chericles sharply replied, “Dost
thou think, Socrates, to talk always in this high style,
and not to suffer ""—“Far from it,” added he: “I ex-
pect 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 cou-
rage and prudence, desired to see him. After much en-
treaty, Porus consented, and accordingly set forward.
Alexander, who had been told of his coming, moved
forward, in order to receive him, with some of his train.
Being come pretty near, Alexander stopped, purposely
to take a view of 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 came up with a resolute counte-
nance, like a valiant warrior, whose courage in defending
his dominions ought to acquire him the esteem of the
brave prince who had taken him prisoner. 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 ?” “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 testimonials of honour, es-
teem, and friendship. Porus was faithful to him till his
death. It is hard to say, whether the victor or the van-
quished best deserved praise on this occasion.
Relate the story of Socrates and the Thirty Tyrants?—Of the mag-
nanimity of Porus?
250 MAGNANIMITY.
WHEN the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexan-
der the Great, they gazed attentively upon him for a long
time without speaking a word, being, very probably, sur-
prised (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 ambassadors addressed him thus: “ Had
the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy ambi-
tion, the whole universe would have been too little for
thee. With one hand thou wouldest touch the East, and
with the other the West; and, not satisfied with this,
thou wouldest 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 ploughshare, 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; and with regard to our en-
emies, we combat them at a distance with our arrows,
and near at hand with our javelins. But thou, who
boastest 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 possessions 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, re-
flect always on what thou art. They whom thou shalt
**
What is related of the Scythian ambassadors ?—What was the sub-
stance of the speech made by one of them to Alexander 7
MAGNANIMITY. 251
not molest will be thy true friends, the strongest friend-
ships being contracted between equals; and they are es-
* teemed equals who have not tried their strength against
each 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, Dionysius's brother-in-law, who had mar-
ried 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 re-
proached her very much for not apprizing 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 hus-
band 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 à answer so full of
spirit and generosity; and the Syracusans, in general,
were so charmed * her magnanimity, that, after the
tyranny was suppñºssed, the same honours, equipage,
and train of a queen, Which she had before, were con-
tinued to her during her life; and after her death, the
whole people º body to the tºmb, and hon-
oured her funeral wºff aft extraordinary appearance.— .
Plut. in Dion.
RICHARD the first, king of England, having invested
the castle of Chalus, 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
What remark is made concerning this speech 7—Relate the story of
Thesta's magnanimity.—How was she treated ?– What caused the
leath of Richard Coeur de Lion ?
252 MAGNANIMITY.
p. 8
*~
gangrene ensued. The castle being 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
brothers, and you likewise designed to have killed me.
You may now satiate your revenge. I should cheerfully
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 pri-
soner to be presented with one hundred shillings, and set
at liberty; but Maccardec, 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 misdemeanour,
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 ºrêckſhe judge on the bench. This
magistrate, whose name was Sir Willºm Gascoign, acted
with a spirit becoming his chaºter. He instantly
ordered the prince to be committed ºpprison; and young
Henry, by this time sensible of tºnsult he had offered
the laws of his country, suffersdºmself to be quietly
conducted to gaol by the offg s ºustice. The king,
(Henry iv.i. WaS an § judge of mankind,
was no sooner informed of this transaction, than he cried
out in a transport of joy, “Happy is the king who has a
magistrate possessed of courage to execute the laws;
and still more happy in having a son who will submit to
such chastisement l”— Hist. Eng.

What answer did the man who shot him make to him, when asked
his reason ?—Relate the story of the magnanimity of Prince Henry.—
What said his father?
MAGNANIMITY. 253
THE love of liberty, and a true devotion to its cause,
seems to have been implanted by nature in the breasts
of our forefathers; it shone in the persons and characters
of the Silures, a powerful, hardy, and warlike nation,
who inhabited the counties of Hereford, Monmouth, and
the adjacent provinces of South Wales. It shone par-
ticularly 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 himself with
invincible bravery for nine years successively; but being
at last defeated in a pitched battle with Ostorius, he fled
to his mother-in-law Cartismandua, queen of the Brigan-
tes, who treacherously seized his person, and betrayed
him to the Romans, by whom he was sent, with the
rest of his family, in chains, to Rome. The behaviour
of Caractacus, in that metropolis of the world, was
truly great. When brought before the emperor, he ap-
peared with a manly, decent, and composed countenance,
and addressed himself to Claudius in the following ha-
rangue:
“If in my prosperity the moderation of my conduct
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 ancestors, and ruler over several
nations. My present fate is to me dishonourable, to you
magnificently glorious. 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 7 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 tri-
umph, 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.”
What was the character of Caractacus 7–His fate?—His behaviour
at Rome?—His speech to Claudius 7
22
254 . MAGNANIMITY. *º
The manner in which this noble speech was delivered
affected the whole audience, and made such an impres-
sion on the emperor, that he ordered the chains of Ca-
ractacus 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 confirmed to them the en-
joyment of their liberty. — Tacitus.
ONE of the worst kings that ever reigned in England
was King John, the brother of King Richard. He was
cowardly and silly, and, like most silly cowards, he was
cruel. He robbed and murdered, and broke his promises.
He had tried to deprive his brother Richard of his king-
dom; and he had plotted with the Emperor of Germany
and the King of France to detain King Richard in pri-
son until death. And although his brother had forgiven
him for his treachery, had made peace with him, and
given him great estates, yet he continued to plot against
Richard; and his friends held out their castles against
the king when he returned to England. John himself
fled to France; but after a time returned, and, making
submission to his brother, was forgiven; Richard saying
to him, “Brother, I wish that thou couldst as easily for-
get thy habit of rebelling against me, as I shall forget
thy injuries towards me.”— Historical Pictures.
OF Luitprand, the seventeenth king of Lombardy, the
following interesting anecdote is related.
Information was brought to him that two of his cour-
tiers, in whom he reposed particular confidence, had
conspired against his life. As the proofs of their guilty
design were too strong to admit of doubt, he resolved to
speak to them openly on the subject, and summoned
them into his presence. On their appearing before him,
he asked them, with some gravity, whether they had not
His subsequent treatment 7–What is said of King John 7—Of his in-
gratitude 7—Of Richard's magnanimity towards him 7—Relate the story
of Luitprand and his courtiers.
( 255 )
ºſº
±R=，，=，<>）
--◄=******
±=№sae
Richard I. forgiving his brother.

MAGNANIMITY. Q57
Clemency of Luitprand.
always found him a kind friend. They answered that
they had. He then inquired of them whether he had
not always consulted them on all occasions, and confided
to them his most secret thoughts and intentions. The
replied in the affirmative. “Then,” demanded Luitprand,
mildly, “how comes it that you could find it in your
hearts to conspire against the life of so kind a friend?
What advantage could you hope to enjoy, if purchased
with my death? Should you be likely to find as gentle
a master in my successor? Were you so blind as to
imagine that you would be permitted to share a throne
rendered vacant by so perfidious an act? Even should
you have obtained it, methinks its possession would have
been embittered by the memory of your treachery, and
your constant suspicions and jealousy of each other.
You now perceive that the most secret thoughts of your
bosoms have been as open to my eyes, as mine ever
have been to yours. How can you answer for your-
selves?” The guilty courtiers, filled with the most lively
terror at this appeal, were unable to conceal their dis-
may, and fell, pale and trembling, at their master's feet.
“Rise, my friends,” said Luitprand, with gentleness, “I
am convinced that whatever your past intentions may
have been, you will henceforth be my most zealous and
faithful servants. I restore you to my full affection and
confidence, and trust I shall never find occasion to say
that it has been misplaced.”

22 #
#58 PATIENCE.
The monarch's clemency filled the two courtiers with
contrition, and their after conduct gave him no reason
to repent its exercise.— Manning's Stories.
sº * ~ *
tº
P A TIE N C #.
słNTIMENiš
The evils by which life is embittéréd 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 inseparable consequences of imprudence
or vice, which we 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 persecu-
, tions raised against them by the wicked. To these may
be added, 4. The opposition against which we must
perpétually struggle, arising from the diversity of senti-
ments, manners, and characters, of the persons among
whom we live.
Under all these evils, patience is not only necessary,
but useful; it is necessary because the laws of nature
have made it a duty, and to murmur against natural.
events is to affront Providence; 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 anybody happy or
miserable.
He that values himself upon conscience, not opinion,
never heeds reproaches. When I am evil spoken of, I
“s.
What are the four classes of evils incident to human life?—Why must *
they be partially borne —What makes life uneasy —What is said of
and by the conscientious man 7
PATIENCE. 259
*...
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 demolished
temples, the very ruins whereof are reverenced and
adored. *
EXAMPLES.
OF all the philosophers which the sect of the Stoics
ever produced, Epictetus is by far 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-guard. He reduced all
his philosophy to two points only, viz. “To suffer evils
with patience, and enjoy pleasures with moderation;”
which he expressed in these two celebrated words,
dváxou xoi & réxou; that is, Bear and Forbear. Of the for-
mer he gave a memorable example. As his master
was one day squeezing his leg, in order to torment him,
Epictetus said to him very calmly, “You will break my
leg;” which happened accordingly; “Did not I tell you,”
said he, smiling, “that you would break my leg!”—
Orig. in Cels. lib. vii. —Suid. p. 996.
ONE of the most distinguishing qualities of Socrates,
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 endeavours to subdue and
correct himself; which would still add to his merit.
Seneca (de Ira, lib. iii. c. 15.) tells us that he had de-
sired 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,
What do men venerate 7—What was the character of Epictetus?-,
What story is told of him —What is said of Seneca 7
£260 PATIENCE.
is when we are yet purselves and in cool blood. At the
first signal, the least animadversion, he either softened
his tone or was silent. Finding himself in great emo-
tion against a slave, “I would beat you,” says he, “if I
were not angry.” Having received a box on the ear,
he contented himself by only saying with a smile, “It is
a misfortune not to know when to put on an helmet.”
Socrates meeting a gentlemán of rank in the street, sa-
luted him, but the gentleman took no notice of it. His
friends in company observing what passed, told the phi-
losopher, “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; 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 yourselves?” But
without going out of his house, he found enough to ex-
ercise his patience in all its extent. Xantippe, his wife,
put it to the severest proof, by her captious, passionate,
violent disposition.—Never was a woman of so furious
and fantastical 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 trans.
ported with rage against him, that she tore off 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 re
proaches 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

What is related concerning the slave 7 — The gentleman? —Xan-
tippe 2 e
PATIENCE. 261
zººs = ** *
--- Socrates taking leave of his family in prison.
of her rage, she ran up stairs, and emptied a vessel of
water upon his head: at which he only laughed, and
said, “That so much thunder must needs produce a
shower.” Alcibiades, his friend, talking with him one
day about his wife, told him, he wondered how he could
bear such an everlasting scold in the same house with
him 7 he replied, “I have so accustomed myself to ex-
pect it, that it now offends me no more than the noise
of the carriages in the streets.” The same disposition
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.” Apol-
lodorus, one of his friends and disciples, having ex-
ressed his grief for his dying innocent, “What,” re-
plied he with a smile, “would you have me die guilty?”
This sentence did not shake the constancy of Socra-
tes in the least. “I am going,” says he, addressing him-
self to his judges with a noble tranquillity, “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 de-
crees of truth.” He calmly took leave of his family
who visited him for the last time in prison. When the

262 PATIENCE.
-čº
deadly potion was brought him, he dränk it off with an
amazing fortitude, and a serenity of aspect not to be
expressed, or evéfi conceived.—Till then, his friends,
with great violence to themselves, had refrained from
tears; but after he had drunk the poison, they were no
longer their own masters, but wept abundantly. Apol-
lodorus, 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 re-
mained unmoved, and even reproved his friends, though
with his usual mildness and good-nature. “What are
you doing,” said he to them: “I wonder at you. What
is become of your virtue? was it not for this I sent
away the women, that they might not fall into these
weaknesses? 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 Macedon, discovered great modera-
tion even when he was spoken to in shocking and inju-
rious terms. At the close of an audience which he
gave to some Athenian ambassadors, who were come
to complain of some act of hostility, he asked whether
he could do them any service?”, “The greatest service
than couldst do us,” said Demochares, “will be to hang
thyself.” Philip, though he perceived all the persons
present were highly offended at these words, made the
following answer with the utmost calmness of temper:
“Go, tell your superiors, that those who dare make use
of such insolent language, are more haughty and less
peaceably inclined than those who can forgive them.”—
Senec. de Ira.
How did Socrates behave in his last moments?—What is related of
Philip of Macedon 7
PATRIOTISM. 263
PATRIOTISM, OR LOVE OF OUR Country.
SENTIMENTS.
LovE of our country is one of the noblest passions
that can warm and animate the human breast. It in-
cludes 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 attach-
ment to any particular soil, 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 and magistrates, and whose several parts are
variously connected one with the other, and all united
upon the bottom of a common 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; 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 pro-
mote and defend the honour and happiness of our
country.
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; but to have employed such only as were
both by himself and the senate judged the best qualified
What remarks are made on patriotism 7–What was the character of
Alexander the Roman emperor? º
sº
264 PATRIOTISM.
for the discharge of the trust reposed in them. He pre-
ferred one to the command of the guards, who had re-
tired into the country on purpose to avoid that office,
saying, that with him the declining such honourable em-
ployments 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; and it
would be unjust to punish one for selling, after he has
been suffered to buy.” He never pardoned any crime
committed against the public; but suffered no one to be
condemned till his case was thoroughly heard, and his
offence evidently proved. He was an irreconcilable
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; but sentenced them to death,
and caused them to be executed, notwithstanding their
quality or former services, like common malefactors.
He banished one of his secretaries for giving his council
in writing a false account of an affair; and caused the
sinews of his fingers 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, others might be deterred from the like practices.
Eucolpius, the historian, as quoted by Lampridius, in-
forms 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 see-
ing him, cried out with the utmost disdain, “O ye im-
mortal gods ! is Aribinus still alive, and a Senator! does
he even presume to appear in my presenceſ surely he
takes me to be as wicked as himself!” After this he
caused it to be proclaimed by the public crier, that if
any one guilty of the same crime ever presumed to ap-
How did he treat Aribinus 7
PATRIOTISM. 265
pear in his presence, he should immediately receive his
deserved punishment, notwithstanding the pardoñ granted
to him by his predecessor. He was sparing of the pub-
lie money, though liberal of his own. He retrenched
all the pensions which Heliogabalus, his predecessor, had
settled on buffoons, stage-players, charioteers, gladia-
tors, &c. saying that the emperor was but the steward
of the people, and therefore could not, without the ut-
most injustice, thus wantonly squander away their re-
venues upon persons no ways useful to them. —Alez.
Wit. 119. f
Rome, under the consuls Caeso Fabius and T. Virgin-
ius, had several wars to sustain, less dangerous than
troublesome, against the AEqui, 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 common-
wealth, exhausted of money, and menaced by abundance
of other enemies, was not in a condition to provide for
so many different cares and expenses. The family of
the Fabii showed a generosity and love of their country
that has been the admiration of all ages. They applied
to the senate, and by the mouth of the consul demanded,
as a favour, that they would be pleased to transfer the
care and expenses of the garrison necessary to oppose
the enterprises of the Veientes to their house, which re-
quired an assiduous rather than a numerous body, pro-
mising to support with dignity the honour of the Roman
name in that post. Everybody was charmed with so
noble and unheard-of an offer, and 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. “If 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 AEqui, whilst the commonwealth remained quiet,
The buffoons, &c.?—What is said of Rome?—Of the Fabii?
*
266 * PATRIOTISM.
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; I speak upon the authority of Livy. Three
hundred and six soldiers, all patricians, and of the same
* 3. of whom not one but might be judged worthy of
.** -> O
mmanding 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 zeal, and
actuated only by great and noble views. The whole
city flocked to see so fine a sight, praised those generous
soldiers in the highest terms, and promised them consul-
ships, triumphs, and the most glorious rewards. As they
passed before the Capitol and the other temples, every-
body implored the gods to take them under their protec-
tion, to favour their departure and undertaking, and to
afford them a speedy and happy return. But those pray-
ers 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 their troops, which they surrounded with a double
fossé and flanked with several towers. This settlement,
which prevented the enemy from cultivating their ground,
and ruined their commerce with strangers, incommoded
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 meantime the Fabii, encouraged
by the great success of their incursions into the enemy's
country, made further progress every day. Their ex-
cessive boldness made the Hetrurians conceive thoughts
of laying ambuscades for them in several places.
During the night, they seized all the eminences that com-
Describe their appearance and departure from Rome. —Where did
they build a fort?—How did they annoy the enemy?—How did the
emy contrive to surprise them 7 º'
- PATRIOTISM. 267
manded the plain, and found means to conceal a good
* *
number of troops from them. The next day they dis-
persed 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, 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 pre-
paring to attack the advanced guard of the enemy, when
the latter, who had their order, fled without staying till
they were charged. The Fabii, believing themselves •
.ecure, 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, 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, advancing 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 re-
spire. As they were upon the higher ground, they de-
fended themselves with advantage, notwithstanding their
small number; and, beating down the enemy, who spa-
red 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 Tſ)8][].
The Roman people were highly affected with the loss
of this illustrious band of patriots. The day of their de-
sºm-
What was their fate?—How did their loss affect the Rºmans?
- 268 PATRIOTISM.
feat was ranked amongst their unfortunate days, called
nefasti, on which the tribunals were shut up, and no
public affair could be negotiated, or at least concluded:
The memory of these public-spirited patricians, who had
so generously 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 sent 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 ex-
ceedingly strong in the Corsicans, they will give up their
nearest relations for the good of their country, and sac-
rifice 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 sufficient force
and earnestness. He therefore advanced, and addressed
himself to me: “'Sir, is it proper for me to speak tº as if
he felt that it was unlawful to make such an application.
1 bid him go on: “Sir,’ said he, with the deepest concern,
“may I beg the life of my uncle? If it is granted, his
lelations will make a gift to the state of a thousand ze-
*:
what is related of a Corsican gentleman?—What does Pascal Paoli
say of his countrymen?—What story does he tell? .
&
*.
PATRIOTISM. 269
chins. We will furnish fifty 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 par-
don would be just, useful, or honourable for Corsica, I
promise you it shall be granted.’ He turned about, burst
into tears, and left me, saying, “Non vorrei vendere
l'onore della patria per mille Zechini.' I would not have
the honour of my country sold for a thousand zechins: and
his uncle suffered.”— Boswell’s Corsica.
Edward III. 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 ad-
mirable defence. Day after day the English effected
many a breach, which they repeatedly expected to storm
by morning; 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 into the second harvest, since Edward,
with his victorious army, sat down before the town.
The eyes of all Europe were intent upon the issue. The
English made their approaches and attacks without re-
mission; but the citizens were as obstinate in repelling
all their efforts. At length, famine did more for Edward
than arms. After the citizens had devoured the lean
carcases 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 accounted matter
of luxury. In this extremity, they resolved to attempt
What city of France was besieged by Edward III.?—Who conducted
the defence?—How long?—What distressed the besieged?
*
23 *
270 PATRIOTISM.
the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth: the En-
gist, joined the 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 upon Eustacé Saint Pierre, the mayor of the
town, a man of mean birth, but of exalted virtue. Eus-
tace soon found himself under the necessity of capitula-
ting, and offered to deliver to Edward the city, with all
the possessions and wealth of the inhabitants, 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 valour had defeated his
warmest hopes: he therefore determined to take an ex-
emplary revenge, though he wished to avoid the imputa-
tion of cruelty. . He answered by Sir Walter Mauny,
that they all deserved capital punishment, as obstinate
traitors to him, their true and notable sovereign; that,
however, in his wonted clemency, he consented to par-
don the bulk of the plebeians, provided they would de-
liver up to him six of their principal citizens, with hal-
ters about their necks, as victims of due atonement for
the 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 ar-
raigned at a tribunal from whence there was no appeal,
expected, with 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 lot;
for how should they desire to be saved at the price pro-
—posed? Whom had they to deliver up, save parents,
rothers, kindred or valiant neighbours, who had so often
exposed their lives in their defence? To a long and
dead silence, deep sighs and groans succeeded, till Eus-
tace Saint Pierre, ascending a little eminence, thus ad-
What did they attempt?—With what success?—What did they then
offer ?—What was the answer?—Where did the citizens assemble?
PATRIOTISM. 27,
dressed the assembly: “My friends and fellow-citizens,
you see the condition to which we are reduced; we
must either submit to the terms of our cruel and ensna-
ring conqueror, or yield up our tender infants, our wives
and chaste daughters, to the bloody and brutal lusts of
the violating soldiery. We well know what the tyrant
intends by his specious offers of mercy. It does not sa-
tiate his vengeance to make us merely miserable; he
would also make us criminal; he would make us con-
temptible: 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 victims of your own safety.
Which of these would you appoint to the rack, the axe,
or the halter? Is there any here who has not watched
for you, 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 thousand 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 re-
source? Is there any expedient left, whereby we may
avoid guilt and infämy on one hand, or the desolation
and horrors 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 him-
self an oblation for the safety of his people ! he shall
not ſail 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. Each
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: ~

what was the substance of St. Pierre's speech?—What did he re. - -
quest ?—How was his request received ?
\,
272 PATRIOTISM.
“It had been base in me, my fellow-citizens, to pro-
mote any matter of damage to others, which I myself
had not been willing to undergo in my own person. But
I held it ungenerous to deprive any man of that pre-
ference and estimation, which might 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 martyr-
dom than I can be, however modesty and the fear of
imputed ostentation may withhold them from being
foremost 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 cheer-
fully: who comes next? “Your son P exclaimed a youth,
not yet come to maturity. “Ah, my child !' cried St.
Pierre, “I am then twice sacrificed. But no ; I have
rather begotten thee a second time: thy years are few,
but full, my son; the victim of virtue has reached the
utmost purpose and goal of mortality.’ Who next, my
friends? This is the hour of heroes. “Your kinsman l’
cried John de Aire. “Your kinsman l’ cried James Wis-
sant. ‘Your kinsman l’ cried Peter Wissant. ‘Ah!’ ex-
claimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, “why
was I not a citizen of Calais?’”
The sixth victim was still wanting, but was 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 citizens, with
their families, through the camp of the English.
Before they departed, however, they desired permis-
sion 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.
What did he then offer?—Who followed his example first?—Who
next?—Who next?—Who next 7—How was the sixth victim supplied ?
—What was then done 7–Describe the scene at their departure.
PATRIOTISM. 273
5' e- \
ſº º
- * : * * * * *
* ------- * ~ ***, --→ -
King Edward III. and the Burgesses of Calais. gº
They embraced, they clung around, they fell prostrate
before them. They groaned; they wept aloud; and the
joint clamour of their mourning passed the gates of the
city, and was heard throughout the camp.
At length, Saint Pierre and his fellow-victims appear-
ed, 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 contemplate, 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 their enemies; 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 inha-
bitants 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
At their arrival in the English camp.–In the presence of tie king. ,
dº.

274 PATRIOTISM.
share in the act of ennobling.”—“Were they delivered
peaceably?” says Edward. “Was there no resistance,
. no commotion among the people !”—“Not in the least,
my lord. They are self-delivered, self-devoted, and
come to offer 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 carried away
to immediate execution; nor could all the remonstrances
and entreaties 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 accom-
plished by the more powerful influence of conjugal affec-
tion. The queen, being informed of the particulars re-
specting the six victims, flew into her husband's pre-
sence, threw herself on her knees before him, and, with
tears in her eyes, besought him not to stain his charac-
ter, with an indelible mark of infamy, by committing
such a horrid and barbarous deed. Edward could re-
fuse nothing to a wife whom he so tenderly loved; and
the queen, not satisfied with having saved the lives of
the six burghers, conducted them to her tent, where she
applauded their virtue, regaled them with a plentiful re-
past, and, having made them a present of money and
clothes, sent them back to their fellow-citizens.
DURING ninety years after Caesar's second invasion,
the Britons were free from the Romans, who then how-
ever returned, and by degrees conquered all the eastern
part of England. One of their generals, called Agricola,
went the farthest north. He had a great number of
vessels, and, after sailing round England, he attacked
the inhabitants of Scotland, who at that time were called
Caledonians. They met at a spot probably near to what
is now Aberdeen, and they were commanded by a chief
called Galgacus.
How were the victims saved?—How were they treated by the queen?
—What is said of the Britons?—of Agricolat—of Galgacus 7
Galgacus addressing his army.

PATRIOTISM. 27;
Just before the Roman army attacked the Caledo-
nians, Galgacus is said by the Romans to have made a
speech to his army, and to have told them that, as there
was no land beyond them, and as the Roman ships were
on the sea, even if his soldiers were cowards, they must
fight. He told them that they had never yet been dis-
graced by seeing slavery near them; but that now they
were deprived of all but the rocks and the waters
around them, whilst the Romans had robbed them of all
things both on land and at sea. He reminded them that
the Romans had no wives (as they themselves had) to
cheer them on; no parents to reproach them if they
were cowards; and that if they did not conquer the Ro-
mans, they would be slaves forever.
A Roman historian named Tacitus, who wrote the
life of Agricola, tells us that Galgacus made this speech;
and makes him say a great many other things which he
could scarcely have thought of, and would not have said
if he had thought of them. Most likely Galgacus told
his soldiers (what was quite true) that the Romans would
rob them and kill them if they did not kill the Romans;
and that he would lead them on firmly, if they would
follow him bravely.
Then the two armies began to fight. Tacitus tells us
tfiat the Caledonians used long broadswords and little
leathern bucklers or shields, like the Highlanders eighty
years ago; and that they had chariots with scythes
sticking out from the wheels, which they drove among
the Romans to mow them down. But it was a very
hilly country where this battle was fought, and it must
have been difficult to drive these chariots. The Cale-
donians had nearly succeeded in keeping their enemy
off, but the Romans beat them at last, and we are told
killed ten thousand of them.
At night the Romans made merry; but the Caledonians
and Britons wandered up and down, wounded and griev-
ing, and forsook their houses and hid themselves, without.
food, in caverns and woods. Mothers sought their sons,
cº
Of his speech?—Qf Tacitus?—Of the battle 7–Of the Romans?
24 --
278 POLITENESS.
—wives called aloud for their husbands,-and fathers
looked upon their children, full of rage and of sorrow
at the thought that their homes were destroyed, their
property taken from them, and their relatives cruelly
slaughtered. The next day men saw that there had been
a great victory; for there was silence everywhere, and
thousands of dead men, and the country forsaken, and
the ruins of houses-smoking afar off — Historical Pic-
tures.
P O L IT E N E S S.
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 com-
mon intercourse with men. Of this kind is that general
courtesy which is called politeness. I have heard it de-
fined, “an artificial good-nature;” 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 humanity.
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 own shocking blunt-
ness and gothic freedom. The courtier and the fawning
flatterer, on the contrary, substitutes in its place insipid
compliments, cringings, and a jargon of unmeaning sen-
tences. The one blames politeness, because he ... it
for a vice; 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.
: Of the distress occasioned by them 7—What is politeness?—What is
said of the surly plain-dealer?—The courtier?—Of conversation?
§ POLITENESS. 279
If you resolve to please, never speak to gratify any
particular vanity or passion of your own, but always
with a design eſther 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 humour 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 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 reetify him, ,
if he asks not our advice; or to signify we knew lon
before the news he would acquaint us with. To what
fº is it to refuse a man the pleasure of believing
e informed us of something we were ignorant of be-
fore ? *
No injury makes so deep an impression on one’s
memory, as that which is done by a cutting malicious
jest; for let it be ever so good, yet it is always extreme-
ly bad, when it occasions enmity. Raillery therefore is
no longer agreeable than while the whole company is
pleased with it; and should never be used but with re-
gard 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 excel-
lencies, and not in a triumph over their imperfections.
The wit of conversation consists more in finding it in
others than showing a great deal yourself. He who-
goes out of your company, pleased with his own face-
tiousness and ingenuity, will the sooner come into it
again. Most men had rather please than admire you,
and seek less to be instructed and diverted, than ap-
Of pleasing in conversation ?—Of peremptoriness 7–Of story-telling?
—Of malicious jesting t—Of wit? p ry gº
Adº --
280 POLITENESS.
proved and applauded: and it is certainly the most deli-
cate sort of pleasure to please another.
We should talk very little of ourselves or any par-
ticular 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 contemptuous
silence.
Women are frightened at the name of argument, and
are sooner convinced by a happy turn or witty expres-
sion than by demonstration.
Whenever you commend, add your reasons for doing
, so: it is this which distinguishes the approbation of a
man of sense from the flattery of sycophants and the
admiration of fools. *
Nothing is more silly than the pleasure some people
take, in what they call “speaking their minds.” A man
of this make will say a rude thing for the mere pleasure
of saying it, when an opposite behaviour, full as inno-
cent, might have preserved his friend, or made his
fortune.
EXAMPLES.
PETRARCH relates that his admirable friend and con-
temporary, Dante Alighieri, one of the most exalted 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 unfortunate, was
held in great esteem; 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, distinguished 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
Of talking of ourselves or our favourite pursuits?—Of engrossing
conversation?—Of women?—Of commendation ?—Of speaking one's
mind?—Relate the story of Dante.
* POLITENESS. 28]
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; when you, who are cele.
brated for wisdom, are yet heard without pleasure, and
commended without friendship.”—“You would cease to
wonder,” replied Dante, “if you consider that conformi-
ty of character is the source of friendship.” This sar-
casm, which had all the force of truth, and all the keen-
ness of wit, was intolerable; and Dante was immediately
disgraced and banished.
But by this answer, though the indignation which pro-
duced it was founded on virtue, Dante probably gratified
his own vanity, as much as he mortified that of others:
it was the petulant reproach of resentment and pride,
which is always retorted with rage, and not the still
voice of reason, that is heard with complacency and re-
verence; if Dante intended reformation, his answer was
not wise; if he did not intend reformation, his answer
was not good.—Adventurer.
FROM the foregoing examples we may draw this in-
ference. 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 con-
clusion of this article to give you the character of a
complete gentleman, an appellation which ought never
to be affixed to any man's circumstances, but to his be-
haviour in them.
By a fine gentleman, is meant, one that is completely
qualified for the good and service, as well as the orna-
ment 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; to this we must
add a clear understanding, a reason unprejudiced, a
steady judgment; and an extensive knowledge. As to
his heart, it must be firm, and intrepid, free from all
meanness and every inordinate desire, but full of ten-
What remarks are made on his behaviour?—What inférence may
be drawn from this 7—Describe a real gentleman.
24 *
282 POLITENESS.
derness, compassion and benevolence; as to his manners,
he must be modest, without bashfulness; frank and affa-
ble, without impertinence; complaisant and obliging,
without servility; cheerful and good-humoured, with-
out noise. In a word, a fine gentleman is properly a
compound of the various good qualities that embellish
mankind. — Mentor.
To give an example perfectly worthy of imitation 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
universalesteem, came one day quite unattended, and told
the doctor he was come to dine with him. He thanked
his excellency for the honour he conferred on him, and
invited him to walk in his beautiful gardens: 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 docter had generally
something suitable to the season for himself and his
mother, to whom he behaved with true filial tenderness
and respect.
The doctor made the old lady do the honours Óf his
table; for which, or for the entertainment, he never
made the least apology, but told his lordship, that
“To stomachs cloy'd with costly fare,
Simplicity alone is rare.”
This demeanour of his was infinitely agreeable to
Ilord Carteret, who, though a courtier, hated ceremony
when he sought pleasure, which is indeed inconsistent
with it. His excellency, after the cloth was taken awa
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 demonstra-
tion of it, as he had this day seen. “Others,” said he,
Tell the story of Lord Carteret and Dr. Delany.—What remarks did
Lord Carteret make on the Doctor's behaviour !
Edward the Black Prince, and John of France.

POLITENESS, 285
“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; nay, they would not give me a moment
of their conversation, which, and not their dinner, I
sought, but hurry from me, and then, if I had any appe-
tite, deprive me of it, by their fulsome apologies for de-
fects, and by their unnecessary profusion.— Memoirs of
JMrs. L. Pilk.
Edward III.'s eldest son was also named Edward.
He was Prince of Wales; and, because he wore black
armour, he was called “Edward the Black Prince.” At
the battle of Crécy he was only fifteen or sixteen years
old; and his courage helped much to win that battle.
Many years afterwards, his father gave him the com-
mand of a small army; and with it, instead of attack-
ing the French in the neighbourhood of Calais, he went
to the south of France, and did all the harm he could
wheresover he went. The king of France collected a
large army, and overtook Edward the Black Prince at
Poictiers, which you will find in the middle of France.
The prince defeated the French, and took the king
prisoner.
At night, after the battle, the prince had a supper
prepared in his tent for the French king; and refused to
sit down beside him, but waited behind his chair, saying,
that it was his duty to stand before the king, and not to
forget the respect he owed him, although the king was
a prisoner. Thus, in those times, kings and princes and
knights thought it not wrong to burn and destroy each
other's kingdoms, and ruin or kill the people; but they
would have been ashamed not to show all outward re-
verence to the brave and the noble, especially if they
were unfortunate. — Historical Pictures.

what is said of the Black Prince’—what is said of his invasion'
of France?—Of the French king?—Of the battle of Poictiers ?–How
did the Black Prince treat the captive king 3
286 PRIDE.
, PRIDE.
SENTIMENTS.
*
THERE is no affection of the mind so much blended
in human nature, and wrought into our very constitu-
tion, as pride. It appears under a multitude of disguises,
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 servilely 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 na-
ture: were not he an ignorant creature, he would see
that he hath nothing to be proud of: and were not the
whole species miserable, he would not have those wretch-
ed objects of compassion before his eyes which are the
occasions of his passion, and which makes one man
value himself more than another.
Of all human actions, pride seldomest obtains the
end; for, aiming at honour and reputation, it reaps con-
tempt and derision.
Some people are all quality; you would think they
are made up of nothing but title and genealogy; 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.

What is said of Pride?—Equality?—What are the three reasons for
not being proud 7—What is said of haughtiness?
PRIDE. 287
It is an insolence natural to the wealthy to affix, as
much as in them lies, the character of a man to his cir-
cumstances. “Take away,” said Lactantius, “pride and
boasting from rich men, and there will be no difference
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; 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 an-
tidote; to be proud of authority is to make your rise
your downfall.
If a proud man makes me keep my distance, the com-
fort 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 con-
sidered vain pomp and superb magnificence as true
grandeur, rendered himself contemptible to the Macedo-
nians in the very circumstance by which he thought to
obtain their esteem. His head was enriched 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 extraordinary, and he had long employed ar-
tists 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 remained for
ages after a monument of his pride, and of the modesty
of his successors, who neither wore it, nor so much as
suffered it to be completed. But that which rendered
him still more odious, was his being so difficult of ap-
proach. 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
What is Lactantius's remark 7—What other remarks are made on
Pride?—Describe the character and conduct of Demetrius,
*
*
288 PRIDE,
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
day, when he came out .# his palace, and seemed to
have more affability than was usual for him to assume,
some persons were encouraged to present a few petitions
to him. He received them with a gracious air, and
placed them in one of the folds of his robe; but as he
was passing over a bridge on the river Axius, he threw
all these petitions into the stream. A prince must cer-
tainly know very little of mankind, not to be sensible
that such a contemptuous behaviour is sufficient to pro-
voke his subjects to revolt from his authority. This
º: to be the case with regard to Demetrius; for
is pride and insolence rendering his government insup-
portable, he was expelled the throne. — Plut. in Demet.
No person, at first, ever experienced less than Timo-
theus the inconstancy of the fortune of war. He had
only to undertake an enterprise, to accomplish it. Suc-
cess perpetually attended his views and desires. 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. Ti-
motheus 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 pretended to lessen the glory of his actions, decla-
red in public, “that he did not owe his success to For-
tune, but to himself.”—“That goddess,” says Plutarch,
“offended at his pride and arrogance, abandoned him
afterwards entirely, and he was never successful from
that day.”— Plut. 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.”
How was he punished ?—Relate the story of Timotheus.-Of Mene.
crates and Philip,
PRIDE. sº 289
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 pleasant remedy for his visionary corre-
spondent. 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; but hunger afterwards for-
cing him to recollect his being so, he was quite tired
with the character of Jupiter, and took leave of the com-
pany abruptly. — AElian, l, 11. c. 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 people of quality.) Socrates
carried him to a geographical map, and asked him to
find Attica. It was so small, it could scarcely be dis-
cerned 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 distinguished in so little a space.”—“See, then,” re-
plied Socrates, “how much you are affected about an
imperceptible 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 passage of his
forces from Asia into Europe. The space that separates
the two continents was formerly called the Hellespont. -
Of Alcibiades and Secrates.—Of Xerxes,
*.
25
250 PRODIGALITY. -
but now the Straits of the Dardanelles, or of Gallipoli,
and is seven stadia in-breadth, 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 in-
- formed of what had happened, flew into a transport of
passion, and, in order to avenge himself of so cruel an
affront, commanded two pair of chains to be thrown
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:
“Thou troublesome and unhappy element, thus does thy
master chastise thee for having affronted 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, making the un-
dertakers 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 manage-
ment of the work. — Herod. b. viii. c. 83.
PRO DIG A LITY.
SENTIMENTS.
A GREAT fortune in the hands of a fool is a great mis-
fortune. The more riches a fool has, the greater fool
he is. º
We admire no man for enjoying all bodily pleasures
to the full; this may create high 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.
* -------—-º
What remarks are made on prodigarity ?
PRODIGALITY. 291
Let pleasures be ever so innocent, the excess is al-
ways criminal.
What are the fruits of luxury, sensuality, and intem-
perance 7 Disease preying" upon your vitals; at the
same time that your morals are vitiated, your whole
frame is enervated.
What are the fruits of waste, profusion, and extrava-
gance 1 Want, poverty, and a train of consequences 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 ma-
terial affairs. People are too apt to think lightly of
shillings and pence, forgetting that they are the con-
stituent parts of a pound, till a deficiency in the great
article shows them their mistake; convinces them, by
dear-bought, experience, of a truth which they might
have learned from a little attention, viz. that great sums
are made up of small; and that, therefore, he that con:
temneth small things must of consequence fall by litti:
and little.
A little is enough for all the necessities, for all the inº
nocent 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 nothing to appear at his table
but what was brought from the most distant countries,
at an immense expense. 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 strewed
On luxury, immorality, and intemperance 7–On waste, profusion, and
extravagance?—How are numbers brought to want?—Describe the
prodigality of Heliogabalus. *
292 PRODIGALITY.
with gold dust, for he thought it beneath him 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 ex-
ceedingly costly, and beset with 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; 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 entitling 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 entertain-
ments were expensive almost beyond belief, his favourite
dishes being tongues of peacocks and nightingales, and
the brains of parrots and pheasants. 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. asº
CLEOPATRA, queen of Egypt, to attach Antony, the
Roman triumvir, the more to her person and interest,
made daily entertainments during her stay at Tarsus,
inviting him and the chief officers of his army to par-
take of them, and spending on these occasions immense
sums of money. In one of these banquets, Antony ex-
pressing 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 servant to carry them all to his house. The next .
Tell the story of Cleopatra's extravagance,
PRODIGALITY. 293
-- -- Fº- º º
Antony with Cleopatra in Egypt.
day she invited him again, and desired him to bring as
many of his friends as he pleased. ... He accepted the in-
vitation, and came attended with all the chief officers at
that time in Tarsus. When the banquet was over, and.
the numerous company ready to depart, Cleopatra pre-
sented 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 tnem
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 ac-
count she made of such toys, and how much she could
spend at one draught. She was preparing in like man-
ner to melt thé 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 pendants to the Venus of the Julian
family.—Athen. l. vi. p. 147. – Plin. l. xxxiii. c. 3.
LUCULLUs, the Roman general, though justly admired
for his bravery, justice, and clemency, yet is deservedly
censured for his extravagance and prodigality. Cicero
and Pompey meeting him one day in the city, told him
*
Of Lucullus.

25 #
*
* º
294 PRUDENCE,
they intended doing themselves the pleasure of supping
with him that night: “but it shall be upon this condi-
tion,” added they, “that you have nothing extraordinary
on our account:” to which he seemingly agreed; but
guess their surprise when they sat down to an enter-
tainment that cost no less than fifty thousand crowns.
What astonished them the more was the shortness of
the time in which it was prepared; 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 du Ruere, after he
was made cardinal by the pope his kinsman; for within
the space of two years which he lived at Rome, he ex-
; in feasts and entertainments no less than four
undred thousand crowns.— Fren. Acad.
P R U D E N C E.
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 understanding,
and regulate the will. sº
Discretion does not only show itself in words, but in
all the circumstances of action; and is like an under-
agent of Providence, to guide and direct us in the ordi-
nary concerns of life.
There are many more shining qualities in the mind
of man, but there is none so useful as discretion: 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 person who is possessed of them.
Without it, learning is pedantry, and wit impertinence:
nay, virtue itself looks like weakness; the best parts
Of Peter du Ruere? —What is prudence? – How does discretion
show itself?—What is said of discretion ?
*. PRUDENCE, sº 295
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 weigh their actions
in the balance of reason, and to judge whether 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 conduct, was
daily giving his father great cause of pain and uneasi-
ness. His court was the common receptacle of liber-
tines, 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 com-
mon topics of conversation. This degeneracy in the
heir of the crown was not more disagreeable to the king
himself, who loved him with the most tender affection,
than it was alarming to the nation in general, who trem-
bled at the prospect of being one day governed by a
prince of his character. But their fears were happily
removed; for no sooner had the young king assumed
the reins of government, than he showed himself to be
extremely worthy of the high situation to which he was
advanced: he called together the dissolute companions
of his youth; acquainted them with his intended refor-
mation; advised 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 dis-
missed them with liberal presents. He chose a new
council, composed of the wisest and best men of the
kingdom: he reformed the benches by discarding the
ignorant and corrupt judges, and supplying their places
with persons of courage, knowledge, and integrity.
Even the Chief Justice Gascoign, who (as related under
What wºº the early character of Henry V. of England?—When did
he reform 7–How did he evinee his reformation ?
*
*
296 PRUDENCE.
the article JMagnanimity) had committed young Henry
to prison, and who, on that account, trembled to approach
the royal presence, was received with the utmost cordi- -
ality and friendship; and, instead of being reproached
for his past conduct, was warmly exhorted to persevere
in the same strict and impartial execution 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; that
reason and argument were the proper weapons for de-
fending and maintaining the truth; and that the most
gentle means ought, in the first place, to be employed, in
order to reclaim men from their errors. In a word, he
séemed determined to bury all party distinctions in eter-
nal oblivion, and to approve himself the common father
and protector of all his subjects 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 sug-
º of some of his courtiers, who insinuated that
is son had an evil design upon his crown and authority.
These insinuations filled his breast with the most anxious
fears and apprehensions, and perhaps he might have had
récourse to very disagreeable expedients, in order to pre-
vent the imaginary 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 un-
derstand, my liege, that you suspect me of entertaining
designs against your crown and person: I own I have
been guilty of many excesses, which have justly exposed
me to your displeasure; but I take heaven to witness,
that I never harboured a single thought inconsistent with
that duty and veneration which I owe to your majesty.

–º
What is related of Gascoigh 7–Of the archbishop?–Wºht passed
between Henry V. and his father before the old king's decease ?
RELIGION. 297
Those who charge me with such criminal intentions,
only want to disturb the tranquillity of your reign, and
to alienate your affections from your son and successor.
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; and if I be guilty, l
will cheerfully submit to any punishment you shall think
proper to #. 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 prudent
and ingenuous address, that he embraced him with great
tenderness, acknowledging that his suspicions were en-
tirely removed, and that for the future he would never
harbour a thought prejudicial to his loyalty and honour
— Hist, Eng.
R E L I GI ON
SENTIMENTS.
RELIGION, in its most general view, is such a sense
of God in the soul, and such a conviction of our obliga-
tions to him, and dependence upon him, as should en-
gage us to make it our great care to conduct 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 con-
vinced it is a true sense of religion, a full persuasion of
an invisible power, who sees and knows every thing, and,
as we behave well or ill in this life, will accordingly re-
ward or punish usin another, 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
ºwell as others, the imprinting an early and deep sense
WCat is religion?—What can religion alone restrain?

298 RELIGION,
, of religion on the minds of youth, is an essential 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 inexpres-
sible 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 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 affections of the
mind, but to regulate them.
The greatest and wisest of men, in all ages and coun-
tries, were renowned for their piety and virtue. Those
in all Christian nations, that have been unquestionably
the most eminent for learning and knowledge, were like-
wise the most eminent for their adherence to the Chris-
tian religion. . I might produce very shining examples
from among the clergy; 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 genius 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 worship of the
*
*,
gods, and a respect for religion. Upon this, thereforgº
When do men learn the true worth of religion ?—Is religion an ene-
my to cheerfulness?—What does-Xenophon relate of Cyrus the Great?



RELIGION. 299
he thought himself obliged to bestow his first and prin-
cipal care. He began by establishing a number of magi
(or priests) to sing daily a morning 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 disposition quickly became, as is
usual, the prevailing disposition among the people, and
his example became the rule of their conduct. Cyrus,
on the other hand, was extremely glad to find in them
such sentiments of religion, being convinced that who-
soever sincerely fears and worships God, will, at the
same time, be faithful to his king, and preserve an invio-
lable attachment to his person, and to the welfare of the
state. — Cyrop. 204. * .
WHILE the colleagues of Constantius, the Roman em-
peror, were persecuting the Christians with fire and
sword, he politically pretended to persecute them too,
and declared to such officers of his household, and gow-
ernors 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 favour, 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 re-
ligion, highly extolled the virtue and constancy ºf such
as had despised the wealth and vanity of this world,
dismissed with ignominy the former, saying, “that those
who had betrayed their God would not scruple to betray
their prince :” 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.
Wit. Constant.

* anything be more admirable than these senti-
How did Copstantius punish the hypocrites and reward the true men
3f his time 7
it
tº º:
300 RELIGION.
ments 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 arbiter: that it is to him
mankind are indebted for all the good they enjoy : that
he penetrates into, and is acquainted with, whatsoever
passes in the most secret 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 pleased 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 des-
titute 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 emperor
Aurelius, “and yet I have a great value for it, because
it is discoverable by its operations; 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 Pagan
world never produced any thing so great and perfect.
He held admirable principles with relation to the Deity;
he agreeably rallied the fables upon which the ridiculous
mysteries of his age were founded; he often discoursed
in the most exalted terms of the existence of one su-
preme Being, eternal, invisible, the Creator of the uni-
verse, and the supreme Director and Arbiter of al


What is the remark quoted from Cicero? — From Seneca 7–From
Aurelius 7–What is said of Socrates? #.
RELIGION. 301
events, who takes cognizance of the actions of men, and
who will infallibly punish the guilty, and reward the
virtuous.
THESE examples, selected from the heathen world,
evidently prove that religion, or the fear and adoration
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 of our own religion,
with regard to it.
THE honourable Mr. Boyle, the most exact searcher
into the works of nature that any age has known, and
who saw atheism and infidelity beginning to show them-
selves in the loose and voluptuous reign of Charles II.,
pursued his philosophical inquiries 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 conversed 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 great-
ness and glory, and of the wisdom and goodness of
God. This was so deep in his thoughts, that he con-
cludes the article of his will, which relates to that illus-
trious body, the Royal Society, in these words, wishing
them a happy success in their laudable attempts to dis-
cover 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
the great Author of nature, and to the comfort, of
mankind.”
In another place, the same person speaks of him
What was the object of Mr. Boyle in his scientific pursuits *—What
is said of him by Dr. Rurnet 7
26 º
302 RELIGION.
--~~
, 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 God was never men-
tioned 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 appears not only from
his studying them with great exactness, and exhorting
others to do the same, but more particularly from a dis-
tinct treatise which he wrote, on purpose to defend the
Scripture style, and to answer all the objections which
profane and irreligious persons have made against it.
His zeal in propagating Christianity in the world, ap-
pears by many and large benefactions to that end. (See
Beneficence, p. 48.)
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 re-
spects, be more serviceable to religion by continuing a
layman. “His having no interest, with relation to re-
ligion, 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 forti-
fied 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; he hoped, therefore, that he might
have the more influence, the less he shared in the patri-
mony 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
How was his zeal for propagating Christianity shown —Why was
he not a clergyman 7—How did Mr. Locke show his zeal for Christian
ity ?
‘, RELIGION. 303
times, showed his zeal for the Christian religion, first in
his middle age, by publishing a discourse on purpose to
demonstrate the reasonableness of believing Jesus to be
the promised Messiah, and after that, in the last years
of his life, by a very judicious commentary upon several
of the epistles of St. Paul.
The Holy Scriptures are everywhere mentioned by
him with the greatest reverence; and he exhorts Chris-
tians “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 proposed it to the
world; seeking our religion where we are sure it is in
truth to be found, comparing spiritual things with spirit-
ual.” And in a letter written the year . 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 of it?” 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, salvation for its end, and truth, without 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 business, when, for
“fourteen or fifteen years,” he applied himself especially
to the study of the Holy Scriptures, 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 let-
ter 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
What question was put to him in a letter?—What was his answer?
—What were his last words to a friend ?
304 * RELIGION. f
*
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 account.”—Posthumous Works, p. 321. 328.
SIR ISAAC NEwton, universally acknowledged to be
the ablest philosopher and mathematician that England,
or perhaps any other country has produced, is also well
known to have been a firm believer, and a serious Chris-
tian. His discoveries concerning the frame and sys-
tem of the universe were applied by him to demonstrate
the being of a God, and to illustrate his power and wis-
dom in the creation.
This great man applied himself likewise with the ut-
most attention to the study of the Holy Scriptures, 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 dis-
course, to prove that the famous prophecy of Daniel's
weeks, which has been so industriously perverted by the
Deists of our times, was an express prophecy of the
coming of the Messiah, and fulfilled in Jesus Christ.—
View of his Philosophy. sº
MR. ADDISON, so deservedly celebrated for an uncom-
mon 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 sub-
jects discover a strong, masculine, and steady piety; and
his amiable conduct in every part of his life gives us the
most convincing proof. that what he wrote were the
genuine sentiments of his mind. But his virtue shone
out brightest at the point of death; for after a long and
manly, but vain struggle with his distempers, he dis-
missed his physicians, and with them all hopes of life;
but with his hopes of life he dismissed not his concern
What is said of Sir Isaac Newton -How has Mr. Addison proved
his zeal for Christianity?—When did his virtue shine brightest?
RELIGION, 305
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 Sir, 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 what 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 Composition,
p. 103.
CARDINAL Wolsey, one of the greatest ministers 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 for-
saken me now in my gray hairs.”
CARDINAL RICHELIEU, after having given law to 'all
Europe for many years, confessed to P. du Moulin, that
being forced upon many irregularities in his life-time, by
that which they called “Reasons of State,” he could
not tell how to satisfy his conscience upon several ac-
counts: 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; cherish my friends;
but, above all, govern your will and affections by the
will and word of your Creator: in me behold the end
of this world, and all its vanities.”
What passed between him and his young friend?—What was said by
Cardinal Wolsey 7–Cardinal Richelieu’—Sir Philip Sidney 7
26 # --
306 JEVENGE. .*
R. EW E N G E.
SENTIMENTS
WHOEver arrogates to himself the right of vengeance,
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 ex-
asperate his own rage; whose thoughts are employed
only on means of distress and contrivances of ruin;
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; among those who
are guilty without reward, who have neither the glad-
ness of prosperity, nor the calm of innocence.
Of him that hopes to be forgiven, it is indispensably
required that he forgive. It is therefore superfluous 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 friendship, changes jus-
tice into cruelty, and turns all order into confusion.
There are three kinds of returns for injuries: abject
submission, severe retaliation, and contemptuous disre-
gard. The first is always the worst, and the last gene-
rally 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. *-
\
What remarks are made on the revengeful man?—On the duty of
forgiveness?—On a revengeful temper?—What is said of the three re-
turns for injuries 7
REVENGE. 307
EXAMPLE.
ALIVERDI, generalissimo of the armies of Abbas the
Great, 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 con-
stant serenity of his &ountenance, it was judged that no-
thing could ruffle the calmness of his heart; and virtue
displayed itself in him so gracefully and so naturally,
that it was supposed to be the effect of his happy tem-
per. An extraordinary incident made the world do him
justice, and place him in the rank he deserved.
One day, as he was shut up in his closet, bestowing
on affairs of state the hours which other measdevote 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 valuable furniture in it, and
would have carried off 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; that the Arme-
nian'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 I 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 injustice 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 pre-
serve him for the 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
*
What was the character of Aliverdi ?—How was he injured?—What
did he do on first hearing of this?
308 REVENGE.
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 pro-
voked me; but what impelled him to it? No man com-
mits evil merely for the pleasure of doing it; there is
always a motive, which passion or prejudice presents to
us under the mask of equity; and it must needs be some
motive of this kind, that blinded the Armenian to the
dreadful consequences of his attempt. Doubtless, I must
have injured the wretch P’
He despatches immediately an express to Amandabat,
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 ap-
plied himself again to public business, till he should have
leisure to sift this particular case to the bottom. From
the strict inquiries he ordered to be made, he learned
that one of his inferior officers had done very consider-
rable damage to the Armenian, considering the medio-
crity of his fortune; and that he himself had slighted the
complaints brought against him. Eased by this dis-
covery, he called for the Armenian, whose countenance
expressed more confusion than terror, and passed this
sentence upon him :
“Vindictive stranger, there were some grounds for thy
resentment; thou didst think I had justly incurred thy
hatred: I forgive thee the injury thou hast done to me.
But thou hast carried thy vengeance to excess; thou
hast attacked a man whom thou oughtest to respect;
nay, thou hast attempted to make thy vengeance fall
upon innocent heads, and therefore I ought to punish
thee. Go, then, and reflect in solitude on the wretched-
ness of a man that gives full swing to his passions.
Thy punishment, which justice requires of me, will be
sufficiently tempered by my clemency; and thy repent-
ance may permit me to shorten the term.”
What course did he take on mature reflection ?
TREACHERY. 309
TRE A CHER Y.
SENTIMENTS.
Of all the 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. A brave and generous pºo-
ple will disdain to practise it even towards their de-
clared enemies; Christianity teaches us to forgive in:
juries; but to resent them under the disguise of friend-
ship and benevolence, argues a degeneracy which com-
mon humanity.and justice must blush at. -4
*
º
EXAMPLES.
CARACALLA, the Roman emperor, sent a solemn em-
bassy to Artabanus, king of the Parthians, desiring his
daughter in marriage. Artabanus, overjoyed at this
proposal, which he thought would be attended with a
lasting peace between the two empires, received the am-
bassadors with all possible marks of honour, and readily
complied with their request. Soon after, Caracalla sent
a second embassy, to acquaint the king that he was
come to solemnize the nuptials. Whereupon Artabanus
went to meet him, attended with the chief of the nobility
and his best troops, all unarmed, and in most pompous
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 inhuman and barbarous treachery,
wrote a long and boasting letter to the senate, assuming
What remarks are made on treachery 7–Relate the story of Cara.
calla's treachery,
310. TREACHERY.
the title of Parthicus for this detestable action, as he had
before that of Germanicus, for murdering in like man-
ner some of the German nobility. — Univ. Hist.
THE supremacy which Sparta had so disgracefully
purchased by the peace of Antalcidas was exercised with
great severity. They declared war against the little
state of Mantineia, under the pretence, that its inhabit-
ants had furnished corh to their enemies during the late
war, and after encountering a fierce, but ineffectual re-
sistance, levelled the city to the ground. They sent an
army to regulate the internal condition of Phlius, and
“cruelly massacred all those whom they suspected of
hostility to their interests. Finally they proclaimed war
against the Olynthians (383. B. C.), for assuming su-
premacy over the other states on the sea-coast of Mace-
don. During four years the Olynthians baffled every
effort of Sparta and her allies, but at length an over-
whelming force was sent, which compelled them after
a siege of eight months to surrender. The terms on
which peace was granted were sufficiently harsh, but
Olynthus was permitted to retain its independence.
The Olynthian war is, however, principally remarka-
ble for a vile instance of treachery exhibited by the
Spartans to a city with which they were in alliance.
During the first year of the war, Phoebidas had been
sent with a numerous reinforcement to the army that
had advanced against Olynthus; on his passage through
Boeotia, he was met by some of the aristocratic faction
at Thebes, who offered to put him in possession of the
Theban citadel, provided he would aid them in subduing
their opponents. Phoebidas without hesitation assented,
and being introduced by some of the nobles during the
night, seized and garrisoned Thebes without opposition.
This treacherous occupation of a city by an ally, ex-
cited universal detestation throughout Greece. The
How did the Spartans use their power?—What caused the war be-
tween Sparta and Olynthus?—Did the Spartans commit any act of
treachery 1 *
TREACHERY. 31I .
Spartan senate felt, or pretended to feel, indignant at the
conduct of Phoebidas, but Agesilaus stood forward as
his defender, acknowledging, indeed, that his conduct
was unjust, but dwelling strongly on its utility; and by
his influence, it was finally resolved, that Phoebidas
should be fined a small sum for having acted without
orders, but that the Spartans should retain the fruits of
his treachery. The conduct of the prevailing faction at
Thebes exceeded even the cruelty of the thirty tyrants;
most of the leaders of the popular party fled to Athens,
where they were received with great hospitality; the rest
were butchered without a trial and without mercy.
The Thebans, after submitting to this yoke for four
years, at last threw it off by the following stratagem. A
correspondence having been established between the
Theban exiles at Athens and such of their countrymen
as were well affected to them in Thebes, a plan was laid
for surprising the governors and the garrison. The two
principal exiles that conducted this plot, were Pelopidas
and Melon. Charon, a man of the first consequence in
the city, joined in the conspiracy, and offered his house
for the reception of the exiles when they should arrive;
and Phyllidas, secretary to the governors, managed the
correspondence between the exiles and the citizens, and
promised to admit the former into the town.
Matters being thus previously concerted, Pelopidas
and Melon, with ten associates, dressed themselves like
peasants, and beat about the fields with dogs and hunting
poles, as if in search of game. Having thus passed un-
suspected, and conveyed themselves into the city, they
met at Charon's house, where they were soon after
joined by thirty-six more of their confederates. To ren-
der the execution of the plot the more easy and com-
plete, Phyllidas had that day contrived to give a grand
entertainment to the two governors, Archias and Philip.
*...*
Was Phoebidas punished for his treachery 7—How did the Theban
aristocracy behave 7—How long did the tyranny of the Spartan party at
Thebes conthmue?—By whom was the plot for the restoration of Theban
liberty planned?—How was it carried into execution?
• 312 TREACHERY.
The stratagem of Pelopidas.
*
But a secret and obscure rumour of impending danger
had been spread through the city, which had almost dis-
concerted the plot. Charon was summoned before the
Spartan magistrates, but the readiness with which he
answered every question checked their suspicions, and
he was permitted to retire. Soon after, a new and
more alarming danger appeared. A courier arrived
from Athens, and forcing his way into the banquet-room,
presented a letter to Archias, declaring that it contained
important tidings. Its contents, indeed, were truly im-
portant, for it contained a full exposure of the whole
conspiracy. But Archias, who was a professed volup-
tuary, carelessly answered, “Business to-morrow,” and
thrust the letter under his pillow.
The associates divided themselves into two bands.
One of these, led by Charon and Melon, were to attack
the governors and their company. Accordingly having
put on women's clothes over their armour, with pine and
poplar garlands on their heads, to shade their faces,
they took the opportunity, when the guests were all
heated with wine, to enter the room, and immediately
Was the plot near being discovered ?–Did the conspiracy succeed?

TREACHERY. f 313
stabbed Archias and Philip, with such others of the com-
pany as were pointed out to them by Phyllidas. In the
mean time, Pelopidas and Damoclides attacked Leonti-
das, another adherent of the Spartans, who was at home
and in bed. But this man made a desperate resistance;
for taking up his sword, he met them at his chamber
door, and slew the first that set upon him: but after a
long and violent struggle, he was at last overcome by
Pelopfdas, who killed him on the spot. His friend and
neighbour, Hypates, soon after met with the same fate:
and the two bands then reuniting, sent an account of
their success to the other exiles at Athens, and entreated
them to hasten their return to Thebes. – Goldsmith’s
Greece. * w
ATHELBERT, 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 religion in his actions, and to
justice in his administrations, 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 let-
ters, and, being fond of books, had not been susceptible.
of any impression from beauty; perhaps the reigning
passion of the age, inclining to celibacy, might have
contributed, in some measure, to his insensibility. The
universal desire and common good of his people, the
distraction and convulsions the kingdom would be ex-
posed to for want of an heir, were the topics used by
the nobility and bishops, which induced him to call a
council to consider of the matter. It being their unani-
mous opinion that it would be best for him to marry,
Athelrida, the daughter of Offa, king of Mercia, a prin-
cess 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 -
Relate the story of Offa's treachery to Athelbert
£a.
27
314 TREACHERY.
nad first named the lady to the king. Being arrived on
the borders of the Mercian territories, they waited for
a safe conduct, 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 of
the manner in which Athelbert should be treated. The
courtiers, who easily perceived the intentions of the
monarch, and thinking this a good opportunity to annex
the kingdom of East-Angles to that of Mercia, deter-
mined to murder Athelbert, and seize his dominions.
The more effectually to accomplish this villanous de-
sign, he was invited, with the greatest show of friend-
ship, to a conference with Offa, under pretence of set-
tling the preliminaries of his marriage; and, going
thither without any of his attendants, he was seized in
his way by Guimbert, and privately 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 re-
venge his death, and fearful of the like fate, they imme-
diately 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 obscure
place on the banks of the Lugge, but were afterwards
removed to Fernley, since called Hereford, the cathe-
dral of which city is dedicated to his honour. — Hist.
of England.
*,
ANTIochus, king of Syria, was brought to submit to
the Roman arms: after embassies on the one side and
on the other, hostilities were commenced against him,
five years after the conclusion of the Macedonian war.
After many mistakes and great misconduct, he attempted
to obtain a peace, by offering to quit all his places in
Europe, and such in Asia as professed alliance to Rome.
But it was now too late; Scipio perceived his own
superiority, and was resolved to avail himself of it.
Who fell under the displeasure of the Romans ?—What was the
result 7–Were his offers accepted 7 *
&
TREACHERY. 315
Antiochus, thus driven into resistance, for some time
retreated before the enemy, till, being pressed hard, .
near the city of Magnesia, he was forced to draw out
his men, to the number of seventy thousand foot, and
twelve thousand horse. º
Scipio opposed him with forces as much inferior in
number, as they were superior in courage and discipline.
Antiochus, therefore, was in a short time entirely de-
feated; his own chariots, armed with scythes, being
driven back upon his men, contributed much to his
overthrow. Being thus reduced to the last extremity,
he was glad to procure peace from the Romans, upon
their own terms; which were, to pay fifteen thousand
talents; to quit his possessions in Europe, and in Asia;
on the hither side of Mount Taurus; to give twenty
hostages, as pledges of his fidelity; and to deliver, up
Hannibal, the inveterate enémy of Rome, who had taken
refuge at his court. zº
In the mean time Hannibal, whose destruction was
one of the articles of this extorted treaty, endeavoured
to avoid the threatened ruin. This consummate general
had long been a wanderer, and an exile from his un-
grateful country. He had taken refuge at the court of
Antiochus, who, at first, gave him a sincere welcome,
and made him admiral of his fleet, in which station he
showed his usual skill in stratagem. But he soon sunk-
in the Syrian's esteem for projecting schemes which
that monarch had neither genius to understand, nor
talents to execute. Sure, therefore, to find no safety or
protection, he departed by stealth; and, after wandering
for a time among the petty states, which had neither
power nor generosity to protect him, he took refuge at
the court of Prusias, king of Bithynia. In the mean
time, the Romans, with a vindictive spirit utterly unwor-
Did Antiochus boldly face the Romans ?—What were the strength
and character of the Roman army, and what the result of the battle 7–
Was he able to make further resistance —Was Hannibal delivered up?
—What occasioned Hannibal to put himself in the power of Antiochus *
—Was this kindness lasting?—Whither did he next betake himself?-
316 TREACHERY. sº
*
Death of Hannibal,
thy of them, sent AEmilius, one of their most celebrated
generals, to demand him of this king; who, fearing the
resentment of Rome, and willing to conciliate their
friendship by this breach of hospitality, ordered a guard
to be placed upon Hannibal, with an intent to deliver
him up. The poor old general, thus implacably perse-
cuted from one country to another, and finding every
method of safety cut off, determined to die. He, there-
fore, desired one of his followers to bring him poison;
and drinking it, he expired as he had lived, with intrepid
bravery.
ELFRIDA was the daughter of Ordgar, count of Devon,
and, though educated in a private manner, was so beau-
tiful, that the fame of her charms reached the ears of
Edgar, king of England. In order to satisfy himself
whether her beauty answered the report he had heard
of it, he sent Ethelwold, his favourite, who, under pre-
text 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 addresses
Was he in safety at this court —How did Hannibal escape his perse-
cutors ?—Who was Elfrida 7–What king desired to marry her ?—Whom
did he send to report concerning her fitness for the honour intended her?

TIREACHERY. 3 HT7
to the lady. On his return to the king, he described
her in such a manner as convinced Edgar that she was
neither a proper object for his curiosity nor affections.
Having thus diverted the king's thoughts from Elfrida,
he took an opportunity 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 revealed to the
king. Edgar, however, dissembled his resentment, till .
he had ocular demonstration of his perfidy. For this
purpose he found some pretence 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 the monarch. El-
frida, being by these means acquainted with the wrong
done to herself, as well as to the king, was filled with
resentment, and instead of following her husband's ad-
vice, 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 North-
umberland against the Danes, and in his way thither he
was found murdered. No steps were taken to find out
the authors of this crime; but Elfrida, as soon as de-
cency would permit, was married to the king.—Hist.
England. Edgar. * --
WHEN Pompey had been defeated by Caesar, in the
battle of Pharsalia, he sailed from the mouth of the
river Peneus, to Amphipolis, where, finding his affairs
desperate, he steered to Lesbos, to take with him his

f
How did he abuse his trust?—How was he punished?—Whither did
Pompey steer his course when defeated by Caesar?
27 #
3.18 TREACHERY.
wife Cornelia, whom he had left there, at a distance
from the dangers and distresses of war. She, who had,
long flattered herself with the hopes of victory, now
felt the agonizing reverse of fortune: she was desired
by the messenger, whose tears more than his words pro-
claimed her unspeakable misfortunes, to hasten away if
she expected to see Pompey, who had but one ship, and
even that not his own. Her grief, which before was
violent, became now insupportable: she fainted, and lay
without signs of life. At length recovering, and reflect-
ing that it was no time for vain lamentations, she fled
through the city to the sea-side.
Pompey received and embraced her, and in silent
despair supported her in his arms. “Alas!” said Cor-
melia, “you who, before our marriage, appeared in these
seas as the commander of five hundred sail, are now
reduced to make your escape in a single vessel. Why
come you in search of an unfortunate woman? Why
was I not left to a fate which now you are under the
necessity of sharing with me? Happy for me had I ex-
ecuted, long since, my design of quitting this life! But
fatally have Ibeen reserved to add to Pompey's sorrows.”
Pompey instanced the uncertainty of all human affairs,
and endeavoured by every argument to give her com-
fort; then, taking her under his protection, he continued
his course, stopping no longer than was necessary for a
supply of provisions at the ports which occurred in his
passage. He now determined upon applying to Ptolemy,
king of Egypt, to whose father he had been a consider-
able benefactor. Ptolemy was yet a minor, and had not
– the government in his own hands, but was under the di-
rection of an administration. His council insidiously
contrived that Pompey should be invited on shore, and
murdered before he should come into the king's presence.
Achillas, commander of the forces, and Septimius, a
Roman, who had formerly been a centurion in Pompey's

What effect had the tidings on Cornelia 7—Relate what passed at
their interview 7–How did Pompey attempt to comfort her ?—What de-
termination did he now form 7–What was his intended reception?
TREACHERY. 319
army, undertook to carry the treacherous design into
execution. Attended by three or four more, they put
off in a little bark, and rowed to Pompey's ship, that lay
about a mile from the shore.
Pompey now took leave of Cornelia, repeating to her
a verse of Sophocles, signifying, that “he who trusts
his freedom to a tyrant, from that moment becomes a
slave.” He then gave his hand to Achillas, and, with
only two of his own attendants, stepped into the bark.
The frantic Cornelia hung over the side of the deck,
weeping and exclaiming against his separation from her.
“Alas!” said she, “whither art thou going?”
He spoke; but she, unmoved at his commands,
Thus loud exclaiming, stretch'd her eager hands;
“Whither, inhuman whither art thou gone?
Still must I weep our common griefs alone?”
Rowe's LUCAN.
In wild astonishment she followed him with her eyes,
and uttering to the winds her fruitless lamentations.
The mariners, regardless of her sorrows, rowed to-
wards land, without a word passing among them, till
Pompey, by way of breaking silence, looking at Septi-
mius, whose face he recollected. “Methinks, friend,” said
he, “you once served under me.” Septimius noticing
these words only by a contemptuous nod of the head,
Pompey betook himself to a paper, on which he had
minuted a speech intended to be made to the king, and
began reading it. In this manner they approached the
shore; whilst Cornelia, whose insufferable sorrow had
never let her lose sight of her husband, began to con-
ceive hopes, perceiving that the people on the strand
crowded down along the coast as if eager to receive
him. Alas! these hopes were soon destroyed... At the
instant that Pompey rose, supporting himself on his
freedman's arm, Septimius stabbed him in the back, and
*ºs
Did Pompey fall into the snare?—Was his separation from his wife a
painful one?—What passed in the boat?—Were Cornelia's hopes well
founded ?
320 TREACHERY. $ 2.
. . . . F.E. °- * . ~.
– “ --- - - ** - - - --> --> --> -->
---> . ... - 2–º-> <-- wº- -- sº-2 w
Death of Pompey.
Achillas instantly seconded the blow. Pompey, per-
ceiving his death inevitable, calmly disposed himself to
meet it with decency; and covering his face with his
robe, without a word resigned himself to his fate. At
this horrid sight, Cornelia and her attendants shrieked,
so as to be heard to the very shore. But the danger
they were in allowing no time to look on, they immedi-
ately set sail, and, the wind proving favourable, fortu-
nately escaped the pursuit of the Egyptian galleys. In
the mean time, Pompey's murderers, having taken off
his head, embalmed it for a present to Caesar, whilst
the body was thrown naked on the strand, and exposed
to the view of those whose curiosity was to be satisfied.
But his faithful freedman, Philip, still kept near it; and
when the crowd dispersed, he washed it in the sea, and
looking round for materials to burn it, perceived the
wrečks of a fishing-boat, of which he composed a pile.
While he was thus piously employed, he was accosted
by an old Roman soldier, who had served under Pom-
pey in his youth. “Who art thou?” said he, “that art
Did Pompey resist this treacherous attack 7–Was Cornelia a witness
to this horrid transaction ?—How was the body of Pompey treated 7–
Had he no friend to perform the last offices for him 7–By whom was he
assistcd 7
*

( 322 )
*
t
º
)
º
|
|
Murder of Edward the Martyr.

TREACHERY. 323
making these humble preparations for Pompey's funeral?”
—“One of his freedmen,” answered Philip.–“ Alas,”
replied the soldier, “permit me to share with you the
honour of this sacred action. Among all the miseries
of my exile, it will be my last sad comfort, that I have
been able to assist at the funeral of my old commander,
and to touch the body of the bravest general that ever
Rome produced.”
Thus were the last rites performed to Pompey. But
his ashes (according to Plutarch) were carefully collected,
and carried to Cornelia, who deposited them at his villa
near Alba, in Italy. We are told, too, that the Egyptians
afterwards erected a monument to him, on the spot on
which his funeral pile had been raised, with an inscrip-
tion to this purpose :-‘‘How poor a tomb covers the
man who once had temples erected to his honour!”
From Pompey's death we may date the extinction of
the republic. From this period the senate was dispos-
sessed of its power; and Rome henceforward was never
without a master. - -
King Edgar of England had two sons, Edward the
son of his first wife, and Ethelred the son of his second
wife, Elfrida. Edward was king after his father's death;
but Elfrida, wishing her son Ethelred to be king, con-
trived how she should get rid of Edward. The young
king hunting one day, thirsty and alone, heard that
Ethelred and his mother were at Corfe Castle, and inno-
cently went thither. Elfrida welcomed him kindly, and
ordered drink to be brought forth, for Edward did not
dismount from his horse: but, while he was drinking,
one of her servants, by her order, stabbed him with a
dagger in the back. The poor youth galloped off; but
soon growing faint from loss of blood, he fell dead from
his horse, and was dragged by the stirrup. At last he
What became of his remains ? — What respect did the Egyptians
afterwards pay to his memory 7 — What was the face of affairs after
Pompey's death —Who was the enemy of Edward the Martyr 7—Why?
IHow did sno effect his assassination ?
324 --- wealth.
was traced by the blood, and buried at Shaftesbury.
Ethelred was made king, and Elfrida, despised for her
wickedness, spent her old age in sorrow and loneliness.
—Historical Pictures.
§ 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, industry and tem-
perance, are very often the good qualities of a poor
man. Humanity and good nature, magnanimity, and a
sense of honour, are sometimes the qualifications of the
rich; on the contrary, poverty is apt to betray a man
into envy, riches into arrogance; poverty is sometimes
attended with fraud, vicious compliances, repining, mur-
mur, and discontent; riches expose a man to pride and
luxury, a foolish elation of heart, and too great a fond-
ness for the present world. Upon the whole, riches are
the instruments of good or evil, according to the dispo-
sition 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.
PHILoPGEMEN having delivered the Lacedaemonians
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
What was her fate?—What are the virtues springing from poverty?
—From wealth 7—What are the vices to which poverty often leads?—
To what vices do riches expose a man —What is said of riches t—Re. ,
late the story of Philopoemen's contempt of wealth,
WEALTH. 325
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 sen-
ate, to accept of the present. And on this occasion it
was, says Plutarch, that the virtue of the generous
Achaean appeared in its greatest lustre : 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 enter-
tained by Philopoemen. Here he had an opportunity of
observing the severity of his whole conduct, the great-
ness of his mind, the frugality of his life, and the regu-
larity of his manners; which struck him with such awe,
that he did not dare once to mention the present he was
come to offer him; insomuch that, giving some other
pretence for his journey, he returned home with the
present. The Lacedaemonians sent him again, but he
could no more prevail on himself now than the first
time, to mention the true cause of his journey. At last,
going a third time, he ventured, with the utmost reluc-
tance, to acquaint Philopoemen with the offer he had to
make him in the name of the Lacedaemonians. Philo-
poemen 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 cor-
rupting and purchasing the wicked, and such as divided
the citizens, and set them at variance with their seditious
discourses, to the end that, being paid for their silence,
they might not occasion so many distractions in the
government; “for it is much more advisable,” said he,
“to stop an enemy's mouth than a friend's; as for me,
How did he advise the Spartans to expend their wealth ?
28
326 weALTH. A
I shall always be your friend, and you shall reap the
benefit of my friendship without expense.”— Plut. in
Philop. g
A TREATY being on foot between the Romans and
Pyrrhus, king of Macedon, in relatiento amutual exchange
of prisoners, the latter, after having given a general answer
to the ambassadors, took Fabricius aside, and addressed
him in the following manner: “As for you, Fabricius, I
am sensible of your merit; I am likewise informed that
you are an excellent general, and perfectly qualified for
the command of an army; that justice and temperance
are united in your character, and that you pass for a
person of consummate virtue; but I am likewise as cer-
tain of your poverty, and must confess, that fortune, in
this particular alone, has treated you with injustice, by
misplacing you in the class of indigent senators. In order,
therefore, to supply the whole #. I am ready to
give you as much gold and silver as will raise you above
the richest citizen of Rome; being fully persuaded,
that no expense can be more honourable to a prince than
that which is employed in the relief of great men, 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 service
from you, as a return of gratitude; I expect nothing
from you but what is perfectly consistent with your ho-
nour, and what will add to your authority and impor-
tance 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 inflexi-
bility, with relation to the treaty I proposed, and has
never consulted the dictates of moderation in any re-
spect I want a virtuous man and a faithful friend, and

On what occasion did Pyrrhus offer riches 7–What reasons did he
offer to Fabricius for so doing 7
º:
*
WEALTH, 327
*ē.
you as much need a prince whose liberality may enable
ou to be mere useful, and do more good to mankind.
{. us, therefore, consent to render mutual assistance to
each other, in all the future conjunctures of our lives.”
Pyrrhus having expressed himself in this manner, Fa-
bricius, after a few moments' silence, replied to him in
these terms: “It is needless for me to make any men-
tion of the experience I may possibly have in the con
duct of public or private affairs, since you have been
informed of that from others. With respect also to my
poverty, you seem to be so well acquainted 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 con-
sists in a house of no considerable appearance, and in a
little spot of ground that furnishes me with my support.
But if you believe my poverty renders my condition in-
ferior to that of every other Roman, and that while I
am discharging 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 may conceive of me is not just, and that whoever
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, I never did imagine my
indigence a prejudice to me, whether I consider myself
as a public or private person. Did my necessitous cir-
cumstances ever induce my country to exclude me from
those glorious employments that are the noblest objects
of the emulation of great souls 7 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 func-
tions of divine worship are confided to my care. When-
ever the most important affairs are the subject of delibe-
ration, I hold my rank in councils, and offer my opinion
with as much freedom as another. I preserve a parity.
*
What was the substance of Fabricius's reply?
* weALTH.
328 *::$. /*
with the richest and most powerful in the republic; and
if any circumstance causes me to complain, it is |. §
receiving too much honour and applause from my f
low-citizens. The employments 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 the magistracy. She gives all necessary
supplies to those she employs in public stations, and be-
stows 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 knows no distinction between her citizens but
those of merit and virtue. As to my particular affairs,
I am so far from repining at my fortune, that I think I
am the happiest of men, when I compare myself with
the rich, and find a certain satisfaction, and even pride,
in 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 pro-
duces. 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 ne-
cessary for the same uses, the meanest is, in my sense,
the most commodious. I should be unreasonable, unjust,
did I 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 neces-
sitous, which is the only advantage the rich may be en-
vied for enjoying; but when I impart to the republic and
WEALTH. 329
my friends some portion of the little I possess, and ren-
der my country all the services, I am capable of per-
forming; in a word, when I discharge all the duties in
cumbent upon me, to the best of my ability, wherein
can my conscience condemn 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 oc-
curred to me a few years ago? The consular dignity
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 of land,
and defeated the enemy in several battles. We took
many flourishing and opulent cities by assault; I enriched
the whole army with their spoils; I returned to every
citizen the money he had contributed to the expense of
the war; and after I had received the honours of a tri-
umph, I brought four hundred talents into the public
treasury. After having 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
generosity of soul has raised the glory of Rome to so
illustrious a height, would it now become me to accept
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 re-
proaches? 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, vour
riches to yourself, and I my poverty and my reputa-
tion.”—Dion. Halicarn. Eacc. Legat. p. 744–748.
28 # .
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; I shall mention
only one of them here, far superior to all his most noble
exploits of war. This Roman, so worthy of praise,
who, supported by three other patricians, had delivered
Rome from the 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 déserved 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 corrupting the heart,
to ensnare him. Contented with the moderate fortune
he had received from his ancestors, he used no endea-
vours to augment it. He believed that he had enough
for bringing up his family nobly, and for giving his chil-
dren an education 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. How-
ever, 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 mag-
nificence, at the charge of the public.
The Roman ladies renewed, in respect for Publicola,
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 relations. – Plut. in Public.
+---
Whāt is relatcd of Valerius Publicola Ž
***
4;
* .
WöMAN. 334
W O M A. N.
• SENTIMENTs.
THE proper and legitimate sphere for the exercise of
female virtue is the domestic circle. Here are called
into activity all the noble and beautiful traits which
should adorn her character; and it is worthy of remark,
that those ladies who have displayed the quiet domestic
virtues, in their greatest perfection, have, when the oc-
casion called for them, exhibited the most splendid
examples of patriotism, disinterestedness, and self-de-
votion.
The habits of self-denial, self-sacrifice, and self-con-
trol, which are acquired by the conscientious discharge
of the duties of a daughter, a wife, and a mother, are
the best preparation for those great and heroic examples
of virtue by which women sometimes form some of the
most splendid ornaments of the page of history.
~~
EXAMPLES.
In the year 1776, a poor widow at Lisbon went seve-
ral times to the ante-chamber of the court, and though
frequently ordered to retire, she as constantly returned
the next day, saying, she must speak to the king. At
length she one day saw his majesty passing by, when
she immediately advanced towards him, presented a
casket to him, and spoke as follows:– “Sire, behold
what I have discovered among the rubbish of some of
the ruined edifices by the great earthquake in 1755. I
am a poor widow, and have six children. That casket
would relieve me from my present distresses; but I pre-
fer my honour, with a good conscience, to all the trea-
sures in the world. I deliver this to your majesty, as
What is the proper sphere of woman?—What is worthy of remark?
—What is the best preparation for the virtues required by great occa-
sions 7—What is related of the poor widow in Lisbon 7 •
Fºr ,
332 * WOMAN.
*
º
the most proper person to restore it to its lawful pos. . .

sessor, and to recompense me for the discovery.” . The
king immediately ordered the casket to be opened, and
was struck with the beauty of the jewels which it con-
tained; after which, speaking highly in praise of the
widow's honesty and disinterestedness, he assured her
of his protection, and ordered twenty thousand piastres
to be immediately given to her. His majesty farther
ordered, that proper search should be made to discover
the real proprietor; and, if their researches' should
prove fruitless, that the jewels should be sold, and the
produce appropriated to the use of the widow and her
children. - * t
HISTORY furnishes many examples of mothers led
away by the seductive attractions of honour; riches, and
grandeur, to sacrifice the true happiness of their children,
in the hope of securing the future fortune and rank of
their posterity. Russia, however, furnishes one instance
of a mother who opposed the elevation of her child to
the highest dignity, with the utmost anxiety. During
the interregnum that succeeded the unfortunate reign
of Chowski, in 1610; the Russian nobles agreed to give
the crown to a near relation, on the maternal side, of
the Czar Fedor Iwanovitch. They accordingly invited
K. Michael Romanof and his mother to Moscow,
ut they both refused to attend; the mother even went
farther—she wrote to her brother Cheremeteſ, to beg of
him to oppose the elevation of his nephew to a throne,
since his extreme youth rendered him incapable of un-
dertaking so important a charge. The election, however,
proceeded, and Michael Romanof was chosen Emperor.
When the deputies repaired to Kostroma, to announce
to the new sovereign the choice they had made of him,
his mother begged a private interview with the plenipo
tentiaries, before she introduced them to her son. They
consented, and met her in the church, where, with tears,
Of her reward?—Relate the story of the Russian mother.
*
&
º - womâN. 333
she renewed her entreaties, and begged of them to
choose some person more able to govern the people than
her son. She was informed that, having decided, the
nobles would not revoke their choice. “Well, then,”
said she, “I must content myself with soliciting you to
take my child under your guardianship: he has not been
educated in the difficult art of governing mankind; but
you have elected him—you insist on him for your
monarch, and if he does not fulfil your expectations, you
alone will be answerable to God for the events of which
your choice may be the cause; but as for me, I have
done my duty to my God, my country, and my child.”
THE Empress Catherine I. of Russia, who was raised
* from a very humble situation in life to be the wife of
Peter the Great, and to succeed him on the throne, was
never forgetful of her former condition. When Wurmb,
who had been tutor to the children of Gluck, the Lu-
theran minister of Marienburgh, at the time Catherine
was a domestic in the family, presented himself before
her, after her marriage with Peter had been publicly
solemnized, she j him, and said, with great
complaisance, “What, thou good old man, art thou still
alive? I will provide for thee;” and she accordingly
settled a pension upon him. She was not less attentive
to the family of her benefactor Gluck, who died a pri-
soner at Moscow; she pensioned his widow, made his
son her page, portioned her two eldest daughters, and
advanced the youngest to be one of her maids of
honour. gº
But the most noble part of her character was her pe-
culiar humanity and compassion for the unfortunate.
Motraye has paid a handsome compliment to her for
this excellence. He says, “She had in some sort the
government of all his (Peter's) passions; and even saved
the lives of a great many persons; she inspired him with
that humanity, which, in the opinion of his subjects, na-
What is related of Catherine I. and her tutor?—Of her huranity ?
334 WOMAN.
ture seemed to have denied him. A word from her.iº.
mouth in favour of a wretch just going to be sacrificed
to his anger, would disarm him; but, if he was fully-
*~ *
* * -
*
* , *
*
:
}
.#.st-
*
**
*]
* >
resolved to satisfy that passion, he would give orders for’s,
the execution when she was absent, for fear she should
plead for the victim.” In a word, to use the expression
of the celebrated Munich, “Elle étoit proprement la me--
diatrice entre le monarque et ses sujets.”
When Peter was surrounded by ten thousand Turks
in his camp at Pruth, and in danger of perishing with
his whole army, who were without provisions and with-
out resources, he shut himself up in his tent, and issued
the most rigorous prohibition against any person ap-
proaching it. Catherine, desirous of reanimating his
courage, one day ventured into his tent, and with an air
of gaiety and confidence, said, “I have an infallible
method of delivering us from the power of the Otto-
mans.” A less decisive and important announcement
would not have obtained the ear of Peter, while his wife
informed him, that by sacrificing all her valuable jewels
and a considerable sum in ducats, she had gained the
Grand Vizier to her interest; an armistice was proposed,
to which the Turkish general, influenced by the Grand
Vizier, agreed, and provisions were suffered to pass to
the Russians. A few days afterwards an honourable
peace was concluded, and thus the empire, the sove-
reign, and the army, were saved by the presence of
mind of Catherine.
After the death of Peter, and Catherine’s accession to
the throne, she convoked an assembly of all the states
of the empire, in order to obtain their consent to the
publication of a new code. The deputies assembled, in
their first address, styled the empress, “Great, wise, and
mother of the people.” . Catherine refused all these titles
except the last, saying, “There is no true greatness in
this world, nor is any mortal really wise; I hope,
g-
Of her disinterestedness and address?
• \
:-
º*
woMAN. 335
however, that I shall always act as the mother of my
people.”
PHILIPPA, the wife of Eric the Pomeranian, King of
Denmark, though neglected by her husband, omitted no
opportunity that could contribute to his credit or happi-
mess. When the Vendian towns had fitted out a large
expedition against Copenhagen, Eric adopted some trifling
measures to frustrate their attack; but when danger pre-
sented itself, he quitted the city. Philippa remained
behind, and having exhorted the citizens to make a de-
termined resistance, she placed herself at their head, and
repulsed the invaders.
Eric, who was a weak prince, issued a bad coinage,
which excited great discontent among the Danes. The
circumstance coming to the queen's knowledge, during
the absence of her husband she collected all the silver
she possessed, and privately caused a better coinage to
be struck, which appeased the clamours of the people.
THE behaviour of the Princess Monaco, one of the
many victims of the French revolution, on the morning
of her execution, will be long remembered for its eccen-
tricity and heroism. About half an hour before the fatal
summons came, after having in vain endeavoured to
procure a pair of scissors, she broke one of the panes
from the window that was in her room, and with a frag-
ment of the glass sawed off her hair, which she delivered
to a confidential friend, to be kept for her children; she
then took a pot of rouge, and with the utmost delibera-
tion applied some of it to each of her cheeks, assigning
as a reason for this extraordinary conduct, that if she
should happen to have a moment of weakness, the popu-
lace, at least, should not have the satisfaction of per-
ceiving it. The celebrated Madame Roland's conduct,
under the same circumstances, evinces, perhaps, a still
What is related of Queen Philippa!—What is related of the Princess
Monaco —Of Madame Roland 7
rº
stronger instance of greatness of mind in a female. She-
was carried to the place of execution, in company with .
one man only, who seemed by no means reconciled to :
his fate; but, on the contrary, showed symptoms of the
most violent terror; when arrived at the scaffold, Mad-
ame Roland begged that he would ascend it first, as she
was well convinced that he had not sufficient courage
to witness her execution. “Besides, sir,” added she,
“you certainly have too much good-breeding to refuse
the last request of a lady.” ..
THE END.
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN \
- --———-- ~~s
Iliſiiffſii.
3 O8237
90.15 8293