THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 VAN LENNEP — CAMERON 
 COLLECTION 
 
FLOWERS 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY; 
 
 COMPREHENDING, 
 
 ON A NEW PLAN, 
 
 ♦ 
 
 THE MOST REMARKABLE AND INTERESTING EVENTS, AS 
 WELL AS CHARACTERS, OF ANTIQUITY. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR THE 
 
 IMPROVEMENT AND ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 BY THE REV. JOHN ADAMS, A.M. 
 
 <•* > 
 
 Omnc tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci....Hofe. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 BALTIMORE: 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS, 
 
 By Pomeroy & Toy. 
 
 i8ir. 
 
€HAP. PAGE, 
 
 1 . Of the Creation, the Deluge, and the sons of 
 
 Noah, - - - - 13 
 
 2 . Of Nimrod, Ashur, and Abraham, - 14 
 
 3. Of Nineveh and Babylon, - - 15 
 
 4. Of the Walls of Babylon, - - 16 
 
 5. Of the Quays and Bridges, - - 18 
 
 6 . Of the Palaces and Hanging Gardens, 19 
 
 7. Of the Temple of Belus, - -» 21 
 
 8 . Semiramis’ Indian Expedition, - - 23 
 
 9. Of Egypt, and the Nile, 25 
 
 10 . Of the ancient method of conveying the Wa¬ 
 
 ter through the country, with an account 
 of the Lake of Maeris, - - 26 
 
 11 . Of the Manners of the Egyptians, - 28 
 
 12 . Of their Trial of the Dead, — - 29 
 
 13. Of the Egyptian Mummies, 30 
 
 14. Of the Pyramids of Egypt, - 31 
 
 15. Of the Progress of Writing, by pictures, hi¬ 
 
 eroglyphics, or symbols, - - 32 
 
 16. Ot the Trojans, 35 
 
 17. Of the Seduction of Helen by Paris, - 37 
 
 18. Of the Expedition against Troy, - 38 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 * 0 > ■/ » % 
 
 CHAP. PAGE. 
 
 V~ % ' 
 
 19. Of the Siege of Trdy, - - r 39 
 
 20 . Of the Wooden HofSe, - - , 41 
 
 21 . Of the Consequences of the Trojan War, 42 
 
 22 . Of Homer, - - - - 43 
 
 23. - Of Thales, Heraclitus, Democritus, and Si¬ 
 
 monides, - - - 45 
 
 24. Of the Republic of Sparta, - - 47 
 
 25. Laws of Lycurgus respecting Property,pub¬ 
 
 lic Tables, and superficial Arts, - 50 
 
 26. Laws respecting Money and Commerce, 52 
 
 27. Of the Education of the Spartan Youth, 53 
 
 28. Of Lycurgus’ Scheme for perpetuating his 
 
 Laws, and of his Death, - - 55 
 
 29. Of Cyrus the Great, 57 
 
 30. Babylon taken by Cyrus, in the year before 
 
 Christ 538, 59 
 
 31. Of the miraculous circumstances which atten¬ 
 
 ded the licentious festival of Belshazzar, 61 
 
 32. Cyrus’ edict for the return of the Jews, 63 
 
 33. Of the Battle of Marathon, - 64 
 
 34. Of the injustice of the xYthenians to Milti- 
 
 ades, 67 
 
 35 . Of the Invasion of Greece by Xerxes, - 69 
 
 36 . Of Themistocles, and the Battle of Thermo¬ 
 
 pylae, - - - * - 70 
 
 37. Of the Battles of Salamis, Platea, and My- 
 
 cale, and the final expulsion of the Per¬ 
 sians from Greece, - 73 
 
 38. Of the Battle of Cheronee, by which Philip of 
 
 Macedon made himself master of Greece, 76 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 V 
 
 CHAT. ' - PAGE. 
 
 39. Of Demosthenes’ influence over the Atheni¬ 
 
 ans, 79 
 
 40. Anecdotes of King Philip, - 83 
 
 41. Character of Philip, - 85 
 
 42. Of Alexander the Great, - 87 
 
 43. Alexander defeats the Barbarians, and de¬ 
 
 stroys Thebes, 90 
 
 44. Alexander causes himself to be declared 
 
 Generalissimo of the Greeks against the 
 Persians, - - - 92 
 
 45. Alexander defeats the Persians at the Gra- 
 
 nicus, 94 
 
 46. Alexander defeats Darius at the Issus, - 97 
 
 47. Of Alexander’s treatment to Darius’family, 104 
 
 48. A Sidonian Anecdote, - * -106 
 
 49. Of the siege and taking of Tyre, - 108 
 
 50. Alexander visits Jerusalem, and afterwards 
 
 enters Egypt, - , - 109 
 
 51. Of Darius’ olfers to Alex^hder, the Battle of 
 
 Arbela, and the death of Darius, - 110 
 
 52 . Of Alexander’s degeneracy and death, 11$ 
 
 53. Character of Alexander, - 116 
 
 54. Of the Olympic Games, - - 118 
 
 55. Of Running, and Horse-races, - - 120 
 
 56. Of Chariot-races, - 122 
 
 57. Of the Gymnastic Exercises, - - 124 
 
 58. Of the Discus, - 125 
 
 59. Of the Poetical and Historical Compositions 
 
 read at the Olympic Games, - 126 
 
 60. Of Milo the Crotonian, - - 127 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE. 
 
 61. Of Theatrical Representations, - - 128 
 
 62 . Of Music and Dancing, - * 1£9 
 
 63. Of Pindar, - - - - 130 
 
 64. Of iEschylus, Sophocles, Euripides and A- 
 
 ristophanes, - 131 
 
 65. Of Herodotus and Thucydides, - - 133 
 
 66 . Of Xenophon, ... 134 
 
 67. Of Plutarch, - 136 
 
 68 . Of Socrates, - ~ H. 
 
 69. Of Plato, - - - • • - 143 
 
 70. Of Aristotle, - 144 
 
 71. Of Demosthenes, - 146 
 
 72. Of Antisthenes and Diogenes, - 149 
 
 73. Of Zeno, and the Stoics, - - 150 
 
 74. Of Pythagoras, - - - 152 
 
 75. Of Archimedes, - - - 154 
 
 76. Of iEneas, - 156 
 
 77. Of Romulus, - 157 
 
 78. Of the successors of Romulus, - 159 
 
 79. Of the Consular Government, - - 160 
 
 80. Of Carthage and the first Punic War, 161 
 
 81. Of Regulus, - 163 
 
 82. Of Hannibal, and the second Punic War, 165 
 
 83. Of the fate of Scipio and Hannibal, - 169 
 
 84. Of the third Punic War, and the destruc¬ 
 
 tion of Carthage, - - - 172 
 
 85. Of the success of the Roman arms, and of 
 
 Mithridates, r - - 176 
 
 86 . Of Catiline’s Conspiracy, - - 178 
 
 87. Of Julius Caesar, and the first Grand Tri¬ 
 
 umvirate, - 183 
 
CONTENTS# Vll 
 
 CHAP- PAGE. 
 
 88. Of the Battle of Pharsalia, and the death of 
 
 Poinpey, - - - ‘188 
 
 89. Of Ceesar’s expedition into Egypt, and his 
 
 attachment to Cleopatra, - 192 
 
 90. Of the death of Cato,. - - 198 
 
 91. Of Csesar’s success, his triumphs, and his 
 
 death, - - - 196 
 
 92. Of Antony’s Oration, and its effects, # 199 
 
 93. Of the second Triumvirate, - - 203 
 
 94. Of Cicero’s death, - 204 
 
 95. Of the death of Brutus and Cassius, 205 
 
 96. Of Antony and Cleopatra, - - 206 
 
 97. Of the Battle of Actium, and the death of 
 
 Antony, - - - 211 
 
 98. Of the death of Cleopatra, - - 217 
 
 99. Octavius Caesar assumes the title of Augus¬ 
 
 tus the Emperor, - 221 
 
 100. Of the Arts and Sciences, and learned men 
 
 ' among the Romans, - - 223 
 
 101. Of the manners and principal occupations 
 
 of the ancient Romans, - - 225 
 
 102. Of the Roman meals, and their behavior at 
 
 table, - 227 
 
 103. Of the head-dresses of the Roman ladies, 229 
 
 104. Of the favorite colors of Cloths, - 231 
 
 105. Of the Roman Calendar, - * 232 
 
 106. Of the invention of Water Clocks, - ib> 
 
 107. Of the Roman Money, - - 234 
 
 108. Of the eloquence and the origin of the pro¬ 
 
 fession of Advocates among the Romans, 235 
 
CONTENTS* 
 
 • * « 
 
 VIII 
 
 CHAP. - PAGK, 
 
 109. Of Pearls, Diamonds, Rings, and Seals, 238 
 
 110. Of the Houses of the Romans, - 240 
 
 111. Of the Roman Baths, ... 242 
 
 112. Of the Couches, or Beds, used at the Ro¬ 
 
 man tables, - - - 246 
 
 113. Of the Roman Entertainments, - - 24£> 
 
 114. Of Games of Chance, and Lotteries, 250 
 
 115. Of the introduction of the common use of 
 
 wine among the Romans, - - 251 
 
 116. Of the Supper given to Cicero and Pompey 
 
 by Lucullus ? ... 353 
 
 117. Of Marriage, and the privileges of married 
 
 persons, among the Romans, - - 254 
 
 118. Comparison of Cicero and Demosthenes, 260 
 
 119. Comparison ol Virgil and Homer, 268 
 
 _20. Of Horace, and his merit as a Lyric Poet, 271 
 
 121. Comparison between Horace arid Juvenal, 278 
 
 122. Of Pastoral Poetry, and a comparison be¬ 
 
 tween Virgil and Theocritus, - 281 
 
 123. Of Seneca, - 285 
 
FLOWERS 
 
 OF 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 *• 
 
 ' - ' 7 \ f 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Of the Creation , the Deluge , and the Sons of 
 
 Noah. 
 
 .‘I 
 
 THE great event of the creation of the 
 world, before which there was neither matter 
 nor form of any thing, is placed, according to 
 the best chronoiogers, about 4004 years before 
 Christ. 
 
 It appears in general, from the first chapters 
 of Genesis, that the world before the flood, was 
 exceedingly populous; that mankind had made 
 considerable improvements in the arts, and 
 were becoming extremely vicious, both in their 
 sentiments and manners. Their wickedness 
 gave occasion to a memorable catastrophe, by 
 which the whole human race, except Noah and 
 his family, were swept from off the face of the 
 earth. The deluge took place in the year of 
 the world 1656, and produced a very considera¬ 
 ble change on the soil and atmosphere of this 
 globe, and gave them a form less friendly to 
 B 
 
14 
 
 BLOWERS OE 
 
 the frame anil texture of the human body. 
 Hence the abridgment of the life of man, and 
 the formidable train of diseases which have ever 
 since made such havoc in the world. 
 
 A curious part of history follows that of the 
 deluge; the re-peopling the world, and the. rai¬ 
 sing of a new generation from the ruins of the 
 former. The memory of the three sons of No- 
 ah, the first founders of nations, was long pre¬ 
 served among their several descendants. Japhet 
 continued famous among the western nations, 
 under the celebrated name of Japetus. The He¬ 
 brews paid an equal veneration to Shem, who 
 was the founder of their race; and among the 
 Egyptians Ham was long revered as a divinity, 
 under the name of Jupiter Mammon. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of Nimrod, Jlssur , and Mraham. 
 
 IT appears that It unting wes the principal 
 occupation for some centuries after the deluge. 
 The world teemed with wild beasts; and the 
 great heroism of those times consisted in des¬ 
 troying them. Hence Nimrod acquired immor¬ 
 tal renown; and by the admiration which his 
 courage and dexterity universally excited, was 
 enabled to acquire an authority over his fellow- 
 creatures, and to found at Babylon, the first 
 monarchy, whose origin is particularly men¬ 
 tioned in history, in the year of the world 2247. 
 
 Not long after, the foundation of Nineveh 
 
 SBC 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 15 
 
 was laid by Assur. In Egypt, tlie four gov¬ 
 ernments of Thehis, Theri, Memphis, and Ta- 
 nis, began to assume some appearance of form 
 and regularity. That these events should have 
 happened so soon after the deluge, whatever 
 surprise it may have occasioned to the learn¬ 
 ed, some centuries ago, need not, in the smal¬ 
 lest degree, excite the wonder of the present 
 age. We have seen from many instances, the 
 powerful effects of the principles of popula¬ 
 tion. The kingdoms of Mexico and Peru 
 were incomparably more extensive than those 
 of Babylon, Nineveh, or Egypt, during this 
 early age; and yet these kingdoms are not sup¬ 
 posed to have existed four centuries before the 
 discovery of America by Columbus. 
 
 As mankind continued to multiply on the 
 earth, and separate from each other, the tra¬ 
 dition concerning the true God was obliterated 
 or obscured. This occasioned the calling of 
 Abraham to he the father of a chosen people, 
 Anno Mundi 1921. From this period the his- 
 lory of ancient nations begins a little to expand 
 itself; and we learn particulars of refry consi¬ 
 derable importance. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of Nineveh and fiabylott. 
 
 NINES being possessed with a rage of 
 conquest, subdued a great number of nations 
 all the way from Egypt to India; but s us pen- 
 
16 
 
 FLOWERS OF. 
 
 ded his warlike enterprizes to enlarge the city 
 of Nineveh, which had been founded by his fa¬ 
 ther. Nineveh was quickly built with walls 
 an hundred feet high, having fifteen hundred 
 towers two hundred feet in height, to serve 
 equally for its ornament and defence. The 
 circumference of the whole city was four hun¬ 
 dred and eighty stadia, or sixty miles. 
 
 This work being completed, Ninus resumed 
 his arms at the head of several hundred thou¬ 
 sand fighting men; and Semiramis, who was 
 the wife of one of his officers, distinguished 
 herself by her heroic exploits. The king mar¬ 
 ried her and left her his crown; and this am¬ 
 bitious princess being desirous, in her turn, to 
 render her name immortal, in a very few years 
 built the city of Babylon, to such an amazing 
 extent that it far exceeded Nineveh, its walls 
 being of a sufficient thickness to allow six cha¬ 
 riots to go abreast. 
 
 The quays, the bridge over the Euphrates, 
 the hanging gardens, the prodigies of sculp¬ 
 ture and architecture, the temple of Bolus, 
 which had in it a golden statue forty feet high, 
 though they were not all works of Semiramis, 
 yet they were much improved and embellished 
 by her. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Of the Walls of Babylon . 
 
 THESE walls were built of large brick, 
 cemented together with bitumen, a glutinous 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 17 
 
 slime arising cut of the earth of that country * 
 which binds in buildings much stronger and 
 firmer than lime, and soon grows much harder 
 than#the bricks or stones which it cements to¬ 
 gether. They were of a square form, each 
 side of which was fifteen miles. Their breadth 
 was eighty-seven feet, and their height three 
 hundred and fifty. 
 
 The walls were surrounded on the outside 
 with a vast ditch, full of water, and lined with 
 bricks on both sides. The earth that was 
 dug out of it, made the bricks wherewith the 
 walls were built; and therefore from the vast 
 height and breadth of the walls may be in¬ 
 ferred the greatness of the ditch. 
 
 On every side of this great square were 
 twenty five gates, that is, an hundred in alL 
 These gates were made of solid brass. Hence 
 it is, that when the Supreme Being promised 
 to Cyrus the conquest of Babylon, he tells 
 him, “That he w r ou!d break in pieces before 
 him (he gates of brass.” 
 
 Between every two of the gates were three 
 towers, and four more at the four corners of 
 this great square; and three between each of 
 these corners and the next gate on either side. 
 Every one of these towers was ten feet higher 
 than the walls. But this is to be understood 
 only of those parts of the wall where there 
 was need of towers. 
 
 From these twenty-five gates on each side of 
 this great square, went twenty-five streets, in 
 straight lines to the gates, which were directly 
 
 !) %. 
 
18 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 opposite to them on the other side; so that the 
 number of streets were fifty, each fifteen miles 
 long, whereof twenty-five went one way, and 
 twenty-live the other, crossing each other at 
 right angles. And besides these, there were 
 four half streets, which had houses only on 
 one side, and the wall on the other. These 
 went round the four sides of the city next the 
 walls, and were each of them two hundred feet 
 broad. The rest were about one hundred and 
 and fifty. By these streets thus crossing each 
 other, the \vhole city was divided into six hun¬ 
 dred and seventy-six squares, each of them 
 four furlongs and an half on every side, that 
 two miles and a quarter in circumference. 
 
 Round these squares on every side towards 
 the streets, stood the houses, which were not 
 contigious, but had void spaces between them. 
 They were- build three or four stories high, 
 and beautified with all manner of ornament 
 towards the streets. The space within, in the 
 middle of each square, was employed for yards, 
 gardens, and other such uses; so that Baby¬ 
 lon was greater in appearance than reality, 
 near one half of the city being taken up in 
 gardens and other cultivated lands. 
 
 x* 
 
 CHAP. y. 
 
 Of the Quays and Bridges. 
 
 A BRANCH of the river Euphrates ran 
 quite across the city, from the north to the 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 19 
 
 south side. On each sitj'i of the river was a 
 quay, and a high wall built of bricks and bitu¬ 
 men, of the same thickness as the walls that 
 surrounded the city. 
 
 In these walls opposite to every street that 
 led to the river, were gates of brass, and from 
 them descents by steps to the river for the leon- 
 veniency of the inhabitants, who used to pass 
 over from one side to the other in boats, hav¬ 
 ing no other way of crossing the river, before 
 the building of the bridge. The brazen gates 
 were always open in the day time, and shut in 
 the night. 
 
 The bridge was not inferior to any of the 
 other buildings, either in beauty or magnifi¬ 
 cence. It was a furlong in length, and thirty 
 feet in breadth, built with wonderful art to sup¬ 
 ply the defect of a foundation, in the bottom 
 of the river, which was all sandy. 
 
 The arches were made of huge stones, fas¬ 
 tened together with chains of iron, and melted 
 lead. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Of the Palaces and Hanging Gardens.- 
 
 AT the two ends of the bridge were two 
 palaces, which had communication with each 
 other by a vault, built under the channel of the 
 river. The old palace which stood on the east 
 side of the river, was three miles and three 
 quarters in compass. The new palace which 
 
20 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 stood or the west side of the river opposite to 
 the other, was seven miles and a half* in coin- 
 pass. It was surrounded with three walls, one 
 within another; with considerable spaces be¬ 
 tween them. These walls, as well as those of 
 the other palace, were embellished with an in¬ 
 finite variety of sculptures, representing all 
 kinds of animals to the life. Among the rest 
 was a curious hunting piece, in which Semira- 
 tnis, on horseback, was throwing her javelin 
 at a leopard, and her husband Ninus piercing 
 a lion. 
 
 In this last, or new palace, were the hanging 
 gardens, so celebrated among the Greeks.—- 
 They contained a square of* four hundred feet 
 on every side, and were carried up aloft into 
 the air, in the manner of several large terraces, 
 one above another, till the height equalled that 
 of the walls of the city. 
 
 The ascent w r as from terrace to terrace, i>y 
 stairs ten feet wide. The whole pile was sup¬ 
 ported by vast arches, raised upon other arches, 
 one above another and strengthened by a wall 
 twenty-two feet thick. 
 
 On the top of (he arches, were first laid 
 large flat stones sixteen feet long, and four feet 
 broad. Over these were a layer of earth 
 mixed with a great quantity of bitumen, upon 
 which were two rows of bricks, closely ce¬ 
 mented together with plaister. 
 
 The whole was covered with thick sheets of 
 lead, upon which lay the mould or earth of the 
 garden. And all this was contrived to keep 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 21 
 
 the moisture of the mould from running 
 through the arches. This mould was so deep 
 that the greatest trees might take root in it; 
 and with such the terraces were covered, as 
 well as with all other plants and flowers, that 
 are proper for a garden of pleasure. 
 
 In the upper terrace there was an engine, or 
 kind of a pump, by which water was draw n up 
 out of the river; and from thence the whole 
 garden was watered. In the spaces between 
 the several arches, upon which this whole 
 structure rested, were large and magnificent 
 apartments, that were very light, and had the 
 advantage of a beautiful prospect. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 *. 
 
 Of the Temple of Belus . 
 
 ANOTHER of the great works of Baby¬ 
 lon was the temple of Belus, which stood near 
 the old palace. 
 
 It was most remarkable for a prodigious 
 tower which stood in the middle of it. At the 
 foundation, it was a square of a furlong on 
 each side; and, according to Strabo, it was a 
 a furlong in height. It consisted of eight tow¬ 
 ers, built one above the other; and because it 
 decreased gradually to the top, Strabo calls the 
 whole a pyramid. 
 
 It is not only asserted, but proved, that this 
 tower much exceeded the greatest of the pyra¬ 
 mids of Egypt in height. Therefore we have 
 very good reason to believe, that it was the 
 
22 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 very same tower which was built there at the 
 confusion of languages; and the rather, be¬ 
 cause it is attested by several profane authors, 
 that this tower was all built of bricks and bi¬ 
 tumen, as the Scriptures tell us the tower of 
 Babel was. 
 
 The ascent to the top was by stairs on the 
 outside round it: that is, there was an easy 
 sloping ascent on the side of the outer wail, 
 which turning by very slow degrees, in a spiral 
 line, eight times round the towers from the 
 bottom to the top, had the same appearance us 
 if there had been eight towers, placed upon one 
 another. In these different stories were many 
 large rooms, with arched roofs supported by 
 pillars. Over the whole, on the top of the 
 tower, was an observatory, by the benefit oi» 
 which, the Babylonians became more expert in 
 astronomy than all other nations. 
 
 But the chief use to which this tower was 
 designed, w as for the wowship of the god Bel us, 
 or Baal, as also that of several other deities; 
 for which reason there w as a multitude of cha¬ 
 pels in the different parts of the tower. 
 
 The riches of this temple in statues, tables, 
 censers, cups, and other sacred vessels, all of 
 massy gold, were immense. Among other ima¬ 
 ges, there was one forty feet high, and weighed 
 a thousand talents. 
 
 This amazing fabric stood till the time of 
 Xerxes: but he, on his return from his Grecian 
 expedition, entirely demolished it, after having 
 first plundered it of all its riches. Alexander 
 on his return to Babylon from his Indian expe 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 or* 
 
 ditiou, intended to have rebuilt it: and with 
 this view* employed ten thousand men, to clear 
 the place ot* its rubbish; but the death of 
 Alexander, about two months after, put an 
 end to the undertaking. 
 
 chap. Yin. 
 
 Scmirantis 9 Indian Expedition . 
 
 THE last and greatest expedition of Se- 
 miravnis was against India. On this occasion 
 she raised an innumerable a Pin 3 out of all the 
 provinces of her empire, and appointed Baetra 
 for the rendezvous. 
 
 As the strength of the Indians consisted 
 chiefly in their great number of elephants, tins 
 artful queen had a multitude of camels accou¬ 
 tred in the form of elephants, in hopes of de¬ 
 ceiving the enemy. It is said, that Perseus, 
 long after, used the same stratagem against 
 the Romans. But neither of them succeeded. 
 
 The Indian king, having notice of her ap¬ 
 proach, sent ambassadors to ask her who she 
 was, and with what right, having never recei¬ 
 ved any injury from him, she came out of wan- 
 toness to attack his dominions; adding, that Iser 
 boldness should soon meet with the punishment 
 it deserved. “Tell your master,” replied the 
 queen, “that in a little time, I myself will let 
 him know who 1 am.” 
 
 She advanced immediately towards the river 
 Indus, from which the country takes its name; 
 and having prepared a sufficient number of 
 
Si FLOWERS OF 
 
 boats, she attempted to cross it with her army. 
 Their' passage was a long time disputed, but 
 after a bloody battle, she put her enemies to 
 flight. Above a thousand of their boats were 
 sunk, and about an hundred thousand of their 
 men taken prisoners. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, she advanced 
 directly into the country, leaving sixty thou¬ 
 sand men behind, to guard their bridge of 
 boats, which she had built over their river. 
 This was just what the king desired, who fled 
 on purpose to bring her to an engagement in 
 the heart of his country. As soon as he thought 
 her far enough advanced, he faced about, and 
 a second engagement ensued, more bloody than 
 the first. The counterfeit elephants could not 
 long sustain the shock of the true ones. These 
 routed her army, crushing whatever came in 
 their way. 
 
 Semiramis did all that could be done, to rally 
 and encourage her troops; but in vain. The 
 king perceiving her engaged in the fight, ad¬ 
 vanced towards her and wounded her. The 
 wound however did not prove mortal. The 
 swiftness of her horse soon carried her beyond 
 the reach of her enemies. 
 
 As her men crowded to the bridge, to repass 
 the riv/'r, numbers of them perished by the 
 disorder and confusion unavoidable on such oc¬ 
 casions. When those that could save them¬ 
 selves were safely over, she destroyed the 
 bridge, and by that means stopped the enemy; 
 and the king likewise, in obedience to an ora- 
 
AlfCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 cle, had given orders to his troops not to pass 
 the river, nor pursue Semiramis any farther. 
 
 The queen, having made an exchange of 
 prisoners, returned to her own dominions, with 
 scarce one third of her army, which, according 
 to Cresias, consisted of three hundred thousand 
 foot, and fifty thousand horse, besides the ca¬ 
 mels and chariots armed for w ar, of which she 
 had a verv considerable number. 
 
 w 
 
 m 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Of Egypt and the Nile. 
 
 EGYPT, which is situated between the 
 twenty-fourth and thirty-third degrees of north 
 latitude, is a country very much favored by 
 nature. The sky is serene, the soil fertile, the 
 plants and ft uits agreeable and salutary. But 
 a wonderful degree of industry .would have 
 been necessary, to render it habitable by a con¬ 
 siderable number of people. 
 
 The overflowing of the Nile procures every 
 advantage, and supplies the want of rain, which 
 never falls in that country. This river has its 
 source in a mountain of Abyssinia, from whence 
 it does not arrive in Egypt till it has been pre- 
 cipated over seven cataracts, with a noise which 
 is heard at the distance of a number of leagues. 
 It begins to swell in the month of May, and by 
 a gradual increase, which is almost impercep¬ 
 tible at first, it arrives at a sufficient height to 
 
 C 
 

 FLOWERS OF 
 
 overflow the country, and remains in that state 
 from the month of June till October. 
 
 The ancients, who were ignorant of the 
 causes of the inundation, have assigned some 
 fabulous reasons, which will always be the case, 
 when people substitute conjectures instead of 
 facts. At present we know, that it rains in 
 Ethiopia five months in the year, from April 
 to September, which is the secret of the over¬ 
 flowing of the Nile. And the precious mud 
 which it brings along with it, produces the 
 amazing fertility of Egypt. Thus lands, which 
 are naturally dry and sandy, become the best 
 soil in the world. They need only sow, with¬ 
 out any kind of culture, to reap, in a very short 
 time, all the natural productions. 
 
 Egypt, during the summer, appears like a 
 sea, with cities, villages, and thickets, scatter¬ 
 ed over it, and affording a most wonderful and 
 singular prospect. In the winter, it becomes a 
 gladsome plain, covered with flocks, herds and 
 husbandmen, where orange, citron, and other 
 fragrant trees are seen, whose flowers delight 
 the eye, and perfume the surrounding air. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Of the ancient method of conveying the water 
 through the country, with an account of the 
 Lake of Mceris. 
 
 IN order to multiply so beneficial a river. 
 Egypt was crossed by an incredible number of 
 canals, of an immense length and breadth^ 
 
ANCIENT HIS 1 ORY. 
 
 The Nile not only carried fruitfulness every 
 where with its wholesome waters, united cities 
 to one another, and the great ocean with the 
 Red sea, hut kept up commerce both within 
 and without the kingdom, and fortified it 
 against the enemy; so that it was both the 
 nourisher and defender of Egypt. The cham¬ 
 paign country was abandoned to it; but the ci¬ 
 ties, raised with immense labor and pains, lift¬ 
 ing up their heads like so many islands in the 
 midst of the waters, beheld with joy all the 
 plain overflowed, and at the same time made 
 fruitful by the Nile. When it swelled beyond 
 measure, great lakes dug by the kings, offered 
 their bosoms to the spreading waves. They 
 had their discharges prepared; large sluices 
 opened or shut them, as necessity required; 
 the waters having their places of retreat, staid 
 upon the lands no longer than was needful to 
 fertilize them. 
 
 Such was the use of that great lake, called 
 the lake of Maoris, which was the name of the 
 king who had caused it to be made. It is as¬ 
 tonishing to read, what nevertheless is true, 
 that its circumference was about an hundred 
 and eighty of our leagues. 
 
 The fishery of it yielded immense sums to 
 the king; and thus, when the land produced 
 nothing, they drew treasures from it, by cover¬ 
 ing it with water. 
 
 Two pyramids, each of which bore upon a 
 throne tw o colossal statues, one of Mseris, and 
 the other of his wife, rose three hundred feet 
 above the middle of the lake, and occupied a 
 
28 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 like space under the waters. Thus they shew¬ 
 ed, that they had been erected before the pit 
 was tilled; and demonstrated, that a lake of 
 that extent had been made by men’s hands, un¬ 
 der a single prince. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Of the Manners of the Egyptians . 
 
 THE Egyptians are the first, from whom 
 we have learned the rules of government. This 
 grave and respectable nation first understood 
 the true end of policy, which is to render life 
 commodious, and the people happy. The tem¬ 
 perature of the country being always even and 
 uniform, made their judgments solid and 
 steady. 
 
 As virtue is the foundation of all society, so 
 they carefully cultivated it. Their chief virtue 
 was gratitude. The honor that was given to 
 them, for being the most generous and grate¬ 
 ful, shews they were likewise the most socia¬ 
 ble. Good offices are the bond both of public 
 and private concord. lie that acknowledges 
 favors loves to bestow them; and in banishing 
 ingratitude, the pleasure of doing good re¬ 
 mains so pure, that one cannot possibly be in¬ 
 sensible of it. 
 
 Their laws were simple, full of equity, and 
 proper to unite citizens to one another. He, 
 who being able to rescue a man assaulted, did 
 not do it, was punished w ith as severe a death 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 29 
 
 as the assassin himself. Thus were the citi¬ 
 zens a guard to each other, and all the mei*~ 
 hers of the community were united against 
 evil doers. None was permitted to be useless 
 in the state, the law assigned to each his pro¬ 
 per business, which was perpetuated from fa¬ 
 ther to son. 
 
 The priests and soldiers had their particular 
 marks of honor; but all the traders, even to 
 the least, were held in esteem; and it was ac¬ 
 counted a criminal matter to despise and treat 
 with contempt those citizens, whose labors, 
 whatever they were, contributed to the public 
 weal. By this means all arts were brought t<w 
 great perfection. 
 
 CHAP. XIr. 
 
 Of their Trial of the Lead. 
 
 THERE was in Eyypt one sort of trial al¬ 
 together extraordinary, which nobody escaped. 
 It is a consolation in dyings to leave one’s 
 name in esteem among men; and of all human 
 blessings, this is the only one of which death 
 "cannot rob us. But it was not allowed in 
 Egypt indiscriminately to praise all the dead. 
 This honor could only he conferred by a pub¬ 
 lic decree. The moment a man died he was 
 brought into judgment. The public accuser 
 was heard. If he proved that the conduct of 
 the deceased had been bad, his memory was 
 condemned, and he was deprived of burial, 
 
 o % 
 
30 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 The consequence was, that the people admired 
 the power of the laws, which extended to men 
 even after death; and every one, struck by ex¬ 
 ample, feared to disgrace his memory and his 
 friends. 
 
 CIIAP. XIII. 
 
 Of the Egyptian Mummies . 
 
 TIIE superstitious desire of preserving 
 their bodies after death was one of the strong¬ 
 est passions of the Egyptians. Accordingly, 
 no nation has ever equalled their skill in em¬ 
 balming. It is said, that some of the bodies 
 are perfect and distinct at this day, though bu¬ 
 ried three thousand years ago. 
 
 The mummy pits, which contain the mum¬ 
 mies or embalmed bodies, are subterraneous 
 vaults of a prodigious extent; but the art of 
 preserving the mummies is now lost. 
 
 AVhat will not prejudice inspire? To re¬ 
 spect even the ashes of our parents, is a natu¬ 
 ral and laudable sentiment; but this is rather 
 the work of superstition. 
 
 Rollin says on this subject, “that the cus¬ 
 tom of burning the dead, has in it something 
 cruel and barbarous, because it is hastening to 
 destroy the remains of people, who were the 
 most dear to us.” He can fancy nothing better 
 conceived than the usual practice of burying; 
 as if it were more humane, to deliver over 
 their remains to worms and corruption. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 31 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Of the Pyramids of Egypt, 
 
 THESE famous pyramids, which a num¬ 
 ber of writers suppose to have been built before 
 the deluge, still resist the injuries of time, 
 which has destroyed so many empires. There 
 are still three of them remaining near Grand 
 Cairo, where Memphis formerly stood. The 
 basis of the largest covers 11 acres of ground, 
 and its perpendicular height is 500 feet, bux if 
 measured obliquely to the terminating point, 
 700 feet. It contains a room 34 feet long, and 
 17 broad, in which is a marble chest, but with¬ 
 out either cover or contents, supposed to have 
 been designed for the tomb of the founder.— 
 Many stones of this enormous edifice are 30 
 feet long, 4 feet high, and 3 feet broad. 
 
 According to Herodotus, an hundred thou¬ 
 sand workmen were employed for thirty years, 
 without intermission, either in preparing the 
 materials, or constructing the work. And an 
 inscription informs us, that the vegetables with 
 which they were fed cost sixteen hundred ta¬ 
 lents, which is about two hundred and eighty- 
 nine thousand, three hundred and seventy-nine 
 pounds of our money. 
 
 Several writers inveigh against the foolish 
 vanity, which prompted the sovereigns of that 
 country to such ruinous undertakings. 
 
 Some have imagined that these pyramids 
 
1 LOWERS OF 
 
 were granaries built by Joseph for the seven 
 years of plenty—an opinion very well adapted 
 for characterizing those people who were wed¬ 
 ded to systems. 
 
 The pyramids were certainly tombs, by 
 means of which the kings, who were tainted 
 with the prejudices of their country, wished to 
 make themselves immortal, as they would thus 
 secure to their bodies* a habitation inaccessible, 
 and proof against the attacks of time. Be¬ 
 sides superstition, probably a desire of prevent¬ 
 ing disturbances was another motive for impos¬ 
 ing such tedious tasks upon the people. 
 
 But, whatever was the reason, it may not be 
 improper to remark, that the princes who 
 caused these pyramids to be raised, became so 
 hateful by the oppressive labor which they im¬ 
 posed on their subjects, that they did not enjoy 
 those tombs, nor save their names from obli¬ 
 vion. 
 
 The labyrinth is a curiosity thought to be 
 more wonderful than the pyramids themselves, 
 it is partly underground, and cut out of a mar¬ 
 ble rock, consisting of 12 palaces, and 1,000 
 houses, the intricacies of which occasion its 
 name. 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Of the progress of Writing , by Pictures , Hie - 
 roglyphics , and Symbols . 
 
 PICTURES were undoubtedly the first 
 essay towards writing* Imitation is so natural 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 So 
 
 to man, that in all ages, and among all nations, 
 some methods have obtained of copying or trac¬ 
 ing the likeness of sensible objects. Those 
 methods would soon be employed by men, for 
 giving some imperfect information to others at 
 a distance, of what had happened; or for pre¬ 
 serving the memory of facts, which they 
 sought to record. Thus, to signify that one 
 man killed another, they drew the figure of 
 one man stretched upon the earth, and of ano¬ 
 ther standing by him with a deadly weapon in 
 his hand. We find, in fact, that when Ameri¬ 
 ca was first discovered, this was the only sort 
 of writing known in the kingdom of Mexico. 
 By historical pictures, the Mexicans are said to 
 have transmitted the memory of the most im¬ 
 portant transactions of their empire. These, 
 however, must have been extremely imperfect 
 records; and the nations, who had no other, 
 must have been very gross and rude. Pictures 
 could do no more than delineate external events. 
 They could neither exhibit the connexions of 
 them, nor describe such qualities as were not 
 visible to the eye, nor convey an idea of the dis¬ 
 positions or words of men. 
 
 To supply, in some degree, this defect, there 
 arose, in process of time, the invention of what 
 are called hieroglyphical characters; which 
 may be considered as the second stage of the 
 art of writing. Hieroglyphics consist in cer¬ 
 tain symbols, which are made to stand for in¬ 
 visible objects, on account of an analogy or 
 resemblance, which such symbols were sup- 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 34 
 
 posed to bear to the objects. Thus, au eye, 
 was the hieroglyphieal symbol of knowledge; 
 a circle, of eternity, which has neither begin¬ 
 ning or end. Hieroglyphics, therefore, were a 
 more refined and extensive species ofpainting. 
 Pictures delineated the resemblance of external 
 visible objects. Hieroglyphics painted visible 
 objects, by analogies taken from the external 
 world. 
 
 Egypt was the country where this sort of 
 writing was most studied, and brought into a 
 regular art. In hieroglyphics they conveyed 
 all the boasted wisdom of their priests. Accor¬ 
 ding to the properties which they ascribed to 
 animals, or qualities with which they suppo¬ 
 sed natural objects to be endued, they pitched 
 upon them to be the emblems or hieroglyphics 
 of moral objects; and employed them in their 
 writing for that end. Thus ingratitude was 
 denominated by a viper; imprudence, by a fly; 
 wisdom, by an ant; victory, by a hawk; a du¬ 
 tiful child, bv a stork; a man universallv shun- 
 ned, by an eel, which they supposed to he found 
 in company with no other fish. Sometimes 
 they joined together two or more of these hie- 
 roglyphieal characters; as, a serpent with a 
 hawk’s head, to denote nature, with God pre¬ 
 siding over it. 
 
 From hieroglyphics, or symbols of tilings 
 invisible, writing advanced, among some na¬ 
 tions, to simple arbitrary marks, which stood 
 for objects, though without any resemblance or 
 analogy to the objects signified. Of this na- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 tirrc, was the metliod of writing practised 
 among the Peruvians. They made use of 
 small cords of different colors: and by knots 
 on these of various sizes and differently ranged, 
 they contrived signs for giving information, 
 and communicating their thoughts to one ano¬ 
 ther. 
 
 Of this nature also are the written charac¬ 
 ters which are used to this day throughout the 
 great empire of China. The Chinese have no 
 alphabet of letters, or simple sounds, which 
 compose their words. But every single cha¬ 
 racter which they use in writing, is significant 
 of an idea; it is a mark that stands for some 
 one thing or object. By consequence, the 
 number o£ their characters must he immense. 
 It must correspond to the whole number of 
 objects or ideas, which they have occasion to 
 express; that is, to the whole number of words 
 which they employ in speech. They are said 
 to have seventy thousand of these characters. 
 To read and write them to perfection is the 
 study of a whole life; which subjects learning 
 among them to infinite disadvantage, and must 
 have greatly retarded the progress of all sci¬ 
 ence. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Of the Trojans. 
 
 IT is believed, and with a great deal of 
 probability, that the Trojans were originally a 
 
36 
 
 FLOWERS 01 
 
 '/ U 
 
 Greek colony; Dardanus, their first king, ha¬ 
 ring come from Arcadia; and their religion, 
 their language, and the greater part of their 
 names being evidently of Greek extraction.— 
 The name of Ilium, by which their chief city 
 was known to the Greeks, is thought to have 
 been derived from Ilus, and its other name of 
 Troy, from Tros. ''Priam, its last king, had 
 arrived to a very high pitch of wealth and 
 power. He was the father of fifty sons. The 
 walls of Troy were rebuilt by him, he changed 
 the name of the town to Pergamus; and reign - 
 cd for many years with great prosperity. 
 
 In the mean time queen Hecuba, Priam’s 
 second wife, having dreamed that she should 
 bring forth a fire brand, by which the city 
 should be reduced to ashes, Priam was so 
 much alarmed, that he ordered the child to be 
 exposed, as soon as it should be born. The 
 Tehild was named Paris; and, notwithstanding 
 the order of his father, was by the care of He¬ 
 cuba, preserved and privately educated. When 
 grown up, he appeared at court, where his 
 beautiful person attracted general admiration. 
 Upon this he ventured to discover himself to 
 Priam, who was so delighted with his figure 
 and accomplishments, that he thought no more 
 of the dream. Paris soon after undertook an 
 expedition into Greece, on pretence of recov¬ 
 ering his aunt Ilesione, who, when very young, 
 had been carried away by Hercules, and by 
 him had been given in marriage to Telamon. 
 It may not be improper to mentionthe occasion 
 of this rape. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. ST 
 
 / 
 
 Laomedon, the father of Hesione, had ap¬ 
 plied the treasures of the temples of Neptune 
 and Apollo to build the walls of Troy, under 
 a promise of repaying the sums so abstracted* 
 But being either unable, or unwilling, to dis¬ 
 charge his promise, the oracle declared, that 
 he could not otherwise expatiate this sacrilege, 
 hut by exposing a Trojan virgin to a sea-mon¬ 
 ster. Hesione was condemned by lot to un¬ 
 dergo this punishment. Hercules, however, 
 slew the monster, and rescued Hesione. It is 
 well known how much this event has been dis¬ 
 guised by the fictions of poets. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Of the Seduction of Helen by Paris. 
 
 PARIS, on his arrival at Sparta, was re¬ 
 ceived in the most kind and hospitable manner 
 by Menalaus, who had succeeded to that king¬ 
 dom, in the right of his wife Helen, the daugh¬ 
 ter of Tyndarus. But Paris falling in love 
 with Helen, prevailed on her to run away with 
 him, and thereby plunged his country into an 
 abyss of misfortunes. 
 
 We may, however, trace the cause of the 
 Trojan war to a higher source still, and attri¬ 
 bute it to an hereditary animosity, which had 
 long subsisted between the families of Aga¬ 
 memnon and Priam. For Tantalus king of 
 Phyrgia, and great-graud-fatlier to Agamem¬ 
 non, having violently carried off Ganymedes? 
 
 n 
 
3S 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 brother of Has, the grand-father of Priam, 
 Ilus had taken vengeance for this injury, by 
 stripping Tantalus of his dominions, and oblig¬ 
 ing him to take refuge in Greece, where his 
 son Pelops and his descendants established 
 themselves, under the name of Pelopidse. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Of the Expedition against Troy. 
 
 MENALAUS, fired with indignation at 
 the insult committed against him by Paris, per¬ 
 suaded his brother Agamemnon to espouse his 
 quarrel; and by their joint efforts, the two bro¬ 
 thers brought all the other powers of Greece 
 to unite in die same cause, and to bind them¬ 
 selves bv oath, either to recover Helen or to 
 ruin Troy. Agamemnon was chosen com¬ 
 mander in chief of this grand confederacy. 
 
 Aulus was the general rendezvous of all the 
 Grecian forces; who when assembled there, 
 composed altogether an army of 100,000 men. 
 The fleet destined to carry them to Troy con¬ 
 sisted of about 1,150 vessels. The gallies of 
 Beotia carried each 120 men, and those of Phi- 
 loctetes 50. These vessels had no deck, but 
 were made like open boats. Of the chiefs 
 who accompanied the army, the most famous 
 were, Agamemnon, Menalaus, Diomedes, Sthe- 
 nelus, Nestor, Aj ax son of Telamon, Ajax 
 9on of Oileues, Achilles, his friend Patroclus, 
 and U lysses. 
 
AN Clli NT HISTORY. 39 
 
 • 
 
 The Greeks having landed on the plains of 
 Troy, soon perceived that the Trojans were 
 as brave a people as themselves. In the mean 
 time, Ulysses and Menalaus were sent to Pri¬ 
 am, to demand the restitution of Helen; but 
 that prince, in opposition to the opinion of his 
 council, having refused to comply with their 
 request, both parties made vigorous prepara** 
 tions for war. 
 
 The Greeks after defeating the Trojans in 
 two different engagements, found themselves 
 under the necessity of dividing their forces, 
 the more easily to procure provisions, of which 
 they began to be in great want. This gave 
 leisure to the Trojans to negotiate with the 
 neighboring states for assistance. 
 
 Achilles, in the mean time, who commanded 
 the detachment of the army sent out in search 
 of provisions, performed many signal exploits, 
 took several towns, and made a vast booty.— 
 But the cruelty of the Greeks to Palemedes, 
 one of his bravest officers, whom they put to 
 death, upon a false accusation of treason 
 brought against him by Ulysses, so provoked 
 Achilles, that he refused to give them further 
 assistance in the war, and separated his troops 
 from the rest of the army. 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 The Siege of Troy . 
 
 THE nine first years of the war were con¬ 
 sumed in various engagements of no great im- 
 
40 
 
 FLOWERS or 
 
 portance; the Greeks having, in that time, 
 chiefly employed themselves in ravaging the 
 territoi •ies of Priam and his allies. It is there¬ 
 fore true that the war of Troy continued ten 
 years; but it is not true, as. is commonly be¬ 
 lieved. that the city of Troy was besieged all 
 that space; for it was not till the spring of the 
 tenth year that the Greeks formed the siege. 
 
 They at first experienced the most vigorous 
 resistance on the part of the besieged, who 
 were commanded by Hector, his brother Dei- 
 phobos, and by several princes that had come 
 to their assistance; such as Sarpedon, Rhoesus, 
 and Memnon. The Trojans had even the ad¬ 
 vantage in several engagements, and made a 
 great slaughter of the Greeks, but none of 
 these actions were decisive. 
 
 At last, however, Hector, at the head of the 
 Trojans, beat the enemy fairly from the field, 
 pursued them to their camp, forced the en¬ 
 trenchments, and set fire to their ships; and 
 the victory seemed at last on the point of de¬ 
 claring for the Trojans. But Patroclus, the 
 friend of Achilles, perceiving the extreme dis¬ 
 tress of the Greeks, advanced in this critical 
 moment to their relief, with the troops of 
 Achilles, reckoned the bravest of the Grecian 
 army, rallied the Greeks, and repulsed the 
 Trojans. Several of the best officers, on both 
 sides, fell on the occasion; among the rest Sar¬ 
 pedon, slain by Patroclus, and Patroclus him- 
 seif, slain by the hand of Hector. 
 
 Affairs now assume a different appearance. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 4i 
 
 Achilles? furious for the loss of his friend, for- 
 getting the former cause of his resentment, 
 joins his forces to the rest of the Grecian army, 
 beats the Trojans, and sacrifices on the tomb 
 of Patroclus, twelve of the noblest prisoners 
 taken by him in the engagement. He is now* 
 solely intent on fighting personally with Hec¬ 
 tor, whom he engaged, and kills at last. But 
 not satisfied with the death of his gallant ene¬ 
 my, he sullies the glory of his victory, by in¬ 
 sulting, in the most ungenerous and savage 
 manner, over his dead body, which he drags 
 at his chariot wheels around the city. Achil¬ 
 les himself is slain soon after by Paris; who, 
 in like manner, falls in a short time by the 
 hand of Philoctetes., 
 
 CHA?. XX. 
 
 Of the Wooden Horse .■ 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING the Trojans, by 
 the death of Hector, had lost their chief sup¬ 
 port, they placed great confidence in their Pal» 
 ladium, or image of Pallas; it having been 
 told them by the oracle, that the city should 
 not be taken so long as that image remained in 
 it. This being understood by Diomedes and 
 Ulysses, they surprised and killed the keepers 
 of the temple, and carried away this famous 
 statue. 
 
 The city at length, as it is generally related, 
 was taken by the stratagem of a wooden horse, 
 
 d 2 
 
42 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 by the treachery of Sinon; the son of Sisyphus, 
 a crafty Greek, who by delusive arts prevailed 
 on the Trojans to receive into the city the 
 Grecian horse, wherein were concealed a nura 
 her of resolute Grecians, who in the night 
 opened the gates, let in the Grecian army, and 
 sacked and burnt the city. 
 
 Some authors, however, are of opinion, that 
 Antenor and ^Eneas treacherously delivered up 
 the statue of Minerva to the Greeks, and at 
 tlie same time betrayed the city, by throwing 
 open the gates to the enemy in the night. 
 
 The destruction of Troy, which happened 
 1,184 years before Christ, is one of the most 
 memorable epochas of antiquity. And indeed, 
 this war may be said to have afforded the first 
 public display of Grecian valor. It is likewise 
 worth remarking, that the misfortunes of Troy 
 have furnished the subject of the two most per¬ 
 fect epic poems in the^world, namely, the Iliads 
 and the iEneid. 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Of the Consequences of the Trojan War. 
 
 MENALAUS, alone, by recovering Helen, 
 reaped an apparent advantage from the success 
 of his enterprise. To the other Greeks, it 
 proved a source of the bitterest misfortunes. 
 The fields of Troy were enriched with the 
 blood of their best commanders and soldiers, 
 of whom the far greater part were buried 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 43 
 
 there; and the remains of their army, after be¬ 
 ing further considerably diminished by the dis¬ 
 asters of a tempestuous voyage, found on their 
 arrival at home, nothing but mortifications and 
 disappointments of the most cruel kinds. They 
 met with such disorder in their families, such 
 factions and innovations in the government, 
 that they were either murdered, or forced to 
 fly to foreign states for refuge: insomuch that 
 the wives and mistresses of the Grecian cap¬ 
 tives dated their miseries from this war. 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Of Homer . 
 
 HOMER lived about 340 years after the 
 siege of Troy; and he is commonly accounted 
 a native of Smyrna. He is usually represent¬ 
 ed as blind; and we are told that he employed 
 himself in wandering through the country in 
 the character of an itinerant bard. This, how¬ 
 ever, must not depreciate in our eyes his won¬ 
 derful merit, of which his works convey so high 
 an idea; for we there see him carrying at once 
 to the summit of perfection the art of epic po¬ 
 etry, of which he is accounted the inventor. 
 
 The two principal poems of Horner are the 
 Iliad and Odyssey. The subject of the Iliad 
 is the wrath of Achilles, which proved so fatal 
 to the Greeks when besieging Troy; that of the 
 Odyssey is the voyages and adventures of Ulys¬ 
 ses, after the sacking of that city. 
 
44 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 The war against Troy, which furnishes the 
 subject of these immortal poems, has been call¬ 
 ed in question by some authors, who fancy it 
 to be altogether the production of Homer’s in¬ 
 vention. But their labours to convince the 
 world of the truth of this opinion, have been 
 extremely vain. For, without mentioning the 
 other ancient authors who record that event, it 
 is incredible that Homer should have employ¬ 
 ed his heaven-born muse, on a subject not 
 heard of before. So accurate a judge of hu¬ 
 man nature must have felt that a subject pure¬ 
 ly fictitious, however harmoniously sung, could 
 have drawn from his hearers but a momentary 
 attention. Had not the subject of his poem 
 been deeply interesting, much of its merit must 
 have been overlooked, and much of that great 
 fame at which he aspired, must of course have 
 been iost. 
 
 Homer is peculiarly happy in the harmony 
 of his numbers, and the judicious arrangement 
 of his words and periods. In the article of de¬ 
 scription, he is rather a painter than a poet, 
 and, in that particular, excels all the poets 
 that ever wrote. In describing the march 
 of an army, the majesty of Jove, and the part¬ 
 ing of Hector and Andromache, he lays before 
 our eyes so many lively and beautiful pieces of 
 painting. Nothing can be more ingenious 
 than his machinery, nor more properly intro¬ 
 duced. 
 
 His fame rests on the firmest foundation— 
 His countrymen, who thoroughly understood 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 
 <he characters and manners he described, and 
 the language in which he wrote, and who ex¬ 
 celled all mankind in the acuteness of their 
 understanding, and the exquisite delicacy of 
 their taste, regarded his Iliad and his Odyssey, 
 as the most perfect works of human genius. 
 Great cities contended for the honor of the po¬ 
 et’s birth. The venerable Lvcurgus collected 
 and transcribed the Iliad and Odyssey with his 
 own hand. Solon ordained them to be solemnly 
 recited in the Athenian republic. Alexander 
 the Great was so passionately fond of their pe¬ 
 rusal, that he placed them every night under 
 his pillow. And the most ingenious of the an¬ 
 cient critics deduced from these poems the just- 
 est rules of criticism. To crown his praise, 
 the best epic poets, in succeeding times, have 
 looked up to Homer as the most perfect mo¬ 
 del for their imitation. They have not only 
 copied him exactly in the arrangement and con¬ 
 duct of their subject; but many passages in 
 their poems are little else than paraphrases 
 from his admirable works. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Of Thales , Heraclitus , Democritus , and Simo¬ 
 nides. 
 
 THALES was the first Greek, who treated 
 of natural philosophy. He gave general no¬ 
 tions of the universe, and maintained that an 
 only supreme intelligence regulated all its md- 
 
46 
 
 FLOWERS' OF 
 
 lions. He discovered the cause of eclipses, 
 which in those days were accounted prodigies. 
 Valerius Maximus tells of him, that on being 
 asked, whether a man could conceal his actions 
 from the Deity, he answered, “How is that * 
 possible, since he cannot conceal from him even 
 his thoughts?” His great knowledge procur¬ 
 ed him a place among the seven wise men of 
 Greece. 
 
 Heraclitus was a native of Ephesus, where 
 he became the founder of a sect of philoso¬ 
 phers. We know little more of him, except 
 that he was a professed misanthrope; that he 
 beheld with pity all the actions of men; that 
 he constantly wept for their miseries, and from 
 thence obtained the name of the crying philo¬ 
 sopher. 
 
 Democritus was a native of Abdera in 
 Thrace, and lived in the time of Xerxes, king 
 of Persia. As a philosopher, he was in high 
 esteem. His desire of knowledge induced him 
 to travel through the greatest part of the then 
 known world; and in those journies he spent a 
 very considerable fortune. He lived in perfect 
 indifference about all the events of life, and 
 used to laugh at the follies of mankind. His 
 residing for the most part among tombs, in¬ 
 clined many to believe him to be disordered 
 in his judgment, and the inhabitants of Abdera 
 intreated Hippocrates, the famous physician, 
 to go and see him. Hippocrates accordingly 
 paid him a visit; but on discoursing with him, 
 immediately discovered him to be a man of 
 extraordinary knowledge and understanding* 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 *7 
 
 Simonides, a native of Ceos, distinguished 
 himself by his elegiac verses. His answer to 
 Iliero’s question, “What is God?” is well 
 known. Simonides at first desired one day to 
 consider of the question; when that was elaps¬ 
 ed, he demanded two days more; then four; 
 and so on for a considerable time, always dou¬ 
 bling the space he had last requested. Hiero, 
 suprised at this behavior, asked him the rea¬ 
 son of it. “Because,” answered Simonides, 
 “the more I meditate on the subject of your 
 question, the more incomprehensible I find it.” 
 
 CHAP. xxiy. 
 
 Of the Republic of Sparta . 
 
 OF all the Grecian states, that of Sparta 
 «eems to have been the most unhappy, before 
 their government was new modeled by Lyeur- 
 gus. The authority of their kings and their 
 laws were alike trampled upon and despised.— 
 Nothing could restrain the insolence of the 
 headstrong encroaching populace; and the 
 whole government sunk into anarchy and con¬ 
 fusion. From this deplorable situation, the 
 wisdom and virtue of one great man raised 
 his country to that height of power, which was 
 the envy and terror of her neighbors. A con¬ 
 vincing proof, how far the influence of one 
 great and good man will operate towards re¬ 
 forming the most bold licentious people, when 
 he has once thoroughly acquired their esteem 
 and confidence! 
 
48 
 
 FLOWERS or 
 
 Lycurgus succeeded to half the government 
 of Sparta, at the death of his elder brother. 
 But his brother’s widow proving to he with 
 child, he immediately resigned the regal digni¬ 
 ty to the new-born infant, and governed as pro* 
 tector and guardian to the young prince, dur¬ 
 ing his minority. 
 
 The generous and disinterested behavior of 
 Lycurgus upon this occasion, endeared him 
 greatly to the people, who had already experi¬ 
 enced the happy effects of his wise and equita¬ 
 ble administration. But to avoid the malice of 
 the queen-mother and her faction, who accused 
 him with designs upon the crown, he prudently 
 quitted both the government and his country. 
 In his travels, during his voluntary exile, he 
 drew up, and thoroughly digested his great 
 scheme of reformation. lie visited all those 
 states which at that time were most eminent 
 for the wisdom of their laws, or the form of 
 their constitution. He carefully observed all the 
 different institutions, and the good or bad ef¬ 
 fects, which they respectively produced on the 
 manners of each people. He took care to 
 avoid what he judged to be defects; but se¬ 
 lected whatever he found calculated to pro¬ 
 mote the happiness of a people. With these 
 materials he formed his so much celebrated plan 
 of legislation, which he very soon had an op¬ 
 portunity of reducing to practice. For the 
 Spartans, thoroughly sensible of the difference 
 between the administrations of Lycurgus, and 
 that of their kings, not only earnestly wished 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 49 
 
 his presence, but sent repeated deputations to 
 intreat him to return, and free them from the 
 numerous disorders under which their country 
 at that time labored. 
 
 As the request of the people was unanimous, 
 and the kings did not oppose his return, he 
 judged it the critical time for the execution 
 of his scheme. For he found affairs at home 
 in the distracted situation they had been repre¬ 
 sented, and the whole body of the people in a 
 disposition proper for his purpose. 
 
 Lycurgus began his reform wi«h a change 
 in the constitution, which, at that time, con¬ 
 sisted of a confused medley of hereditary mon¬ 
 archy, divided between two families, and a dis¬ 
 orderly democracy, utterly destitute of the 
 balance of a third immediate power, a circum¬ 
 stance so essential to the duration of all mixed 
 governments. 
 
 To remedy this evil he established a senate 
 to counterbalance the power of the kings on 
 the one hand, and that of the people on the 
 other. 
 
 The crown of Sparta had been long divided 
 between two families, descended originally 
 from the same ancestor, who jointly enjoyed 
 the succession. But though Lycurgus was 
 sensible, that all the mischiefs which had hap¬ 
 pened to the state, arose from this absurd di¬ 
 vision of the regal power, yet he made no al¬ 
 teration as to the succession of the two fami¬ 
 lies. Any innovation in so nice a point, might 
 have proved an endless source of civil eoinmo- 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 iXOWKRS OF 
 
 tions, from tlie pretensions of that line which 
 should happen to he excluded. He, therefore, 
 left them the title and insignia of royalty, hut 
 limited their authority, which he confined to 
 the business of war and religion. To the peo¬ 
 ple he gave the privilege of electing the sena¬ 
 tors, and giving their sanction to those laws* 
 which the kings and senate should approve. 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 Laics of Lycurgus respecting Property, Public 
 Tables , and Surpurfuous Arts. 
 
 WHEN Lycurgus had regulated the govern¬ 
 ment, he undertook a task more arduous than 
 any of the fabled labors of Hercules. This 
 was to new-mould his countrymen, by extir¬ 
 pating all the destructive passions, and raising 
 them above every weakness and infirmity of 
 human nature; a scheme, which all the great 
 philosophers had taught in theory, but none, 
 except Lycurgus, was ever able to reduce to 
 practice. 
 
 As he found the two extremes of great wealth 
 and great indigence, were the source of infinite 
 mischief in a free state, he divided the lands of 
 the whole territory into equal lots, proportion¬ 
 ed to the number of the inhabitants. This par¬ 
 tition of the lands met with so violent an oppo¬ 
 sition from the men of fortune, that a fray 
 ensued, in which Lycurgus lost one of his eyes. 
 But the people, struck with the sight of the 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 5i 
 
 blood of this admired legislator, seized the of- 
 tender, one Alcander, a young man of a hot 
 but not disingenuous disposition, and gave him 
 up to Lycurgus to he punished at discretion.— 
 But the humane and generous behavior of Ly- 
 eurgus quickly made a convert of Alcander, and 
 wrought such a change, that from an enemy, 
 he became his greatest admirer and advocate 
 with the people. 
 
 Lycurgus likewise appointed public tables, 
 at which he enjoined all the citizens to eat to¬ 
 gether without distinction; and he subjected 
 every man, even the kings themselves, to a fine 
 if they should violate this law by eating at their 
 own houses. The diet was plain, simple, and 
 regulated by the law, and distributed among 
 the guests in equal portions. Every member 
 was obliged monthly to contribute his quota, 
 for the provision of his respective table. A 
 bushel of flour, eight gallons of wine, five 
 pounds of cheese, two pounds and a half of ligs, 
 together with a small sum of money to pur¬ 
 chase a little flesh and fish, and to cook the 
 victuals, was the monthly contribution of each 
 member. 
 
 The conversation allowed at these public re¬ 
 pasts, turned wholly upon such subjects as 
 tended most to improve the minds of the youn¬ 
 ger sort, in the principles of wisdom and vir¬ 
 tue. Hence, as Xenophon observes, they were 
 schools, not only for temperance and sobriety, 
 but also for instruction. 
 
 Thus Lycurgus introduced a perfect equal- 
 
52 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 ity amongst bis countrymen. The highest and 
 the lowest fared alike, as to diet, all were 
 lodged and clothed alike, without the least va¬ 
 riation, either in fashion or materials. 
 
 To prevent all incitements to luxury, Ly- 
 curgus prohibited the practice of all superflu¬ 
 ous and unnecessary arts at Sparta, that his 
 citizens might not he accustomed, to sights con¬ 
 demned by the laws, nor listen to the justifi¬ 
 cation of crimes and irregular passions. In 
 place of such occupations and amusements, 
 hunting and bodily exercises were encouraged 
 jand constituted the ordinary business of the 
 Spartans. 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 Laws respecting Money and Commerce . 
 
 WHEN Lycurgus had exterminated every 
 species of luxury, he next removed all temp¬ 
 tation to the acquisition of wealth, that fatal 
 source of the innumerable evils, w hich prevail¬ 
 ed in every other country. He effected this 
 with his usual policy, by forbidding the cur¬ 
 rency of gold and silver money, and substi¬ 
 tuting an iron coinage of great weight and lit¬ 
 tle value, which continued the only current 
 coin through the Spartan dominions, for several 
 ages. 
 
 To bar up the entrance of wealth, and guard 
 his citizens against the contagion of corrup¬ 
 tion, he absolutely prohibited navigation and 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 53 
 
 commerce, though his country contained a 
 large extent of sea-coast, furnished with excel¬ 
 lent harbors. He allowed as little intercourse 
 as possible with foreigners, nor suffered any of 
 his countrymen to visit the neighboring states, 
 unless when public business required it, lest 
 they should be infected with their vices. Mu¬ 
 sic he encouraged, and poetry he admitted, but 
 both subject to the inspection of the magis¬ 
 trates. Thus, by the equal partition of lands, 
 and the abolition of gold and silver money, he 
 at once preserved his country from luxury, ava¬ 
 rice, and all those evils, which arise from an 
 irregular indulgence of the passions, as well as 
 all contentions about property. 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 Of the Education of the Spartan Foutlu 
 
 TO insure the observance of his laws to 
 the latest posterity, Lycurgus next formed 
 proper regulations for the education of the 
 Spartan children, which he esteemed one of 
 the greatest duties of a legislator. His grand 
 maxim was, “That children were the property 
 of the state, to which alone their education was 
 to be entrusted.” 
 
 In their infancy, the nurses were instructed 
 to indulge them neither in their diet, nor in 
 those little froward humors which are so pecu¬ 
 liar to that age: to inure them to bear cold and 
 fastings to conquer their first fears by accns- 
 
 e 2 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 ' 54 
 
 toming them to solitude and darkness; and to 
 prepare them for that stricter state of disci¬ 
 pline, to which they wore soon to he initiated. 
 
 When arrived at the age of seven years, 
 they were taken from the nurses, and placed • 
 in their proper classes. The diet and clothing 
 of all were the same, just sufficient to support 
 nature, and defend them from the inclemency 
 of the seasons; and they all lodged alike, in 
 the same dormitory, on beds of reeds, to which, 
 for the sake of warmth, they were allowed in 
 the winter to add the down of thistles. Their 
 sports and exercises were such as contributed 
 to render their limbs supple, atid their bodies 
 compaet and firm. They were accustomed to 
 yun up the steepest rocks barefoot; and swim¬ 
 ming, dancing, hunting, boxing, and wrestling, 
 weVe their constant diversions. 
 
 Nor were the minds of the Spartan youth 
 cultivated with less care. Their learning, as 
 Plutarch informs us, was sufficient for their 
 occasions, for Lycurgus admitted nothing but 
 what was truly useful. They carefully instil¬ 
 led into their tender minds the great duties of 
 religion, and the sacred indispensible obliga¬ 
 tion of an path, and trained them up in the 
 best of sciences, the principles of wisdom and 
 'virtue. 
 
 The love of their country was the chief sen¬ 
 timent with which the Spartans endeavored to 
 inspire their youth; and the science of war 
 was almost their only study. For it appears 
 to haye been the intention of Lycurgus to form 
 
ANCIENT HISTOEY, 
 
 5k 
 
 a nation of soldiers: not indeed that they 
 might indulge themselves in a spirit of con¬ 
 quest, and by that means give way to ambition 
 and injustice, but that they might be able to 
 maintain the peace and liberties of their na¬ 
 tive country, against turbulent and ambitious 
 neighbors. 
 
 Their first and principal lesson in the art of 
 war, was, “Never to fly, let the enemy out¬ 
 number them ever so much; but either to die 
 or to conquer.” Those who fled in an engage¬ 
 ment were rendered infamous for ever, and 
 might be insulted by any person with impu¬ 
 nity. 
 
 Another singular, but very political maxim, 
 observed by the Spartans in war, was “Never 
 to pursue a vanquished enemy beyond the field 
 of battle .’ 5 For this reason, their adversaries 
 being sure of finding safety in flight, were in¬ 
 duced to fight with less obstinacy. War, in¬ 
 stead of a hardship, was by the Spartans con¬ 
 sidered as a recreation; for then and at no 
 other time, the extreme rigor and severity of 
 their usual course of life, was, in a good mea¬ 
 sure, relaxed. 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 Of Lycurgus 9 Scheme for perpetuating his 
 Laws , and of his Death . 
 
 AS soon as Lycurgus had thoroughly settled 
 his new policy, and by his care and assiduity 
 
o6 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 imprinted his laws so deeply on the minds 
 and manners of his countrymen, that he judg¬ 
 ed the constitution able to support itself, and 
 stand upon its own bottom, his last scheme 
 was, to fix and perpetuate its duration down to 
 the latest posterity, as far as human prudence 
 and human means could effect it. To bring 
 his scheme to bear, he told the people in a ge¬ 
 neral assembly, that he could not possibly put 
 the finishing stroke to his new establishment, 
 which was the most essential point, till he had 
 again consulted the oracle. As they all 
 expressed the greatest eagerness for his under¬ 
 taking the journey, he laid hold of so fair an 
 opportunity to bind the kings, senate, and peo¬ 
 ple, by the most solemn oaths, to the strict ob¬ 
 servance of his new form of government, and 
 not to attempt the least alteration in any one 
 particular, till his return from Delphos. 
 
 He had now completed the great design, 
 which he had long in view, and bid an eternal 
 adieu to his country. The question he put to 
 the oracle was, “Whether the laws he had al¬ 
 ready established, were rightly formed, to make 
 and preserve his countrymen virtuous and hap¬ 
 py?” The answer he received, was just as fa¬ 
 vorable as he desired. It was, “that his 
 laws were excellently calculated for that pur¬ 
 pose; and that Sparta should continue to be the 
 most renow ned city in the world, as long as her 
 citizens persisted in the observance of the laws 
 of Lycurgus.” 
 
 He transmitted both the question and the 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 
 
 b-7 
 
 answer home to Sparta in writing, and devoted 
 the remainder of his life to voluntary banish¬ 
 ment. This wise and truly disinterested legis¬ 
 lator ended his days in the island of Crete, 
 and desired, as his la$t request, that his body 
 might be burnt, and his ashes thrown into the 
 sea; lest, if his remains should at any time be 
 carried back to Sparta, his countrymen might 
 look upon themselves as released from their 
 oath, as much as if he had returned alive, and 
 been induced to alter his form of government. 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 Of Cyrus the Great. 
 
 CYRUS was the son of Cambyses, either 
 king of Persia, or a man of the first rank in 
 that country, and of Mandane, the daughter of 
 Astyages king of the Me*Ies. He was a 
 prince of extraordinary virtue, wisdom, and 
 courage, and renowned in holy writ for effect¬ 
 ing the restoration of the Israelites, and also 
 for being the founder of the large Persian 
 empire. In his infancy, he resided in Per¬ 
 sia, with his father, and received an education 
 to qualify him to endure hardships, and the 
 incidental fatigues and dangers of a military 
 life. 
 
 AY hen he was twelve years of age, he was 
 sent for into Media, by Astyages, his grand¬ 
 father, where he remained five years, and from 
 that time by his good services and amiable 
 
58 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 manners, secured the affections of his grand'- 
 father, and the love of the people. 
 
 Cyrus, in the fortieth year of his age, was 
 called from Persia to assist his uncle Cyaxares, 
 king of the Medes, in his war against the 
 Babylonians, and their ally Croesus, king of 
 Lydia. This war lasted twenty-one years. 
 Cyrus commanded the united army of the 
 Medes and Persians. His conduct was glori¬ 
 ous, and his success wonderful. Croesus was 
 vanquished, and obliged to retreat to Sardis, 
 where he was blocked up by a close siege.— 
 In this distressful state, he implored the assis¬ 
 tance of the powers with whom he had formed 
 an alliance. But Cyrus carried on the attack 
 with such spirit, that the city surrendered be¬ 
 fore any relief could be afforded. 
 
 Croesus was taken captive, and condemned 
 to be burnt to death. When the funeral pile 
 was erected, and the victim laid on it, prepara¬ 
 tory to the execution of the sentence, he was 
 observed to exclaim emphatically, “O Solon! 
 Solon!” which induced Cyrus to inquire into 
 the cause of that ejaculation. Accordingly he 
 was informed that Croesus in his prosperity, 
 having displayed his treasures to Solon, the 
 famous Athenian philosopher, demanded of him 
 whether he did not esteem him happy from the 
 possession of such riches? To which the wise 
 man calmly replied, that no man could be pro¬ 
 nounced happy as long as he lived, as the most 
 prosperous could not possibly foresee what 
 would happen to him before his death; and that 
 
AIVCIEtfT HISTORY. 
 
 sy 
 
 Croisus now feeling the force of this remark, 
 therefore expressed his conviction by invoking 
 the name of his sagacious monitor. This cir¬ 
 cumstance wrought so effectually on Cyrus’ 
 feelings, and inspired him with such sympa¬ 
 thetic compassion for Croesus, that he ordered 
 him to be taken from the pile, and not only 
 spared his life, hut made an ample provision for 
 his support, and afterwards consulted him on 
 the most important of his concerns. 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Babylon taken by Cyrus in the year before 
 
 Christ, 538 . 
 
 CYRUS, after this successful expedition, 
 continued in lesser Asia, till he had made all 
 the nations in those parts subject to his power, 
 and then proceeded towards Babylon. 
 
 In consequence of Cyrus’ hostile opera- 
 tions, a battle ensued between the Persians 
 and Assyrians. The latter being defeated, 
 Belshazzar was blocked up in Babylon. Upon 
 which Cyrus commenced a vigorous siege 
 against that city. 
 
 This enterprize was attended with great 
 difficulty, from the height and strength of the 
 walls, and also from its internal defence. It 
 was, besides, amply stored with provisions, 
 which caused the inhabitants to be too confi¬ 
 dent of their safety, and to condemn the idea 
 of being conquered. 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 OU 
 
 This delusive belief so enthusiastically pos 
 sessed the Babylonians, that they scoffed at 
 Cyrus and his threats from the top of their 
 walls. 
 
 As Cyrus found that the regular process of 
 assault afforded but little hopes of success, he 
 resolved to starve the inhabitants into compli¬ 
 ance. This plan of operation the skilful war¬ 
 rior pursued, for the space of two years, but at 
 length effected the conquest by the following 
 stratagem. 
 
 As a festival approached, which the Babylo¬ 
 nians celebrated with licentious revels, and in¬ 
 ebriated excesses, during the whole night, Cy¬ 
 rus took the advantage of that seasonable junc¬ 
 ture to attack them by surprise. 
 
 To gain access into the city, he despatched 
 a party of his troops, to break the banks that 
 divided the river Euphrates and the canal, 
 which turned the current into the lake,* so that 
 about midnight, the river was almost dry, and 
 consequently fordable. This enabled the Per¬ 
 sian troops to enter the channel, under the gui¬ 
 dance of the two revolted Babylonians, Ga- 
 dales and Gobrias. 
 
 The river being thus drained, the army pro¬ 
 ceeded in its course to the gates of the city, 
 which they found open; for the Babylonians 
 in the excess of their drunkenness, had forgot¬ 
 ten to shut them the preceding evening. By 
 this fortunate omission, the Persians gained an 
 easy entrance into the city, and advanced to the 
 palace. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 61 
 
 When the guards perceived the near ap¬ 
 proach of their enemies., they strove to defend 
 themselves, but were killed in the attempt, 
 which caused a general alarm. In consequence 
 of which, the gates of the palace were opened, 
 to inquire into the cause of the commotion.— 
 The Persians immediately rushed into the pa- 
 laeej where they found the king with his sword 
 drawn, at the head of his adherents. The king 
 was slain in the conflict. His partisans also 
 fell victims to the warlike resentment of the 
 Persians, 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 Of the Miraculous Circumstances which at¬ 
 tended the Licentious Festival of Belshaz¬ 
 zar. 
 
 THE Scriptures inform us, that Belshaz¬ 
 zar, on the night in which he w r as slain, and 
 his dominions wrested from him, made a 
 sumptuous entertainment for his lords and 
 counsellors, wives and concubines. 
 
 To increase the magnificence of the repast, 
 Belshazzar wantonly profaned the gold and 
 silver vessels which had been taken from the 
 temple at Jerusalem, by using them at his ban¬ 
 quet, and permitting his unhallowed gue'sts to 
 drink out of them. 
 
 This impious act was rebuked by the Su¬ 
 preme Being, in an awful and extraordinary 
 manner. In the midst of their drinking $nd 
 
 F 
 

 FLOWERSOE 
 
 praising their own idolatrous gods, there was 
 a supernatural appearance of a hand, writing 
 a sentence on the wall. This miraculous event 
 was perceived by the king, who was thereby 
 so exceedingly alarmed, that “his knees smote 
 one against another.” He cried aloud to sum** 
 mon his college of magicians, astrologers, and 
 wise men, to explain the writing; but they 
 could not do it. 
 
 In this tremendous juncture, Nitocris, the 
 queen-mother, entered, and besought her son 
 to send for Daniel, whom she represented a» 
 equal to the task of unfolding the deepest mys¬ 
 teries. 
 
 When the prophet came into the king’s pre¬ 
 sence, he undauntedly reproved him for his ma¬ 
 nifold and heinous transgressions, and assured 
 him, that the profanation of the sacred vessels 
 of the Jewish temple, and his other sins, had 
 produced the awful sentence on the wall, the 
 literal interpretation a)f which was, “That God 
 had numbered his kingdom and finished it; that 
 his dominions were to be taken from him, and 
 given to the Medes and Persians.” The very 
 night after Belshazzar had heard these awful 
 tidings, the Medes and Persians forced their 
 entrance into the palace, and numbered the 
 king with the slain. 
 
 Th us ended the Babylonish empire. The 
 city of Babylon, by being the metropolis of the 
 kingdom, became also the seat of iniquity.— 
 This sun of splendor was scarcely risen to its 
 meridian height, before its lustre was sullied 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 63 
 
 by the clomls of guilt, which obscured its glo- 
 Fy, and caused it to set in oblivion. 
 
 After Belshazzar’s death, in order to pre¬ 
 vent the further effusion of blood, Cyrus or¬ 
 dered a proclamation to be made in the city of 
 Babylon, that all persons should be safe, who 
 would give up their arms; but that those who 
 refused these conditions were to be put to the 
 sword. These terms were unanimously ac¬ 
 cepted, and Cyrus thus obtained a complete 
 conquest over the Babylonians, after a warlike 
 contest of twenty-one years. 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 Of Cur us 9 Edict for the Return of the Jews. 
 
 ON account of Daniel’s interposition in 
 behalf of the people of Israel and Judah, Cy¬ 
 rus issued a decree for their restoration to 
 liberty, and the possession of their native land, 
 with authority for rebuilding the temple of Je¬ 
 rusalem. 
 
 Notwithstanding Daniel had very great in¬ 
 fluence by his own power and station, he had 
 recourse to various prophecies to confirm his 
 plea, proving from divine testimonials, that it 
 was the declared intention of the Almighty, to 
 redeem his people from bondage, after a cer¬ 
 tain period. He therefore advised Cyrus to be 
 the instrument, under God, for effecting this 
 great purpose, as the prophet Isaiah had spo¬ 
 ken of him by name, 150 years before he was 
 
‘.FLOWERS OF 
 
 64 
 
 born, and described him as a great conqueror, 
 and restorer of the people of Israel. 
 
 These arguments co-operating with Cyrus’ 
 desire to cultivate the land of Judea, which, in 
 his late expedition, he found in a desolate state; 
 from motives both of policy and goodness, lie 
 Issued a decree to release the Israelites from 
 bondage, and also granted them authority to 
 settle in their native land, and rebuild the 
 temple at Jerusalem. 
 
 In due order of time, according to the edict 
 of Cyrus, the^people assembled to be freed 
 from captivity, and to return to Judea. The 
 Israelites collected, on this joyful occasion, 
 amounted to the number of fortv-two thousand 
 three hundred and sixty persons, with the ad¬ 
 dition of seven thousand three hundred and 
 thirty-seven servants, and inferior people. 
 
 In this general rejease, not only the tribes 
 of Benjamin and Judah, hut numbers of the 
 other tribes, availed themselves of the privi¬ 
 lege of returning. But many Jews who had 
 settled in Chaldea, and other Eastern pro¬ 
 vinces, and had acquired great riches, did not 
 choose to leave their accumulated possessions, 
 to undertake the cultivation of a desolated 
 country. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIII. 
 
 Of the Battle of Marathon. 
 
 THE history of Persia, after the reign of 
 Cyrus, who died in the year before Christ 
 
c 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 65 
 
 529 , offers liftle, considered in itself, that me¬ 
 rits our regard. But when combined with 
 that of Greece, it becomes particularly inter¬ 
 esting. 
 
 The monarchs, who succeeded Cyrus, gave 
 an opportunity to the Greeks, to exercise those 
 virtues, which the freedom of their govern¬ 
 ment had created and confirmed. Sparta re¬ 
 mained under the influence of Lyeurgus* insti¬ 
 tutions. Athens had just recovered from the 
 tyranny of the Pisistratidse, a family who had 
 trampled on the laws of Solon, and usurped 
 the supreme power. 
 
 Such was their situation, when the lust of 
 universal empire, which seldom fails to torment 
 the breasts of tyrants, led Darius to send forth 
 his numerous armies into Greece. 
 
 But the Persians were no longer those invin¬ 
 cible soldiers, who, under Cyrus, had conquer¬ 
 ed Asia. Their minds were enervated by lux- 
 ury and servitude. 
 
 Athens, on the contrary, teemed with great 
 men, whose minds were nobly animated by the 
 late recovery of their freedom. Miltiades, on 
 the plains of Marathon, with ten thousand 
 Athenians, overcame the Persian army of a 
 hundred thousand foot, and ten thousand ca* 
 valry, in the year before Christ 490. 
 
 This memorable day reflected the highest 
 glory on Miltiades. To prevent his little ar¬ 
 my from being surrounded by the enemy, he* 
 drew it up, with a mountain in the rear, ex¬ 
 tended his front as much as possible, placed 
 
 f 2 
 
66 
 
 FLOWERS OE 
 
 his chief strength in the wings, and caused a 
 great number of trees to be cut down, to keep 
 off the enemy's cavalry from charging them in 
 flank. 
 
 The Athenians rushed forward on- the Per¬ 
 sians like so many furious lions. This is re¬ 
 marked to have been the first time they ad¬ 
 vanced to the attack running. By their impc* 
 tuosity, they opened a lane through the enemy* 
 and supported with the greatest firmness the 
 charge of the Persians. 
 
 The battle at first was fought by both par¬ 
 ties with great valor and obstinacy. But the 
 w ings of the Athenian army, w here, as w e have 
 just said, Miltiades had placed his chief 
 strength, attacking the main body of the ene¬ 
 my in Hank, threw them into irretrievable con¬ 
 fusion. Six thousand Persians perished on the 
 spot, and amongst the rest the traitor Hippias, 
 the principal occasion of the war. The rest 
 of the Persian army quickly fled, and aban¬ 
 doned to the victors their camp, full of riches. 
 
 Thus the Athenians obtained a victory, more 
 real than probable. Animated by their suc¬ 
 cess, they pursued the Persians to their very 
 ships, of which they took seven, and set fire to 
 several more. 
 
 On this occasion, one Cynegirus, an Athe¬ 
 nian, after performing prodigies of valor in the 
 field, endeavored to prevent a particular galley 
 from putting to sea, and for that purpose held 
 it fast with his right hand. When his right 
 hand was cut off, he then seized the galley 
 with his left$ which being likewise cut off, he 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 67 
 
 look hold of it with his teeth, and kept it so till 
 he died. 
 
 Another soldier, all covered over with the 
 blood of the enemy, ran to announce the victo¬ 
 ry at Athens, and after crying out, “Rejoice, 
 we are conquerors,” fell dead in the presence 
 of his fellow-citizens. 
 
 The Greeks, in this engagement, lost only 
 200 men. Aristides and Themistooles distin¬ 
 guished themselves very highly in the battle; 
 but Miltiades gained the chief glory. As a 
 reward for his extraordinary merits, and to 
 perpetuate the memory of his skill and brave¬ 
 ry, they caused a picture to be painted by Po- 
 lygnotus, one of their most celebrated artists, 
 where Miltiades was represented at the head 
 of the ten commanders, exhorting their sol¬ 
 diers, and setting them an example of their 
 duty. This picture was preserved for many 
 ages, with other paintings of the best masters, 
 in the portico, where Zeno afterwards institu¬ 
 ted his school of philosophy. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIY. 
 
 Of the Injustice of the Athenians to Miltiades » 
 
 WHO could suspect that the preserver of 
 his country should become the victim of ingra¬ 
 titude? But the Athenians were always so dis¬ 
 trustful, that the least suspicion made them 
 forget the greatest services. 
 
 Miltiades having required a fleet in order to 
 punish the people of the islands? who had be- 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 68T 
 
 trayed the common interest, attacked Paros* 
 But after a long siege, in which lie was 
 wounded; he miscarried in the enterprise, and 
 returned to Athens. Whether, as Herodotus 
 says, personal hatred prompted him to this 
 undertaking, or that the people could not re¬ 
 proach him with any fault but his misfortune, 
 is uncertain. He was, however, most unjustly 
 treated as a criminal. The rash inconsiderate 
 multitude immediately condemned him to death. 
 Every man of sense was ashamed and shocked 
 at the injustice and cruelty of this sentence.— 
 In vain did his friends constantly remind the 
 people of his behavior at Marathon. Ail 
 they were able to obtain, was a commutation 
 of the sentence of death, to a fine of fifty ta¬ 
 lents. Not being in a situation to discharge 
 such a fine, this most respectable hero, who 
 had refused the sovereign power in Cherso- 
 nesus, that he might devote his services to his 
 country, died in prison. 
 
 Cimon, his son, who afterwards made so 
 great a figure, signalized his piety on this oc¬ 
 casion. As this ungrateful city would not 
 permit the body of Miltiades to be buried un¬ 
 til all his debts were paid, this young man 
 employed all his interest among his friends, 
 strained his utmost credit to pay the fine, and 
 procured his father’s body an honourable inter- 
 pent. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 69 
 
 CHAP. XXXV. 
 
 Of the Invasion of Greece hy Xerxes. 
 
 IN ilie year before Christ 480, Xerxes the 
 son of Darius, came in person into Greece 
 with an immense army, which according to 
 Herodotus, amounted to two millions and one 
 hundred thousand men. This account has 
 been justly considered by some ingenious mo¬ 
 dern writers, as incredible. The truth, cannot 
 now be ascertained. But that the army of 
 Xerxes was extremely numerous, is the more 
 probable, from the great extent of his empire, 
 and from the absurd practice of the eastern 
 nations of encumbering their camp with a su¬ 
 perfluous multitude. 
 
 In order more readily to effect his passage, . 
 Xerxes laid a bridge across the Hellespont, 
 where it was about a mile over The bridge 
 being broken down by tempestuous weather, he 
 cut off the heads of the workmen, ordered the 
 sea to be whipped, and cast fetters into it, to 
 command its future subjection. He afterwards 
 affected the passage by a new bridge of boats, 
 joined together by chains, and landed his whole 
 army in seven days and nights. 
 
 Demaratus, one of the kings of Lacedemon, 
 had been for some time banished, because, in 
 his country, as he said himself, “the law was 
 more powerful than the kings.” He sought 
 an asylum in Persia, and was received there 
 
70 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 with particular respect. Xerxes having re* 
 viewed his troops, asked' him if the Greeks 
 durst wait his approach? To which he frankly 
 replied, especially with regard to the Spartans, 
 that the love of liberty would make them lend 
 a deaf ear to every proposal; and that, though 
 they were reduced to but a handful of men, 
 they would not decline the combat. “They 
 are free,” added he; “but they pay an implicit 
 obedience to the law; and that law commands 
 them to conquer or die.” The event verified 
 his assertion. The subsequent narration will 
 shew what liberty is capable of executing 
 against despotic power. 
 
 CHAP. XXXVI. 
 
 Of Themistocles , and the Battle of Thermopijlce . 
 
 THE Spartans and Athenians, having been 
 informed by Demaratus of the invasion with 
 which they were threatened, endeavored to 
 animate all the Grecian states to take up arms 
 for the general cause. But fear in some, and 
 a jealousy of the command in others, detach¬ 
 ed almost all the allies from the confederacy. 
 They were not, however, less disposed to make 
 a vigorous defence. The Athenians made 
 haste to choose their general. An arrogant 
 avaricious orator, whose name was Epicydes, 
 set himself up as a rival of Themistocles, 
 and as the people were always easily deceived, 
 was upon the point of being preferred, when 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 71 
 
 Fhemistoeles, knowing his weak side, loaded 
 him with presents, and prevailed with him to 
 desert, and thus got himself appointed to the 
 command. The public good required it. “In 
 such situations,” says the Abbe Millot, “a man 
 of superior abilities, without transgressing the 
 bounds of modesty, may do himself justice, 
 and employ all his influence to procure an em¬ 
 ployment, where honor is surrounded with 
 danger.” 
 
 At last Xerxes arrived at Thermopylae, a 
 very narrow passage, where he was met by 
 four thousand men, under the command of 
 Leonidas, king of Sparta. The Persian mo¬ 
 narch having in vain attempted to corrupt him, 
 wrote to him in the style of a master, com¬ 
 manding him to lay down his arms. To 
 which Leonidas replied like a Spartan, “Come 
 and take them.” 
 
 Then the Medes advanced against the 
 Greeks, but being unable to sustain their at¬ 
 tack, were obliged to retreat. The troop of 
 Persians, distinguished by the name of immor¬ 
 tal, next charged the Greeks, and fought with 
 great valor, so that the pass was choaked up 
 with the dead. 
 
 Whilst the best troops of Xerxes were thus 
 sacrificed to the Spartan valor, an inhabitant 
 of the country having discovered to the Per¬ 
 sians a secret path conducting to an eminence 
 that commanded the pass, a large detachment 
 was sent to take possession of it. 
 
 Leonidas receiving intelligence that the tops 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 of the rocks forming the pass, were occupied 
 *by 20,000 Persian troops, whose darts must 
 soon overwhelm him and his small party, in- 
 treated the greatest part of his men to retire, 
 and reserve themselves for a more advanta¬ 
 geous opportunity of serving their country, 
 while he himself, with about 300 Spartans and 
 a few Thespians, would maintain the post to the 
 last drop of their blood. 
 
 The rest having accordingly departed, 
 “Come, my friends/’ said Leonidas, “let us 
 dine cheerfully in the hope of supping to¬ 
 gether in the other world.” His brave com¬ 
 panions, who are superior to all praise; thus 
 encouraged by the example of their c_.ief* 
 thought of nothing now but how to sell their 
 lives as dear as possible, believing it incum¬ 
 bent on them, as the leading people of Greece, 
 to devote themselves to certain death, thereby 
 to convince the Persians how much it must 
 cost them to reduce a free people to slavery. 
 
 In the dead of night, this heroic troop ad¬ 
 vanced directly forwards to the tent of the 
 king, penetrated to the middle of the Persian 
 camp, cut off all that came in their way, and 
 spread the most dreadful consternation among 
 the enemy. 
 
 ^ But day-light at last discovering them dis¬ 
 tinctly to the Persians, they are immediately 
 surrounded, and being rather overwhelmed 
 than conquered, breathe their last above heaps 
 of slaughtered enemies, leaving to after-ages, 
 an example of intrepidity before unknown, and 
 hardly to be paralelled in history. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY". 
 
 The Persians are said to have lost upwards 
 of 20,000 men in this engagement, and among 
 the rest the two brothers of Xerxes. 
 
 To the memorv of these brave defenders of 
 
 * 
 
 Greece, a superb monument was afterwards 
 erected, bearing two inscriptions, the one in 
 honor of all those who had fallen on that oc¬ 
 casion, importing that an army of 4000 Pelo¬ 
 ponnesian Greeks had, in that place, stopped 
 the whole Persian force; the other in honor of 
 Leonidas and his 300 Spartans, expressed with 
 the most admirable simplicity: “Go, passenger, 
 tell at Sparta that we died here in obedience to 
 her 1; ws.” 
 
 The famous action at Thermopylse contribu¬ 
 ted very highly to the subsequent advantages 
 obtained by the Greeks. For the Persians, 
 astonished at so striking an instance of despe¬ 
 rate valor, thence concluded, that it was hardly 
 possible to subdue a nation of such undaunted 
 resolution; and the Greeks likewise perceived 
 from the same example, that valor and disci¬ 
 pline are capable of vanquishing the greatest 
 multitude, and that therefore it was possible to 
 overcome the Persians. 
 
 CHAP. XXXVII. 
 
 Of the battles of Sal amis, Platen and My c ale 9 
 and the final expulsion of the Persians from 
 Greece . 
 
 XERXES, though he had forced his pas- 
 G 
 
74 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 sage through the straights of Thermopylae, 
 was more inclined to push his fortune by sea. 
 In this enterprise he was also bravely resisted 
 by the Grecians at Artemesium, a seaport in 
 Euboea. But, notwithstanding the singular 
 resolution and vigor of the Grecians both by 
 sea and land, Xerxes, three months after his 
 passage into Europe, made himself master of 
 Athens, and laid it in ashes. 
 
 These storms, however, were soon blown 
 over; and the Grecians, animated by the wis¬ 
 dom and courage of Themistocles and Aris¬ 
 tides, obtained a complete victory over the 
 Persian fleet at Salamis, an island near the 
 coast of Attica. 
 
 On this occasion, Themistocles gave a proof 
 of his extraordinary moderation and coolness 
 of temper. For while with much warmth he 
 was maintaining his opinion, of the improprie¬ 
 ty of quitting the straits at Salamis, against 
 Eurybiades, who was a man of a very choleric 
 disposition, the latter flew in a passion, and 
 lifted up his cane to strike him. Themisto¬ 
 cles called out to him, “Strike, but hear me,” 
 His eloquence and firmness at last prevailed, 
 and the Greeks saw that it was most advisable 
 for them, as being extremely inferior to the 
 enemy in number, as well as in the size of their 
 ships, to fight them in such a narrow strait as 
 that of Salamis, where the enemy could not 
 bring all their fleet into action; and that it was 
 of the highest importance to avail themselves 
 of their present situation. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 75 
 
 The battle of Salamis, like that of Mara¬ 
 thon, shewed that an excellent commander is 
 alone almost equivalent to an army; and The- 
 mistocles, without having the title, yet dis¬ 
 charged the duties. He knew how to take 
 advantage of the wind, and drew up the fleet in 
 excellent order. The Persian ships were heavy, 
 and too numerous to act in such a narrow 
 strait, so that they ran into confusion, and 
 could not resist the Greeks, who, with less 
 than four hundred sail, dispersed a naval ar¬ 
 mament, said to have consisted of more than 
 two thousand. 
 
 On this turn of fortune, Xerxes with great 
 precipitation left Greece, and retired to Sardis 
 in Lydia, leaving the command of the army to 
 his general Mardonius. 
 
 After the retreat of Xerxes, Mardonius took 
 up his quarters in Thessaly, and the coniines 
 of Macedonia. He there collected an army of 
 350,000 men, prepared to prosecute the war 
 with vigor, and entered into Athens, ten 
 months after Xerxes had first taken it. But 
 this army was entirely defeated at the battle of 
 Platea. Mardonius himself was killed; and it 
 i related, that of 350,000 Persians, who came 
 into the field, there escaped scarce 3,000, be¬ 
 sides 40,000 who fled. Thus the Grecians were 
 freed from the invasion of an army, which for 
 two years had overrun their country, and 
 Athens was again restored to her ancient gov¬ 
 ernment and renown. 
 
 On the same day, the Grecians burnt the 
 
76 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 Persian fleet, in the harbor of Mycale, a pro¬ 
 montory of Ionia. Upon this double defeat, 
 Xerxes finding it impossible to retrieve so great 
 misfortunes, retired farther into the country, 
 and leading a life of indolence and luxury, was 
 at last murdered by his own soldiers. 
 
 He was succeeded in the throne of Persia by 
 his son Artaxerxes. 
 
 It may be here proper to notice what Mr. 
 Stanyan says on this event, “That whatever 
 successful attempts Xerxes, or bis successors, 
 made in other parts, the Persians, after this 
 defeat at Mycale, did never act offensively 
 against Greece. And though the Persian king¬ 
 dom continued many years after, and with the 
 character of the greatest empire of the known 
 world, her greatness consisted rather in riches, 
 and extent of territory, than any memorable 
 achievements; and the continuance of it was 
 chiefly owing to those intestine broils among 
 the Greeks, which diverted them from pushing 
 ou their conquests in Asia.” 
 
 CHAP. XXXVIII. 
 
 Of the Battle of Cheroncta , by which Philip of 
 Macedon made himself master of Greece. 
 
 THOUGH the Persian war concluded glo 
 riously for Greece, it is, in a great measure, 
 to this war, that the subsequent misfortunes of 
 that nation are to be attributed. It was not 
 the loss of so many brave men, but the acqui* 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 77 
 
 sition of such an immensity of Persian wealthy 
 it was not their enduring so many hardships in 
 the course of the war. but their connexion 
 with the Persians after the conclusion of it* 
 which subverted the Grecian establishments* 
 and ruined the most virtuous confederacy that 
 ever existed upon earth. 
 
 The Greeks became haughty after their vic¬ 
 tories. Being delivered from their common 
 enemy, they began to quarrel with one ano* 
 ther. Their quarrels were fomented by Per¬ 
 sian gold, of w hich they had acquired enough 
 to make them desirous of more. Hence pro¬ 
 ceeded the famous Peloponnesian war, in which 
 the Athenians and Lacedemonians acted as 
 principals, and drew after them the other states 
 of Greece. 
 
 They continued to weaken themselves by 
 these intestine divisions, till Philip, king of 
 Macedon, (a country till this time little known, 
 but which, by the active and crafty genius of 
 this prince, became important and powerful,) 
 rendered himself the absolute master of Greece, 
 by the battle of Cheromea, in the year before 
 Christ 338. 
 
 Philip entered Boetia With an army of 
 30,000 foot, and 2,000 horse. His troops were 
 not much more numerous than those of the 
 Greeks; but they were much better disciplined 
 and commanded. The bravery of the soldiers 
 were nearly equal on both sides; and the Athe¬ 
 nians wanted nothing but good generals. For 
 the faction of Chares raised him to the chief 
 
 g % 
 
78 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 command; and he had got for colleague, Lysi- 
 cles, distinguished by his rashness alone. Thus 
 the only Athenian worthy of commanding, 
 namely Phoeion, was altogether excluded from 
 the office. Such are the capital errors, which 
 in every state occasion the loss of battles, and 
 all the misfortunes that thence ensue. 
 
 In this engagement, Philip commanded the 
 right wing of the Macedonian army; and his 
 son Alexander, assisted by the most experien¬ 
 ced officers, the left. The battle was fought 
 with great obstinacy, and victory remained 
 long doubtful. 
 
 Alexander shewed himself Worthy of the 
 command, then entrusted to him for the first 
 time; and by his valor and prudence gave signs 
 of what he should become in the end. Falling 
 with great impetuosity upou the Thebans, he 
 broke and put to fight their sacred battalion, 
 which was the flower of their army. 
 
 Philip, on the other hand, gained at first 
 some little advantage over the Athenians; but 
 these quickly repairing the disorder, in their 
 turn repulsed the Macedonians. 
 
 The imprudence, however, of Lysieles, oc¬ 
 casioned their ruin; for thinking himself vic¬ 
 torious, after having broken the centre of the 
 Macedonians, instead of attacking them in 
 flank, he pursued the fugitives with a blind 
 impetuosity. Philip perceived, and availed 
 himself of his error* Rallying the wings of his 
 phalanx on a small eminence, he rushed with 
 great fury on the rear of the Athenians, and 
 put them to flight. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 79 
 
 Here Demosthenes furnished a striking 
 proof, that the same person seldom possesses 
 all qualifications in an equal degree. He threw 
 away his arms, and betook himself to flight. 
 
 Of the Athenians, 1.000 were slain,and 2,000 
 taken prisoners; but the loss of the Thebans 
 was much greater. 
 
 Philip, transported with joy at this victory* 
 erected a trophy, sacrificed to the gods, and 
 gave presents to his officers. It is said, that 
 having next day given a great entertainment, 
 the wine raised him to such an extravagant 
 pitch of joy, that he ran to the field of battle, 
 insulted the dead bodies of his enemies, and 
 fell a dancing, singing at the same time the 
 beginning of the decree drawn up by Demos¬ 
 thenes. It is likewise reported, that the orator 
 Demades, being one of the prisoners, said to 
 him with a generous freedom, “Since fortune 
 has given you the part of Agamemnon, are 
 you not ashamed to play that of Thersites?” 
 With this freedom of Demades, it is added, the 
 conqueror was not displeased. 
 
 CHAP. XXXIX. 
 
 Of Demosthenes 9 Influence over the Athenians. 
 
 THE Athenians, after this terrible disaster, 
 instead of testifying any resentment against 
 Demosthenes, who If ad advised them to unikr- 
 take the war, still followed his counsels. The 
 people, convinced of the integrity of Ills in- 
 
80 
 
 FLOWERS O* 
 
 tendons, acquitted him with honor, preserved 
 the highest esteem for him, and loaded him 
 with still greater marks of their favor and 
 confidence. Guards were posted, and fortifi¬ 
 cations repaired by his advice. He was 
 pitched upon to pronounce the funeral oration 
 of the brave men who had fallen at Cheronsea; 
 and the Athenians inclosed tlieir bones in a 
 magnificent monument, with an inscription, 
 importing that they had fallen in the cause of 
 their country. 
 
 It may he here remarked, that these funeral 
 orations, and the other /public marks of dis¬ 
 tinction bestowed on those who had died in 
 battle, were, in the flourishing times of the 
 republic, admirably calculated to inspire the 
 Athenian youth with an ardent desire of mili¬ 
 tary glory. The sons of those who were slain 
 in fight, were produced at the first feast cele¬ 
 brated after such fight, clothed in complete 
 armor, and attended by a herald, who made a 
 public proclamation in the following terms:—- 
 “These young orphans, whom a premature 
 death in the service of the state, has deprived 
 of their father, have found in the people a 
 common father, who charge themselves with 
 the care of them, till they arrive at the age of 
 manhood; and they are respectfully invited 
 to aspire at the first employments of the com¬ 
 monwealth.’’ 
 
 Naturally fond of affecting scenes, we hurry 
 to the theatre, to enjoy the moving representa¬ 
 tions there offered to our view; of which, 
 
iNCi’ENT HISTORY. 
 
 SI 
 
 however, the greatest part is the mere fruit of 
 poetical fancy. But if we would have real 
 objects of this kind not produced hy the mise¬ 
 rable effects of irregular passions, but arising 
 from the noblest principles of human nature, 
 we must have recourse to history. Can there 
 possibly be a more affecting scene, than that 
 now described among the Athenians? 
 
 The people further committed to Demos¬ 
 thenes the charge of procuring provisions for 
 the city; and decreed him a crown of gold 
 for having furnished a sum of money to repair 
 the walls. The sentence of Ctesiphon, de¬ 
 creeing this crown to Demosthenes, having 
 been arraigned by Eschines, the cause was 
 tried with great solemnity, and a vast con¬ 
 course of people assembled from all quarters, 
 to hear this important dispute between two so 
 celebrated orators. Demosthenes shone par¬ 
 ticularly in his answers to the invectives of 
 Eschines, on the subject of the defeat at 
 Cheromea. He told the audience that he was 
 by no means answerable for that event, which, 
 like every other, was in the power of the Su¬ 
 preme Being, who disposed of victory at his 
 pleasure. 
 
 Then he addressed himself to the Athe¬ 
 nians, in a st^le of rhetoric the most figurative 
 and bold that is any where to he met with. 
 “No, Athenians, I swear to you by the manes of 
 those brave citizens, who sacrificed their lives 
 for the liberty of their country, on land at 
 Marathon and Platea, on sea at Salamis and 
 
82 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 Artemisium, ami by many others, who, though 
 unsuccessful in the same glorious cause, have 
 been honored by the republic with the solemn 
 rites of burial, not by those alone who 
 were fortunate and victorious, that you have 
 acted as you ought.” 
 
 Though the Macedonian faction was now 
 become very powerful at Athens, Escliines 
 nevertheless failed, was even punished with 
 banishment, and obliged to take refuge at 
 Rhodes. 
 
 On this occasion, Demosthenes behaved to 
 his rival with great generosity; and as he was 
 departing, forced him to accept a considerable 
 sum of money. Escliines was so struck with 
 his behavior, that he burst out into this excla¬ 
 mation, “How much,” said he, “must 1 re¬ 
 gret the loss of a country, where I leave such 
 an enemy, that I despair of finding any where 
 else so generous a friend!” 
 
 On arriving at Rhodes, he opened a school 
 for eloquence, and began with reciting his ora¬ 
 tion against Demosthenes, which was very 
 highly commended by his audience. But ha¬ 
 ving proceeded to recite that made in answer 
 to it by Demosthenes, nothing was heard but 
 a general shout of applause; insomuch that 
 Escliines could not refrain from crying out, 
 “Ah! what would you have thought of it, 
 had you heard him deliver it himself r” A 
 saying that did as much honor to the candor 
 of the one, as to the eloquence of the other. 
 Eschines was very much esteemed as an 
 
ANCIENT IIISTORT. 
 
 85 
 
 orator by the Athenians, who called those three 
 discourses of his that yet remain, by the name 
 of the three graces. 
 
 CHAP. XL. 
 
 Anecdotes of King Philip . 
 
 AMONG the great number of extraordi¬ 
 nary anecdotes which are related of Philip, the 
 following are the most worthy of being remem¬ 
 bered. 
 
 One of his domestics, every morning before 
 he gave* audience, by his express orders, re¬ 
 peated to him, “Remember, sir, that you are a 
 mortal.” 
 
 Knowing the value of truth, even when his 
 vanity was hurt by it, he said, that he was 
 much obliged to the Athenian orators, who, 
 by their abuse, had taught him to correct his 
 errors. 
 
 A prisoner, who was just going to be sold, 
 having boldly reproached him; “Let that man 
 be set at liberty,” said he, “I did know that he 
 was one of my friends.” 
 
 When he was desired to dismiss from his 
 
 I 
 
 service a worthy man who had censured him; 
 “Let us examine first,” said he, “whether we 
 have not given him reason for upbraiding us.” 
 This bold censurer was poor, and Philip re¬ 
 lieved his wants, when his reproaches were 
 immediately converted into praise. Upon this 
 Philip very judiciously observed, “That it de- 
 
S* 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 pended upon princes themselves whether the} 
 were loved or hated,” We may add too, that 
 to make themselves beloved, is of all tilings 
 the most easy. 
 
 One day, as lie was returning from a feast, 
 a woman having begged of him to decide her 
 cause, he had it plead on the spot, and gave 
 sentence against her. “I appeal from the judg¬ 
 ment,” cried the woman. “How! from your 
 king?” answered Philip; “and to whom do 
 you appeal?” “To Philip when fasting,” re¬ 
 plied ihe woman. Philip, struck with the words 
 of (he woman, reviewed the cause, and altered 
 his judgment. 
 
 Another woman of low rank in life, having 
 been put off from day to day, on pretence that 
 he had not leisure to give her audience, at last 
 said to him, “Cease then to be a king.” He 
 immediately gratified her, and from that time 
 forward was more attentive to the first duty of 
 royalty. 
 
 He had experienced the advantages of a good 
 education too well, to let him be inattentive 
 in procuring the same for his son, who was 
 born with the happiest dispositions. He consi¬ 
 dered the character of being a great warrior, 
 only in a subordinate rank, and wished to store 
 his mind with the most profound knowledge.— 
 Aristotle, the greatest philosopher of the age, 
 was to be the instructor of Alexander, and 
 Philip thought himself happy when that prince* 
 was born, if he could secure for him such a 
 master. ■ 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 85 
 
 The letter which he wrote to the philoso¬ 
 pher, may serve as a lesson to crowned heads. 
 “I have a son,” said he, “for whom I am not 
 go thankful to the gods, as for their having 
 given him to me in the time of Aristotle. I 
 flatter myself with the hope of your making 
 him worthy to succeed me, and to reign in 
 Macedonia.” 
 
 Alexander was the son of Olympias, who 
 was afterwards divorced; and when the other 
 sons of Philip were one day questioning his 
 right to the succession, he received the follow¬ 
 ing advice from his father: “Have patience, 
 my son, and conduct yourself in such a man- . 
 ner, before your brothers, that it may seem, 
 that the crown descends to you, rather on ac¬ 
 count of your own merit, than from my choice.** 
 
 CHAP. XLI. 
 
 Character of Philip . 
 
 HE was a prince of the most ambitious cha¬ 
 racter, and persisted, without any deviation, 
 and with singular perseverance, in the prose¬ 
 cution of all his schemes. This is particular¬ 
 ly visible in his conduct with respect to Greece. 
 By his own account, the happiness of nations, 
 the reparation of injuries, aud the destruction 
 of tyranny, were the sole motives of his cow- 
 duct. 
 
 But, notwithstanding those professions, he 
 was continually aiming, by imperceptible 
 
 H 
 
86 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 means, at some private design. He was im¬ 
 penetrable as to bis views and intentions, 
 and never made use of confidants. Fruitful 
 in resources, be seldom had recourse to force, 
 till add re ss failed him. But when once enga¬ 
 ged in war, be acted with the utmost diligence, 
 vigor, and intrepidity, and was inferior to no 
 commander of bis time, either for bravery or 
 conduct. 
 
 He rendered his soldiers the best in Greece, 
 was particularly skilful in conciliating their af¬ 
 fection by a familiar and complaisant behavior, 
 and in maintaining at the same time, his au¬ 
 thority over them in full force. 
 
 Besides the •accomplishments already men¬ 
 tioned, Philip had acquired a stock of the most 
 valuable and finest parts of learning, and wrote 
 and spoke with equal dignity and ease. He 
 was a consummate politician, always seizing 
 the most favorable moment for attacking his 
 enemies, availing himself of their weakness 
 and domestic troubles, and by a liberal distri¬ 
 bution of gold, bringing over to his interest 
 some of the leading men in every state. He 
 readily granted his assistance to those who de¬ 
 sired it, and labored to weaken the strongest. 
 
 But the defects of this prince’s character, 
 perhaps counterbalance bis great parts. For, 
 though a most artful politician, the means he 
 employed were often contrary to justice and 
 good faith. He seldom hesitated to deceive 
 those with whom he treated; and was not very 
 scrupulous about practising fraud, deceit, per- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 8? 
 
 fitly, op any other crime, provided it might 
 contribute to the advancement of his power. 
 
 Those of the learned, who have studied 
 with most accuracy the merits of the father 
 and the son, are of opinion, that the extent of 
 Alexander’s conquests does not equal the difficul¬ 
 ty of those of Philip; and that it was more easy 
 for the former to subdue Asia with the assist¬ 
 ance of the Greeks, than for the latter to de¬ 
 stroy the power of the Greeks, with Macedo¬ 
 nian strength alone. 
 
 “It must be allowed,” says a judicious wri¬ 
 ter, “that at first sight we are inclined to give 
 the preference to Alexander, the splendor of 
 whose conquests outshines that of Philip’s: 
 hut on a more narrow inspection, and on balanc¬ 
 ing the obstacles that lay in the way of the 
 one against the circumstances that favored the 
 success of the other, we shall be of opinion 
 with Cicero, that the son was a great conque- 
 ror, but that the father was a great mam” 
 
 CHAP. XLII. 
 
 Of Alexander the Great . 
 
 ALEXANDER was born at Pella, a town 
 of Macedonia, in the year before Christ 356. 
 From his infancy, he, on several occasions, 
 gave proofs of an extraordinary loftiness of 
 sentiment. Being asked one day by his friends, 
 whether he would not choose to contend in the 
 foot races at the Olympic games, (for he was 
 extremely swift of foot,) he answered, that he 
 
88 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 would, “if kings were to be his competitors. 75 
 On receiving the news of a city being taken, 
 or a battle won by his father, so far from dis¬ 
 covering any signs of joy, he used to appear 
 melancholy and disconsolate. “My friends, 55 
 he would say, “my father will accomplish 
 every thing, and will leave me nothing to do. 55 
 
 In every branch of learning, which it was 
 thought necessary to teach him, he made 
 astonishing progress. We have already told 
 that Philip gave him for preceptor the famous 
 Aristotle. Alexander conceived as high an 
 esteem for that illustrious philosopher as Phi¬ 
 lip entertained for him. He went farther, and 
 even honored him as father, saying, that his 
 natural father had given him existence, but 
 that his second father had taught him to make 
 the proper use of his existence. Under such 
 a master, the happy genius of Alexander made 
 the most rapid progress, and soon imbibed the 
 principles of the whole circle of philosophy. 
 
 Plutarch tells us, that he loved to read and 
 converse with men of learning, two admirable 
 sources of happiness to a prince, and not only 
 capable of preserving him from numberless 
 misfortunes, but of instructing him in the art 
 of reigning. 
 
 On the fine arts, such as music, painting and 
 sculpture, he bestowed but a cursory attention, 
 sufficient to give him au idea of their value 
 and their use; which in such matters, is all 
 that a prince ought to know. He was of an 
 active impetuous disposition, and very tena¬ 
 cious of his opinion. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 89 
 
 He very early became the most expert horse¬ 
 man in his father’s court; and was the only 
 person who dared to hack the famous Buce¬ 
 phalus, a very fine horse, sent as a present to 
 Philip, but so fiery and high-mettled, that they 
 despaired to be able to break him. It was on 
 this occasion, that Philip seeing Alexander re¬ 
 tunring from finishing the course, in which he 
 had backed his ungovernable horse, cried out 
 to him in a rapture, “Seek, my son, another 
 kingdom; Macedonia is not worthy to contain 
 you.” It is said that this horse would after¬ 
 wards suffer no person but Alexander to mount 
 him; and that he leaned down on his knees to 
 receive him on his back; that after being mor¬ 
 tally wounded in the battle against Porus, he 
 saved the life of Alexander, by carrying him 
 through the crowd of enemies that surrounded 
 him, and then expired; that Alexander shed 
 tears for his death, and, in memory of him, 
 built on the banks of the Hydaspis a city, 
 which, after him, he called Buceplialia. 
 
 Alexander mounted the throne of Macedo¬ 
 nia at the age of twenty years; and in the same 
 year that Darius Codamannus mounted that of 
 Persia. After performing the ceremonies of 
 his father’s funeral, Alexander applied his 
 attention to secure the conquests of Philip 
 over the neighboring nations, which, at present 
 were far from being in a settled condition. In 
 Greece, particularly, though Philip had awed 
 the states into submission, by the terror of his 
 arms, yet their minds were far from being re- 
 
 h-2 
 
90 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 conciled to his authority. The question was. 
 whether he should endeavor to preserve those 
 conquests by mildness and moderation, or by 
 the force of arms. Alexander quickly formed 
 liis resolution, harkening alone to the dictates 
 of his courage. 
 
 CHAP. XLIII. 
 
 JLtcxander defeats the Barbarians , and (lestroijs 
 
 Thebes. 
 
 IN order to quell the commotions that had 
 already broken out among some of the barba¬ 
 rous nations, who had taken up arms, he hasti¬ 
 ly led his army towards the Danube, passed 
 that river in the night, and defeated the Tri- 
 balli in a great battle. 
 
 About the same time the states of Greece 
 formed a confederacy against him; and a ru¬ 
 mor having arisen that he was killed, the The¬ 
 bans made an insurrection, and cut in pieces 
 the Macedonian garrison, which held their city 
 in subjection. 
 
 At Athens too Demosthenes put all in mo¬ 
 tion, calling Alexander (of whose real charac¬ 
 ter he was yet ignorant,) a giddy young man; 
 and he wrote letters to Attalus, one of Philip’s 
 generals in Asia-minor, advising him to revolt. 
 Alexander, already suspicious of the fidelity 
 of Attalus, although he had transmitted to him 
 tl ose treasonable letters of Demosthenes, 
 thought it necessary to have him taken off. 
 
AiSCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 91 
 
 After making the Barbarians sensible of his 
 merit, he resolved to proceed to Greece. “It 
 is proper,” said he, “to shew Demosthenes at 
 the gates of Athens, that I am every way a 
 man.” He advanced, therefore, towards the 
 pass of Thermopylae, passed in without resist¬ 
 ance, entered Beotia, required of the Thebans 
 to deliver up (o him Phoenix and Prothentus, 
 the authors of their insurrection; and on their 
 refusal to comply with his demand, immediately 
 attacked them. 
 
 The Thebans fought with great bravery and 
 obstinacy; but being much inferior to the Ma¬ 
 cedonians in point of numbers, were at last bro¬ 
 ken, and almost all cut off. More than six 
 thousand men were killed on the spot. Thebes 
 was taken, and treated with all the rigors of 
 war. 
 
 Alexander, personally incensed against the 
 Thebans for the extravagant joy they had tes¬ 
 tified at the news of his death, resolved to sa¬ 
 tisfy his vengeance by the utter destruction of 
 their unhappy city. He sold more than thirty 
 thousand of the inhabitants for slaves, and per¬ 
 mitted none to enjoy their liberty except the 
 priests, and the descendants of the celebrated 
 poet Pindar. 
 
 The total ruin of Thebes, and the severity 
 of Alexander to its miserable inhabitants, 
 threw the other states into the utmost conster¬ 
 nation. Every thing gave way to him, and 
 even the Athenians, with Demosthenes himself, 
 implored the mercy of the conqueror by a so¬ 
 lemn deputation. 
 
92 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 Alexander, however, despatched messengers 
 to the Athenians, insisting on their delivering 
 up to him ten of the orators who had been 
 chiefly instrumental in forming the late confe¬ 
 deracy against him. The orator Demades, a 
 particular favorite of Alexander, undertook to 
 soften him. The Macedonian having already 
 satisfied his resentment, by the ruin of the The* 
 bans, and being unwilling to be detained from 
 the execution of the great design he was medi¬ 
 tating, gave a favorable hearing to Demades, 
 insisted on the banishment of Charidemus alone, 
 frankly forgave the Athenians, and exhorted 
 them to watch over the affairs of Greece during 
 his absence. 
 
 CHAP. XLIV. 
 
 Alexander causes himself to be declared Gene - 
 ralissimo of the Greeks against the Persians . 
 
 HAVING in one campaign made himself 
 master of all Greece, Alexander assembled the 
 deputies of all the towns at Corinth, and pro¬ 
 cured himself to be solemnly elected comman* 
 der in chief of the Greeks against Persia. 
 
 So grand an undertaking, calculated to de¬ 
 throne the sovereign of the east, and to pro¬ 
 duce the greatest revolution, as far as we know, 
 that ever happened on our earth, required a 
 conductor of the most extensive genius, intre¬ 
 pid, enterprising, incapable of being stopped by 
 any obstacle, and endued with the greatest ta- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 Vo 
 
 lents of every kind. Such a man was Alexan¬ 
 der. 
 
 It is at the same time true, that he found 
 the Greeks still actuated by their inveterate 
 hatred of the Persians, whom to subdue, was 
 the most ardent desire of their souls. 
 
 It is likewise true, that however otherwise 
 corrupted, they still maintained their superi¬ 
 ority in arms over the Persians. 
 
 It was at the time of this solemn assembly 
 of the states of Greece at Corinth, that Alex¬ 
 ander, surprised at not receiving a visit from 
 the famous Diogenes, as he had done from all 
 the other philosophers, resolved to pay that 
 cynic a visit. Finding Diogenes basking in the 
 sun, and in a situation that indicated extreme 
 poverty, Alexander asked him whether he wan¬ 
 ted any thing. “Yes,” answered Diogenes, 
 “I want you to remove from between me and 
 the sun beams.” This answer raised the in¬ 
 dignation of the courtiers, but attracted the ad¬ 
 miration of Alexander, who declared, if he 
 were not Alexander, he would choose to be Di¬ 
 ogenes. As if he had said, “Were I not de¬ 
 signed to be the master of the world, I should, 
 like Diogenes, give myself no concern about 
 any in the world.” 
 
 On his return to Macedonia, he was very 
 liberal of his presents to those othcers, whose 
 attachment to him was of importance. One of 
 them having asked him, what he intended to 
 reserve for himself, he replied, “Hope.” 
 
 Alexandej* set out for Asia in the beginning 
 
94 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 of spring, at the head of an army of 30,000 
 foot, and 5,000 horse. Most of his officers 
 were men, who having grown old in the service 
 of Philip, were thoroughly experienced in the 
 art of war; and his soldiers were all veterans, 
 and perfectly acquainted with discipline. Par- 
 menio commanded the foot, as did his son Phi- 
 lotas a part of the horse. 
 
 Alexander marched directly to the Helles¬ 
 pont, which he passed with 160 gallies, and se¬ 
 veral smaller vessels, conducting with his own 
 hand the galley wherein he sailed. 
 
 His treasury was very inadequate to so great 
 an undertaking. But both Alexander and his 
 officers were firmly persuaded, that they were 
 marching rather to certain conquests, than to 
 attempt a doubtful expedition. 
 
 Arriving at Ilium, he resolved to celebrate 
 public games to the memory of Achilles; which 
 he caused to be performed accordingly, around 
 that hero’s tomb. On that occasion, he ex¬ 
 pressed his envy at the good fortune of Achil¬ 
 les, in having found a faithful friend while he 
 lived, and after his death a Homer to immor¬ 
 talize his exploits. 
 
 CHAP. XLV. 
 
 Alexander defeats the Persians at Granieus. 
 
 WHEN Alexander arrived at the banks of 
 the G-ranicus, Parmenio advised to halt a little, 
 that the troops might have some time to re- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORT. 
 
 9& 
 
 pose themselves. But Alexander’s eagerness 
 to proceed, prevented his complying with this 
 advice; for he said it was proper to take ad¬ 
 vantage of the terror, which the news of his ar¬ 
 rival had created among the Persians. His 
 courage was rather animated than depressed at 
 the view of the vast army which waited for 
 him on the other side of the river, which 
 amounted to upwards of 190,000 foot and 
 10,000 horse, under the command of Memnon, 
 the Rhodian, a very skilful general. 
 
 Alexander placed himself at the head of the 
 right wing of his army, plunged into the river, 
 and was followed by all his troops. The Per¬ 
 sians seeing the Macedonians advancing, assail¬ 
 ed them with a shower of darts. Both armies 
 came at last to the charge. The Macedonians 
 fighting under the double disadvantage of in¬ 
 feriority in point of numbers and the worst 
 ground, gave way a little at first. Alexander 
 encourages them with his presence, deals death 
 with every stroke, and bears down all before 
 him. lie charges the Persian cavalry, who 
 make a brave resistance. He engages Spith- 
 robates, the son-in-law of Darius, and trans¬ 
 fixes him with his lance. Here Clitus, who 
 fought by Alexander’s side, saved his life, 
 by intercepting the stroke of a batUe-axe that 
 was aimed at him. The Macedonians, seeing 
 the danger that threatened their king, redoub¬ 
 led their efforts, and at last put the Persian ca¬ 
 valry to flight. Then Alexander charges the 
 enemy’s infantry with his Macedonian phalanx, 
 which had by this time passed the river. 
 
96 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 The Persians, confounded at the boldness of 
 the Macedonians, make but a feeble resistance, 
 and are quickly routed. No part of the Per¬ 
 sian army now kept its ground, except a body 
 of Grecian infantry engaged in the service of 
 Darius. These finding themselves deserted by 
 the Persians, and their retreat cut off by the 
 Macedonians, began a most obstinate engage¬ 
 ment, and being all brave well-disciplined vete¬ 
 rans, they fought with the most desperate ob¬ 
 stinacy, and were all killed on the spot, except 
 2,000, who were made prisoners. The Persians, 
 in this battle, lost 20,000 foot and 2,500 horse. 
 The loss of Alexander was only about 200 men, 
 among whom were 25 horsemen of the royal 
 guard, to whose memory Alexander ordered 
 statues to be erected. He shewed the utmost 
 attention to the wounded, going himself to see 
 them dressed. He ordered all the Greek pri¬ 
 soners to be conveyed to Macedonia, and sent to 
 tbe Athenians 300 Persian bucklers, as a to¬ 
 ken of his victory. 
 
 This victory was a happy prelude to those 
 that were to follow, and served to propagate 
 the terror of the Macedonian arms. Sardis, 
 the key of Upper Asia, opened its gates to the 
 conqueror. Ephesus followed the example, 
 and Alexander there offered sacrifices to Diana* 
 
4NCIENT HISTORY.* 
 
 or 
 
 CHAP. XLVI. 
 
 Alexander defeats Darius at Issus. 
 
 DARIUS, in the mean lime, who lay en* 
 camped on the plains of Assyria, with an army 
 of between 400,000 and 500,000 men, resolved 
 to go in quest of his enemy, instead of waiting 
 for him. That monarch, accustomed to the 
 extravagant flattery of his Satraps, who assured 
 him of victory, asked Charidemus, the Athenian 
 orator, whose banishment from his native coun¬ 
 try had been procured by Alexander, whether 
 he believed the Persian army to he powerful 
 enough to conquer that of the presumptuous 
 Macedonian. Charidemus, incapable of flatte¬ 
 ry or dissimulation, answered with the honest 
 freedom of a republican, that all the pompous 
 and magnificent warlike preparations of the 
 Persian army, and their prodigious number of 
 men, might indeed terrify and confound the 
 neighboring powers of the Persian monarchy, 
 but would make no such impression on the Ma¬ 
 cedonian army, which was all covered with 
 steel; that the Macedonian phalanx was an im¬ 
 penetrable bulwark; that all their soldiers were 
 inured to war, were thoroughly disciplined, 
 and were satisfied with the plainest food; that 
 the Thessalian horsemen were not to be re¬ 
 pulsed by slings, and that all the gold and sil¬ 
 ver, of which the Persian camp displayed such 
 
 I 
 
98 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 a vain parade, might be much more usefully 
 employed in hiring good troops. 
 
 To speak so plainly and honestly to a prince 
 corrupted by flattery, and who considers him¬ 
 self as the most powerful monarch in the world, 
 is highly dangerous. Charidemus experienc¬ 
 ed to his cost the truth of this maxim; for Da¬ 
 rius, though naturally of a mild and gentle dis¬ 
 position, was so provoked at the blunt ness of 
 the Athenian, that he ordered him to be put 
 to death. But that awful prospect by no means 
 altered the tone of Charidemus; who, as 
 Quintus Curtius tells us, when led to execu¬ 
 tion, cried out, “M,, death shall he quickly 
 avenged, even by the very man against whom 
 I have given my best advice. But you shall 
 i\ isli an example to posterity, that when 
 men once allow themselves to he dazzled by 
 prosperity, all the good qualities bestowed by 
 nature, are quickly eradicated.” 
 
 Darius repented, when too late, of having 
 put Charidemus to death. In the mean time 
 he advanced with his army towards the Eu¬ 
 phrates, never beginning his march in the 
 morning till after sunrise. Quintus Curtius 
 has given us a description of the march, or ra¬ 
 ther of the royal procession immediately about 
 the person of the Persian monarch, whereof 
 the substance is as follows. 
 
 There was a body of cavalry composed of 
 men of twelve different nations, and another 
 bodj called the immortal , amounting to 10,000 
 dressed in robes of cloth of gold. The rela- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 99 
 
 ( 
 
 ^ons of the king, to the number of 10,000, 
 were most sumptuously dressed. There were 
 ft lso 365 young boys clothed in purple robes. 
 
 The chariot of the kins was adorned with 
 images of the gods; and two statues, one of 
 war and the other of peace, were placed in the 
 middle of the yoke, and set off with precious 
 stones. Between these statues was an eagle 
 of gold, with its wings extended. The king 
 appeared on this chariot, dressed in the highest 
 magnificence, begirt with a belt of gold, 
 whence depended his scymitar. His head was 
 adorned with tiara, surmounted with a crown 
 of blue and white. On each side of him 
 marched two hundred of his relations. He 
 was followed by 10,000 pike men. His rear 
 was composed of 30,000 foot. Then followed 
 a chariot carrying Sysigambis, the mother of 
 Darius, accompanied by his wife; as also fif¬ 
 teen large chariots, hearing the king’s chil¬ 
 dren, with their governors and eunuchs, an4 
 his concubines, to the number of 360. Six 
 hundred mules, and three hundred waggons, 
 were loaded with money. The wives of the 
 officers of state were all mounted on chariots. 
 The procession was closed by companies of 
 light armed troops. 
 
 One should he inclined to think the descrip¬ 
 tion of this march a mere fable. For what 
 could he more ridiculous and absurd than to 
 take the field with all this pomp? 
 
 Parmenio had already, by the direction of 
 Alexander, taken possession of the pass be- 
 
100 
 
 FLOWERS 01 
 
 tween Syria and Cilicia, to secure a retreat to 
 his troops in case of necessity. lie had like* 
 wise taken possession of the small city of 
 Issus. 
 
 Alexander hearing that Darius Nvas encamp¬ 
 ed at Soca in Assyria, marched directly against 
 him, passed the defile of Syria, and took post 
 near the city of Myriandra. The Greek com¬ 
 manders in the service of Darius, advised that 
 monarch to wait for the enemy on the plains 
 - of Assyria, where he might avail himself of 
 all his strength. This prudent advice was 
 the courtiers accounted traitorous, who there¬ 
 fore were of opinion, that those Greeks, to¬ 
 gether with their men, ought to be immedi¬ 
 ately cut in pieces. But Darius rejected this 
 proposal with horror; and after thanking the 
 Greeks for their advice; set forward to meet 
 his enemy. 
 
 Darius directed his march towards Cilicia, 
 entering into that country by the pass of An> 
 manieus, which lies above that of Syria, and 
 then advanced towards issus, without knowing 
 that he was in the rear of Alexander. Intel¬ 
 ligence being brought him that the Macedonian 
 was Hying, he thought that he had nothing to 
 do but to go in pursuit of him. 
 
 Alexander, hearing of the situation of Da¬ 
 rius’ army, was overjoyed at the thoughts of 
 engaging in so narrow and unequal a spot, 
 where he had room enough to bring all his for¬ 
 ces into action, while on the other hand Dari¬ 
 us could not make use of the twentieth part 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 101 
 
 ot* his. He felt, however, some anxiety at be¬ 
 ing; on the eve of coming to so important an ac¬ 
 tion. But his natural intrepidity quickly got 
 the better of all his apprehensions. 
 
 After causing his troops to refresh them¬ 
 selves, and offering up a solemn sacrifice to the 
 gods, he gave orders at midnight for marching, 
 and brought his army by day-break to the sta¬ 
 tion he intended to occupy. Hearing that Da- 
 rius was within a league and an half of him, 
 he immediately arranged his troops in order of 
 battle. The spot on which they were drawn 
 up was a fine plain in the neighborhood of the 
 river Issus, confined by mountains on one side, 
 and the sea on the other. He disposed his 
 cavalry on the wings, and formed the phalanx 
 into six divisions. Oaterus commanded the 
 infantry on the extremity of the left wing, 
 Parmenio the rest of that wing; and Alexan¬ 
 der himself the right wing. His cavalry was 
 covered by his light horse, and his infantry by 
 a body of archers under Antioclrus. 
 
 Darius placed in the centre of his first line 
 30.000 Geeks, who were in his service, and 
 being all completely armed and disciplined af¬ 
 ter the Grecian manner, formed the chief 
 strength of his army. The rest of his infan¬ 
 try were drawn up behind the first line, except 
 20,000 who were posted on the mountain, on 
 the right of the Macedonians. His cavalry 
 was ordered to cross the river Pi minis, which 
 ran through the middle of the plain; and then 
 
 i ^ 
 
IXOWEllS Of 
 
 1C& 
 
 a large detachment of them pushed on towards 
 Parmenio. 
 
 Alexander observing this motion of the Per¬ 
 sian cavalry, altered his former disposition a 
 little, commanded the Thessalian cavalry to oc¬ 
 cupy the post at which the Persian cavalry 
 seemed to aim, and stationed his light armed 
 troops in front of his infantry. 
 
 The main bodies of both armies coming at 
 last in view of each other, Alexander rode 
 through his ranks, and exhorted his soldiers to 
 do their duty, reminding the Macedonians of 
 their repeated victories in Europe, and of their 
 recent and most glorious success at the Grani- 
 eus* and assuring them that a single victory w ould 
 render them masters of the Persian empire, 
 exhorting the Greeks to reeal to their remem¬ 
 brance the heroic behavior of their ancestors 
 at Marathon, Thermopylje, and Safamis, and 
 the miseries brought upon their country by the 
 Persians; and animating the Illyrians and Thra¬ 
 cians with the hopes of the immense plunder 
 which the Persian army, if beaten, would afford 
 them. Upon this they all called aloud to he 
 led on to the engagement. 
 
 The right wing of the Macedonians, to avoid 
 as much as possible the shower of darts pour¬ 
 ed upon them by the Persians, plunged imme¬ 
 diately into the river, and advanced to the 
 charge. The shock w as extremely violent, and 
 they fought man to man. Alexander was very 
 desirous of having the honour to kill Darius 
 with his own hand; and the sight of that mo¬ 
 narch, conspicuously mounted on his superb* 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 106 
 
 chariot, redoubled the desire of the Macedoni¬ 
 an hero, who instantly pushed forward, and ex¬ 
 erted his utmost efforts to reach him. The 
 battle round the king becomes very desperate, 
 and a great number of Persian noblemen 
 are killed fighting bravely. The horses of 
 Darius being wounded, break loose from the 
 yoke. Darius jumps from that chariot, mounts 
 another, makes his escape, and is followed Jjy 
 the whole right wing of his army. 
 
 On the other hand, the rest of the Macedo¬ 
 nian army being attacked in flank by the Gre¬ 
 cian troops, as warlike and well disciplined as 
 themselves, had occasion for all their bravery 
 to support the charge. The battle between them 
 was very bloody and doubtful. But the Mace¬ 
 donian right wing, now victorious, flies to the 
 assistance of the left, attacks the Greeks in 
 flank, and obliges them to give way. At the 
 same time the Persian had charged the Thes¬ 
 salian cavalry, and had at first broken through 
 several squadrons. 
 
 The Thessalians affecting to take flight, as if 
 struck with panic, the Persians pursue them in 
 great disorder. But the Thessalians rallying 
 all of a sudden, renew the engagement. Intel¬ 
 ligence arriving in the mean time, that Darius 
 had fled, the Persian horsemen are discouraged, 
 betake themselves to flight, and great numbers 
 of them are cut off in their retreat. The rout 
 is now general. Eight thousand Greeks make 
 their escape, and retire towards Lebos. The 
 barbarians take different roads. Some flee 
 towards Persia, some take refuge in the woods^ 
 
104 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 The Macedonians, in (he mean lime, possess 
 themselves of Darius’ camp, where they find 
 his mother and his wife, together with two 
 princesses and a son, his infant children. 
 
 The Persians lost a vast number of men in 
 this battle, while the loss on the side of the 
 Macedonians was very inconsiderable. Alex- 
 ander himself was wounded in the thigh by a 
 sword; hut the wound was attended with no 
 dangerous consequences. 
 
 CHAP. XLYII. 
 
 Of Alexander'$ treatment of Jhirias 9 Family . 
 
 ALEXANDER, weary of pursuing Darius, 
 returned to the Persian camp, where he gave 
 a grand entertainment to his principal officers. 
 In the mean time the noise of crying and 
 mourning reached his ears. This proceeded 
 from the mother and wife of Darius, who were 
 made prisoners, and on seeing Darius’ chariot 
 and bow, which Alexander had taken in the 
 pursuit, they imagined Darius was killed; and 
 were bewailing his death in the most disconso¬ 
 late manner. 
 
 Alexander, moved with their misfortune, 
 sent Leonatus, one of his officers, to assure 
 them that Darius was alive. But the wo¬ 
 men seeing Leonatus enter, imagined that he 
 w as sent to put them to death, and intreated to 
 have permission before their execution to bury 
 the body of Darius. Leonatus soon made 
 
AXiCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 105 
 
 them sensible of their mistake, and assured 
 I hem of an honorable protection from Alexan¬ 
 der. That prince, after visiting the wounded, 
 and seeing the dead buried, testified great joy 
 to his officers on account of his victory, bestow¬ 
 ed the highest commendations on their bravery, 
 and loaded them with presents. Then he went 
 to pay a visit to Sysigambis, and the other 
 pri ncesses, and entered their tent with no other 
 attendant than his favorite Ephestion. 
 
 This interview was extremely moving, and 
 exhibited those distinguised characters in a 
 point of view so very affecting, that the greatest 
 painters have exerted their utmost skill to eter¬ 
 nize the scene, with the most elegant touches 
 of the pencil. Ephestion being of the same 
 age with Alexander, and of a more advanta¬ 
 geous stature, was mistaken for the king by 
 (lie ladies, who accordingly threw themselves 
 at his feet. Sysigambis on being informed of 
 her mistake, prostrated herself before Alexan¬ 
 der, and apologized for herself, because she 
 had never seen him before. But Alexander, 
 raising her from the ground, said, “My dear 
 mother, you are not mistaken, for he islikewise 
 Alexander.” A noble expression, as honora¬ 
 ble for the prince as for the favorite. 
 
 Sysigambis, amidst all her grief, expressed 
 fhc highest gratitude for the favors and oblig¬ 
 ing attention he had shewn them; and Alexan¬ 
 der took the son of Darius in his arms and ca¬ 
 ressed hi tn very fondly. 
 
 Here the real heroism and virtue of Alex- 
 
106 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 under shone forth in full splendor; for lie ap¬ 
 peared to be master of himself on an occasion 
 when the greatest heroes and conquerors have 
 failed. He gave orders to treat the princesses 
 with all the respect due to their rank, making 
 his camp as sacred an asylum for their virtue, 
 as any temple; nor would he. afterwards trust 
 himself in the presence of Darius’ queen, who 
 was a woman of singular beauty. To under¬ 
 stand the full extent of his magnanimity on 
 this occasion, we must remember (hat Alex¬ 
 ander was then in tlie bloom of vouth, unmar- 
 ried, and a conqueror. But far from attempt¬ 
 ing to derive any ungenerous advantage from 
 his victory, he studied to alleviate the misfor¬ 
 tunes of his illustrious captives, by the most 
 polite attention and the most respectful kind¬ 
 ness and indulgence. 
 
 CHAP. XLYIIL 
 
 A / 
 
 * 
 
 A Siclonian Anecdote . 
 
 UPON Alexander’s arrival at Phoenicia, the 
 Sidonians paid him their homage with great 
 pleasure, because eighteen years before, Ochi- 
 us had destroyed their city and cut off most of 
 the inhabitants. Their king Strato having de¬ 
 clared for Darius, was deprived of the crown 
 by Alexander, who desired Ephestion to pitch 
 upon any of the Sidonians whom he thought 
 most worthy of succeeding to that dfnity.— 
 Ephestion accordingly offered the sceptre to two 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 ior 
 
 \ 
 
 young men who were brothers, and in whose 
 house he happened to lodge. But they gene¬ 
 rously declined the honor, because they were 
 not of the royal blood. Ephestion, struck 
 with admiration at their magnanimity, begged 
 them to inform him of any person who had that 
 advantage. They thereupon named Abdolony- 
 mus, whose generosity and integrity had re¬ 
 duced him to such poverty, that he was obliged 
 to cultivate bis garden with bis own hands for 
 bis subsistence. The tw o young men were de¬ 
 sired to find him, and to acquaint him with his 
 good fortune. Having accordingly gone to 
 him, they saluted him as king, and told him he 
 must throw aside the wretched apparel he was 
 then wearing, and put on the royal robe they 
 had brought him. It, was with great difficulty 
 that they convinced him they were not jesting. 
 “Assume,” said they, “with these royal robes, 
 sentiments of a king: preserve on the throne 
 that virtue which has made you worthy of it; 
 and when you shall there preside as the abiter 
 of life and death, forget not the situation from 
 which you were exalted to that important dig¬ 
 nity.” 
 
 All the inhabitants of Sidon were overjoyed 
 at hearing on whom the choice had fallen. 
 Alexander desired to see the new king; and 
 having asked him whether he had been able 
 to support with patience his former situation? 
 “Would to Heaven,” answered Abdolonyinus, 
 “I may be able to support with equal resolu¬ 
 tion the crown which you have been pleased to 
 
108 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 place on my head.” Alexander conceived a 
 high opinion of the virtue of Abdolonymus, 
 and ordered all the furniture and rich effects of 
 the late king Strato to be given to him. 
 
 CHAP. XL IX. 
 
 Of the Siege and Taking of Tyre. 
 
 NEW Tyre, which was situated opposite to 
 Old Tyre, seemed to be impregnable without a 
 fleet. But Alexander, who never was repulsed 
 by any obstacles, undertook to join the island 
 to tlie continent by a causeway. 
 
 The work was forwarded by infinite labor, 
 but was destroyed by the Tyrians. The ope¬ 
 rations were renewed with fresh ardor, till the 
 Sidonians, and some other people, whom Alex¬ 
 ander treated with gentleness, at last found 
 ships for carrying on the enterprise. 
 
 He then hastened the siege, and all sorts of 
 warlike instruments were employed by both 
 parties. Besiegers and besieged equally sig¬ 
 nalized their courage and abilities, till the place 
 was taken by storm, after seven mouths resist¬ 
 ance. About eight thousand Tyrians were put 
 to death; thirty thousand prisoners were sold, 
 and the conqueror offered up sacrifices to Her¬ 
 cules upon the ruins of Tyre» 
 
ANCIENT history. 
 
 109 
 
 CHAP. L. 
 
 Alexander visits Jerusalem , and afterwards 
 
 enters Egypt. 
 
 ACCORDING to Josephus, the Jewish his¬ 
 torian, Alexander went next to Jerusalem, with 
 an intention to use the people of that place as 
 he had done those of Tyre, because they re¬ 
 fused to supply him with provisions, upon pre¬ 
 tence of the oath which they had sworn to the 
 king of Persia. 
 
 Jaddus, the chief priest, went out to meet 
 him, dressed in his pontifical habit, when Al¬ 
 exander, struck with his figure, prostrated 
 himself to worship the name of God, which he 
 carried written on a plate of gold; declaring 
 at the same time, that this very high-priest 
 had formerly appeared to him in a dream, and 
 had promised him the conquest of Asia. Such 
 a wonderful event should be confirmed by 
 some other evidence. Rut neither the scrip¬ 
 tures nor profane history make any mention 
 of it. 
 
 Alexander having taken tlr3 city Of Gaza, 
 which was nobly defended by Betis, entered 
 Egypt, where he was received with every ex¬ 
 pression of joy and satisfaction, the Persians 
 having made themselves detested by despising 
 the religion of the eountry. He allowed the 
 Egyptians to retain their own laws and cus¬ 
 toms, which was a very proper step to make 
 
 K 
 
110 
 
 flowers op 
 
 them pleased with his holding the sovereign 
 authority. 
 
 A silly piece of vanity led him to the tem¬ 
 ple of Jupiter Ammon, across the scorching 
 sands, where fifty thousand men of the army 
 commanded hy Camhyses, had been buried. 
 All the historians tell us. that lie extricated 
 himself by a kind of miracle. They say that 
 lie was desirous to be thought the son of Ju¬ 
 piter, and that the oracle gave him that title. 
 This perhaps may he true, for who dared to 
 oppose him? But his mother Olympias wrote 
 to him in raillery, not to set her and Juno by 
 the ears. 
 
 He founded the city of Alexandria in Egypt, 
 which was an undertaking more worthy of a 
 great man, and undoubtedly much more to his 
 honour than the sacreligious flattery ottered to 
 him by the priest of Jupiter. 
 
 CHAP. LT. 
 
 Of Darius ’ offers to Alexander, the Battle of 
 Arhela, and the Death of Darius . 
 
 SUCCESS becomes a dreadful poison to 
 the minds of men, and it produced very extra¬ 
 ordinary effects upon a hero who seemed to he 
 intended as an object for the world to admire. 
 Darius made an offer to Alexander of ten thou¬ 
 sand talents, and his daughter Statira in mar¬ 
 riage, with the whole country lying between 
 the river Euphrates and the Hellespont. Pru- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 Ill 
 
 dence could not have left him a moment to 
 hesitate. Parmenio said, that if he were Al¬ 
 exander, he would accept of these offers. “And 
 so would I,” answered Alexander, “were 1 
 Pai'memo.” He therefore informed Darius, 
 that he had no occasion for his money; and 
 that with respect to the conquered provinces, 
 he offered with a had grace what was not in 
 his power to bestow; but that lie might, when¬ 
 ever he pleased, venture another battle, which, 
 in all probability, would quickly decide which 
 of them should remain the conqueror and mas¬ 
 ter. This answer convinced the Persian mo¬ 
 narch, that he had now no alternative but once 
 more to try the fate of war. 
 
 Darius had time to assembly seven or eight 
 hundred thousand men, and Alexander, always 
 «t<<?nde.d with success, passed the river Eu¬ 
 phrates and Tigris without opposition, where 
 he presented himself in the face of the en¬ 
 emy, placing his whole dependence on the 
 known valor of his troops. The advice which 
 Parmenio gave him to attack the enemy in the 
 night, must have lost him this advantage, hut 
 he replied with judgment, as well as great¬ 
 ness of mind, that it did not suit him to steal 
 a victory. 
 
 The famous battle of Arbela brought him 
 to the very summit of prosperity. The left 
 wing, which Parmenio commanded, was in 
 danger, and the cavalry of Darius had begun 
 to plunder the camp, when Alexander, who 
 was successful on the other wing, sent orders 
 
ii% 
 
 'MOWERS 01 
 
 to Parmcnio not to be uneasy about his bag¬ 
 gage, but to think only of conquering. Which 
 order had a wonderful effect, for he very soon 
 gained a complete victory. About three hun¬ 
 dred thousand of the enemy were killed in the 
 field, and only twelve hundred Macedonians. 
 
 Though Darius had an infinite number of 
 men, yet he had but few soldiers in his army, 
 which was the cause of bis misfortune. lie 
 shewed no want of courage during the action, 
 but was Jiurried along by his flying troops. 
 
 We cannot withhold our praise or compas¬ 
 sion from that unfortunate prince, who became 
 the victim of another person’s ambition. Gen¬ 
 erous and peaceable, he met with the fate that 
 is due only to tyrants. After having passed a 
 river in his flight, he refused to let the bridge 
 be broken down, as he could not think of pre¬ 
 serving his own life, at the expense of the 
 lives of so many of his subjects, who were 
 exposed to the sword of the enemy. Being 
 betrayed by Bessus, one of his Satraps, be 
 declined to trust bis person to a guard of Gre¬ 
 cians, who were attached to him, lest it should 
 he thought an affront to the Persians. Con¬ 
 stantly pursued by Alexander, he was assassi¬ 
 nated by Bessus, and when dying, charged a 
 Macedonian, if we may believe Plutarch, to 
 thank his enemy for bis behavior to his mo¬ 
 ther, wife, and children. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY, 
 
 1.13 
 
 CHAP. LII. 
 
 Alexander's Degeneracy and Death . 
 
 FROM this time forward, we can scarcely 
 trace any of those virtuous sentiments in Alex¬ 
 ander, of which he had before given so many 
 proofs. Dissipation, cruelty and ingratitude, 
 tarnished all his glory; and he, who formerly 
 would have no cooks, but sobriety and exer¬ 
 cise, now passed the day and night in riots and 
 feasting. He became fond of the luxury and 
 ornaments of the Persian kings, which he had 
 formerly despised, and looked with contempt 
 on the dress and manners of the brave Mace® 
 donians, who had been the instruments by 
 which he had gained so many victories. He 
 desired that the people should adore him. and 
 laid himself open to murmurings and rebellion* 
 As Babylon was the greatest and most beau ¬ 
 tiful city of the east, Alexander resolved to 
 beautify it still more, and make it the seat of 
 his empire. In the first place, therefore, he 
 gave orders to repair the bulwark, which had 
 been built to confine the Euphrates to its chan¬ 
 nel, but which the river had in a great mea¬ 
 sure demolished. This useful project, how¬ 
 ever, as well as that of rebuilding the temp/e 
 of Belus, which had been ruined by Xerxes, 
 as the idol worshipped in it had been by Cyrus, 
 together with all his other projects, were put 
 a slop to b} his death, 
 k % 
 
114- 
 
 flowers OF 
 
 The melancholy idea of approaching death, 
 had now laid fast hold on the imaginations of 
 Alexander. Every accident, therefore, struck 
 him with terror, and carried an evil presage 
 along with it. He became a downright slave 
 to superstition, and was perpetually offering up 
 sacrifices to render fate propitious, and to ob¬ 
 tain the knowledge of futurity. To divert the 
 constant stings of apprehension; he employed 
 his time in an uninterrupted course of feasting 
 and drinking, particularly the latter, in which 
 he indulged himself to such excess, that he 
 thereby greatly accelerated kis death, After 
 having at one of these feasts already drank to 
 great excess* he resolved, nevertheless, to emp¬ 
 ty the cup of Hercules, which contained six 
 bottles. But he had no sooner swallowed it, 
 than he fell to the ground, and was seized 
 with a violent fever, which quickly reduced 
 him to the point of death. Finding that there 
 was no hope of recovery left, he delivered his 
 ring to Perdiceas, and permitted all his soldiers 
 to kiss his hand. On being asked to whom he 
 left the empire? “To the most worthy,” an¬ 
 swered he; adding, at the same time, that he 
 foresaw with what strange rites they would cel¬ 
 ebrate his funeral. Ferdiecas having asked him 
 how soon he desired they should pay divine^ 
 honors to his memory, he answered, “When 
 ye shall be happy.” These were his last words. 
 He died at the age of 32, after reigning twelve 
 years. He first married Roxana, daughter of 
 Oxyarfes, king of the Sacse, a lady of cxqui- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 
 
 lio 
 
 site beauty, by whom he had a son; and after 
 her death, he married Statjra, the eldest daugh¬ 
 ter of Darius. 
 
 Some authors, and Quintus Curtius among 
 the rest, pretend that he died of poison. But 
 besides many other irrefragable arguments to 
 the contrary, it is clear that he died of exces¬ 
 sive drinking, and not by poison, from this 
 single circumstance, that in the warm climate 
 of Babylon, his body continued for several days 
 without any appearance of corruption. 
 
 As soon as his death was known, nothing 
 was heard but weeping and lamentation. The 
 victors and the vanquished equally bewailed 
 his death; the Persians calling him the mildest 
 and justest of their monarclis; the Macedoni¬ 
 ans, the best and the bravest prince in the 
 world* The grief of the latter was heighten¬ 
 ed by their present melancholy situation beyond 
 the Euphrates, and in the midst of their ene¬ 
 mies, foreseeing at the same time, the wars and 
 divisions that must unavoidably arise from his 
 having named no successor. 
 
 Sysigambis mourned his death as sincerely 
 as she had done that of her own son; and 
 finding herself by this event without further 
 resource or hope, she gave way to the sug¬ 
 gestions of despair, and starved herself to 
 death. 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 116 
 
 CHAP. LIIL 
 
 Character of Alexander, 
 
 ALEXANDER was born with the finest 
 natural parts; and his magnanimity and lofty 
 sentiments were almost without example, lie 
 early discovered marks of the greatest gene¬ 
 rosity; but he gave as early proofs of unequal¬ 
 led ambition. He received a perfect educa¬ 
 tion, under the most skilful of masters, Aris¬ 
 totle, who took great pains to cultivate his 
 genius, and instruct him not only in the fine 
 arts, but in the most sublime sciences. The 
 scholar’s progress corresponded to the zeal and 
 skill of his instructor. 
 
 To judge how far he possessed every talent 
 of a complete general, it is only necessary to 
 contemplate his passage of the Granicus, his 
 battles of Issus, and Arbela, and bis siege of 
 Tyre. We shall there perceive his skill in 
 drawing up an army in order of battle, his prer- 
 senee of mind in the heat of action, his intre¬ 
 pidity in the midst of danger, and his firmness 
 and constancy under disappointments. 
 
 His behavior after the battle of Issus, is 
 perhaps the action of his whole life that did 
 him the most honor; for, on that occasion, he 
 gained a more difficult victory over his own 
 passions, than that over the Persian monarch. 
 H is conduct to the wife and daughters of Da¬ 
 rius, who found, in his camp, an asylum for 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 117 
 
 their honor and virtue, places him, in that re¬ 
 spect, on a level with the elder Seipio Africa- 
 mis, and bespeaks him truly great. 
 
 But the latter part of his life exhibits an 
 important lesson to mankind in general, as well 
 as to kings. They will there see the effects 
 which a great ilow of success could have upon 
 a noble and generous soul, who must have 
 been a model to future heroes, if he had not 
 been contaminated by vice. The sudden tran- 
 sition from good to bad, from prudence to fol¬ 
 ly, from moderation to violence, from glory to 
 ignominy, must make every rational being 
 tremble upon the brink of the abyss dug by 
 the passions. 
 
 After the siege of Tyre, we perceive the 
 good qualities of Alexander to be daily degen¬ 
 erating. On seeing him expose his own life, 
 and that of his troops, in a journey through 
 the burning desarts of Lybia, with the absurd 
 view of having himself acknowledged to be 
 the son of Jupiter Ammon, we wonder what 
 had become of his former prudence. We are 
 shocked to see him give himself up to such im¬ 
 moderate excesses of drinking. What num¬ 
 berless actions of violence and injustice have 
 we not to arraign him with, after his subvert¬ 
 ing the Persian empire, by his victory at Ar~ 
 bela, and the death of Darius! Thenceforward 
 he shews himself an unprovoked persecutor of 
 nations who desired only to live in peace. He 
 appears no longer in the light of a conqueror, 
 still less in that of a hero; he is a downright 
 
118 
 
 fXOWERS OF 
 
 usurper, a robber, a scourge sent by the Al¬ 
 mighty Disposer of all things, to execute his 
 vengeance on a guilty world. 
 
 He seems to have placed his glory in mak¬ 
 ing himself the terror of mankind; and his 
 extravagant ambition confined itself neither 
 by rule not* measure. On hearing the philo¬ 
 sopher Anaxarchus give it as his opinion, that 
 the universe contained an infinity of worlds, 
 he is said to have wept, because it was impos¬ 
 sible for him to conquer any more of them 
 than one. 
 
 His rashness, too, deserves to be numbered 
 among his faults. We see him on all occa¬ 
 sions exposing his life like a simple volunteer, 
 advancing the first, to the assault, climbing up 
 steep and dangerous precipices, and constantly 
 studying to perform the most hazardous and 
 daring exploits, trusting still to his good for¬ 
 tune, and in a manner to miracles. Such is 
 far from being the glory at which a sovereign 
 ought to aim. He should always hear in mind, 
 that he is responsible for his life to his soldiers 
 and to his subjects. 
 
 4 
 
 CHAP. LIT. 
 
 Of the Olympic Games . 
 
 THE games and combats so much in use 
 among the Greeks, were principally encour¬ 
 aged on account of their being so admirably 
 calculated for rendering the bodies of their 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 119 
 
 youth robust and vigorous, and for enabling 
 th em to support the fatigues of war; and like¬ 
 wise, because they formed a part of their re¬ 
 ligious worship. 
 
 Of these exercises the famous heroes of an ¬ 
 tiquity, such as Hercules, Theseus, Castor and 
 Pollux, were the original inventors: and the 
 greatest poets aspired to glory, by celebrating 
 the praises of those who conquered and excel¬ 
 led in'them. In process of time, public in¬ 
 structors of these exercises arose, who formed 
 a separate profession by themselves, and often 
 made an ostentatious display of their skill, by 
 contending with one another in public. 
 
 Of these games there were four principal, 
 and more solemn exhibitions, namely the 
 Olympic, the Pythian, the Ncmean, and the 
 Isthmian. 
 
 The Olympic games were the most famous 
 of all. They are said to have been instituted 
 by Pelops. No particular time was at first set 
 apart for their celebration. But, about the 
 year before Christ 781, Iphitus, king of Elis, 
 fixed it to every fourth year. These games 
 were consecrated to Jupiter, and were perform¬ 
 ed in the neighborhood of Olympia, a city in 
 the district of Pisa. 
 
 An Olympiad was tlie period of four years, 
 being the space of time which intervened be¬ 
 tween one celebration and another. Ancient 
 authors reckon their chronology by Olympiads, 
 beginning with the Olympiad which happened 
 in the year before Christ 776 . 
 
120 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 The Olympic games were, no doubt, at iirst 
 established by the Greeks, as well with a view 
 to draw together the leading men in the diffe¬ 
 rent states of Greece, that they might have an 
 opportunity of deliberating on matters of ge¬ 
 neral concern, as to inspire the youth with a 
 love of glory. 
 
 The Greeks exerted their utmost efforts to 
 support the magnificence of these games, 
 which were regularly celebrated whilst that 
 people maintained their liberty. The vast con¬ 
 course of spectators who constantly flocked 
 thither, inspired the combatants with the high¬ 
 est spirit of emulation, and to come off victo¬ 
 rious was esteemed the greatest glory. 
 
 According to Horace, victory there raised 
 the conquerors to the rank of gods. The year 
 was distinguished by the name of the conque¬ 
 ror in the chariot races, accounted the most 
 honorable of all, and his praises was sung by 
 the most famous poets. The prize was a crown 
 of laurel. 
 
 CHAP. LV. 
 
 Of Running and Horse Races . 
 
 RUNNING w r as considered as the princi¬ 
 pal exercise in the Olympic games; which, 
 therefore, always opened with the foot races. 
 
 The course was called the Stadium, from 
 the measure of that name, containing about 
 66(]i feet* which was originally the whole space 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 m 
 
 set apart for the performance of all the exer¬ 
 cises. But, in process of time, not only the 
 particular spot within which the disputants 
 contended, hut likewise that occupied by the 
 spectators, was called by that appellation, 
 though perhaps exceeding the extent of several 
 stadia. 
 
 In the middle of the stadium were displayed 
 the different prizes destined for the victors. At 
 one extremity of the lists was placed the bar¬ 
 rier, or starting place, formed by a cord ex~ 
 tended, on the outside of which were ranged 
 the runnefs, and also the chariots. The draw¬ 
 ing of this cord was the signal for starting. 
 At the other extremity of the lists was placed 
 the goal for those who ran. 
 
 The runners were drawn up in a straight 
 line, and the moment the signal was given, 
 they hurried towards the goal with wonderful 
 rapidity. In the shortest race, he who first 
 arrived at the goal was declared the victor.—■ 
 But there was a longer race, in which after 
 reaching the goal they returned to the barrier. 
 Besides these, there were others of‘greater 
 extent still; and in the longest of all, the dis¬ 
 putants were obliged to double the goal twelve 
 times. 
 
 Horse races though held in a considerable 
 degree of estimation, were not so common. 
 And indeed in those ancient times, when the 
 use of stirrups were unknown, it must have re¬ 
 quired very great dexterity to contend in them. 
 
 L 
 
122 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. LYI. 
 
 Of the Chariot liaces . 
 
 THE chariot races were the most famous 
 of ail, not only because ancient princes and he¬ 
 roes generally fought from chariots, but like¬ 
 wise, because those that contended for the 
 prize in that exercise at the Olympic games, 
 were persons of the noblest birth, or distin¬ 
 guished by the greatness of their exploits.— 
 Two kings of Syracuse, Gelo and Hiero, and 
 Philip of Macedon, having obtained the palm 
 of victory in this dispute, accounted it among 
 their highest honors. Those chariots were 
 drawn by two or four horses yoked a-brcast.— 
 The station of each chariot was settled by lot; 
 for some stations were much more advanta¬ 
 geous than others. Those, for example, who 
 were ranged on the left, were nearer the goal, 
 around which they were obliged to turn, than 
 those on the right, which had a larger circuit 
 to perform. But the stations occupied b,y each 
 before starting, were necessarily altered in the 
 course of the race; for the fleetest horses, and 
 the most skilful charioteers, would certainly 
 take possession of the most convenient sta¬ 
 tions. 
 
 Of all the Athenians, Alcibiades was the 
 most ambitious to distinguish himself in these 
 games. For that purpose he kept a great num¬ 
 ber of horses; and once sent no fewer than se* 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 ±23 
 
 ven chariots to contend for the prize. On the 
 day that he won the three first prizes, he gave 
 a grand entertainment to all the spectators,who 
 must have formed a vast multitude. These 
 victories of Alcibiades were immortalized by a 
 famous ode, composed by the celebrated Euri¬ 
 pides. 
 
 It was not necessary for the disputant in the 
 chariot races to conduct his chariot in person; 
 it was sufficient if he were present, or even if 
 he sent thither his horses. Thus Philip was 
 at Potidea, when he received the news of his 
 victory in the chariot races at the Olympic 
 games. It may be observed, too, that even 
 women were permitted to contend for the prize 
 in that dispute, as well as the men. We learn 
 from history, that Cynisca, the sister of Age- 
 silaus king of Sparta, was the first woman who 
 set the example, and that she gained the vic¬ 
 tory in the race of the chariots drawn by four 
 horses. 
 
 The victor, after being adorned with a crown 
 of olive, received a palm into his hand, and 
 was conducted through the stadium by a he¬ 
 rald, who proclaimed him victor by the sound 
 of a trumpet. This was accompanied by loud 
 shouts from the spectators. On returning to 
 his native city, he made his entry through a 
 breach in the wall, made for that purpose* 
 mounted on a chariot drawn by four horses, all 
 his fellow-citizens going out to meet him. 
 
124. 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 . CHAP. LYII. 
 
 Of the Gymnastic Exercises. 
 
 THE comb'ats of the Athletav or the Gym¬ 
 nastic exercises, formed the remaining part of 
 the entertainment at the Olympic games. The 
 Athletic prepared themselves for this public 
 exhibition of their dexterity by a regular edu¬ 
 cation; and none but free Greeks, of irre¬ 
 proachable moral characters, were admitted 
 into their number. They were obliged, pre¬ 
 viously to their appearing at the public games, 
 to spend ten months in the Gymnasia; where 
 under direction of proper masters appointed 
 for the purpose, they observed the most rigid 
 temperance to harden their bodies, and to adapt 
 them to the requisite exercises. Before en¬ 
 gaging, the Athletge had their bodies carefully 
 rubbed and anointed, that their limbs and 
 joints might thereby be rendered more strong 
 and pliable. 
 
 In wrestling, each contending party prac¬ 
 tised his utmost strength, agility and address, 
 to throw down his adversary. But if lie, who 
 was thrown down, carried his opponent along 
 with him, the dispute was not at an end, for 
 they still continued struggling, and he who got 
 uppermost at last, and obliged the other to 
 demand quarter, was declared conqueror. Mi¬ 
 lo of Crotono and Polydamus, were the most 
 renowned wrestlers of antiquity. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 125 
 
 In the exercise of boxing, the combatants 
 had their fists armed with eestuses. The ces- 
 tus was a sort of gauntlet, or glove, composed 
 of leather straps, lined with plates of iron, to 
 render the blows more violent. To preserve 
 their heads from contusions, they wore a sort 
 of large cap. Sometimes, after contending a 
 long while, they were so exhausted as to* be 
 obliged to suspend the combat for a few mi¬ 
 nutes, that they might draw breath, and re¬ 
 fresh themselves. In these engagements they 
 were sometimes frightfully disfigured, having 
 all their body covered with miserable contu- 
 
 o 
 
 sions, an eye knocked out, or their jaw-bones 
 broken; and sometimes the combatants drop¬ 
 ped down on the spot. 
 
 CHAP. LVIII. 
 
 Of the fiiscus, 
 
 THE discus was an exercise in which the 
 disputants exerted all their strength to throw 
 a piece of stone or lead, of a round form, and 
 generally of such a weight, that it was with dif¬ 
 ficulty carried in both hands. This exercise 
 was also calculated to strengthen the body, and 
 make it bear more easily the burthens neces¬ 
 sary to he carried in war. Their posture when 
 they threw the smaller discus was thus: They 
 advanced one. leg to a convenient distance be¬ 
 fore the other, bending their body, and holding 
 the discus poised on one arm, leaning their 
 
 I 2 
 
126 
 
 FX-OWEliS OF 
 
 whole weight on the foremost leg; then, after 
 two or three motions, in the manner they were 
 to throw, in order more properly to balance 
 their body, they discharged the discus, he who 
 threw it farthest won the prize. But besides 
 this, they had several other methods to throw 
 the discus, generally making use of both arms 
 aft the same time. 
 
 CHAP. LIX* 
 
 Of the Poetical and Historical Compositions 
 read at the Olympic Games . 
 
 BESIDES these exercises above described, 
 it was usual at the Olympic games, for the 
 poets and finest geniuses of the times, to con¬ 
 tribute still further to the public entertainment, 
 by reciting to that vast assembly some of their 
 best compositions. There Herodotus publicly 
 read his history, which was so highly relished 
 and applauded, that each of the nine books, 
 whereof it consisted, was honored with the 
 pame of one of the nine muses. In like man¬ 
 ner Lysias, the famous Athenian orator, reci¬ 
 ted an oration, in which he congratulated the 
 Greeks on their having humbled the power tyf 
 Dionysius the tyrant. Several other orators 
 likewise went thither to read some favorite dis¬ 
 course. 
 
 The victors in those games had a right to 
 precedency at all the public shows. Besides 
 this general indulgence, they were particularly 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 127 
 
 honored at Sparta, by the privilege of being 
 maintained at the public charge, and of fight¬ 
 ing nearest the person of the king. The praises 
 of the victors were commonly the subject of 
 the odes composed by the poets in those days. 
 Pindar and Simonides made this the theme of 
 all their works of that kind. 
 
 CHAP. LX. 
 
 Of Milo the Crotonian. 
 
 ONE of the most famous combatants in the 
 Gymnastic exercises, as we before observed, 
 was Milo the Crotonian, so called from his be¬ 
 ing a native of the city of Crotonia. He is re¬ 
 nowned in history for his prodigious strength, 
 and his great courage. When but a very 
 young man, he was six times victor at the 
 Olympic games. 
 
 The instances of iiis strength, and no less 
 surprising stomach, told us by historians, ap¬ 
 pear almost incredible. He is said to have 
 carried on his shoulders, the whole length of 
 a stadium, an ox four years old; to have killed 
 it with a single blow of his fist: and to have 
 eaten the whole carcase in one day. His 
 strength, however, proved at last his destruc¬ 
 tion. For having attempted to open entirely 
 the body of an oak tree, which he found a lit¬ 
 tle open already, the wood closed upon his 
 hands; and being unable to disengage himself, 
 he was devoured by the wild beasts. 
 
i 28 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. LXI. 
 
 , * 
 
 Of Theatrical Representations, 
 
 THE Athenians were passionately fond of 
 theatrical representations. Among them judges 
 were appointed to examine each piece before it 
 came to be publicly acted, and the representa¬ 
 tions were conducted with the highest magnifi¬ 
 cence. 
 
 Tragedy was not only invented, but carried 
 to the highest perfection among the Greeks. 
 Thespis may be said to be the inventor of it. 
 Esehylus improved upon bis plan, and Sopho¬ 
 cles and Euripides completed the work. 
 
 Terror and pity constituted the soul of the 
 ancient Greek tragedy. For that ingenious 
 people, who in every art and science made na¬ 
 ture their sole model, discovered that these two 
 passions were the best adapted to affect the 
 minds of the spectators. They seem to have 
 disdained to move their audience, by exhibit¬ 
 ing their heroes as slaves of the softer pas¬ 
 sions, and unmanned bv the effeminate cares of 
 love, for they regarded weaknesses of that sort 
 as a stain on their characters. 
 
 Comedy kept pace with her sister at Athens, 
 and arrived to perfection much about the same 
 time. The Athenians took great delight in the 
 liveliness and satirical humor of its represen¬ 
 tations. being well pleased to see the blemishes 
 in the characters of their superiors and content* 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 12i# 
 
 poraries exposed and censured by the ingenious 
 touches of pleasantry and wit. 
 
 But we are justly surprised at the extreme 
 licentiousness of the Athenian comic poets; for 
 they not only made the most illustrious char¬ 
 acters of their age the butt of their ridicule, 
 but even meddled with those of their gods. 
 They likewise presumed to touch on state af¬ 
 fairs, and introduced the faults of government 
 as the subject of their mirth and pleasantry. 
 This excessive licentiousness was one of the con¬ 
 sequences of the popular government. 
 
 Cratinus, Eupoli?, and Aristophanes, were 
 the most famous of the Greek comic poets; hut 
 of the two first none of the performances have 
 come down to us, and only a few of those of 
 the latter. 
 
 CHAP. LXII. 
 
 Of Music and Dancing. 
 
 MUSIC, which holds a middle rank be¬ 
 tween the exercises of the body and the quali¬ 
 fications of the mind, was likewise carefully 
 cultivated by the Greeks, and considered as a 
 necessary and polite accomplishment. The 
 ancients, indeed, ascribed to this art the most 
 wonderful effects, believing that it had charms 
 to soothe (he passions, to soften the manners, 
 and even to humanize barbarous and savage 
 dispositions. 
 
 On this account, Socrates himself was not 
 
130 
 
 FLOWERS QF 
 
 ashamed when pretty far advanced in years, to 
 learn to play on musical instruments. And 
 Themistocles, otherwise so well accomplished, 
 was thought deficient in merit, because he could 
 not touch the lyre. Even Plato, the gravest 
 philosopher of antiquity, deemed music of such 
 importance, that in his book of laws he takes 
 much pains to prescribe proper rules for the 
 regulation of it. 
 
 Dancing too was reckoned an essential part 
 in the education of the ancient Greeks. Its 
 principal aim with them was to bestow on th© 
 body an unconstrained and easy motion, and a 
 graceful air. Hence even Epaminondas, one 
 of the most perfect characters Greece ever 
 produced, was praised for dancing gracefully, 
 and for playing skilfully on the flute. 
 
 V 
 
 CHAP. LXIII. 
 
 Of Pindar. 
 
 % 
 
 PINDAR was a famous Lyric poet. His dis¬ 
 tinguishing characteristics arc grancWp, cubli- 
 mity, and enthusiasm. His writings have given 
 us a standard of the greatest elevation and 
 transport, to which it is possible for poetry to 
 be advanced.—There is something so vast in 
 his designs, so strong and lively in his thoughts, 
 and so pompous and daring in his expressions 
 and measures, that it requires scarce less at¬ 
 tention to read him than to imitate others. For 
 which reason his muse has been censured as 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 131 
 
 too unbridled and irregular. But the design 
 of an ode being not §o much to inform our 
 judgment as to raise our fancy, this irregular¬ 
 ity is not the least of its beauties. It is agree¬ 
 able to the rapture which the poet feels. His 
 spirits are too much in a ferment, and his fancy 
 too much upon the wing, to stay for words to 
 express himself methodically. 
 
 Pindar may be said to occupy a distinct place 
 among the poets, and to be entirely without a 
 rival; for, according to Horace, it is temerity 
 to attempt to emulate him. He was a native 
 of Thebes in Beotia, and nourished about 498 
 years before Christ. 
 
 CHAP. LXIY. 
 
 Of JZlschylus, Sophocles, Euripides , and Aris¬ 
 tophanes. 
 
 iESCHYLUS, the father of tragedy, was 
 contemporary with Pindar. He made choice 
 of grand and interesting subjects, infused life 
 and spirit into the dialogue, dictated (be lan¬ 
 guage of passion, and excited terror and com¬ 
 passion. B^ introducing a chorus between the 
 acts, be procured a sort of relaxation to the 
 audience. His language is pompous and sub¬ 
 lime, but sometimes obscure, and bordering on 
 bombast. 
 
 Sophocles made such improvements in the 
 tragic strain, that he foiled his master iEschy- 
 lus iu the first piece he presented. They had 
 
132 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 both of them a lofty genius, but Sophocles had 
 a greater command of it; so that he is not so 
 sublime in his expressions as the other, but 
 more eloquent and more intelligible. He had 
 also a more artful wav of touching the pas¬ 
 sions, and by an agreeable mixture of terror 
 and pity, left more pleasing impressions on the 
 audience. From the sweetness of his verses 
 lie was surnamed the /.fee, and the Flower of 
 poets. He is still more remarkable for his con¬ 
 duct, which appears in his working up, and un¬ 
 ravelling his plots, and his interesting the cho¬ 
 rus in the mean action, so as to make the play 
 all of a piece. It is said he died in a trans¬ 
 port of joy upon the success of his last piece. 
 
 His rival Furinides contented himself with 
 
 M 
 
 a lower strain and endeavored to he more elab¬ 
 orate and correct, more moral and sententious, * 
 and to instruct as well as to please, so that 
 what he wants in the contrivance of his fables, 
 he makes up in nature and good sense. It is 
 much for the honor of this poet, that after the 
 last great defeat of the Athenians before Syra¬ 
 cuse, many of the prisoners were released only 
 for repeating some of his verses. 
 
 Comedy at the same time was advanced by 
 Aristarchus, Cratinus, and others; but the 
 greatest and most noble genius of this kind 
 was Aristophanes. At the same time that he 
 diverted the Athenians with his pleasantry, he 
 also awed them with his .satire, and attacked 
 them in the tenderest part, their superstition. 
 It must be owned his ridicule was often too 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 135 
 
 gross, and that he was not master of that fine 
 raillery which is so essential to comedy; but 
 yet he may be esteemed perfect in his kind, as 
 he wrote in the time of the old comedy, which 
 allowed a liberty of presenting things on the 
 stage, without any disguise of persons and 
 names. 
 
 CHAP. LXV. 
 
 Of Herodotus and Thucydides • 
 
 HERODOTUS of Halicarnassus, a city of 
 Caria, is looked upon as the father of history. 
 He was born a few years before the expedition 
 of Xerxes into Greece. His history begins 
 with the reign of Cyrus, and ends with the sea- 
 engagement at Mycale. His digressions, which 
 relate to the Egyptians and other people, are 
 in a great measure fabulous, because he trust¬ 
 ed to the traditions of the priests. It must be 
 owned too, that he is not always to be depended 
 on, in his relation of circumstances which hap¬ 
 pened in his own time. He was too fond of 
 the marvellous, to be able to distinguish the 
 truth. 
 
 Herodotus studied to please the Greeks, by 
 flattering their credulous vanity. He read his 
 history at the Olympic games, and afterwards 
 at one of the most splendid festivals of Athens. 
 This procured him universal applause. 
 
 Thucydides, who was then young, happened 
 to be present, and being transported with a de- 
 
 M 
 
434 
 
 TLOAVERS OF 
 
 gree of enthusiasm, melted into tears, as if it 
 had .been a theatrical representation. This 
 proof of genius and sensibility being observed 
 *>y the author, he advised the father of the 
 young man to cultivate such promising parts 
 with all possible attention. 
 
 A single example at an early period of life, 
 is often sufficient to rouse a superior genuis, 
 and to direct its future course. From that 
 time, Thucydides dedicated his attention to 
 study, and while he served in the Peloponne¬ 
 sian war, his mind was constantly taken up 
 with the thoughts of writing its history. He 
 examined every thing, collected materials, and 
 made accurate memorandums of every tran¬ 
 saction. Having lived in exile many years, he 
 had sufficient leisure to execute his purpose; 
 and at his return, to his native city, upon the 
 expulsion of the thirty tyrants, he put the 
 last hand to that excellent work, which com¬ 
 prehends the history of the first twenty years 
 of the war. The gravity of his style, and the 
 soundness of his judgment, evidently shew that 
 he was more solicitous to instruct than to please 
 his readers. 
 
 CHAP. LXVI. 
 
 Of Xenophon. 
 
 XENOPHON, an eminent historian and 
 
 * 
 
 commander, was a native of Athens. When 
 Cyrus, the younger son of Darius, applied to 
 
A JVC I ENT HISTORY. 
 
 135 
 
 the Greeks lor their assistance against his bro¬ 
 ther Artaxerxes, Xenophon went with the Gre¬ 
 cian forces on their expedition into Persia, and 
 accepted a command in the army under Cyrus. 
 That prince was slain in battle near Babylon, 
 and the Grecian army in the greatest dejection, 
 when Xenophon made the famous retreat with 
 his 10,000 Greeks from the extreme parts of 
 Pe rsia. After his return he served as a sol¬ 
 dier till the time of Agesilaus, when he was 
 banished by the Athenians, on an unjust sus¬ 
 picion of favoring the Lacedemonians, because 
 he always possessed a high opinion of the Spar¬ 
 tan laws. 
 
 During his exile he composed his works, 
 namely, the Cyropedeia, or history of Cyrus 
 the Great; the Expedition, or Retreat of the 
 10,000 Greeks; and, the Continuation of the 
 History of Thucydides, from the return of Al- 
 eibiades into Attica, to the battle of Mantinea, 
 comprehending the space of forty-eight years. 
 These works display a vast extent of genius 
 and learning, and clearly evince the writer to 
 have been a skillful commander, a judicious 
 philosopher, and an elegant historian. 
 
 It is a question among the learned, whether 
 his Cyropedeia ought to he looked upon as a 
 real history or only as a philosophical romance. 
 The last opinion is maintained by the ablest 
 critics; and indeed the arguments adduced by 
 them appear so solid and convincing, that we 
 are surprised the matter should continue longer 
 doubtful. ' > 
 
.t m 
 
 FLOWERS OE 
 
 CHAP. LXVII. 
 
 Of Plutarch . 
 
 THERE is not a Greek historian whose 
 history can be read with more advantage than 
 Plutarch the contemporary of Nero, because 
 he makes his readers acquainted with men, and 
 particularly with celebrated characters; and be¬ 
 cause his writings are animated with sound mo¬ 
 rality. He is sometimes mistaken; but he ne¬ 
 ver fails to engage and instruct. 
 
 Plutarch shews himself on all occasions to 
 be a great painter; and his style, though plain 
 and simple, is nevertheless lively and expres¬ 
 sive. 
 
 The reading of Plutarch’s Lives, presents as 
 it were before our eyes the great men of whom 
 he speaks, and give ns an idea of their beha¬ 
 vior and manners, as lively and as strong, as 
 if we were living and conversing with them. 
 
 CHAP. LXVIII. 
 
 Of Socrates. 
 
 SOCRATES, the famous Greek philoso¬ 
 pher, was born at Athens, about 451 years be¬ 
 fore Christ. He gave early proofs of his valor 
 in the service of his country; but chiefly ap¬ 
 plied himself to the study of philosophy, and 
 was a person of irresistible eloquence, and ae* 
 complished virtue. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 137 
 
 His distinguishing characteristic was a per¬ 
 fect tranquility of mind, which enabled him to 
 support with patience the most troublesome ac¬ 
 cidents of life. He used to beg of those, with 
 whom he usually conversed, to put him on his 
 guard the moment they perceived in him the 
 first emotions of anger; and when they did so> 
 he instantly resumed perfect composure and 
 complacency. His wife Xantippe, a woman of 
 the most whimsical and provoking temper, af¬ 
 forded him sufficient opportunity of exercising 
 his patience, by the revilings and abuse with 
 which she was constantly loading him. 
 
 Socrates possessed, in a supreme degree, the 
 talent of reasoning. His principal employment 
 was the instruction of youth, an object to which 
 he directed all his care and attention. He kept, 
 however, no fixed public school, but took every 
 opportunity, without regarding times or places, 
 of conveying to them his precepts, and that in 
 the most enticing and agreeable manner. His 
 lessons were so universally relished, that the 
 moment he appeared, whether in,the public as¬ 
 semblies, walks, or feasts, he was surrounded 
 with a throng of the most illustrious scholars 
 and hearers. The young Athenians quitted 
 even their pleasures to listen to the discourse of 
 Socrates. 
 
 He greatly exerted himself against the pow¬ 
 er of the thirty tyrants, and in the behalf of 
 Theramenes, whom they had condemned to 
 death; insomuch that they became so alarmed 
 
 m % 
 
138 
 
 VjCiOWERS OK 
 
 at liis behavior, that they forbad him to instruct 
 the Athenian youth. 
 
 Soon after, an accusation was formally ex¬ 
 hibited against him by Melitus, containing in 
 substance, “That he did not acknowledge the 
 gods of the republic, but introduced new dei¬ 
 ties in their room;” and further, ‘‘That he cor¬ 
 rupted the youth.” He urged, in his defence, 
 that he had assisted, as others did, at the sacri¬ 
 fices and solemn festivals, and appealed to Me¬ 
 litus himself for the truth of it. He denied his 
 endeavoring to establish any new worship. He 
 owned, indeed, he had received frequent ad¬ 
 monitions from a divine voice, which he called 
 his Genius, that constantly attended him, and 
 discovered to him future events; that he had 
 often made use of this divine assistance for the 
 service of himself and his friends; but, that if 
 he had been thus particularly favored by Hea¬ 
 ven, it was owing chiefly to the regularity of 
 his life and conduct; and that the approbation 
 of the Supreme Being, which was given him as 
 a reward for his virtue, ought not to be objec¬ 
 ted to him as his crime. 
 
 Then, as to the other article, wherein he was 
 accused of corrupting the youth, and teaching 
 them to despise the settled laws, and order of 
 the commonwealth, he said, he had no other 
 view in his conversation with them, than to re¬ 
 gulate their morals; that as he could not do this 
 with any public authority, he was therefore for¬ 
 ced to insinuate himself into their company, and 
 to use, in a manner, the same methods to re¬ 
 claim, which others did to corrupt theim 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 139 
 
 How far the whole charge affected him, it is 
 not easy to determine. It is certain that amidst 
 so much zeal and superstition as then reigned 
 in Athens, he never durst openly oppose the re¬ 
 ceived religion, and was therefore obliged to 
 preserve an outward shew of it. But it is very 
 probable from the discourses he frequently held 
 with his friends, that in his heart, he despised 
 and laughed at their monstrous opinions, and 
 ridiculous mysteries, as having no other foun¬ 
 dation than the fables of the poets; and that he 
 had attained to a notion of the one, onlv true 
 God; insomuch that, upon the account of his be¬ 
 lief of the Deity, and his exemplary life, some 
 have thought fit to rank him with Christian 
 philosophers. And indeed his behavior upon 
 his trial, was more like that of a Christian 
 martyr, than of an impious pagan; where he 
 appeared with such a composed confidence as 
 naturally results from innocence, and rather, 
 as Cicero observes, as if he were to determine 
 upon his judges, than to supplicate them as a 
 criminal. 
 
 But how slight soever the proofs were against 
 him, the faction w r as powerful enough to find 
 him guilty. There was a form of process against 
 him, and his irreligion was the pretence upon 
 which it was grounded; but his death was cer¬ 
 tainly a concerted thing. 
 
 His steady, uninterrupted course of obstinate 
 virtue, which had made him in many cases ap¬ 
 pear singular, and oppose whatever he thought 
 illegal or unjust, without any regard to times 
 
140 
 
 FLOWERS OR 
 
 or persons, had procured him a great deal of 
 envy and ill-will; insomuch, that he had seve¬ 
 ral years before, been publicly attacked upon 
 the stage in a play, called the Clouds, where he 
 is introduced as the author of many gross im¬ 
 pieties; which some say, Aristophanes wrote 
 out of a personal pique to him; others, that he 
 did it only, according to the liberty then indul¬ 
 ged in the state, and intended, in the person of 
 Socrates, to expose and ridicule the philoso¬ 
 phers in general. But most are of opinion, 
 that it was at the instigation of Anytus, who 
 looked upon him as a dangerous man, and took 
 that method to prepare the people for his con¬ 
 demnation, whenever an opportunity should of¬ 
 fer. This agrees with the terms proposed to 
 him, even after the accusation was given in, 
 when perhaps he was not sure of carrying his 
 point against him. He hinted to him, that if 
 he would talk less freely, and not take upon him 
 to censure and arraign the administration, he 
 would yet endeavor to stifle the affair, and save 
 him. It was upon the same account that he was 
 forbid conversing with the young men. Those 
 at the helm were jealous of his tampering with 
 them, in relation to the government; and this 
 seems tq be the ground of that part of his accu¬ 
 sation. But he was not to be bought by bribes, 
 not deterred by menaces; in short, he had more 
 plainness and integrity than the times would 
 bear; and therefore fell a sacrifice to the cor¬ 
 ruption of those, whom his honesty had made 
 his enemies. 
 
ANCIENT HISTOliY. 
 
 141 
 
 It was a privilege in Alliens, after convic¬ 
 tion, to demand a mitigation of the punishment. 
 But that, he said, would he owning himself 
 guilty; and he cdiose rather to defy and incense 
 his judges; so that they unanimously passed 
 sentence of death upon him, hy drinking the juice 
 of hemlock, which was not put in execution un¬ 
 til thirty days after; during which time, he con¬ 
 versed with his friends, with the same evenness 
 
 and serenitv of mind he had ever done before. 
 •• 
 
 And though they had bribed the jailor for his 
 escape, he refused it, as an ungenerous viola¬ 
 tion of the law s. He was about seventy years 
 old when he suffered; which made him say, he 
 thought himself happy to quit life, at a time 
 when it begins to be troublesome; and that his 
 death was rather a deliverance than a punish¬ 
 ment. 
 
 Cicero has described, with great elegance, 
 the lofty sentiments and magnanimous beha¬ 
 vior of Socrates at his death, While he held 
 the fatal cup in his hand, he declared, that he 
 considered death not as a punishment inflicted 
 on him, but as a help furnished him of arriving 
 so much sooner at heaven. He gives it as his 
 opinion, that upon the departure of our souls 
 from our bodies, there are two passages for 
 conducting them to the places of their eternal 
 destination, one leading to never-ending pun¬ 
 ishment, which receives those souls, that dur¬ 
 ing their residence on earth, have contamina^ 
 ted themselves with many great crimes; the 
 other leading to a state of felicity and blissj 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 142 
 
 which receives the souls of those who have 
 lived virtuously in the world. 
 
 When Socrates had finished his discourse, 
 he bathed himself. His children being then 
 brought to him, he spoke to them a little, and 
 then desired them to be taken away. The hour 
 appointed for drinking the hemlock being come, 
 they brought him the cup, which he received 
 without any emotion, and then addressed a 
 prayer to Heaven. It is highly reasonable, 
 said he, to offer my prayers to the Supreme 
 Being on this occasion, and to beseech him to 
 render my departure from earth, and my last 
 journey, happy. Then he drank of the poi¬ 
 son with amazing tranquility. Observing his 
 friends, in this fatal moment, weeping, and 
 dissolved in tears, he reproved them with great 
 mildness, asking them, whether their virtue had 
 deserted them; “for,” added he, “I have always 
 heard, that it is our duty calmly to resign our 
 breath, giving thanks to God.” After walking 
 about a little while, perceiving the poison be¬ 
 ginning to work, he lay down on his couch, 
 and a few moments after, breathed his last. 
 Cicero declares that he could never read the ac¬ 
 count of the death of Socrates, without shed¬ 
 ding tears. 
 
 Soon after his death, the Athenians were 
 convinced of his innocence, and considered all 
 the misfortunes which afterwards befel the re¬ 
 public, as a punishment for the injustice of his 
 sentence. When the academy, and other places 
 of the city, where he had taught, presented 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 145 
 
 themselves to the view of his countrymen, they 
 could not refrain from reflecting on the reward 
 bestowed by them, on one who had done them 
 such important services. They cancelled the 
 decree, which had condemned him; put Meli- 
 tus to death; banished his other accusers; and 
 erected to his memory a statue of brass, which 
 was executed by the famous Lysippus. 
 
 CHAP. LXIX. t 
 Of Plato . 
 
 PLATO was a native of Athens, and the 
 most famous disciple of Socrates. He did not 
 coniine himself, like his master, to the subject 
 of morals alone, hut studied every branch of 
 philosophy. His thirst after know ledge, promp¬ 
 ted him to travel into Egypt, where he learned 
 from the priests various branches of knowledge, 
 generally unknown. His works abound with 
 the most lofty sentiments, and with the most 
 useful maxims for the conduct of life, and for 
 the science of government. 
 
 His accurate notions about the existence of 
 God, and the immortality of the sou!, are gen¬ 
 erally thought to have been communicated to 
 him by the Egyptians. 
 
 He declined engaging in the affairs of the 
 republic, preferring the calm unruftled life of 
 a philosopher. He was very highly esteemed 
 for the mildness of his manners; and was so 
 much admired on account of his vast extent of 
 
144 
 
 fLOWERS OE 
 
 knowledge, and his sublime sentiments, that he 
 was honored with the name of the Divine Plato. 
 Even kings desired to be directed by his coun¬ 
 sels. He died at eighty years of age. 
 
 His nephew, Speusippus, succeeded him in 
 his school. But his scholars after his death, 
 distinguished themselves into two sects; the 
 followers of the one taking the name of Aca¬ 
 demicians, and continuing to teach in the same 
 place where Plato had taught; and those of the 
 other part of Peripatetics, who gave their les¬ 
 sons in the Lyceum. 
 
 CHAP. LXX. 
 
 Of Aristotle. 
 
 ARISTOTLE was a native of Stagira, a 
 eity of Macedonia. He came to Athens at the 
 age of seventeen, studied philosophy under 
 Plato, and applied with such industry and suc¬ 
 cess to the study of his master’s doctrines, that 
 he became the soul of his school. 
 
 On the birth of Alexander, Philip wrote to 
 him, that he intended to make him preceptor 
 to his son. After spending several years in the 
 education of Alexander, he returned to Athens, 
 opened a school in the Lyceum, and became 
 the founder of the Peripatetic sect. Hi% lec¬ 
 tures drew together a vast crowd of hearers. 
 
 But he did not entirely confine himself to 
 philosophical disquisitions. He also gave les¬ 
 sons on rhetoric, and composed a treatise on 
 
ANCIliNT HISTORY. 
 
 11 5 
 
 chat subject, which has been justly regarded 
 by the learned of all ages, as the most accu¬ 
 rate and complete that has ever appeared. 
 
 Aristotle^ met with the fate of vinost great 
 men. He attracted the enmity of his contem¬ 
 poraries, who accused him of impiety; and one 
 JSurymedon appeared as his prosecutor. To 
 disappoint the malice of Iris enemies, and to 
 avoid the unhappy fate of Socrates, he fled to 
 the island of Eubiea, where he ended his da vs. 
 
 His works, after remaining 130 years hurled 
 in oblivion, came to light at last, and were 
 justly adopted, as the most perfect standard, on 
 every subject there handled. The surprising 
 diversity of those subjects, the profound eru¬ 
 dition, the wonderful acuteness, and the singu¬ 
 lar accuracy with which every point is treated 
 of, sufficiently evince the comprehensive genius 
 of the author. A course of observations and 
 experiments for many ages, has indeed produ¬ 
 ced the discovery of various secrets of nature, 
 of which Aristotle seems to have betn ignorant, 
 and which no force of genius ever could divine. 
 But in every matter of science, those who are 
 the best acquainted wish his philosophy, and 
 that of the most approved modern philosophers, 
 are struck with amazement at his vast supe¬ 
 riority. 
 
146 
 
 FLOWERS 0* 
 
 CHAP. LXXL 
 
 Of hcmosthcnes. 
 
 ELOQUENCE could not faii to flourish in 
 a city where fame and fortune were sure to 
 follow popular applause.; where it acquired a 
 power in all deliberations, even those of the re¬ 
 public; and where the most eloquent man be¬ 
 came likewise the most powerful. 
 
 Let us not then he surprised that Demos¬ 
 thenes, a citizen of Athens, actuated by these 
 motives, made such extraordinary efforts to ex¬ 
 cel in this pursuit. The weakness of his voice, 
 and a defect in his pronunciation, occasioned 
 his being hissed upon his flrst attempt to speak 
 in public. A comedian, to whom in despair he 
 lamented his misfortune, comforted him by say- 
 ing, that lie could find an easy remedy. He 
 made him rehearse some verses, which he him¬ 
 self afterwards repeated with such energy and 
 grace, that Demosthenes found they had quite 
 a different effect. This experiment convinced 
 the young orator, that his success in a great 
 measure depended upon action; he therefore 
 built himself a vault, where he might practice 
 without relaxation or disturbance, for months 
 together. Sometimes, that he might accustom 
 himself to noise, he went and declaimed on the 
 sea-shore; at other times, on purpose to loosen 
 his tongue, he spoke with small stones in his 
 mouth, while walking or climbing. What is it 
 that the love of labor, joined to ambition, is not 
 able to accomplish? Demosthenes got the bet- 
 
ANCIEXT HISTORY 
 
 1 9 
 
 1 / 
 
 ter of nature, and by his eloquence ruled as he 
 pleased. Eschincs shrunk in his presence. 
 Neither Demades nor Phocion could oppose 
 him. The thunder of his eloquence carried all 
 before him, and was more dreaded by Philip 
 than all the fleets and armies of Athens. 
 
 The states of Greece, influenced by his elo¬ 
 quence, joined in opposition to the growing 
 power of Philip, and Alexander his son and 
 successor. But notwithstanding this generous 
 and honest attention of Demosthenes to the 
 public weal, and after he had withstood all the 
 offers of Philip, insomuch that it is observed 
 by Plutarch, “that all the gold of Macedonia 
 could not bribe him,” he gave occasion to his 
 enemies to accuse him of this crime, by re¬ 
 ceiving a cup, and a sum of money besides, 
 from Harpalus, a Macedonian lord, who had 
 revolted from Alexander, and fled to Athens for 
 refuge. It was debated by the people, whether 
 they should admit him, for fear of incurring 
 his master’s displeasure, and involving them¬ 
 selves in a war; and Demosthenes considering 
 it in that light, opposed it. Harpalus, to re¬ 
 move ail difficulties, dispersed his monej pretty 
 liberally among the orators: and as he was dis¬ 
 playing his wealth, Demosthenes happened to 
 fix his eyes on a rich golden cup, which had 
 belonged to the Persian kings, and admiring 
 the sculpture and fashion, asked the price of it. 
 Harpalus took the hint, and at night sent it 
 home to him, together with twenty talents in. 
 money. 
 
 The next day Demosthenes appeared in the 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 JUbS 
 
 assembly, having his throat muffled about; and 
 when he was desired to speak to the point in 
 question, he made signs that he had lost his 
 voice. But his transaction with Harpalus had 
 taken air; and w hen he found himself detected, 
 he rose up to excuse it; but the people were so 
 enraged that they would not hear him. Where¬ 
 upon a certain wag stood up and said, “What, 
 will ye not hear the king’s cup-hearer?” Others 
 said, “The orator, it would appear, lias got a 
 silver quinzy.” 
 
 Demosthenes, therefore, not being able to 
 clear himself from the charge, was fined and 
 imprisoned. He afterwards escaped from his 
 confinement, and left his country. In a short 
 time, however, he was recalled by a decree of 
 the people. 
 
 After the death of Alexander, upon a report 
 that Antipater and Craterus, his successors, 
 were coming to Athens, Demosthenes and his 
 party, w ithdrew themselves privately out of the 
 city. Demosthenes went to Calabria in the 
 Ionian sea, where he put an end to his life by 
 poison, saying to Archias, the captain who was 
 sent after him, and intreated his return, “Go, 
 and let thy master know, that Demosthenes, 
 will not, on any account, be obliged to the 
 usurpers of fils country,” After his death, the 
 Athenians paid him the highest honors; am! a 
 statue was erected to his memory. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 149 
 
 CHAP. LXXIf. 
 
 Of Antisthenes and Diogenes. 
 
 ANTI STHENES a disciple of Socrates, 
 founded the sect of the Cynics, so celebrated 
 for the austerity of its maxims, and the auda¬ 
 city of its followers. Being contented with 
 only a cloak, a wallet, and a staff, for their 
 whole property they seemed to think them¬ 
 selves entitled to censure all the rest of the 
 world. 
 
 Antisthenes made happiness to consist solely 
 in virtue. Upon being asked, of what use his 
 philosophy was to him, he replied, “To keep 
 me in friendship with myself.” Whilst a priest 
 was initiating him in the mysteries of Orpheus, 
 and praising the happiness of a future state, he 
 bluntly said, “Wherefore do you not die then?” 
 He was a sour misanthrope, more likely to 
 make virtue detested by his harshness, than 
 loved by his example. 
 
 The famous Diogenes of Sinope, who was 
 banished from his country for making counter¬ 
 feit money, insisted upon being one of his dis¬ 
 ciples. Antisthenes rejected him, and even 
 threatened to strike him. “Strike,” cried the 
 enthusiastic proselyte, “but you will not find a 
 staff sufficiently strong to make me withdraw 
 while you are to be heard.” 
 
 Diogenes took the wallet, and foregoing 
 every thing, lived in a cask, where he declared 
 open war against vice, without respect of per¬ 
 sons. He was sometimes answered by having 
 
150 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 stones thrown at him, ami at other times by 
 throwing bones to him, as to a surly dog, whieji 
 only served to make him more bold and inso¬ 
 lent. “I tread the pride of Plato under my 
 feet,” said he, one day. “Yes,” replied that 
 philosopher, “but it is with another kind of 
 pride.” Such a system of philosophy was at 
 bottom nothing better than au insult to huma¬ 
 nity. - 
 
 Of the many maxims which have been as- 
 eribed to Diogenes, the following seems the 
 most remarkable. “Choose good people for 
 your friends, that they may encourage you to 
 do what is right; and the wicked for enemies 
 that they may hinder you from being wicked.” 
 
 CHAP. LXXIII. 
 
 Of Zeno , and the Stoics, 
 
 ZENO, born at Citium, in the isle of Cy¬ 
 prus, was the founder of the sect of the Stoics* 
 He had formerly been a merchant, but having 
 been ship-wrecked, (ah accident upon which he 
 often congratulated himself,) he took the op¬ 
 portunity of commencing the study of philoso¬ 
 phy at Athens. He was much esteemed by the 
 Athenians for the purity of his precepts, which 
 lie himself practised with the greatest exact¬ 
 ness; and the zeal with which he Inculcated the 
 principles of virtue. 
 
 The chief aim of the Stoics was to render 
 themselves insensible to the miseries incident 
 to human life. For that purpose they labored 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 i 3i> 
 
 to convince themselves, that “every thing which 
 happens is for the best.” A perfect Sloic did 
 not regard even pain as an evil. Their philo¬ 
 sophy was calculated to render them entirely 
 devoid of passion, and of frailty. Bui it should 
 seem that to reform nature, they meant to ex- 
 tlnguish it altogether,’ for they must have 
 known that passion is constitutionally inherent 
 in man. 
 
 Plutarch judiciously observes, that the doc¬ 
 trine of the Stoics was dangerous for a warm 
 temper, prone to excess; but that, in a mild 
 and steady disposition, it performed wonders. 
 “One part of valuable knowledge,” said Zeno, 
 “is to be ignorant of what we ought not to 
 know.” This maxim is a sufficient encomium 
 of Zeno. 
 
 It must be allowed, that the Stoics were, of 
 all the ancient philosophers, the most virtuous, 
 both in point of principles and of practice; and 
 that some of the greatest and wisest men of 
 antiquity were formed hi their school. Clean- 
 thes, Chrysippus, Pansetius, and Epictetes, 
 h%ve not done greater credit to Stoicism, than 
 the virtues of Cato, Antoninus, and Marcus 
 Aurelius. 
 
 “If I could cease, but for one moment, to 
 think that I am a Christian,” says Montes¬ 
 quieu, “I could not help thinking the destruc¬ 
 tion of the sect of Zeno, among the misfortunes 
 which have befallen mankind.” They carried 
 nothing to excess, but what served to elevate 
 the mind of man, by teaching him to despise 
 both pain and pleasure. The Stoics alone 
 knew how to. form good citizens qr great men. 
 
FLOWEltS Of 5 
 
 152 
 
 CHAP. LXXIT. 
 
 Of Pythagoras. 
 
 IT was not in the time of Nmna, as mim 
 hers have supposed, hut in that of Tarquin the 
 Proud, that I his great man did so much honor 
 to Greece, and so much good to Italy. He was 
 believed to be a native of' Samos/and having 
 heard the reasonings of a philosopher upon the 
 immortality of the soul, immediately devoted 
 himself, in a kind of enthusiasm, to the study 
 of philosophy. He travelled into Egypt, Phoe¬ 
 nicia, Chaldea, and probably as far as the In¬ 
 dies, in quest of knowledge. Though a geo¬ 
 metrician and astronomer, he looked upon vir¬ 
 tue as the first of sciences, and was persuaded 
 that he was horn to make proselytes.—After 
 having taught some time in Greece, he went 
 into that part of Italy which is called Magna 
 Gracia, on account of the colonies by which it 
 was peopled. Crotona, Metaphontum, and Ta- 
 rentum, where the places in which he chiefly 
 resided. He did not shut himself up in the 
 shade of his closet, but openly harangued in 
 the cause of virtue, to reform the manners of 
 the ppople. 
 
 His opinion was, that there were but five 
 things that ought to be combatted; the diseases 
 of the body, the ignorance of the mind, the pas¬ 
 sions of the heart, sedition in cities, and discord 
 in private families. 
 
 He lived in the same society with his disci¬ 
 ples, and made them submit to a kind of novi- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 a £ c-% 
 
 loo 
 
 tiate, for at least two years, and some for five; 
 during which time they were to learn in silence 
 without being entitled to inquire the reason of 
 his doctrines, because he did not imagine they 
 were capable of reasoning, until they had im- 
 bibed good principles. 
 
 lie taught them to reason, by making them 
 acquainted with geometry, without which they 
 could not. discover an imposture. Whatever he 
 said, was revered as an oracle. “The master 
 said so,” was sufficient to stop the mouths of 
 his scholars. Did he then order a blind sub¬ 
 mission, or did he dispel their doubts by per- 
 suasion? The true philosopher can never think 
 of tyrannizing over the human mind; and it is 
 not probable that a geometrician would desire 
 to be believed upon his word. 
 
 Pythagoras introduced into the western 
 world a doctrine which he had imbibed some¬ 
 where in the east, w here, by ail accounts, it pre¬ 
 vailed from the most early ages, namely, that 
 of the Metempsychosis, or transmigration of 
 souls; which taught, that when men died, their 
 souls passed into and animated other bodies. 
 If, for example, a man w as vicious and w icked, 
 his soul animated the body of some unclean 
 animal, and passed through a progress of mi¬ 
 sery proportioned to his crimes in this life, 
 lienee Pythagoras and his followers religiously 
 abstained from eating flesh, lest perhaps they 
 should devour some of their former friends and 
 acquaintance. In all probability, the accounts 
 of this philosophy transmitted to us are very 
 imperfect, and in nothing perhaps more so than 
 
154 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 in its real scope and meaning. Let us, there¬ 
 fore, on this point, as on every other of the 
 same kind, be extremely cautious in condemn¬ 
 ing- 
 
 CHAP. LXXV. 
 
 Of Archimedes. , 
 
 * ( 
 
 HAD Archimedes lived in our days, he 
 would have been another Newton. When Sy¬ 
 racuse was besieged, he put in practice all the 
 resources of his wonderful genius in machinery 
 for the defence of his country, and rendered 
 this siege one of the longest and most bloody 
 that ever the Homans undertook. 
 
 The particulars recorded of the many en-> 
 gines invented by him, for frustrating the at¬ 
 tacks of the besiegers, and to harrass them in 
 their turn, are so extraordinary and wonderful 
 as to exceed all credibility, were they not re¬ 
 counted by the gravest and most credible his¬ 
 torians. Some of those engines discharged 
 against the Homan infantry stones of an enor- 
 inous bulk, which crushed in pieces whatever 
 came in their way; and by the destruction they 
 produced, resembled in some degree those ter¬ 
 rible fire arms since invented by mankind for 
 tlieir mutual ruin. Others let fall such pon¬ 
 derous weights on the Homan gallies, as in¬ 
 stantly sunk them. Another engines, more ex¬ 
 traordinary still, were so contrived, as with an 
 iron arm of amazing strength, to seize a vessel 
 by the prow, to lift her up to a considerable 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 155 
 
 height, and then to let her fall with her whole 
 weight, so as to sink or break her to pieces. 
 
 In this manner did Archimedes bailie for the 
 space of eight months all the attacks of the 
 Homans. Of such great use on some occa¬ 
 sions is a single man of genius and science. 
 
 But the machines that Archimedes made use 
 of against the Homans at the siege of Syracuse, 
 were in his eye mere trifles, in comparison of 
 his scientific discoveries. He declared, lhal if 
 he had a fixed point out of this earth, he could 
 move it like any other large body. Bv means 
 of Hydrostatics, he discovered the theft of a 
 goldsmith, who had mixed some other metal 
 with the gold he ought to have used in forming 
 a crown, which he had undertaken to make for 
 king Hie.ro. The burning-glass which he in¬ 
 vented to set on lire the fleet of Marcellus, was 
 for a long time considered as chimerical; but 
 after seeing that of a celebrated modern phi¬ 
 losopher, the other can no longer be denied. 
 
 Syracuse was at last taken after a siege of 
 three years, and in the year before Christ 212, 
 Marcellus, the Roman consul, was much de¬ 
 lighted with the hopes of finding in this city, 
 the man whose wonderful genius had so long 
 baffled the bravest efforts of the Roman arms, 
 and therefore ordered diligent search to he 
 made every where for Archimedes. A private 
 soldier finding him at last, deeply intent upon 
 the solution of some geometrical problem, com¬ 
 manded him to go along with him to Marcel¬ 
 lus. Archimedes very quietly begged of the 
 soldier to wait a few moments till he should 
 
156 
 
 BLOWERS OB 
 
 finish his problem. But the soldier, mistaking 
 his request for an absolute refusal to obey him, 
 stabbed him with his sword on the spot. 
 
 Marcell us was extremelv concerned at the 
 
 «/ 
 
 death of Archimedes, and by the honors paid 
 to his memory, plainly evinced the high opin¬ 
 ion he entertained of his merit, giving him a 
 very pompous funeral, and causing a monument 
 to be erected to his memory, so contrived as to 
 exhibit an emblem of that most perfect of sci¬ 
 ences, the mathematics. He even extended his 
 favor to the relations of Archimedes, on whom 
 he bestowed distinguishing and advantageous 
 privileges. 
 
 Jk O 
 
 Cicero tells us, that more than 140. years 
 after this event, when the memory of Archi¬ 
 medes was almost lost among his own country¬ 
 men, he himself had the curiosity to make in¬ 
 quiry about his tomb, which, after a painful 
 search, he had the pleasure at last to find; dis¬ 
 covering it by a pillar, whereon was delineated 
 the figure of a sphere and cylinder, with an in¬ 
 scription on the foot of it, pointing out the 
 proportion that a sphere hears to a cylinder of 
 the same base and altitude, which is, as that 
 of 2 to 3; a proposition which was discovered 
 and demonstrated by Archimedes. 
 
 CHAP. LXXVI. f 
 
 Of JEncas, 
 
 iENEAS was a Trojan prince, son of An 
 ebises and Venus. When the Greeks besieged 
 
ANCIENT H1ST0RT. 
 
 t&r 
 
 Troy, lie valiantly opposed them. On their tak¬ 
 ing the jcity, he placed his father and his 
 household gods upon his hack, and leading his 
 son Ascanius by the hand, retreated, with what 
 Trojan troops he could collect to Alexandria. 
 In the destruction of Troy, he lost his wife 
 Creusa, daughter of Priam, and never knew 
 what fate befel her. He afterwards sailed to 
 Epirus, and after many tempests and storms 
 at sea, landed at Carthage, where queen Dido 
 became passionately in love with him; but not¬ 
 withstanding all her entreaties, AEneas left 
 Carthage, and went into Sicily. Here his fa¬ 
 ther Anchises died, to whose memory he erect¬ 
 ed a magnificent monument. At length, after 
 having long been the sport of the winds, he ar¬ 
 rived in Italy, and married Lavinia, daughter 
 of king Latinus, and succeeded him in the go¬ 
 vernment. He, with his son Ascanius, founded 
 there a new kingdom, and from him the Ro¬ 
 mans date their origin. For Romulus was 
 descended from the kings of Alba Longa, a city 
 built by Ascanius. 
 
 $ 
 
 CHAP. LXXVII. 
 
 Of Romulus . 
 
 THE character of Romulus, the founder 
 of the Roman state, when we view him as the 
 leader of a few lawless and wandering banditti, 
 is an object of extreme insignificance. But 
 when we consider him as the founder of an 
 empire, as extensive as the world, and whose 
 
 O 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 lbS 
 
 progress and decline have occasioned the two 
 greatest revolutions that ever happened in Eu¬ 
 rope, we cannot help being interested in his 
 conduct. 
 
 His disposition was extremely martial, and 
 the political state of Italy, divided into a num¬ 
 ber of small hut independent districts, afforded 
 a noble field for the display of military talents. 
 
 Romulus was continually embroiled with 
 one or other of his neighbors, and war was the 
 only employment by which he and his compa¬ 
 nions expected not only to aggrandize them¬ 
 selves, but even to subsist. 
 
 In the conduct of his wars with the neigh¬ 
 boring people, we may observe the same max¬ 
 ims by which the Romans afterwards became 
 masters of the world. Instead of destroying 
 the nations he had subjected, he united them 
 to the Roman slate, whereby Home acquired a 
 new accession of strength from every war she 
 undertook, and became powerful and populous, 
 from that very circumstance, which ruins and 
 depopulates other kingdoms. 
 
 If the enemies with which he contended had 
 by means of the arms or arts they employed 
 any considerable advantage, Romulus immedi¬ 
 ately adopted the practice, or the use of that 
 weapon, and improved the military system of 
 the Romans, by the united experience of all 
 their enemies. We have an example of both 
 these maxims, by means of which the Roman 
 state arrived at such a pitch of grandeur, in 
 the war with the Sabines. Romulus having 
 conquered that nation, not only united them tc 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 159 
 
 the Romans, bat finding their buckler prefera¬ 
 ble to the Roman, instantly threw aside the 
 latter, and made use of the Sabine buckler in 
 fighting against other states. 
 
 Romulus, though principally attached to 
 war, did not altogether neglect the civil policy 
 of his infant kingdom. He instituted what was 
 called the Senate, a court originally composed 
 of a hundred persons, distinguished for their 
 wisdom and experience. He enacted laws for 
 the administration of justice, and for bridling 
 the fierce and unruly passions of bis followers; 
 and after a long reign spent in promoting the 
 civil and military interests of his country was, 
 according to the most probable conjecture, pri¬ 
 vately assassinated by some of the members of 
 that senate which he himself had instituted, in 
 the year before Christ 717. 
 
 CHAP. LXXVIir./ 
 
 Of the Successors of Romulus , 
 
 THE successors of Romuius were all very 
 extraordinary personages. Numa, w ho came 
 next to him, established the religious ceremo¬ 
 nies of the Romans, and inspired them with 
 that veneration for an oath, which was ever 
 after the soul of their military discipline. 
 
 Tullus Ilostilius, Ancus Martins, Tarqui- 
 nius Prisons, and Servius Tullius, labored each 
 during his reign for the grandeur of Rome. 
 But Tarquinius Superbus, the seventh and last 
 King, having obtained the crown by the exe- 
 
160 
 
 BLOWERS OE 
 
 arable murder of his father-in-law Sewius. 
 continued to support it by the most cruel and 
 infamous tyranny. This, together with the in¬ 
 solence of his son Sextus Tarquinius, who, by 
 dishonoring Lucretia, a Roman lady, affronted 
 the whole nation, occasioned the expulsion of 
 the Tarquin family, and with it the dissolution 
 of the regal government, in the year before 
 Christ 50 9 . 
 
 CHAP. LXXIX. 
 
 Of the Consular Government. 
 
 AS the Romans, however, were continually 
 engaged in war, they found it necessary to have 
 some officer invested with supreme authority, 
 who might conduct them to the field, and re¬ 
 gulate their military enterprises. In the room 
 of the kings, therefore, they appointed two 
 annual magistrates, called consuls, who, with¬ 
 out creating the same jealousy, succeeded to 
 all the power of their sovereigns. This revo¬ 
 lution was extremely favorable to the Roman 
 grandeur. The consuls, who enjoyed but a 
 temporary power, were desirous of signalizing 
 their reign by some great action. Each vied 
 with those who had gone before him, and the 
 Romans were daily led out against some new 
 enemy. 
 
 When we add to this that the people, natu¬ 
 rally warlike, were inspired to deeds of valor 
 by every consideration that could excite them, 
 that the citizens of Rome were all soldiers. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 461 
 
 and fought for their lands, their children, and 
 their liberties, we need not be surprised that 
 they should, in the course of some few centu¬ 
 ries, extend their power over all Italy. 
 
 CHAP. LXXX. 
 
 Of Carthage , and the first Punic War. 
 
 CARTHAGE was an ancient city on the 
 coast of Africa, founded by Dido, queen of 
 Tyre, long before the foundation of Rome.—- 
 The Carthaginians by trade and navigation, had 
 not only extended their dominion in Africa^ 
 but had got great footing in Spain. They 
 also gave law to the islands of Corsica and 
 Sardinia, in the Mediterranean sea, and under 
 color of friendly assistance to the Romans? 
 aimed at the sovereignty of Sicily. This gave 
 rise to a succession of hostilities between these 
 rival states, known in history by the name of 
 Punic wars, in which the Carthaginians, with 
 all their wealth and power, were an unequal 
 match for the Romans. Carthage was a pow¬ 
 erful republic, when Rome was an inconsider¬ 
 able state; but she was now become corrupt 
 and effeminate, while Rome was in the vigor of 
 her political constitution. Carthage employed 
 mercenaries to carry on her wars; Rome, as 
 we have already mentioned, was composed of 
 soldiers. 
 
 The first war with Carthage lasted twenty- 
 three years, and taught the Romans the art of 
 fighting on the sea, with which they had hith- 
 
 o 2 
 
162 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 erto been Unacquainted. A Carthaginian ves¬ 
 sel was wrecked on their coast; they used it 
 for a model, in three months fitted out a fleet, 
 and the consul Duillus, who fought their first 
 naval battle, was victorious. 
 
 Attilius Regulus was appointed pro-consul 
 in Africa. He defeated the Carthaginian ar¬ 
 my, and took five thousand prisoners. He re¬ 
 duced Clypea, a famous sea-port, and other ci¬ 
 ties of Africa, and no peace could he obtained 
 by the Carthaginians from Regulus, hut on the 
 hardest conditions. The Lacedemonians sent 
 Greek troops to their assistance, under Xan- 
 iippus, a brave and experienced general. 
 
 Fortune now favored the Carthaginians.— 
 Regulus was defeated and taken prisoner, with 
 five hundred Romans, the companions of his 
 misfortune. 
 
 The Romans also sustained great loss 'JV 
 sea; for on their return to Italy, the greater 
 part of their fleet, consisting of 350 sail, wa& 
 destroyed by a strong tempest, and both their 
 consuls perished. A like misfortune befcl 
 them the year after, when they lost 150 ships. 
 
 The Romans were so much discouraged by 
 this repeated series of unsuccessful events, that 
 they declined farther nayal engagements, and 
 decreed that sixty ships alone should be kept 
 to guard the Italian coasts. 
 
 The consul MetelJus, on the other side, rais¬ 
 ed the spirits of the Romans, by a dreadful- 
 overthrow of the Carthaginians in Sicily, un¬ 
 der Asdrubal their general. Twenty thousand 
 men were killed, and twenty-six elephants were 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 163 
 
 taken. Fop this action a splendid triumph 
 was decreed to Metellus; and Asdrubal, on 
 his return to Carthage, was condemned and 
 executed. 
 
 CHAP. LXXXf. 
 
 Of Ucgulus. . 
 
 THE behavior of Regulus, the Homan gen¬ 
 eral, may give us an idea of the spirit which 
 then animated that people. The Carthagini¬ 
 ans, wearied out with this tedious war, sent 
 ambassadors to Rome, to make overtures of 
 peace. Regulus had now been _a prisoner in 
 Carthage live years; and the Carthaginians en¬ 
 gaged him to plead their cause. But they first 
 exacted a promise from him to return to Car¬ 
 thage, in ease the embassy proved unsuccess¬ 
 ful. It was at the time hinted to him, that his 
 life depended on the success of his negotiation. 
 
 On his arrival at Rome, he acquainted (he 
 senate with the motive of his journey, and at 
 the same time used every argument to dis¬ 
 suade the Romans from peace, or an exchange 
 of prisoners, who, he said, “had ignominiously 
 surrendered their arms to the enemy. And 
 that, as to himself, he was far advanced in 
 years, and looked upon death, though inilicted 
 with the most cruel torture, as nothing in com¬ 
 petition with the service of his country.” Ho 
 at length prevailed on the senate to comply 
 with his noble and unparalleled counsel; and 
 though he well knew the fatal consequences to 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 himself, the illustrious prisoner would not 
 break his engagement with the enemy, but re¬ 
 turned to Carthage. And it is horrid to relate, 
 that the Carthaginians imprisoned him in a 
 dungeon, and cutting off his eye-lids, exposed 
 him to the sun when its beams darted the 
 strongest heat. They next put him into a bar¬ 
 rel stuck full of nails, whose points pricking 
 his flesh, allowed him not a moment’s ease. 
 At last, to complete their cruelty, they nailed 
 this noble Roman to a cross, where he expired. 
 By this one act only, did the Carthaginians 
 bring an eternal infamy on themselves and their 
 country. 
 
 The Romans hearing of the horrid deed 
 were greatly enraged, and delivered Hamilcar 
 the Carthaginian general, and other prisoners, 
 to Marcia the wife of Regulus, who shut them 
 up in an armory filled with pikes, with an in¬ 
 tent to torture them, and inflict the punish¬ 
 ment on them hep husband^Jiad received. The 
 magistrates, however, interfered, and they were 
 treated with great moderation, to let the ene¬ 
 my know, “that the Romans were too gene¬ 
 rous to exult over the miseries of unhappy men, 
 though merited by the highest resentment, and 
 a just retaliation.’’ 
 
 The war between the two republics was now 
 renewed,, and carried on both by sea and land 
 with various success, till at length a peace was 
 concluded between them, in the year before 
 Christ 239. Sicily was made a Roman pro¬ 
 vince, and the Carthaginians engaged to deli¬ 
 ver up all their prisoners without ransom. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 165 
 
 CHAP. LXXXII. 
 
 Of Hannibal , and the second Punic War. 
 
 CARTHAGE, though corrupted, was not 
 deficient in great men. Of all the enemies the 
 Romans ever had to contend with, Hannibal, 
 the Carthaginian, was the most inflexible and 
 dangerous. His father Hamilcar, had imbi¬ 
 bed an extreme hatred against the Romans, and 
 having settled the intestine troubles of his 
 country, he took an early opportunity to in¬ 
 spire his son, though but nine years old, with 
 his own sentiments. For this purpose lie or¬ 
 dered a solemn sacrifice to be offered to Jupi¬ 
 ter, and leading his son to the altar, asked him 
 whether he was willing to attend him, in his 
 expedition against the Romans. The coura¬ 
 geous boy not only consented to go, but con¬ 
 jured his father, by the gods present, to form 
 him to victory, and teach him the art of con¬ 
 quering. That I will joyfully do, replied Ha¬ 
 milcar, and with all the care of a father who 
 loves you, if you will swear upon the altar to 
 be an eternal enemy to the Romans. Hanni¬ 
 bal readily complied, and the solemnity of the 
 
 ceremonv, and the saeredness of the oath, made 
 
 • - 
 
 such an impression upon his mind, as nothing 
 afterwards could ever efface. 
 
 Being appointed general at twenty-five years 
 of age, he laid siege to Saguntum, a city of 
 Spain, in alliance with the Romans. This 
 breach of peace brought on the second Punic 
 war, which was carried on with mutual brave- 
 
16ff 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 ry and animosity. And so equal was the fate 
 of arms between them, that both parties tri¬ 
 umphed by turns. Hannibal had greatly the 
 advantage at first. He over-ran all Spain, and 
 being bent on the ruin of the Roman state, he 
 determined to carry the war into Italy. He 
 surmounted all difficulties. He passed the Alps 
 with an army of 140,000 horse and foot, in the 
 winter season; and with a resolution almost in¬ 
 credible, he vanquished the Roman army under 
 the consuls Seipio and Sempronius. He after- 
 terwards engaged Flaminius, the Roman gene¬ 
 ral, at the lake Thrasymenus. In this battte 
 Flaminius was slain, and his army entirely de¬ 
 feated. Rome was in the utmost consternation 
 on this success of the enemy, and Fabius 
 Maximus was sent with four legions in quest 
 ef Hannibal, but constantly avoided coming to 
 an engagement with him. This cautious con- 
 duct of Fabius greatly distressed Hannibal, 
 who frequently offered him battle. The year 
 after, the armies came to a general engage¬ 
 ment at Cannse, a town in Apulia. The Ro¬ 
 mans, under the consuls ASmilius Paulus, and 
 Terrentius Varro, were again entirely rou¬ 
 ted. Fifty thousand men were slain in the 
 battle, and an hundred thousand surrendered 
 themselves prisoners of war. And so great was 
 the slaughter, that it is said the conqueror sent 
 to Carthage three bushels of gold rings, which 
 had been taken from the slain. 
 
 Hitherto victory declared on the side of the 
 Carthaginians, and Rome was in the utmost 
 distress. At this time Caius Seipio, a tribune 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 167 
 
 of the soldiers, undertook the cause of his coun¬ 
 try. This young man being informed that 
 some of the best families of Rome, despairing 
 to save the commonwealth, had agreed to aban¬ 
 don Italy,and settle themselves elsewhere, went 
 directly to the assembly, and with his sword 
 drawn, swore, “that if they did not lay aside 
 that inglorious resolution, and take an oath not 
 to abandon the republic in its present distress, 
 they should all he immediately cut to pieces. 95 
 
 These threats, added to the spirit and cour¬ 
 age of Scipio, brought them all into the engage¬ 
 ment, and they mutually plighted their faith to 
 each other, to deliver their country, or to die 
 in its ruins. 
 
 Hannibal had neglected to improve his con¬ 
 quest, by not marching directly to Rome. This 
 gave the Romans time to recover their late de¬ 
 feat. A new army of young men and slaves 
 was sent into Spain, and the Romans coming 
 to an engagement in Sardinia, twelve thousand 
 Carthaginians were slain. Marcellus also great¬ 
 ly harrassed Hannibal’s troops, and repulsed 
 them in several rencounters; hut he at last fell 
 into an ambuscade and was slain. 
 
 Scipio the younger was sent into Spain and 
 made successful campaigns. Hannibal was de¬ 
 feated by Hostilius and Claudius Nero. As- 
 drubal, Hannibal’s brother, was killed in battle, 
 with the consul Livius, and Spain was entirely 
 subjected to the Romans. 
 
 Scipio was now made consul, and sent into 
 Africa. The Numidians also sent a powerful 
 army under a second Asdrubai and Syphax, to 
 
168 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 the assistance of the Carthaginians. Seipic 
 surprised the camp of the enemy in the night, 
 and by this artifice gained a complete victory. 
 
 Syphax was soon after taken prisoner by 
 Masinissa, king of Numidia, and carried, to 
 Rome. On this success of the Romans in Afri¬ 
 ca, Hannibal was called home, after he had 
 passed fifteen years in that country, to the 
 great dread and terror of the Romans. 
 
 On liis return, Hannibal took the command 
 of the African army at Zama, distant from Car¬ 
 thage five days journey. The Roman army 
 was also in a neighboring plain, and the two 
 generals had an interview, but nothing was 
 agreed on. Seipio charged the Carthaginians 
 with perfidy and injustice; upon which both 
 sides prepared for battle. The fate of Rome 
 and Carthage was now to be decided. Both 
 generals displayed the utmost bravery and ex¬ 
 perience in arms; but Hannibal was at last van¬ 
 quished, ami victory remained with Seipio. 
 Twenty thousand Carthaginians were slain in 
 the field, and as many taken prisoners. Han¬ 
 nibal betook himself to Carthage, and declared 
 he was irrevocably vanquished, and that no 
 choice was left, but to make peace. This was 
 granted by the conquerors, but on the most ri¬ 
 gorous conditions. Thus ended the second Pu¬ 
 nic war, after it had continued seventeen years: 
 and the power and grandeur of the Roman peo¬ 
 ple were greatly increased, by this signal con¬ 
 quest over their rival for universal empire. 
 
 A powerful alliance was soon formed against 
 the Romans by Autioehus of Asia, surnamed 
 
ANCIENT HISTDRY. 169 
 
 the Great, and Hannibal, the avowed enemy of 
 Home. Antiochus was defeated at Magnesia, 
 by Cornelius Scipio, and his brother Africanus; 
 and peace was granted to Antiochus, on condi¬ 
 tion that he should recede from all the coun¬ 
 tries on this side mount Tau'rus in Greece* 
 
 CHAP. LXXXIXI. 
 
 Of the Fate of Scipio and Hannibal . 
 
 THE fate of the two generals, Scipio and 
 Hannibal, was soon after determined. Scipio 
 was charged with taking money of Antiochus, 
 for the peace he had lately made with him, and 
 retired to Li tern urn in Campania, where he 
 died, exclaiming in severe terms against Tris 
 country. He ordered words to the following 
 purport, to be engraved on his tomb: “Un¬ 
 grateful country, thou shait not possess my 
 ashes!” 
 
 His great rival Hannibal, after flying from 
 place to place, to escape falling into the hands 
 of the Romans, at last sought an asylum in 
 the court of Prusias, king of Bythinia. Han¬ 
 nibal making some stay there, that prince en¬ 
 gaged him in the war with Eumenes, king of 
 Pergamus. He gained for Prusias several bat¬ 
 tles bj land and sea, when Hannibal imagined, 
 that such important services would forever se* 
 cure him a faithful friend in that prince. 
 
 The Romans, however, would not suffer him 
 to rest any where. They dispatched Flami- 
 mius to Prusias, to complain of his protecting 
 
 P 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 / 70 
 
 Hannibal. The latter knew too well the mo¬ 
 tive of this embassy, and therefore determined 
 not to give his enemies the opportunity to de¬ 
 liver him up. He at first attempted his secu¬ 
 rity by flight; but perceiving, that the several 
 secret outlets, which he had contrived in his 
 palace, were all seized by the soldiers of Pru- 
 sias, who, by this treacherous action, hoped to 
 ingratiate himself with the Romans, he ordered 
 poison, which, he had long kept for this me¬ 
 lancholy occasion, to be brought to him; and 
 taking it in his hai:d, “Let us, said he, free the 
 Romans from a disquietude, with which they 
 have been long tortured, since they have not pa¬ 
 tience to wait for the death of a man, whom 
 old age has already overtaken. The victory, 
 which Flaminius gains over a naked betrayed 
 man, will not do him much honor. This sin¬ 
 gle day will be a lasting testimony of the great 
 degeneracy of the Romans. Their fore-fathers 
 sent notice to Pyrrhus, to caution him to guard 
 against a traitor, who intended to poison him, 
 and that at a time when this prince was enga¬ 
 ged in an obstinate war against them, in the 
 very heart of Italy. But their inglorious sons 
 have deputed a person of consular dignity, to 
 excite Prusias impiously to murder one, who is 
 not only his guest, but his friend.” Having 
 uttered these words, he swallowed the poison, 
 and died in the seventieth year of his age. 
 
 Thus fell, perhaps, one of the greatest gen¬ 
 erals the world ever produced; and to whom, 
 during the seventeen years of the Punic war, 
 only two faults are imputed: first, his not 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 171 
 
 marching immediately after the battle of Can- 
 me, with his victorious forces to Rome, in or¬ 
 der to besiege that city; and secondly, his suf¬ 
 fering their courage to be softened and enerva¬ 
 ted, during the winter quarters in Capua. But 
 this only shews, that human nature is frail, and 
 that the greatest have their errors. These 
 failings, however, are totally absorbed in the 
 shining parts of his character, fie had the 
 presence of mind, even in the heat and fire of 
 action, to take all advantages. And though 
 his army consisted of so great a variety of na¬ 
 tions, who were often in want both of money and 
 provisions, yet so artful was his management, 
 that his camp was never once disturbed with 
 any insurrection, cither against himself or any 
 of his generals. 
 
 He must have been very fruitful in expe¬ 
 dients, to be able to carry on, for so many 
 years, a war in a far distant country, in spite 
 of the opposition made at home, by a powerful 
 faction, which refused him supplies of every 
 kind, and thwarted him on all occasions. 
 
 He was not only the warrior, but the states¬ 
 man. So superior and universal was his ge¬ 
 nius, that he grasped all parts of government; 
 and so great were his natural talents, that he 
 was able to acquit himself with the various 
 functions of it with glory. 
 
 He shone as conspicuously in the cabinet, 
 as in the field, being equally capable of filing 
 civil or military employments. In a word, 
 there were united in his person, the warrior, 
 the senator, and the financier. 
 
i 7 % 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. LXXX1V. 
 
 Of the third Punic War , and the Destruction 
 
 of Carthage . 
 
 A DISAGREEMENT between Masinissa 
 and the Carthaginians, about the limits of their 
 territories, furnished fresh pretence of quarrel. 
 The decision was referred to the Romans, who 
 obliged the Carthaginians to give up to Masi¬ 
 nissa, the country in dispute. This gave rise 
 to the third Punic war, in the year before 
 Christ 148. 
 
 The Romans had now determined the fate of 
 Carthage, and it was declared in the senate, 
 that “Carthage must be destroyed.” Censo¬ 
 rious and Manlius, then consuls, were sent to 
 Africa with lfO gallies, 80,000 foot, and 4,000 
 horse, which terrifying the Carthaginians they 
 sent ambassadors to Rome, to offer an unlimi¬ 
 ted submission. Answer was made, that the 
 senate of Rome granted them their liberty, the 
 enjoyment of their laws, all their territories, 
 and other possessions, provided that within 
 thirty days, they should send as hostages to 
 Lilybseuni, 300 young Carthaginians, of the 
 first distinction, and comply with the orders of 
 the consuls. 
 
 These severe terms were submitted to, and 
 the hostages were ordered to depart; but the 
 cries, groans, and lamentations of their mo¬ 
 thers, at their departure, whom they were to 
 see no more, is much easier to be conceived 
 than des'cribed. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 173 
 
 No sooner had the Carthaginian deputies ar¬ 
 rived at the Homan camp, than they were told 
 by Censorious, that the people of Carthage 
 must immediately deliver up all their arms to 
 him; to which they were forced to consent, and 
 which was no sooner commanded lhap done. 
 
 Censorious having applauded their obedience* 
 told them, that the Homan people were deter¬ 
 mined totally to demolish Carthage; but that 
 the inhabitants might remove from it, and found 
 another city in their own territories, provided 
 its distance from the sea did not exceed ten 
 miles. 
 
 The most tremendous thunder from the 
 skies, could not have more affected the Car¬ 
 thaginians, than did this sentence of the con¬ 
 sul. They knew neither where they were nor 
 what they did or said; but, tearing their clothes, 
 rolled themselves in the dust. After some 
 time, recovering from the first emotions of hor¬ 
 ror and despair, though destitute of men and 
 arms, they shut their gates, and resolved to 
 make an obstinate resistance. 
 
 The Homan consul, thinking he had nothing 
 to fear from them, made no great haste to 
 march against Carthage, whose inhabitants in¬ 
 stantly set about making arms with incredible 
 expedition. The temples, palaces, and open 
 squares, were all changed into so many arse¬ 
 nals, where men and women wrought day and 
 night. And, because materials were wanting 
 to make ropes, the women cut olf their hair, 
 which amply supplied the want of proper ma¬ 
 terials. 
 
 p 2 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 174 
 
 The Rolrians marched and invested the city, 
 but were repulsed at eyery assault; and no ma¬ 
 terial advantage was gained by them, during 
 the whole campaign. The siege was carried on 
 very slowly, and the. besieged recovered their 
 spirits, having made the boldest sallies, burnt 
 their engines, and liarrassed their foragers. 
 
 The Homans being determined on the de¬ 
 struction of Carthage, and uneasy at the little 
 progress made by their generals, sent Seipio. 
 thither, in the year before Christ 144. His 
 tirst business was to revive the discipline among 
 the troops, which had been entirely neglected. 
 He then prepared to carry on the siege with 
 vigor. During the winter quarters, Seipio en¬ 
 deavored to defeat the enemy’s troops without 
 the city, and in one engagement slew 70,000 
 of them. 
 
 Early the next spring, Seipio having attack¬ 
 ed, at one and the same time, the harbor called 
 Cothon, and the citadel, marched towards the 
 forum, where was the most horrid spectacle of 
 slaughtered people; some cut to pieces by the 
 murdering weapons, others half killed by the 
 fall of hoi *ses, others torn limb from limb, or 
 hall* buried in the earth, or trampled on, lay 
 mingled in heaps, in the most shocking manner. 
 
 The Carthaginians, wearied out with these 
 ill successes, besought the Romans to spare the 
 lives of all those who should be willing to leave 
 the citadel. This was granted to all except 
 deserters; and in eonsequenee thereof, there 
 came out 50,000 men and women, who were 
 sent into the fields under a strong guard. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 17i> 
 
 Carthage did not fall without a remarkable 
 instance of female heroism; for Asdrubal, the 
 Carthaginian general, being sore pressed by the 
 Romans, fortified himself, with his wife and 
 children, and nine hundred deserters from the 
 Roman army, in the.temple of JEsculapius; but 
 seeing small hopes of success, he came pri¬ 
 vately to Scipio, and threw himself at his feet. 
 The Roman general immediately shewed As- 
 drubal to the deserters, who, transported with 
 rage and fury at the sight, vented millions of 
 imprecations against him, and set fire to the 
 temple. As the flames were spreading, As- 
 drubai's wife dressed herself as splendid as pos¬ 
 sible, and placing herself with her two children, 
 in sight of Scipio, spoke as follows, with a loud 
 voice: “I call not down curses upon thy head, 
 O Roman, for thou only takest the privilege 
 allowed thee by the laws of war. But may the 
 gods of Carthage, and thou in concert with 
 them, punish according to his deserts, the false 
 wretch who has betrayed his country, his gods, 
 his wife, and his children.” Then addressing 
 herself to Asdrubal, she exclaimed, “Perfidious 
 wretch; thou basest of creatures! this fire will 
 presently consume both me and my children. 
 But as for thee, go, adorn the gay triumph of 
 thy conqueror! and suffer, in the sight of all 
 Rome, the tortures thou so justly deservest.” 
 She had no sooner spoken these words, but she 
 cut the throats of her children, and threw them 
 into the flames; she afterwards rushed into the 
 fire herself and was followed by all the de¬ 
 serters. 
 
176 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. LXXXV. 
 
 Of the success of the Homan arms , and of Mi- 
 
 thridates . 
 
 AFTER the conquest of Carthage, Rome 
 had inconsiderable wars, but great victories. 
 In these conquests the Romans still allowed 
 the ancient inhabitants to possess their territo¬ 
 ry. They did not even change the form of go¬ 
 vernment. The conquered nations became the 
 allies of the Roman people; which denomina¬ 
 tion, however, under a specious name, conceal¬ 
 ed a condition very servile, and inferred, that 
 they should submit to whatever was required 
 of them. 
 
 When we reflect on these easy conquests, we 
 have reason to be astonished at the resistance 
 which the Romans met with from Mithridatcs 
 king of Pontus, for the space of twenty-six 
 years. Rut this monarch had great resources. 
 His kingdom bordering on the inaccessible 
 mountains of Caucasus, abounded with a race 
 of men, whose minds were not enervated with 
 pleasure, and whose bodies were firm and vi¬ 
 gorous; and he gave the Romans more trouble 
 than even Hannibal. 
 
 The different states of Greece and Asia, who 
 now began to feel the weight of their yoke, but 
 had not spirit to shake it off. were transported 
 at finding a prince, who dared to shew himself 
 an enemy to the Romans, and cheerfully sub¬ 
 mitted to his protection. 
 
 Mithridatcs, however, was at last compelled 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 17 7 
 
 to yield to the superior fortune of the Romans. 
 Vanquished successively by Sylla and Lucul- 
 1 us, he was at length subdued by Pompey, and 
 stripped of his dominions and of his life. 
 
 In Africa, the Roman arms met with equal 
 success. Marius, by conquering Jugurtha, 
 made all secure in that quarter. Even the bar¬ 
 barous nations beyond the Alps, began to feel 
 the weight of the Roman arms. Qatlia Nar~ 
 bonensis bad been reduced into a province. The 
 Cimbri, Teutones and other northern nations of 
 Europe, broke into this part of the empire. 
 The same Marius, whose name was so terrible 
 in Africa, then made the north of Europe to 
 tremble. The barbarians retired to their wilds 
 and deserts; less formidable than the Roman 
 legions. 
 
 Rut while Rome conquered the world, there 
 existed an internal war within her walls. This 
 war had subsisted from the first periods of the 
 government. Rome, after the expulsion of her 
 kings, enjoyed but a partial liberty. The de¬ 
 scendants of the senators, who were distinguish¬ 
 ed by the name of patricians, were invested 
 with so many odious privileges, that the peo¬ 
 ple felt their dependence, and became determi¬ 
 ned to shake it off. A thousand disputes on 
 this subject arose between them and the patri¬ 
 cians, which always terminated in favor of li¬ 
 berty. 
 
 These disputes, while the Romans preserv¬ 
 ed their virtue, were not attended with any dan¬ 
 gerous consequences. The patricians who 
 loved their country, cheerfully parted with 
 
178 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 some of their privileges, to satisfy the people. 
 And the people, on the other hand, though they 
 obtained laws, by which they might be admit¬ 
 ted to enjoy the first offices of the state, and 
 though they had the power of nomination, al¬ 
 ways named patricians. 
 
 But when the Romans, by the conquest of 
 foreign nations, became acquainted with all 
 their luxuries and refinements; when they be¬ 
 came tainted with the effeminacy and corrup¬ 
 tion of the eastern courts, and sported with 
 every thing just and honorable, in order to ob¬ 
 tain them, the state, torn by the factions be¬ 
 tween its members, and without virtue, on 
 either side, to keep it together, became a proy 
 to its own children. 
 
 CHAP. LXXXVI. 
 
 Of Catiline’s Conspiracy . 
 
 ABOUT sixty one years befofe Christ one 
 of the most dangerous conspiracies broke out 
 that had ever threatened Rome. At the head 
 of this conspiracy was Lucius Sergius Catiline, 
 who was descended from a very illustrious pa¬ 
 trician family of great antiquity. He had been 
 brought up amidst the tumults and disorders of 
 a civil war, and had been the instrument of the 
 cruelties of Sylla, to whom he was devoted. 
 Catiline had been accused of dishonoring a ves¬ 
 tal virgin, and was even suspected of murder¬ 
 ing his son, that he might not stand in the way 
 of his sensual gratifications. Destitute of either 
 
ANCIENT BISTORT. 
 
 179 
 
 morals or probity, he discovered not the least 
 veneration for the gods; and being ever dis¬ 
 gusted with the present, was always unhappy 
 with respect to the future. 
 
 Though master of few abilities, he was bold, 
 rash, and intrepid, and had not even prudence 
 enough properly to conceal his own infernal de¬ 
 signs, where it was necessary he should, in or¬ 
 der to prevent their miscarriage. 
 
 As extravagance is the first cause of the vio¬ 
 lation of all laws, so Catiline, having contrac¬ 
 ted vast debts, and being unable to pay them, 
 grew desperate, and aimed at nothing less than 
 tjie highest and most lucrative employments. 
 For this purpose he associated with those young 
 Romans, whose excesses in the freedom of wine, 
 women and gaming, had ruined their fortunes, 
 and rendered them the contempt of every dis¬ 
 cerning person in the city. 
 
 These abandoned wretches formed a horrid 
 conspiracy to murder the consuls, and to put to 
 death the greatest part of the senators. Even 
 the day was fixed which was to have given 
 birth to the most infamous attempt that had 
 ever happened in the commonwealth since the 
 foundation of Rome. At the signal given by 
 Catiline, they were to rush on the consuls and 
 murder them; but Catiline being too hasty in 
 the signal, it was not obeyed; and thus the 
 massacre, was put off till another time. 
 
 Several women of the greatest families in 
 Rome, who were no less remarkable for their 
 libertinism than their beauty, engaged in this 
 plot out of compliance to their lovers. Among 
 
180 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 these was the famous Sempronia, who was as 
 bold as she was beautiful. She was a perfect 
 mistress both of the Greek and Latin tongues, 
 and could sing and dance with more advantage 
 than became a virtuous woman; nor was she 
 wanting in any of those charms which are ca¬ 
 pable of inspiring a passion. 
 
 This conspiracy was daily strengthened by 
 all the young people of Rome, who, having been 
 rocked in the cradle of luxury, and enervated 
 by a continual succession of pleasures; such as 
 had ruined themselves by excesses, and were no 
 longer able to support their extravagancies; the 
 ambitious, who aspired to the highest posts of 
 the stale; and others, who had revenge, which 
 they wanted to gratify on some superior; all 
 these actuated by different passions, embarked 
 in the cause of Catiline, who made them the 
 largest promises, and at the same time exhor¬ 
 ted them to employ their interest to procure his 
 being elected consul. No time could better suit 
 the conspirators, as Pompey was then engaged 
 in a war in the east, and Italy had no army to 
 protect it. 
 
 Cicero, however, who was then consul, found 
 means to bribe Fulvia, a lady of an illustrious 
 family, which she had dishonored by her cri¬ 
 minal amours with one of the chief of the con¬ 
 spirators. From this woman, Cicero, got such 
 information, as enabled hhn to counteract all 
 Catiline’s projects. 
 
 Soon after, Cicero accused Catiline, while 
 he was present in the senate, of his impious 
 design; but he endeavored to clear himself of 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 181 
 
 the charge. Finding he could nol bring the 
 senators to liis way of thinking, and being cal¬ 
 led by them an enemy and a parricide, he cried 
 out in a furious tone of voice, “Since snares 
 are every where laid for me, and those to whom 
 I am odious, exasperate me beyond measure, I 
 will not perish singly, but involve my enemies 
 in my ruin.” 
 
 Catiline having spoken these words, flew out 
 of the senate house, and sending for the chief 
 conspirators, toid them what had passed. Then 
 exhorting them to murder the consul, he left 
 Rome that night, accompanied by three hun¬ 
 dred of his associates, and went and joined 
 Manlius. He caused lictors, with fasces and 
 axes, to walk before him, as if he had really 
 been a magistrate. Upon the news of this in¬ 
 surrection, the senate ordered Antonius, the 
 consul, to march the legions against the rebels, 
 and Cicero to look after the peace of the city. 
 
 Soon after, Lentulus, Cethegus, Gabinius, 
 and two more, who were principals of the con¬ 
 spiracy, were arrested, convicted, and conveyed 
 to different prisons. The contest in the senate 
 was long and warm, respecting the nature of 
 the punishment that should be inflicted upon 
 them. It was, however, at last resolved, that 
 they should be put to death; and Cicero, upon the 
 bare sentence of the senate, and without submit¬ 
 ting the matter to the people, as was usual, or¬ 
 dered them to be executed in the different pri¬ 
 sons in which they were confined. These exe¬ 
 cutions at once crushed the plot, and overturned 
 all the designs of the conspirators, who had'that 
 
 Q 
 
182 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 night resolved to rescue them from confinement, 
 that they might immediately join Catiline. 
 
 News being brought to Catiline’s camp of 
 the late execution, great numbers of his sol¬ 
 diers abandoned him in the night; hut this did 
 not disconcert or dishearten Catiline; for he 
 was determined either to ruin the common¬ 
 wealth, or perish in the attempt. He thereup¬ 
 on raised new forces, filled the cohorts with 
 them, and soon completed the legions which 
 were all inflamed with the same passion for 
 Mood and slaughter, and the destruction of- 
 their native country. By the good manage¬ 
 ment of the consul, Catiline at last found him¬ 
 self surrounded by the enemy. He, therefore, 
 resolved to hazard a battle, though he was con¬ 
 siderably inferior in number. 
 
 Petreius, who had served thirty years in the 
 field, and from a private soldier had been made 
 a general, commanded for the republic, in the 
 room of the consul, wh° was suddenly taken ill. 
 He engaged Catiline with tlie greatest bravery, 
 and the battle was sustained on both sides with 
 the utmost intrepidity. Petreius was at last 
 victorious, and the rebels were all put to the 
 sword. 
 
 But Catiline,w ho could not bear the thoughts 
 of surviving the ruin of his party, rushed into 
 that part of the battle where death was making 
 the greatest havoc, and there fell a victim to 
 his own folly and iniquity. He was afterwards 
 found among the dead and mangled bodies of 
 (he rebels, which lay in heaps. On his pale 
 and lifeless face wus still pictured the haughty 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 183 
 
 ferocity of his soul, which even death could 
 not extinguish. 
 
 CHAP. LXXXVII. 
 
 Of Julius Caesar, and the First Grand Trium¬ 
 virate. 
 
 THE greater part of Jhe world was now 
 subdued, and the Roman empire was arrived 
 to such grandeur, that it could scarce extend 
 itself farther. No outward force was sufficient 
 to subdue the power of the Romans. But the 
 state at length fell by its own weight, and the 
 ambition of the leading men. 
 
 Julius Caesar, at this time, began to make 
 a considerable figure in Rome. He had before 
 enjoyed many public offices, and was now prse~ 
 tor and governor of Spain, where he greatly 
 extended the frontiers of the Roman dominion. 
 He also reduced Lusitania into a Roman pro- 
 vince, and, on his return home, was received 
 with the general acclamations of the people. 
 But he declined a triumph, and was elected 
 consul. 
 
 Csesar now began to lay the foundation of 
 his future grandeur. Pompey and Crass us 
 were competitors for the government. Ctcsal* 
 undertook to reconcile these professed enemies, 
 and to unite them to himself. He succeeded 
 in his design; and these three men agreed, 
 “that nothing should he transacted in the re¬ 
 public, without their joint approbation.” 
 
 In this manner was formed the first grand 
 
184 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 triumvirate, which totally subverted both the 
 consular and popular state, the whole power 
 being now vested in the hands of the three 
 greatest men in Rome, as to f valor, authority 
 and riches. Thus fell the liberty of Rome, 
 owing to venality and corruption, after having 
 made such an illustrious figure for many ages, 
 in the year before Christ 58. It is no w onder, 
 that it was soon after plunged into the greatest 
 miseries, as it was impossible the triumvirs 
 should long agree together. 
 
 Caesar was no sooner settled in the consul ¬ 
 ship, hut he confirmed all Pompey’s acts, pur¬ 
 suant to the agreement made between them. 
 And, in order to strengthen his power by alli¬ 
 ance with the first families, he married Cal- 
 f phurnia, the daughter of Piso, and gave his 
 daughter Julia in marriage to Pompey. He 
 next endeavored to ingratiate himself with the 
 commons, and preferred a law for dividing the 
 lands in Campania among the poorer citizens, 
 who had three children or more. By these 
 arts, and a boundless generosity, he gained the 
 favor of all ranks and degrees of men. The 
 government of Syria was given to Crassus; 
 ihat of Spain to Pompey; and that of Gallia 
 Cisalpina was allotted (o Cresar. In this man¬ 
 ner these three men divided (he world among 
 them. Cato inveighed against this distribution, 
 but Caesar caused him to be put under arrest. 
 Cicero also met w ith the like ill treatment, and 
 was^ sent to his government in Cilicia; and in 
 order to ruin bis interest, Caesar associated 
 himself with Clodjus, the professed enemy of 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 185 
 
 Cicero, although he had been lately engaged 
 in a criminal correspondence with Pompeia^ 
 Caesar’s wife. 
 
 The conquest of Gaul opened a large field 
 for action. Caesar set out for that country 
 with four legions of Homan soldiers, and Pom- 
 pey afterwards sent him another. His suc¬ 
 cess was equal to his great courage and valor; 
 for in the space of ten years, he triumphed 
 over the Helvetii, and confined them to their 
 mountains. He defeated Ariovistus, king of 
 the Suevi; he subdued the Belgse,and conquered 
 all Gaul. The Romans also, under his con¬ 
 duct, crossed the sea, and, for the first time, 
 set up their eagles in Britain. It is related 
 by Plutarch, and other historians, that, in the 
 progress of his army, he took either by force, 
 or made submit by the terror of his arms,eight 
 hundred cities; that he subdued three hundred^ 
 different nations, and that he defeated in differ¬ 
 ent battles three millions of men; of which 
 about a million were slain in battle, and an 
 equal number were made prisoners. It is cer¬ 
 tain the commonwealth had never seen a grea¬ 
 ter commander; but the rapidity of Csesar’s 
 conquests increased bis ambition; and the 
 riches he accumulated became the surest in¬ 
 strument of bringing his great designs to the 
 desired issue. ' , 
 
 A. ' 
 
 Crassus carried on an unsuccessful war 
 against the Par Lilians in Syria, and there lost 
 his life. One of the Triumvirate being thus 
 taken off, the jealousy of the other two was 
 soon perceived. Pompey was not able td hear 
 
 q % 
 
186 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 an equal, nor Cscsar a superior. A disagree--* 
 ment between these great men broke out, which 
 engaged their country in a civil war. Corrup¬ 
 tion was at this time got to an enormous height 
 ill the city, and faction and private interest 
 prevailed in ail public affairs. Pompey ima¬ 
 gined it would be easy for him to triumph over 
 his competitor; but Csesar, by his mighty ex¬ 
 ploits in war, his great policy and industry, 
 and by his bounty at home, secured himself a 
 strong party. 
 
 Cicero, about this time, returned to Rome, 
 from Cilicia. His absence had prevented him 
 from siding with either party, and he now en¬ 
 deavored to act as mediator between both; hut 
 no proposal of accommodation would be listen¬ 
 ed to. Pompey’s party endeavored to draw 
 Cjesar from* his government of Gaul, whilst 
 Csesar, on the other band, insisted that Pom- 
 pey should resign bis government also, and dis¬ 
 band his armies. At last, in the consulship of 
 Claudius Marcellus, and Lucius Lentulus, the 
 senate ordered Cscsar to disband his army by 
 a certain day. Ctesar upon this passed the 
 Alps and halted at Ravenna, from whence he 
 wrote to the senate. In his letter he declared 
 that he was ready to lay down his command 
 jointly with Pompey; but if that genetal kept 
 his command, he, for his part, knew how to 
 maintain himself at the head of his legions. 
 He concluded his epistle in the following man¬ 
 ner; “If I have not justice immediately done 
 me, I will march to Rome.” These last words 
 filled the assembly with horror, and Ctesar was 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 187 
 
 commanded to resign his army, on pain of be¬ 
 ing declared an enemy to his country. This 
 decree of the senate was a declaration of war, 
 and both parties had recourse to arms. Mark 
 Antony the tribune, as also Curio and Cassius, 
 quitted the city, and went over to Caesar. 
 
 Caesar immediately retired secretly from Ra¬ 
 venna, and went and joined his army, which 
 was then near the Rubicon. Be there found 
 about five thousand foot, and three hundred 
 horse, and with these inconsiderable forces he 
 began the civil war. He halted for some time 
 on the banks of the Rubicon, reflecting on the 
 miseries and calamities inseparable from intes¬ 
 tine wars. “If I do not cross this river, said 
 he to himself, I am ruined; and, should I pass 
 it, what multitudes shall l ruin!” After con¬ 
 sidering a little, and the animosity of his ene¬ 
 mies presenting itself to his mind, he plunged 
 into the river, and cried out, ‘‘Let us go whi¬ 
 ther the omens of the gods, and the injustice of 
 our enemies, call us. The dye is east.” 
 
 The army having crossed the Rubicon, Cae¬ 
 sar tore liis robe in the presence of the tribunes 
 of the people, and implored the protection of 
 his soldiers, when they all cried out with loud 
 acclamations, that they were ready to die in 
 the service of their general. He then march¬ 
 ed with all possible expedition and took Ariini- 
 num, which diffused terror over all Italy. 
 
 The senate were divided in their resolutions, 
 and rather waited the consequences of the pre¬ 
 sent commotions, than provided for the general 
 safety. Pornpey, iti great uneasiness and con- 
 
188 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 fusion, eouid resolve on nothing certain; ansi 
 the senators reproached him with being lulled 
 asleep by the deceitful shew which Csesar made 
 of restoring peace. 
 
 In this unsettled state, he removed the seat 
 of war from the neighborhood of Rome to Apu¬ 
 lia. The consuls, with a great part of the se¬ 
 nators, followed the fortune ofPompey. 
 
 CHAP. LXXXVIII. 
 
 Of the Battle of Pharsalia, and the Death of 
 
 Pompey. 
 
 ABOUT this time Csesar made himself mas¬ 
 ter of Picenum; and having obtained some oth¬ 
 er advantages, before he set out for Spain, in 
 order to drive Pompey’s veterans from thence, 
 he marched first to Rome, to settle some kind 
 of government there. Having taken 3,000 
 pounds weight of gold out of the treasury, he 
 left Rome, saying, that he w as going to attack 
 an army without a general, and that then he 
 would go and combat a general without an 
 army. 
 
 After several skirmishes and battles on both 
 sides, the armies of Pompey and Csesar met 
 on the plains of Pharsalia. In these armies 
 was the flower of the Roman legions, whose 
 bravery was to determine the fate of that migh¬ 
 ty empire. The animosity and ambition of 
 their chiefs, who were fired with the hopes of 
 the riches and glory which must necessarily 
 fallow the conquest of this day, made every 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 189 
 
 one conclude, that a general battle was unavoid- 
 able. Pompey having twice the number of sol¬ 
 diers that Caesar had, thought himself sure of 
 victory; and his soldiers even quarrelled among 
 themselves about the share of plunder. 
 
 Caesar employed his time in a different man¬ 
 ner. He exerted his utmost skill to improve 
 liis soldiers, and inspire them with vigor and 
 activity. Hearing that Pompey’s army was 
 drawn up in order of battle, he told his troops, 
 with an air of the highest satisfaction, that the 
 long-wished-for moment was arrived, in which * 
 it was in their power to gain immortal honor. 
 Having thus spoken, he advanced with his 
 troops towards the field of battle. Pompey 
 was very much disturbed by ill omens, but ne¬ 
 vertheless exhorted his soldiers to behave cou¬ 
 rageously. As the armies approached, the two 
 generals rode from rank to rank, to animate 
 their soldiers. The signal was then given for 
 battle, and the contest on both sides was long 
 and bloody, and seemed for some time equal. 
 Pompey’s cavalry charged with great vigor, 
 and obliged the enemy to give ground. Caesar 
 instantly advanced with bis reserved corps, who 
 attacking the face of the enemy with their 
 pikes, threw them into the greatest disorder. 
 Caesar pursued the advantage with so much vi¬ 
 gor, that they were at last overpowered. The 
 auxiliaries began the flight, though Pompey’s 
 right w ing maintained their ground with great 
 bravery. At this instant, Caesar ordering bis 
 men to cry aloud, “Kill the foreigners, but 
 save the Homans,” the latter threw down their 
 
190 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 arms, and received quarter. In the mean time 
 a dreadful slaughter was made of the foreign¬ 
 ers, who were flying with tiie utmost precipi¬ 
 tation. 
 
 After the battle, Pompey did not act con¬ 
 sistent with the character he had hitherto sus¬ 
 tained; but mounting a horse, went to Larrissa, 
 and from thence to the sea-shore. The rich 
 furniture and other things which were found in 
 Pompey’s camp, were a convincing proof how 
 much luxui^ had prevailed there. Fifteen 
 thousand men fell in this memorable battle* 
 and twenty-four thousand were taken prisoners. 
 
 Pompey, though lately a great and powerful 
 commander, was now obliged, with a few friends 
 only, to retreat to a fisherman’s bark, from 
 whence he got on board another vessel and 
 made his escape. His misfortunes had now so 
 completely conquered him, that he forgot to 
 make use of those advantages he still haiFat 
 sea, being master of a powerful and victorious 
 fleet. He fled to the island of Lesbos, where 
 he had before sent Cornelia his wife, and Sex¬ 
 tus, his younger son, whom he took with him 
 from Lesbos to Cyprus, and from thence came 
 to Egypt. 
 
 Pompey had been a great friend to Auletes, 
 the father of the young Egyptian king; and it 
 was chiefly through the influence of this illus¬ 
 trious Homan that he was restored to his king¬ 
 dom. He therefore expected to he assisted, and 
 received with equal kindness by the son. Pom¬ 
 pey, on his drawing near to land, sent messen¬ 
 gers to Ptolemy to request his protection and 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 191 
 
 aid in his present distress. The king was then 
 qnly thirteen years of age, and therefore con¬ 
 sulted his ministers what answer to return. At 
 hist, after various opinions, it was thought most 
 expedient to dispatch him. Achillas, and Sep¬ 
 timus, a Homan commander, were sent to exe¬ 
 cute this horrid deed. 
 
 They went to take Pompey on board a small 
 boat, under pretence that great vessels could 
 not approach the shore without much difficulty. 
 The troops were drawn up on the sea-side, as 
 with a design to honor Pompey, with Ptolemy 
 at their head. Pompey embraced Cornelia, 
 (alas, little did he think for ihe last time!) and 
 entered the boat, where he was shamefully mur¬ 
 dered, in the sight of his wife, and the young 
 king. The murderers cut off his head, and 
 threw his body on the sand, where it had no 
 other funeral than what one of his freedmen 
 gave it, with the assistance of an old Roman, 
 who was there by accident. Thus unworthily 
 ended the life of Pompey the Great, in the fifty- 
 ninth year of his age. 
 
 Cornelia had seen Pompey massacred before 
 her eyes, and it is easier to imagine the condi¬ 
 tion of a woman in the height of grief from so 
 tragical a scene, than to describe it. The Ro¬ 
 man ships made olf to sea with all imaginable 
 speed. Cornelia and Sextus escaped first to 
 Tyre, and from thence into Africa; but most 
 of the other ships were taken by the Egyptian 
 gallies, and all on hoard were cruelly put to 
 the sword; among whom was Lucius Lentulus 
 the late consul, who obstinately rejecting all 
 
i92 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 the proposals that had been made by Csesar, 
 was the author of this fatal war. 
 
 CHAP. LXXXIX. 
 
 Of Cwsar 9 s Expedition into Egypt,' and hi$ 
 Attachment to Cleopatra . 
 
 CiESAll passed over into Egypt, and spent 
 nine nionhts at Alexandria with Cleopatra, queen 
 of that country. This queen hearing that Csesar 
 was fond of women, laid a plot first to attach 
 him to her person, and then her cause; for she 
 was a woman who made nothing of prostituting 
 her person to any one, either through passion 
 or interest/' She desired Csesar to permit her 
 to come in person, that she might plead her 
 own cause before him. This being easily 
 granted, she was conveyed privately into the 
 city by her own servant, who carried her on 
 his back, tied up in her bedding, to Csesar’s 
 apartment in the citadel, where he threw down 
 his burthen, untied it, and up started the lady 
 with the best airs she could put on. Csesar 
 was pleased with her stratagem, and smitten 
 with her beauty, which had all the effects she 
 wished for. 
 
 Csesar having obtained a complete victory 
 over the Egyptian army, Ptolemy endeavored 
 to escape in a boat, which sunk, and he was 
 drowned in the Nile. Csesar then returned to 
 Alexandria, and all Egypt submitted to the con¬ 
 queror. 
 
 Csesar gave the crown of Egypt to Cleopa 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 193 
 
 tra, in conjunction with Ptolemy, her younger 
 brother, who was only eleven years of age. 
 The passion which Csesar had conceived for 
 that princess, was probably the sole cause for 
 his embarking in so dangerous a war, and his 
 affection for her kept him much longer in Egypt 
 than his affairs required. lie passed whole 
 nights in feasting with her, and even intended 
 to marry her; but after continuing some months 
 in Egypt, he was obliged to leave it in order 
 to oppose Pharnaces, son of the great Mitliri- 
 dates. Pharnaces being conquered, and endea- 
 voring to break into Bosphorus, was repulsed 
 and slain by Asander, who had revolted from 
 him. Thus deservedly fell a man so rebel¬ 
 lious to his father, and ungrateful to his 
 friends. After this he set out for Rome, with 
 the utmost diligence, having settled his affairs 
 in these parts, as well as time would permit. 
 
 CHAP. XC> 
 
 Of the Death of Cato , 
 
 ON Cresar’s Return to Rome, the Senate de¬ 
 creed him an unlimited authority. He was 
 appointed consul for ten years, and made Mark 
 Antony his master of horse. In the year pre¬ 
 ceding his appointment, Pompey’s party ga¬ 
 thered fresh strength in Africa, under Scipio, 
 Cato, and Juba, king of Numidia. Csesar mar¬ 
 ched an army into that country, and entirely 
 defeated the enemy at Thapsus, a town on the 
 sea-coast. Upon this victory, Zama; and other 
 
 R 
 
194 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 cities surrendered to Csesar. Seipio was drown¬ 
 ed in his passage to Spain; king Juba obliged 
 a slave to dispatch him; and Cato retired to 
 Utica, a city in Africa, where he established a 
 kind of senate, which consisted of 300 Romans. 
 He at first intended to stand a siege, but find¬ 
 ing the inhabitants were not to be relied on, he 
 changed his resolution, and advised his friends 
 either to escape by sea, or submit to the mercy 
 of Csesar. He embraced them with uncommon 
 tenderness, and discoursed on moral subjects, 
 of which this was the theme: ‘‘The virtuous 
 are the only happy and free, and the wicked are 
 ever wretched and slaves.” 
 
 His sons suspecting he had some design on 
 himself at supper, took his sword from him, 
 which he did not then miss. He afterwards 
 threw himself on his bed, and read Plato’s dia¬ 
 logue on the Immortality of the soul; then mis¬ 
 sing his sword, which not being brought him 
 as soon as he expected, he fell into a violent 
 passion. At last his friends, bringing it to him, 
 implored him not to lay violent hands on him¬ 
 self, but to continue among them, as their only 
 genius, guardian, and protector. On receiving 
 Iiis sword, he felt the point of it, and said, “I 
 am now my own master.” He then read 
 again, and afterwards fell into a sound sleep. 
 At day-break he awoke, when he stabbed him¬ 
 self; but not doing it effectually, he staggered 
 and threw down a table, the noise of which 
 brought in his slaves, his friends, and his sons, 
 who found him weltering in his gore. His 
 physician replaced his bowels, and sewed up 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 105 
 
 the wound; but Cato afterwards coming to him¬ 
 self, tore open the wound; and rushed out of 
 life with fury, rage, and indignation, which fin¬ 
 ished Csesar’s war in Africa. 
 
 Whether the manner in which this great re¬ 
 publican put a period to his life, was justifiable 
 or not, has ever since been a matter of much 
 dispute. It must be owned, that he did not on 
 this occasion, act conformably to his own sys¬ 
 tem of philosophy; and if we try him by the 
 laws of Christianity, he will appear still more 
 culpable. Life is but a short summer’s cam¬ 
 paign, in which we have many battles to fight, 
 many breaches to mount, many strong fostres- 
 ses to storm. The prudent general; liQwever 
 unfortunate he may have been fora long time, 
 experience teaches us, often proves at last suc¬ 
 cessful, and gives us a convincing proof, that 
 it is cowardice to despair, though in all human 
 appearance every thing seems lost. We ought, 
 however, to allow Cato some favorable circum¬ 
 stances. We must consider the age in which 
 he lived, and the barbarity of those times, in 
 
 which suicide was not forbidden either bv re- 
 
 * 
 
 ligion or laws. Shall Cato become the sport 
 and mockery of those people, to whom he once 
 gave laws? Shall he live to see his country, 
 once the seat of sweet liberty and freedom, be¬ 
 come the den of tyranny and oppression? Shall 
 his eyes behold her laws subverted, venality 
 and corruption carrying every thing before 
 them, and that once fair and stately city Rome, 
 once the mistress of the world, now, through 
 faction and party, precipitating into a pile of 
 ruins?. 
 
196 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. XCI. 
 
 Of Caesar’s Success, his Triumphs, and his 
 
 Death. 
 
 CiESAR pursued his prosperous fortune 
 with great rapidity. Besides his conquests in 
 Alexandria, and over Pompey’s party in Afri¬ 
 ca, he went into Spain and marched in person 
 against the two sons of Pompey, who, under 
 Labienus, had raised a powerful army. The 
 armies came to an engagement in the plains of 
 Munda. Csesar, after great hazard of being 
 entirely routed, animated his soldiers with the 
 greatest resolution, and gained a complete vie- 
 
 ■H- 
 
 tory over the enemy. Thirty thousand were 
 killed on the spot, the generals were dispersed*, 
 and all Spain submitted to the conqueror. 
 
 When Caesar returned to Rome, he triumph¬ 
 ed four times in one month. He rewarded his 
 soldiers with great liberality, and exhibited 
 public shows with great magnificence, for the 
 diversion of the people; and to remove every 
 cause of jealousy, he bestowed tlie honors of 
 the state on Pompey’s friends equally with his 
 own adherents. 
 
 Many of the senators, however, w ho had re¬ 
 ceived these favors at the hand of Csesar, se¬ 
 cretly upbraided themselves for accepting his 
 kindness, at the expense of public liberty.— 
 Many were also dissatisfied with the change of 
 government, and the ambitious conduct of C»- 
 sar, who now attempted to assume the regal 
 title. These sought to accomplish his ruin, 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 197 
 
 and in private cabals it was agreed, that the 
 liberty of the commonwealth could no longer 
 he maintained without the death of the dicta¬ 
 tor. 
 
 Brutus and Cassius were, by Csesar’s ap¬ 
 pointment, praetors for that year. These men 
 were at the head of that party. The conspira¬ 
 tors carried on their plot with all imaginable 
 caution and secrecy; and the better to justify 
 their designs, deferred it till the Ides of March, 
 on which day Csesar was to be declared king* 
 A famous augur told Csesar, that great dan¬ 
 gers threatened him on the Ides of March; 
 and those writers, who would add horror to the 
 description of this day, tell us, “that the world 
 wore a gloomy and heavy presage of Csesar’s 
 fate; that wild beasts came into the most fre 
 quen-ed parts of the city; that there were ap¬ 
 paritions in the streets, and illuminations in the 
 skies; and that inauspicious sacrifices damped 
 the hearts of all men, except the assassins, 
 who, with incredible serenity of mind, waited 
 the approaching opportunity of sacrificing the 
 usurper.” 
 
 Csesar’s wife having had frightful and omi¬ 
 nous dreams the preceding night, persuaded 
 him not to go abroad that day; but llecimus 
 Brutus, one of the conspirators, calling on him 
 in the morning, and laughing at those silly 
 omens, took him by the hand, and led him out 
 of his house. As Csesar was going to the se¬ 
 nate-house, he met the augur who had for- 
 warned him of the dangers of that day. “The 
 Ides of March are come ,’ 5 said C^sar.—. 
 
 r 
 
 cy 
 
198 
 
 BLOWERS OB 
 
 “True,” replied the augur, “but they are not 
 yet past.” 
 
 Scarce had Caesar taken his seat, but all the 
 assassins pressed upon him, and sued for fa¬ 
 vors which they knew would not be granted. 
 The sign was given. Immediately one, op- 
 pressed with the greatness of the attempt, made 
 an irresolute pass at him. Caesar then rushed 
 upon Casca, and beat him to the ground. But 
 while they were struggling, another of the con- 
 spirators came behind him, and plunged his 
 dagger into his bosom. At the same time 
 Cassius wounded him in the face, and Brutus 
 in the thigh. Till this time he had made a 
 very vigorous resistance, but now made no 
 more, and submitting to the strokes of a person 
 who owed to him his life, he only uttered these 
 words: “And thou too, my son Brutus!” Cae- 
 Sar used to call him by this tender name, sup¬ 
 posing him to be his illegitimate son by an in¬ 
 trigue with Servilia. Growing now faint with 
 the loss of blood, he reeled to Vompey’s sta¬ 
 tue, where covering his face with his robe, and 
 drawing his skirts to his knees, that he might 
 fall decently, he sunk down and expired, hav¬ 
 ing received twenty-three wounds. 
 
 C£esar had long before been advised by his 
 friends to be more cautious of the security of 
 his person, and not to walk, as was his common 
 practice, among the people, without arms or 
 any one to defend him. But to these admoni¬ 
 tions he always replied, “He that lives in fear 
 of death, every moment feels its tortures: I 
 will die but once,” At last, thus fell, in the 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 199 
 
 fifty-sixth year of his age, the conqueror of 
 the Gauls, of Pompey, and the senate, the mas¬ 
 ter of the Roman republic and the world, who 
 died without uttering the least complaint, or 
 shewing any marks of grief or weakness, in 
 the year before Christ 43. 
 
 It is not to be omitted here, that among 
 other noble schemes and ordinances, which 
 tended to the grandeur of the city of Rome, 
 and the enlargement of the Roman empire, 
 Csesar reformed the calendar; and with the 
 assistance of the most able astronomers, regUr 
 lated the year according to the course of the 
 sun. Two months were added to the calendar, 
 and the whole year was divided into 3 65 days. 
 He also added one day to every fourth year in 
 the month of February, and that year was nam¬ 
 ed Bissextile, or Leap-year. The reckoning 
 of time, from his regulation, was called the Ju¬ 
 lian account of time; and some ages after, the 
 old style, in opposition to the new or Grego¬ 
 rian style. This last is now generally follow¬ 
 ed in most parts of Europe, and reckons eleven 
 days forwarder. With the death of Ca3saren- 
 ed the first triumvirate, or government of the 
 Roman empire by three persons, Pompey, Cse- 
 sar, and Crassus. 
 
 CHAP. XCIL 
 
 Of Antony's Oration , and its Effects . 
 
 CiESAR was no sooner dead, but the con¬ 
 spirators acquainted the senate with the mo- 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 300 
 
 lives of their undertaking, and exhorted them 
 to join in an action, which had restored the li¬ 
 berty of their country; but most part of the 
 assembly were terrified and filled with amaze¬ 
 ment. Many left the senate, and retired to 
 their own houses to wait the issue of so bold 
 and tragical an action. 
 
 In this disposition of the senators, Brutus 
 and Cassius went into the city; and preceded 
 by an herald with the symbols of liberty, pub¬ 
 licly proclaimed they had killed the tyrant of 
 their country, and exhorted the people to join 
 in restoring the liberty of the commonwealth. 
 The people, no less struck with terror at this 
 deed than the senators, and now greatly dege¬ 
 nerated from the virtue of their ancestors, did 
 not declare in their favor. The conspirators, 
 surprised at this indolenc 9 e of the people, reti¬ 
 red to the capitol; and Brutus is by Seneca 
 charged with imprudence, that in freeing his 
 country of a tyrant, he had it not in Ms power 
 to abolish tyranny. 
 
 Antony, Csesar’s friend, was at this time 
 consul, and the city was divided into the two 
 parties; the one took papt with the conspira¬ 
 tors, the other with Antony and Lepidtis. Bru¬ 
 tus now saw with regret, that the death of the 
 usurper of the public liberty would create fresh 
 calamities in the commonwealth. Antony sum¬ 
 moned the senate, who never met on a more 
 important occasion; at the same timo he car¬ 
 ried all Csesar’s effects and papers to his own 
 house. In this assembly of the senate, as both 
 parties were afraid of each other, they entered 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 201 
 
 into a treaty, or the appearance of agreement; 
 and with joint consent it was decreed, that no 
 inquiry should be made into the dictator’s 
 death; that all his acts should he confirmed, 
 and his funeral performed at the public ex¬ 
 pense. This last article was given in charge 
 to Antony. He pronounced the funeral ora¬ 
 tion, and exerted the whole power of his rhe¬ 
 toric to work on the passions of the multitude. 
 He read Caesar’s will in the presence of all the 
 people, and expatiated largely on the love he 
 bore them, and his generosity in bequeathing 
 to each citizen a sum of money. He then dis¬ 
 played the dictator’s bloody robe, and his im¬ 
 age in wax, in which wer6 represented the 
 there aim thirty wounds he had received -at his 
 death. And when he found the people agita¬ 
 ted with grief and anger, he swore by the gods 
 of Rome, the protectors of the empire, to re¬ 
 venge his death, and conjured them to favor 
 him, in doing his duty to the father of his 
 country, and their kind benefactor. Rage and 
 fury succeeded to grief and anger; and when 
 the fire was put to the funeral pile, the people 
 seized the firebrands in order to burn the houses 
 of the conspirators, against whom they now ex¬ 
 pressed the most hitter iinprecations; but be¬ 
 ing without arms, they were repulsed by a pro¬ 
 per guard appointed to protect them. 
 
 The senators and conspirators were equally 
 offended at this artful speech of Antony; and 
 complained that the consul, contrary to the de¬ 
 cree of the senate, and his own promise, had 
 go pathetically enlarged on the praises of Cse- 
 
202 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 sar, with a view only to excite the rage of the 
 people, and promote their ruin. By this con¬ 
 duct they saw full well how little Antony was 
 to he depended on. The conspirators, to avoid 
 the present heat of the people, left the city, 
 and on different pretences retired to their se¬ 
 veral governments. Brutus declared, “that 
 he would willingly spend the remainder of his 
 days in banishment, provided Caesar’s crea¬ 
 tures did not invade the public liberty.” An¬ 
 tony, sensible that he had too openly declared 
 himself, and raised a suspicion of his inten¬ 
 tions in the senate, endeavored by some acts 
 of self-denial to reconcile JU.imself to them, and 
 regain their ftivor. To this end he began to 
 soften the harsh expressions of his funeral ora¬ 
 tion, and remonstrated to them how necessary 
 it was to quiet the minds of the people, and to 
 prevent the calamities of a civil war; but all 
 this seemingly candid declaration could not 
 clear him from the suspicion of a design to es¬ 
 tablish himself in the sovereignty. 
 
 Caesar, by his will, had adopted Octavius, 
 his sister’s grandson, and appointed him his 
 heir. This young Roman was at Apollonia, 
 in Greece, when he first heard of his uncle’s 
 murder, and the unsettled state of Italy. He 
 immediately determined to set out for Rome, 
 and support his pretensions. Ilis arrival en¬ 
 tirely frustrated the intentions of Antony. In 
 a solemn manner he directly claimed his adop¬ 
 tion, and took upon him the name of Caesar* 
 He put on the appearance of civility to Anto¬ 
 ny, and at the same time upbraided him fur 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 203 
 
 liis double dealing. These disputes for some 
 time between them were carried on with 
 warmth, and Antony accused Octavius with a 
 design to assassinate him. He also caused 
 four legions to advance near Rome; and Octa¬ 
 vius raised an army of ten thousand men in 
 Campania. Cicero engaged the senate to de¬ 
 clare in his favor; and indeed the senate, An¬ 
 tony, and Octavius, seemed all to play a dou¬ 
 ble part, in order to deceive each other; the 
 former, with the hope that these mutual feuds 
 might end in the destruction of the chief of 
 each party. 
 
 CHAP. XCIII. 
 
 • « 
 
 Of the Secotid Triumvirate. 
 
 DIFFERENCES being at last accommoda¬ 
 ted between Octavius and Antony, it was agreed 
 that they, in conjunction with Lepidus, should 
 invest themselves with the supreme authority, 
 during five years, under the name of Triumviri. 
 It was also agreed that Antony should have all 
 Gaul, except Narbonne, which Lepidus was to 
 have, with Spain; whilst Octavius was to pos¬ 
 sess Africa, Sicily, and Sardinia, with the 
 other islands; and that Italy, and the eastern 
 provinces, should continue for a time in com¬ 
 mon. In this manner did three men again di¬ 
 vide the empire of the world, in the year be¬ 
 fore Christ 41. 
 
 They further agreed, to their eternal infa¬ 
 my, to destroy all their enemies; on which oc~ 
 
204 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 ocasion Cicero caused the greatest controversy. 
 Antony was his implacable enemy, and would 
 come to no firm accommodation till his de¬ 
 struction was determined. Lepidus, who was 
 little better than a tool, consented to this. Oc¬ 
 tavius, on account of his former friendship, 
 would have saved his life; but at last he igno- 
 miniously consented to his death. They pro¬ 
 scribed three hundred senators, and upwards 
 of two thousand knights, so that Rome was 
 now in a most horrible situation, nothing be¬ 
 ing heard but cries and lamentations in every 
 part of it, and murders were every where com- 
 milted by the soldiers. 
 
 \ ' y 
 
 CHAP. XCIV. 
 
 Of Cicero's Death . 
 
 THE Triumviri carried their inhumanity to 
 such lengths, as to give up to one another their 
 nearest relations. Lepidus sacrificed his bro¬ 
 ther Paul us to his own colleagues; Mark An¬ 
 tony abandoned to C^sar his uncle Lucius; 
 and Octavius gave up to Antony, Cicero, to 
 whom he was bound by the strictest obliga¬ 
 tions. 
 
 Cicero, while on his flight, seeing ruffians 
 coming towards him, ordered his litter to be set 
 down, and quietly submitted his neck to Pom- 
 peius Lena, whom he before had saved from 
 condemnation. This wretch cut off his hands 
 and his head, and carried them to Antony, who 
 exulted over them. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 
 
 %95 
 
 Some authors tell us, that it was his custom 
 to have the heads of those, whom he had pro¬ 
 scribed, brought upon his table, and that, he 
 there used to feed his eyes a long time with 
 this cruel spectacle. Fulvia, his wife, says 
 Dion, spit upon Cicero’s head, and laying it on 
 her lap, pulled out the tongue, and pierced it 
 several times with her bodkin. The head and 
 hands being afterwards, by the order of the 
 cruel Antony, fixed upon the rostrum, the peo¬ 
 ple were struck with horror, to see the re¬ 
 mains of a man, whose unequalled eloquence 
 had so often triumphed in that very place.— 
 Thus died, about the sixty-fourth year of his 
 age, one of the greatest orators the world ever 
 produced. 
 
 / 
 
 & 
 
 CHAP. XCV, 
 
 Of the Death of Brutus and Cassius , 
 
 ABOUT forty years before Christ, a deci¬ 
 sive battle was fought, in which Antony com¬ 
 manded on one side, and Marcus Brutus and 
 Cassius on the other. Victory declared for 
 Antony; on which Cassius, by his own order, 
 was killed by his servant, and Brutus fell upon 
 his sword, and expired. 
 
 Such was the end of Brutus and Cassius, 
 who, as some relate, died with the same wea¬ 
 pons with which they had stabbed Csesar. The 
 triumviri, by this victory, established their 
 empire on the ruins of the commonwealth, its 
 liberties being lost on the plains of Pharsalia, 
 
 S 
 
206 
 
 / 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 and buried with Brutus and Cassius, (he last 
 Roman republicans. 
 
 The conquerors spent, some days in wreak-* 
 ing their vengeance on the persons of the van¬ 
 quished, Brutus’ head was sent to Rome, and 
 laid at the feet of the late dictator’s statue: at 
 the same time his ashes were sent to bis wife 
 Portia, the daughter of Cato, who, it is said, 
 on receiving this sad present, killed herself by 
 eating hot burning coals. 
 
 CHAP. XCV1. 
 
 Of Antoni) and Cleopatra . 
 
 CiESAR then returned to Italy, and Anto¬ 
 ny, after visiting Athens, where he was present 
 at the conferences of the philosophers, crossed 
 into Asia, with ail his troops, to establish the 
 authority of the triumvirate. 
 
 Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, who had poi¬ 
 soned her younger brother, that she might 
 reign alone, met him at Tarsus in Cilicia, 
 which proved his destruction: for her beauty, 
 wit and art inflamed him almost to madness, 
 and extinguished all his military ardor. 
 
 Cleopatra was then twenty live years of age, 
 when the graces of her person were more pow¬ 
 erful than the magnificence of her dress. The 
 . brilliancy of her equipage, on entering the ri¬ 
 ver Cydaus, will hardly admit of a descrip¬ 
 tion. The poop of her ship flamed with gold, 
 the sails were of purple silk, and the oars were 
 inlaid with silver. A pavilion of cloth of gold 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 307 
 
 was raised upon the deck, under which appear¬ 
 ed the queen robed like Venus, and surroun¬ 
 ded with the most beautiful virgins of her 
 court, of whom some represented the Nereids, 
 and others the Graces. Instead of trumpets 
 were heard flutes, hautboys, harps, and such 
 other musical instruments, warbling the soft¬ 
 est airs, to which the oars kept time, and ren¬ 
 dered the harmony enchanting. Perfumes were 
 burnt on the deck, which spread their odours 
 to a great distance on the river, whose shores 
 were covered with an infinite number of peo¬ 
 ple, crying out, that Venus was coming to make 
 Bacchus a visit for the good of Asia. 
 
 Great feasts were every day made between 
 Antony and Cleopatra; and it was at this time 
 that Arsinoe, Cleopatra's sister, was, at the re¬ 
 quest of that cruel queen, put to death. It 
 was also, at one of these feasts, that Cleopatra 
 had two of the finest pearls in her ears that 
 were ever seen, each of which being valued at 
 about fifty thousand pounds sterling. She 
 melted one of these pearls in vinegar, and 
 swallowed it. She would have done the same 
 with the other, but was prevented. This other 
 pearl was afterwards consecrated to Venus, by 
 Augustus, who carried it from Alexandria to 
 Rome. 
 
 Cleopatra accompanied Antony as far as 
 Tyre, and he followed her to Alexandria, where 
 they spent the whole winter, in the highest ex¬ 
 cess of luxury and effeminacy. Antony after - 
 wards returned to Rome, and married Octavia, 
 the sister of Caesar, and widow of Marcellas; 
 
FLO WEBS OF 
 
 <20S 
 
 but he still retained his fondness for Cleopa¬ 
 tra, and met her at a town in Phoenicia, from 
 whence he returned with her to Egypt. He 
 gave her Phoenicia, the lower Syria, and Cy¬ 
 prus, with great part of Cilicia, Judea, and 
 Arabia. He also made her a present of the 
 libraries of Pergamus, in which there were 
 about two hundred thousand volumes, and she 
 placed them in a new library which she built 
 where the former stood. She had a taste for 
 polite learning and sciences, and understood 
 several languages. She omitted no kind of arts 
 to keep Antony in her chains? and lie entered 
 Alexandria in triumph, dragging at his chariot 
 wheels the king of Arminia, laden with golden 
 chains, and presented him in that condition to 
 Cleopatra, who was pleased to see a captive 
 king at her feet. At one of their banquets; 
 when Antony was intoxicated with wine, she 
 presumed to ask him to give her the Roman 
 empire, which he was not ashamed to promise 
 her. 
 
 In the mean time, Cfesar having triumphed 
 over all the republicans, thought it time to 
 break with his colleagues. He wanted to reign 
 singly, and was therefore determined, if possi¬ 
 ble, to rid himself of them. He easily remo¬ 
 ved Lepidus, who being little esteemed by his 
 soldiers, was abandoned by them in the midst 
 of bis camp, which Csesar became master of, 
 by his artful conduct, and secret negotiations. 
 Lepidus was afterwards reduced to such an ab¬ 
 ject slate, as to become even the pity of his en¬ 
 emies. 
 
 Cleopatra had two sons by Antony, one of 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 
 
 209 ’ 
 
 whom was called Alexandria, and the other 
 Ptolemy. He heaped a profusion of honors on 
 these young princes, and celebrated the coro¬ 
 nation of their mother with the utmost magni¬ 
 ficence. Matters being carried to this pitch 
 by Antony, he gave great disgust to the Ro¬ 
 mans, and particularly to Octavia, his wife— 
 She set out to meet Antony, with Caesar’s con¬ 
 sent, who gave it with no other view, but that 
 Antony’s passion for Cleopatra, might induce 
 him to act dishonorably by Octavia, and there¬ 
 by increasing the indignation of the Romans 
 against Antony, he should have a plausible pre¬ 
 tence for drawing bis sword against him. 
 
 Every thing succeeded to Caesar’s wishes? 
 for Octavia received a letter from Antony, in 
 which she was ordered to come no further than 
 Athens; and accordingly stopped there. Cleo¬ 
 patra, who very much dreaded the charms and 
 virtues of Octavia, employed all her artifice to 
 prevent Antony from giving her a meeting.— 
 She assumed an air of melancholv, and would 
 frequently let fall a tear on his approach,which 
 she would wipe away immediately, affecting to 
 conceal her weakness and grief. This had its 
 desired effect; for he at last ordered Octavia to 
 return to Rome. On her return, she took the 
 greatest care of her family, and behaved in 
 such a manner as procured her immortal honor* 
 She loved her husband in spite of his ill treat¬ 
 ment, and could not bear to think that his un¬ 
 generous behavior to her should again kindle 
 the flames of a civil war. 
 
 How opposite was the character of Octavia 
 a % 
 
'210 
 
 FliOWERS Of 
 
 to that of Cleopatra! How amiable does the 
 former appear, even amidst repeated insults^ 
 and how contemptible the latter, amidst the 
 parade of magnificence. 
 
 Antony now suffered himself to be persua¬ 
 ded to divorce Oetavia, and declare war against 
 Cresar, both of which he accordingly did. He 
 then assembled his forces at Samos, where he 
 and Cleopatra lived as luxuriously as they had 
 done in Egypt. Hither several kings had or¬ 
 ders to send arms, provisions, and soldiers; and 
 others to send musicians, dancers, and buffoons; 
 so that frequently, when a ship was thought to 
 come loaded with military stores, it proved to 
 be only scenes, players, and machines. 
 
 Antony’s temper, however, began at last to 
 be much soured, and he even suspected that 
 Cleopatra had designs upon his life, and would 
 never eat any thing till she had first tasted it. 
 Cleopatra perceiving his suspicion, poisoned 
 the tops of the flowers, which she and Antony, 
 according to the custom of those times, were 
 crowned with at their meals. Antony being 
 inflamed with wine, Cleopatra proposed drink¬ 
 ing their flowers; on which he instantly broke 
 off the tops of them with his fingers, and throw¬ 
 ing them into a goblet of wine, was going to 
 drink them, when Cleopatra stopping him, said, 
 “I am the person who you suspect of designing 
 to poison you; but now judge whether I should 
 want opportunities to despatch you, if you were 
 become tiresome to me, or if I could live with¬ 
 out you.” Then ordering a prisoner to be 
 brought in, who had been sentenced to die, she 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 211 
 
 obliged him to drink off the liquor, when he 
 expired immediately. This rivetted Antony’s 
 letters beyond all hopes of shaking them off, 
 
 CHAP, XCV1I. 
 
 Of the Battle of Jlctium , and the Death of JLu* 
 
 tony . 
 
 ANTONY, being lost in luxury and effemi¬ 
 nacy with Cleopatra, gave Csesar time to get 
 his forces together, who might otherwise have 
 been easily defeated, had Antony come upon 
 him before he was prepared. Antony’s fleet 
 consisted of five hundred large ships, on board 
 of which was an army of two hundred thou¬ 
 sand foot, and twenty-two thousand horse, 
 Csesar had only two hundred and fifty ships^ 
 eighty thousand foot, and twelve thousand 
 horse. Antony was advised by his ablest com¬ 
 manders not to engage by sea; but Cleopatra 
 advising to the contrary, they came to a gene¬ 
 ral engagement near the city of Actium in Epi¬ 
 rus. Victory was for some time doubtful, till 
 the retreat of Cleopatra, who fled with the 
 whole Egyptian squadron, and was precipi¬ 
 tately followed by Antony, declaring every 
 thing was lost; for Antony’s army immediately 
 submitted to Csesar. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra escaped to Alexan¬ 
 dria, where she put many great persons to 
 death, fearing they might take up arms against 
 her, on account of the defeat she had met with. 
 To avoid falling into the hands of Csesar, she 
 
FLOWEllS OF 
 
 a i c> 
 
 AJ 1 -V 
 
 formed the most extraordinary design of hav¬ 
 ing her ships in the Mediterranean, carried into 
 the Red Sea, over the isthmus of seventy 
 miles; but in this she was prevented by the 
 Arabians, who burnt them all. Antony finding 
 himself deserted by all his followers, for some 
 time secluded himstlf from company in his 
 house, which lie called Timonium, where he 
 pretended to act the part of Timon the man- 
 hater; but he soon returned to Cleopatra, and 
 with her spent the remainder of his life. 
 
 They agreed to send ambassadors to Csesar 
 to sue for peace; and Antony submitted to the 
 meanness of demanding life of him, on the 
 shameful conditions of passing it at Athens, as 
 a private person, if Csesar would give Egypt to 
 Cleopatra and her children. The queen, how¬ 
 ever, was so treacherous as to give private or¬ 
 ders to her ambassadors, to mention her only 
 in the treaty. Csesar would not admit Anto¬ 
 ny’s ambassador’s to an audience; but he gave 
 a favorable reception to those of the queen, be¬ 
 ing particularly desirous of securing her per¬ 
 son to adorn his triumph, and her treasures, to 
 enable him to pay the debts be had contracted 
 to defray the expense of the war. 
 
 The ambassadors proving unsuccessful, An¬ 
 tony endeavored to extinguish in himself the 
 sense of bis present misfortunes, and the ap¬ 
 prehension of those that threatened him, by 
 abandoning himself to feasting and voluptuous¬ 
 ness. Cleopatra and he regaled themselves 
 alternately, and emulously contended to excel 
 each other iu the incredible magnificence of 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 213 
 
 their banquets. Cleopatra, however* foresaw 
 what might happen, and collected all sorts of 
 poison, to try which of them occasioned death 
 with the least pain. She made the experiment 
 of their virtues and strength upon condemned 
 criminals, whereby she found, that the strong¬ 
 est poisons caused death the soonest, but with 
 great torment; but that those which are gen¬ 
 tle, brought an easy but slow death. She tried 
 the bitings of venomous creatures, and caused 
 various kinds of serpents to be applied to dif¬ 
 ferent persons. She every day made these ex¬ 
 periments, and discovered at length that the 
 asp was the only one which caused neither tor¬ 
 ture nor convulsions, and which, throwing the 
 person bit into an immediate heaviness and stu¬ 
 pefaction, attended with a slight perspiration 
 upon the face, and a numbness of all the or¬ 
 gans of sense, gently extinguished life; so that 
 those who were in that condition, were angry 
 when anv one awakened them, or endeavored 
 to make them rise, like people exceedingly 
 sleepy. This was the poison she fixed upon; 
 but applied herself with extraordinary solici¬ 
 tude in caressing Antony, to dispel his suspi¬ 
 cions and complaints. 
 
 Caesar being fully sensible, that it was of 
 the highest importance to him not to leave his 
 victory unfinished, invested Pelusium, and sum¬ 
 moned the governor to open the gates. Se- 
 leucus, who commanded there for Cleopatra, 
 had received secret orders upon that head, and 
 surrendered the place without waiting for a 
 siege. Such was the wickedness of this queen* 
 
214 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 in whom the most odious vices were complica¬ 
 ted. She absolutely renounced all modesty, 
 had a violent propensity to fraud, injustice and 
 cruelty; and what was worse than all, was a 
 most detestable hypocrite. While the rumor 
 ©f this treason spread through the city, Cleo¬ 
 patra ordered her most precious moveables to be 
 carried to a place of security. 
 
 Caesar was in hopes of making himself mas¬ 
 ter of Alexandria in a short time, by means of 
 the intelligence he held with Cleopatra, on 
 which he relied no less than his army. Anto¬ 
 ny being ignorant of her intrigues, prepared for 
 an obstinate defence. He made a vigorous 
 sally, and returned victorious into the city, 
 which was the last effort of his expiring genius; 
 for, after this exploit, his fortitude and sense of 
 glory forsook him, or were of no more service 
 to him. Instead of pursuing his victory, and 
 keeping a watchful eye over Cleopatra, who 
 betrayed him, he flew to her in his armor, and 
 threw himself at her feet. The palace echoed 
 with acclamations, as though the siege had 
 been raised, and Antony and Cleopatra spent 
 that day, and part of the night, in the most 
 abandoned folly. 
 
 Antonv now resolved to make the last at- 
 tempt both by sea and land, with a fixed reso¬ 
 lution to conquer or die. He ordered his at¬ 
 tendants to fill him out wine plentifully, saying, 
 “This may be, perhaps, the last piece of service 
 you will be able to do me; for to-morrow you 
 may change your master, when I, stretched on 
 the ground, shall be no more,” 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY, 
 
 iilb 
 
 On the approach of day, Antony drew up 
 his forces on some rising ground out of the 
 city, and from (hence beheld his gallics which 
 were rowing out of the port, and going to at¬ 
 tack those of Csesar; but how shall l express 
 his astonishment when he beheld his admiral 
 delivering up his fleet to his enemy! At the 
 same time his cavalry seeing this, deserted him 
 and went over to Csesar, when his infantry was 
 obliged to submit. Unhappy Antony, in vain 
 do you fly to the palace to seek Cleopatra, that 
 you may murder her for her perfidy; she is not 
 there; tlie ignominious wretch is retired! 
 
 Cleopatra had secured herself from his fury 
 among the tombs, which quarter was fortified 
 with good walls, and the gates were shut. She 
 desired that Antony should be told that she had 
 destroyed herself. Struck with the idea of her 
 death, he passed immediately from the excess 
 of rage to the most violent transports of grief, 
 and thought only of following her to the grave. 
 Having taken ibis resolution, he shut himself 
 up in his apartment with a freed-man, whom 
 he had caused to take off his armor, and com¬ 
 manded him to plunge his dagger into his bo¬ 
 som. But his servant, full of affection, res¬ 
 pect, and fidelity for his master, stabbed him¬ 
 self with iL and fell dead at his feet. Antony 
 looking upon this action as an example for him 
 to follow, thrust his sword into his body, and 
 fell upon the floor in a torrent of his blood, 
 which he mingled with that of his faithful ser¬ 
 vant* 
 
 At that moment an officer came to let him 
 
216 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 know that Cleopatra was alive. He no sooner 
 heard her name pronounced, than he opened 
 his dying eyes, suffered his wounds to be dres¬ 
 sed, and caused himself to he carried to the 
 fort, where she had shut herself up. Cleopa¬ 
 tra would not permit the gates to be opened to 
 give him entrance, for fear of some surprise; 
 but she appeared at a lofty window', from 
 whence she threw down chains and cords. An¬ 
 tony was made fast to these, and Cleopatra, as¬ 
 sisted by two women, who were the only per¬ 
 sons she had brought with her to the tombs, 
 drew him up. Never was there a more mo¬ 
 ving sight. Antony all bathed in his blood, 
 with death painted in Ins face, was dragged up 
 into (he air, turning his dying eyes, and ex¬ 
 tending his feeble hands to Cleopatra, as if to 
 conjure her to receive his last breath; while 
 she with her features distorted, and her arms 
 strained, pulled the cord with her whole 
 strength. When she had drawn him up to her, 
 and placed him on a bed, she threw her clothes 
 upon him, and making the most mournful ex¬ 
 clamations, cut off his hair, according to the 
 superstition of the pagans, that that was a re¬ 
 lief to those who died a violent death. Her 
 cries recalling his fainting spirits, and seeing 
 the affliction she was in, he told her, with a 
 view to comfort her, that he should die in peace, 
 since he would expire in her arms; and that 
 he did not blush at his defeat, since he had been 
 vanquished by Romans. Having thus spoken, 
 he expired, being then in the fifty-third year 
 of his age. His death put an end to all civil 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 
 
 217 
 
 wars, and gave Csesar an opportunity of com¬ 
 pleting his ambitious designs. 
 
 CHAP. XCVIII. 
 
 Of the Death of Cleopatra . 
 
 JUST about the time that Antony breathed 
 his last, Proculeius, who had received particu¬ 
 lar orders to seize Cleopatra, arrived from 
 C?esar. He could not refrain from shedding 
 tears on this melancholy occasion, which was 
 aggravated by the bloody sword that was pre¬ 
 sented to him. The queen refused to go with 
 him, but permitted him to speak to her from 
 without. 
 
 Proculeius after having observed the situa¬ 
 tion of the sepulchre, went and informed Csesar 
 of his observations. Csesar then sent Gallus 
 to speak with her, which he did in the same 
 manner as Proculeius. In the mean time, the 
 latter bringing a ladder, and being followed by 
 two officers, got in at the window, where An¬ 
 tony had been drawn up, and went down to the 
 gate, where Cleopatra was talking to Gallus. 
 One of her female attendants seeing him, 
 shrieked and cried out, 4 ‘1I1 fated princess, thou 
 art taken!” Cleopatra had raised a dagger to 
 stab herself, when Proculeius catching her in 
 his arms, thus addressed her: “You injure 
 both Caesar and yourself, in attempting to de¬ 
 prive him of so noble an opportunity to exert 
 his clemency.” He seized her dagger, and 
 shook her robes, to discover if any poison was 
 
 T 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 218 
 
 concealed under them. Csesar then sent a 
 freed-man to guard Cleopatra, ordering him to 
 use her like a queen, but to prevent her from 
 laying violent hands upon herself. 
 
 Csesar then entered Alexandria without fur¬ 
 ther opposition, and gave Cleopatra fair hopes 
 of the kindest treatment; though he intended 
 only to pervert her treasure to his own purpo¬ 
 ses* and reserve her person to grace his tri¬ 
 umph. But when he had both in his power, he 
 disregarded her, and she found she had no other 
 means of avoiding the disgrace of adding to the 
 glory of his triumph, than by putting a period 
 to her life. 
 
 Csesar went and paid her a visit, when she 
 endeavored to captivate this young conqueror, 
 as she had before captivated Julius Csesar and 
 Antony. But alas, the charm was now broken! 
 Csesar with the utmost coolness only advised 
 her not to despond, declaring that he would 
 treat her with all possible tenderness. 
 
 Ife permitted her to dispose of her jewels 
 as she thought proper; and, after giving her 
 the kindest assurances, he left her. Csesar 
 imagined he had artfully over-reached Cleopa¬ 
 tra, by inspiring her with the love of life, w hich 
 he in fact wished to prolong, only for the sake 
 of his triumph; but herein he soon found his 
 mistake. 
 
 Csesar had before given Cleopatra leave to 
 bury Antony, which she did with the utmost 
 magnificence. According to the custom of 
 Egypt, she caused his body to be embalmed 
 with the most exquisite perfumes of the east. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 219 
 
 aiul placed it among the tombs of the Egyp¬ 
 tian kings. 
 
 Cleopatra hearing that Csesar intended to 
 send fcer and her children away within three 
 days, conjured him to let her pay her last ob¬ 
 lations to the remains of Antony, which he 
 granted. She then visited Antony’s tomb, 
 strewing it with flowers, and watering it with 
 tears. She then returned to her chamber, went 
 into a hath, and from thence to table, where a 
 splendid entertainment was prepared. When 
 she rose from table, she wrote a letter to Csesar, 
 wherein she earnestly desired to he laid in the 
 same tomb with Antony; and having made all 
 leave her chamber, except her two women, she 
 shut the door, sat down upon a bed, and asked 
 for a basket of figs, which a peasant had lately 
 brought. This supposed peasant was one of 
 the queen’s domestics, who had eluded the vi¬ 
 gilance of the guards. She placed the basket 
 by her, and a moment after lay down, as if she 
 had fallen asleep; but this was the effect of the 
 asp, which was concealed among the fruit, and 
 had stung her in the arm, which she had held 
 to it. The poison immediately communicated 
 to her heart, and killed her without pain. 
 
 Thus died, in the thirty-ninth year of her 
 age, this princess, whose wit and beauty had 
 made so much noise in the world, after having 
 reigned twenty-two years from the death of her 
 father, twelve thereof she had passed with An¬ 
 tony. She was a w oman of great parts, as well 
 as of great wickedness, and spoke several lan¬ 
 guages with the utmost readiness. In her 
 
220 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 death ended the reign of the Ptolomies in 
 Egypt, after it had continued from the death of 
 Alexander 29* years. 
 
 Csesar, on the receipt of Cleopatra’s letter, 
 instantly dispatched a messenger to her, who 
 found her dead on a golden couch, dressed in 
 royal robes, looking like one asleep, with one 
 of her maids dead at her feet, and the other 
 expiring. Csesar was very much troubled at 
 Cleopatra’s death, as it robbed him of the no¬ 
 blest ornament of his triumph. He ordered 
 her body to be buried near that of Antony, 
 agreeably to her request, which was accord¬ 
 ingly done with the greatest funeral pomp. 
 Her women had also a pompous interment, in 
 memory of their fidelity. After Cleopatra’s 
 death, Egypt was made a Roman province, and 
 governed by a prefect sent from Rome for that 
 purpose. 
 
 Caesar having now greatly enlarged the Ro¬ 
 man dominions, was received at Rome as a con¬ 
 queror, who had put an end to the miseries and 
 calamities of most nations. He triumphed 
 three days successively with extraordinary 
 magnificence; first for Illyrieum, secondly for 
 the victory at Actium, and thirdly for the con¬ 
 quest of Egypt. On this occasion the temple 
 of Janus was shut, which was the third time 
 since the foundation of Rome, after having 
 stood open 205 years. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 221 
 
 CHAP. XC1X. 
 
 Octavius Caesar assumes the title of Augustus 
 
 and Emperor, 
 
 OCTAVIUS CiESAR, now considering 
 himself as supreme governor of the Roman em¬ 
 pire, assumed the title of Augustus and Empe¬ 
 ror, and resolved to shew all the clemency of 
 a wise prince, as well as the art of a refined 
 politician. His first care was to make the ad¬ 
 herents of Antony his friends,* after this he 
 gave splendid entertainments to those in power, 
 and amused the people with shows and plays*. 
 He regulated the many abuses that had crept 
 into the state, banished corruption from the 
 senate, and allowed the people the free posses¬ 
 sion of their liberties. Having settled every 
 thing in the most excellent order, a variety of 
 thoughts crowded into his mind, and he reflec¬ 
 ted for a considerable time, whether he should 
 continue to rule the empire, or restore it to 
 its former state. Scylla and Julius Csesar 
 were two examples too recent to he forgotten. 
 The former, by giving up his power, was suf¬ 
 fered to die peaceably in his bed,* whereas, the 
 latter, by maintaining it, was assassinated by 
 the hands of his best friends, who afterwards 
 triumphed in the deed. 
 
 Not being able to determine for himself, he 
 consulted his two best friends, Agrippa and 
 Mecsenas. Agrippa advised him to resign it; 
 but Mecsenas was of a different opinion. lie 
 insisted on it, that it would be impossible for 
 
 t 
 
 O 
 
222 iXOWEltS Of 
 
 the state to subsist but under a monarch, whose 
 person and power would be equally secure, un¬ 
 der a mild and wise administration. He fol¬ 
 lowed the advice of Meegenas, and though he 
 offered to resign his power, he had no inten¬ 
 tion of so doing. The senate and people, how¬ 
 ever, unanimously refused to accept his resig¬ 
 nation; *so that he had the pleasure of being 
 lorcted to accept of that which he wished for. 
 
 It may be said, that now ended the greatest 
 commonwealth upon earth, and commenced the 
 greatest monarchy. The empire of Rome was 
 extended over the whole globe. In Europe, 
 they were in possession of Italy, both the 
 Gauls, Spain, Lusitahia, Greece, Illyricum, 
 Dacia, Pannonia, w ith part of Britain and Ger¬ 
 many; in Asia, of Asia Minor, Armenia, Sy¬ 
 ria, Judea, Mesopotamia, and Media; in Afri¬ 
 ca, of Egypt, Numidia, Mauritania and Lybia. 
 
 Besides these great nations* many lesser pro¬ 
 vinces and islands were tributary to the Ro¬ 
 mans. At home, also, on a lustrum of the 
 people now made, there were found four mil¬ 
 lions sixty-three thousand inhabitants, in the 
 city and suburbs of Rome, which at this time 
 was about fifty miles in compass. 
 
 After Augustus was invested with the su¬ 
 preme power, he governed with great modera¬ 
 tion, insomuch that the Romans became fond of 
 his government, and in full senate gave him the 
 title of the “Father of his country.” He acted 
 with so much justice and clemency, that after 
 his death, it was said of him, that it had been 
 w ell he had never been born, or had never died. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 223 
 
 From the battle of Actium, Augustus reigned 
 forty-four years, and died at Nola in Campa¬ 
 nia, in the seventy-sixth year of his age. 
 
 In the reign of this prince, when all the 
 world was at peace, was horn at Bethlehem in 
 Judea, the Prince of Peace, Jesus Christ our 
 Saviour. Herod was, at this time, the Roman 
 governor of Judea under Augustus; Cornelius 
 Lentulus, and Calpurnius Piso, were consuls at 
 Rome. 
 
 ciiap. c. 
 
 the Arts and Sciences , and Learned Men 
 among the Romans . 
 
 DURING the first ages of the republic, the 
 Romans lived in a total neglect, or rather con¬ 
 tempt of all the elegant improvements of life. 
 War, politics, and agriculture, were the only 
 arts they studied, because they were the only 
 arts they esteemed. But upon the downfal of 
 Carthage, the Romans having no enemy to 
 dread from abroad, began to taste the sweets of 
 security, and to cultivate the arts. 
 
 Their progress, however, was not gradual, 
 as in the other countries we have described. 
 The conquest of Greece at once put them in 
 possession of every thing most rare, curious or 
 elegant. 
 
 Asia, which was the next victim, offered all 
 its stores; and the Romans, from the most sim¬ 
 ple people, speedily became acquainted with 
 the arts, the luxuries> and refinements of the 
 whole earth. 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 m 
 
 Eloquence they had always cultivated as (lie 
 high road to eminence and preferment. The 
 orations of Cicero are inferior only to those of 
 Demosthenes. 
 
 In poetry, Virgil yields only to Homer, 
 whose verse, like the prose of Demosthenes, 
 may be considered as inimitable. Horace, how¬ 
 ever, in his satires and epistles, has no model 
 among the Greeks, and stands to this day unri¬ 
 valled in that species of writing. 
 
 In history, the Romans can boast of Livy, 
 who possesses all the natural ease of Herodo¬ 
 tus, and is more descriptive, more eloquent, 
 and sentimental. Tacitus, indeed, did not flou* 
 risk in the Augustan age, but his works do 
 Siimself the greatest honor, while they disgrace 
 bis country and human nature, whose corrup¬ 
 tion and vices he paints in the most striking 
 colors. 
 
 In philosophy, if we except the works of Ci¬ 
 cero, and the system of the Greek philosopher 
 Epicurus, described in the nervous poetry of 
 Lucretus, the Romans, during the time of the 
 republic, made not the least attempt. 
 
 In tragedy, they never produced any thing 
 excellent; and Terence, though remarkable 
 for purity of style, wants that comica vis, or 
 lively vein of humor, which distinguishes the 
 Greek comedians, as well as our Sba&espeare. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 225 
 
 CHAP. CL 
 
 Of the Manners and 'principal Occupations oj ' 
 the ancient Romans. 
 
 UNDER the kings, the necessities of life 
 and the dangers of war divided the cares of the 
 Roman people, for the space of 244 years. Un¬ 
 der the consuls, when they had no war abroad, 
 they were agitated at home by ail evil still 
 more dangerous. The domineering spirit of 
 the patricians, opposed by that of independence 
 among the plebeians, held Rome in almost con¬ 
 tinual broils. Thus, between domestic trou¬ 
 bles, and foreign wars, the ancient Romans had 
 only short intervals of tranquility. These pre¬ 
 cious times were given to agriculture. Then 
 the difference in ranks made none in occupa¬ 
 tions. The great were not less laborious than 
 the common people; and those two conditions, 
 so distinct in the city, under the titles of patri¬ 
 cians and plebeians, in the country, were lost 
 in the general name of husbandmen. 
 
 The first magistrates, and the generals of 
 the armies, cultivated their fields and threshed 
 their grain with those arms which had van¬ 
 quished the enemy and supported the state. 
 And the Roman people blushed not to give the 
 command of their armies to those illustrious 
 laborers, taken from the plough to be entrusted 
 with the safety of their country. 
 
 History furnishes many of those examples, 
 not only in the early times of the republic, but 
 also in those flourishing ages, when the Ro- 
 
226 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 mans, already masters of Italy, caused their 
 power to be respected beyond the seas. 
 
 I speak not, therefore, of Quintius Cineinna- 
 tus alone, who was found working in the field 
 by those who came to salute him dictator. Mar¬ 
 cus Curius, after having conquered the Sabines 
 and (he Sammies, and after having driven Pjrr- 
 bus out of Italy, was possessed of but one small 
 farm, which he cultivated himself. The elder 
 Cato was never weary of visiting it, and could 
 but admire the greatness of soul of its master, 
 whom he took for his model. By his example 
 he betook himself to agriculture. He has even 
 left us some works upon the subject. He went 
 out to work with his slaves, and returned to sit 
 at the same table, eating the same bread with 
 them, and drinking of the same wine. Seipio 
 Afrieanus, after having defeated in Spain four 
 of the greatest Carthagenian generals, after ha¬ 
 ving conquered Hannibal himself, and rendered 
 Carthage tributary to Rome, took up the spade? 
 planted and grafted his trees. 
 
 If the magistrates and great men lived in this 
 manner, what may we judge of the other citi- 
 nens, who, still more attached to the culture of 
 their lands, because more at their own liberty, 
 quitted it not unless called to the toils of war? 
 The Romans, in the first and happy ages of the 
 republic, (I speak of those in the easiest cir¬ 
 cumstances,) were all laborers, and all the la¬ 
 borers were soldiers. 
 
 Such were the manners and principal occu¬ 
 pations of the Roman people, before they were 
 corrupted by riches and luxury. Probity, sim- 
 
4NCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 227 
 
 plteiiy, ami the love of labor, were virtues as 
 common at Rome in those times, as they were 
 rare in the succeeding ages, “For when riches, 
 (says Sallust,) began to be held in honor, and 
 were found necessary to pave the way to power 
 and glory, virtue was no longer esteemed; pov¬ 
 erty was counted shameful, purity of manners 
 was looked upon as the effect of melancholy and 
 misanthropy; and the fruits of these riches were 
 luxury, avarice, and pride. 
 
 CHAP. OIL 
 
 Of the Roman meals , and their behaviour at table . 
 
 IN the glorious days of the republic, meals 
 were prepared with care, but without art or 
 delicacy. Gaiety, and the freedom of agreeable 
 conversation, gave them their highest relish. 
 Cato the censor, as austere as he was upon other 
 occasions, unbended his brow at table. He pro¬ 
 fessed himself well pleased with his old age, 
 which, whilst it diminished the necessity of 
 eating and drinking, made amends by the taste 
 for, and pleasure of conversation. 
 
 When he was at his country house, he al¬ 
 ways invited some of his friends to supper, and 
 made merry with them. His long experience 
 of the world rendered his conversation equally 
 useful to persons of his own age, and to young 
 people. All listened to him with pleasure. 
 Persuaded that the table preserves friendship, 
 the common conversation at Cato’s table was 
 in praise of illustrious citizens; and he allowed 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 228 
 
 no other persons, either to be well or ill spoken 
 of. He was attentive and dexterous in evading 
 all occasions for doing it. 
 
 It was thus by the help of conversation, the 
 ancients rendered the pleasures of the table 
 useful, and that they avoided the usual conse¬ 
 quences of licentiousness at meals. Horace 
 still preserved that taste, and was sensible of 
 all its value. 
 
 O nodes ccenceque deum , 6r....Hor« Sat. 6. Lib. 2, 
 
 “O nights that furnish such a feast: 
 
 As even gods themselves might taste! 
 
 Thus fare my lriends, thus feed my slaves. 
 
 Alert on what their master leaves. 
 
 “Each person there may drink and fill 
 As much or little as he will, 
 
 Exempted from the bedlam-rules 
 Of roaring prodigals and fools; 
 
 Whether in merry mood or whim, 
 
 ,He takes a bumper to the brim, 
 
 Or better pleas’d to let it pass, 
 
 Grows mellow with a scanty glass. 
 
 “Nor this man’s house, nor that’s estate, 
 
 Becomes the subject of debate; 
 
 Nor whether Lepos, the buffoon, 
 
 Can dance or not, a rigadoon: 
 
 But what concents us more, I trow, 
 
 And were a scandal not to know, 
 
 If happiness consists in store 
 Of riches, or in virtue more; 
 
 Whether esteem or private ends, _ 
 
 Directs us in our choice of friends; 
 
 What’s real good without disguise, 
 
 And where its great perfection lies.”.. ..Francis' Horae:. 
 
 Cut the Asiatic luxury making its way to 
 Rome, very soon infected their tables. Sump¬ 
 tuousness, delicacy, and profusion, were carried 
 to the greatest excess. The cook, who anciently 
 was the lowest of all the slaves, became the 
 most important officer in the house. What was 
 at first only a low and contemptible employment, 
 became a difficult and important art. The price 
 of a cook, says Pliny, was rated at as much as 
 would formerly have sufficed for the expense of 
 
ANCIENT HISTOttX. 
 
 &29 
 
 a triumph. No mortal was so highly esteemed 
 as that slave who was the best skilled in the 
 art of ruining his master. 
 
 Horace thus reproaches the voluptuaries of 
 his time: 
 
 41 Vix tanien cripiam, pfjsito, pavone," £rc....Hor. Sat. 2. Lib. 3. 
 
 “-Yet shall I ne’er prevail. 
 
 To make our men of taste a pullet choose, 
 
 And the gay peacock with its train refuse; 
 
 For the rare bird at mighty price is sold. 
 
 And lo! what wonders does its tail unfold; 
 
 But can those whims a higher gusto raise, 
 
 Unless you eat the plumage that you praise? 
 
 Or do its beauties when ’tis boil’d remain? 
 
 No; ’tis the unequall’d beauty of his train 
 Deludes your eye, and charms you to the feast; 
 
 For hens and peacocks are alike in taste.”... Francis' Horace* 
 
 Quintus Horatius, the orator, was the first 
 who taught the Romans to eat peacocks, at a 
 feast whiMi he gave when he was created au¬ 
 gur. They became so much in fashion, that 
 they were thought essentially necessary to ev¬ 
 ery entertainment. Hence Cicero, in one of his 
 letters, tells Psetus, that he had been so bold as 
 to give a supv>er to Hirtius without a peacock, 
 
 CHAP. CHI. 
 
 Of the head-dresses of the Homan ladies . 
 
 THE Roman ladies wore very high head 
 dresses. With the help of borrowed hair, they 
 surrounded the head with so many tresses, 
 knots, and curls, disposed in different stories 
 and towers, that *he whole formed a sort of 
 building. Sometimes they gave their hair a 
 military air, the form of a helmet, or the fig¬ 
 ure of | buckler. 
 
 The mitre was also another kind of head- 
 
 TI 
 
230 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 dress. It was the same to the women as the hat 
 to the men. More divided than the mitre we 
 are acquainted with, like it, it had two pendants 
 fastened below the chin. There were some or¬ 
 naments for the head, which were regarded as 
 a mark of modesty and virtue. One of these 
 was a pretty broad ribband with which the wo¬ 
 men fillettcd up their hair, and then formed it 
 into knots behind. There were some also, which 
 were peculiar to particular families. 
 
 Light colored hair \yas most in fashion. Both 
 men and women dyed it to make the color more 
 lively. They perfumed it, and applied essences 
 to give it lustre. Sometimes they covered it 
 with gold dust, to make it still more brilliant. 
 The mode came from Asia. Josephus says that 
 it was much practised among the Jews. The 
 emperors Verus and Gallienus followed it. The 
 hair of Commodus, according to Herodian, was 
 become so fair and shining, that when be was 
 in the sun, bis head appeared all on fire. 
 
 Dje and dust were the only means in use 
 among the ancients to set off their hair. They 
 knew nothing of our powder. No ancient au¬ 
 thors mention it. The fathers of the church, 
 who reproached the women with all the various 
 artifices they used to heighten their charms, 
 take no notice of powder; nor is it spoke of in 
 any of the old romances, which enter into such 
 minute details with regard te the finery of both 
 sexes. We find nothing of it in the old portraits, 
 though the painters of them always represented 
 persons as they were cloathed and dressed. 
 
 History informs us, that Margaret de Valois * 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 231 
 
 who was mortified with having very black harf, 
 had recourse to all sorts of artifices to soften 
 the color. If powder had been then in use, she 
 might have spared herself all that pains. The 
 first of the French writers, who have spoken of 
 powder, is L'Etoile , in his journal under the 
 year 1593. He relates, that nuns were seen 
 walking tlie streets of Paris powdered and cur¬ 
 led. From that time powder came into fashion 
 in France by degrees, aijd from thence passed 
 into the other countries of FiUrope. 
 
 f 
 
 CHAP. CIV. 
 
 Of the favorite colors of cloths. 
 
 ft-i. . 
 
 THE common color of cloths was white. Tt 
 was also the most honorable, independent of the 
 dignities which were denoted by the purple. 
 When the ladies began to wear various colors, 
 they chose those which they thought became 
 them best. It was a precept given them by Ovid. 
 
 “Try every one, what best becomes you wear, 
 
 Fov no complexion all alike can bear. 
 
 It fair the skin, black may become it best, 
 
 In black the lovely fair Briseis dress’d. 
 
 If brown the nymph, let her be cloth’d in white, 
 
 Andromeda so charm’d the wond’ring sight.” 
 
 The same poet so far from reducing the 
 whole art of dying to the color of purple, 
 speaks of a blue, which resembles the sky 
 when it is unclouded; of a sea-green, which he 
 believes to be the dress of the nymphs; of the 
 color which tinctures, the apparel of Aurora 
 of that which imitates the myrtle of Paphos; 
 and, in short, of many others, as numerous, he 
 says, as the flowers of the spring. 
 
 
.232 
 
 JfcLOYTRRS Oi 
 
 CHAP. CY. 
 
 Of the Roman calendar . 
 
 THE Romans reckoned the days of their 
 rnonthsiiy Kalends, Nones, and Ides. Romu¬ 
 lus always began his months upon the first day 
 of the moon, and was followed in this by the 
 author of the other accounts, to avoid an alter¬ 
 ation in the immoveable feasts; therefore every 
 new moon one of the inferior priests used to as¬ 
 semble the people in the eapitol, and call over 
 as many days as there were between that and 
 the Nones. From this custom, the first of these 
 davs had the name of Calendre. 
 
 w 
 
 The Nones were so called, because they 
 reckoned nine days from the Ides. 
 
 The ides were generally about I be middle 
 of the month, and the word is derived from 
 iduare, an obsolete verb, signifying to divide. 
 
 The Calends were always fixed to the first 
 of every month; but the Nones and the Ides, 
 in four months, were on different days from 
 the other eight. For March, May, July, and 
 October, had six Nones each, the other months 
 only four. Therefore, in the four first, the 
 Nones were the seventh, and the ides the fif¬ 
 teenth; in the other months, the Nones were 
 the fifth, and the Ides the thirteenth. 
 
 CHAP. CYL 
 
 On the invention of Water-Clocks. 
 
 THE Romans were near 460 years, without 
 knowing any other division of the day; than 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 233 
 
 morning, noon, and night. The first instru¬ 
 ment which they had ta divide the hours, was 
 a sun-dial, brought from Sicily, after the tak¬ 
 ing of Catana, by Marcus Valerius Messala, in 
 the year of Home 477 jw 
 
 Although this dial, d rawn for the meridian 
 of Catana, which was different from that of 
 Rome, could not show the hours exactly; yet, 
 imperfect as it was, the Romans conformed to 
 it for the space of 99 years, till Quintus Mar¬ 
 cus Pliilippus, who was censor with Paulus 
 iEmiiius, gave them another more exact. 
 This, of all the acts of his censorship, was that 
 which obtained him the greatest applause. 
 
 Scipio Nasica, five years after, in the year 
 of Rome 595, first brought into use, and placed 
 under cover, a water clock, which shewed tiie 
 hours equally by day and night. 
 
 To form an idea of these clocks, wc may 
 conceive a pretty large bason filled with water, 
 which by a little hole contrived in the bottom, 
 emptied itself into another vessel, of nearly the 
 same capacity, in tiie space of twelve hours; 
 and where the water rising gradually, brought 
 up perpendicularly a hit of cork, or the figure 
 of a genius pointing to the hours, which were 
 marked one above another, on columns of pilas¬ 
 ters. 
 
 The Romans were ignorant of the use of 
 clocks with wheels. We are even uncertain of 
 the time and the author of that invention. The 
 present which was made to Charlemagne of a 
 striking clock, was looked upon as a wonder, 
 J&giiiard says, that it was a water-clock, which 
 
FiOWFRS OF 
 
 234 
 
 marked the hours by the fall of some balls of 
 metal /upon a hell, and by some figures of men, 
 which) opened and shut certain doors contrived- 
 in the clock, according to the number of hours> 
 
 CHAP. CVIH 
 
 Of the Homan Money. 
 
 TllB quadrans was the smallest brass coin., 
 of the same value as our farthing. The es, or 
 as, was equal to one penny English. The obo- 
 lus was equal in valu6 to one English penny. 
 The eentussis Avas the greatest brass coin, 
 equal to six shillings and three pence of our 
 money. 
 
 The sastertius was the least silver coin, 
 equal to one penny and three farthings English. 
 The denarius was the chief silver coin among 
 the Romans, value seven pence three farthings. 
 The drachma was in use among the Romans, 
 though a Greek coin, value the same as the 
 denarius. The sestertium contained a thou¬ 
 sand sestertii; value about eight pounds one 
 shilling and five pence halfpenny, The libra, 
 or pound, consisted of twelve ounces of silver, 
 or ninety-six drachmas or denarii; value three 
 pounds English money. The mino was origi¬ 
 nally a Greek coin of the same value. The 
 talent contained twenty-four sestertia, and six 
 thousand denarii; value 187 pounds ten shil¬ 
 lings. 
 
 The aureus denarius was the most remarka¬ 
 ble gold coin among the Romans, and was 
 worth more than twenty shillings English. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 23a 
 
 The Romans had no other money but brass, 
 till the war with Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, five 
 years before the Carthaginian war, when silver 
 was first coined. 
 
 CHAP. CVIII. 
 
 Of Eloquence , and the Origin of the Profession 
 of Advocates among the Romans . 
 
 THE art of speaking in public soon became 
 part of the education of youth, and was cultiva¬ 
 ted even by persons of more advanced years. 
 After Rome had made choice of the republican 
 constitution, eloquence seemed absolutely ne¬ 
 cessary. For, without the talent of speaking, 
 how was it possible for them to share in the 
 government, propose laws, deliberate upon the 
 interests of the commonwealth, and obtain of¬ 
 fices? In consequence of this, they imitated the 
 Greeks, in accustoming themselves to elo¬ 
 quence from their earliest youth; and the more 
 powerful the commonwealth became, the more 
 was that art cultivated. 
 
 But it did not attain to its highest perfection 
 till after a very considerable time, during 
 which the necessity and habit of speaking in 
 public served them instead of art. It was not 
 till after their commerce with the Greeks, 
 that, charmed with the beauty of the dis¬ 
 courses of their orators, they were desirous of 
 learning the rules of eloquence, and for that 
 purpose called in masters from Greece. 
 
 Under these masters* those great orators 
 
236 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 were formed, who shewed that the Romans 
 were capable of equalling the Greeks in elo¬ 
 quence. The taste for it was become so gene¬ 
 ral, towards the end of Cicero’s life, that even 
 the fair sex conceived it for their glory. 
 
 History gives us an example of this in the 
 person of Hortensia, daughter of the famous 
 Qrator Hortensius. The discourse is still ex¬ 
 tant, which she pronounced for exempting the 
 Roman ladies from the tax, which the trium¬ 
 viri had laid upon fourteen hundred of them, 
 to raise troops against Brutus and Cassius. 
 
 Besides this obligation to speak in public 
 upon the affairs of the state, which were either 
 transacted in the senate or the assembly of the 
 people, there vt'as one peculiar to those whom 
 the people had chosen for their patrons, who 
 in that quality were obliged to defend their cli¬ 
 ents, and to plead themselves, or cause their 
 friends to plead for them, without any other 
 advantage, except the glory of supporting the 
 interests of those who were under their protec** 
 lion. 
 
 But as soon as the emperors had deprived 
 the people of the right of chusing their magis¬ 
 trates, and giving their suffrages in trials and 
 public deliberations, patrons and clients be¬ 
 coming mutually useless, subsisted no longer. 
 Individuals having patrons no longer to defend 
 their causes, entrusted them to those citizens 
 whom they judged most eloquent, and best 
 versed in the laws. 
 
 Eloquence, till then disinterested, and actu- 
 atedsolely by the love of glory and public good. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 
 became, in consequence of venality, a source 
 of mean avidity, and sordid lucre. Such was 
 the rise of the profession of advocates. Juve¬ 
 nal, in his seventh satire, ridicules those of his 
 time, who affected to appear in public in litters, 
 drest magnificently, and with a great train, and 
 who carried their ostentation so far, as to wear 
 gems of great value on their fingers at the bar, 
 that they might be considered as extremely 
 rich, and make their employers pay the dearer 
 for their service. 
 
 •- “Purpura vendit 
 
 Causidicum, vendunt < imethyntima, &c. 
 
 “Nor can I wonder at such tricks as these; 
 
 The purple garments raise the lawyer’s fees, 
 
 And sell him dearer to the fool that buys; 
 
 High pomp and state are useful properties. 
 
 The luxury of Rome will know no end; 
 
 For still the less we have the more we spend; 
 
 Trust eloquence to shew our parts and breeding! 
 
 Not Tully now could get ten groats by pleading. 
 
 Unless the diamond glittered on his hand: 
 
 Wealth’s ail the rhet’ric clients understand. 
 
 Without large equipage and loud expense. 
 
 The prince of orators would scarce speak sense. 
 
 Paulus, who with magnificence did plead. 
 
 Grew rich, while letter’d Gallusbegg’d his bread, 
 
 Who to poor Basilus his cause would trust, 
 
 Tho’ ne’er so full of pity, ne’er so just? 
 
 His clients, unregarded, claim their due, 
 
 For eloquence in rags was never tru e.”.,. y ,Dryden, 
 
 When the conquests of the Roman people 
 had opened their way into Greece, they sent 
 their youth to Athens to study eloquence and 
 Hie Greek tongue, which became the language 
 of the sciences among the Romans, because 
 they had them from the Greeks. There were 
 few persons, except the lowest of the people, 
 who were not acquainted with the Greek poets, 
 and particularly Homer, whose finest passages 
 they took pleasure in learning, in order to be 
 able to quote them when occasion required. 
 
238 
 
 FXOWERS OF 
 
 This taste prevailed long after the twelve Cse- 
 sars; in whose time it was much in fashion; 
 the Greek tongue being spoke so commonly 
 then at Rome, that it was familiar even to the 
 ladies. 
 
 "Qucedam parva quidem , sed nan to tolerandn mortis 
 Nam quid rancidius ,” ire .Juv. Sat. 6. 
 
 “Some faults, though small, intolerable grow, 
 
 For what so nauseous and affected too, 
 
 As those who think they due perfection want, 
 
 AVho have not learnt to lisp the Grecian cant? 
 
 In Greece their whole accomplishments they seek, 
 
 Their fashion, breeding, language, must be Greek; 
 
 But raw in all that does to Rome belong, 
 
 They scorn to cultivate their mother tongue. 
 
 In Greek they flatter, all their fears they speak } 
 
 Tell all their secrets,—nay,—they scold in Greek: 
 
 Ev’n in the seat of love they use that tongue; 
 
 Such affectations may become the young: 
 
 But thou, old hag, of three score years and three, 
 
 £s shewing of thy parts in Greek for thee?” 
 
 €HAP. OX. 
 
 Of Pearls , Diamonds, Bings, and Seals. 
 
 AMONG the ancients, pearls were much 
 more esteemed than they are at present: and 
 diamonds were very scarce, not becoming com¬ 
 mon till after the commerce with the Indies. 
 But as to colored stones they were not scarce, 
 and they knew r how to cut them perfectly well. 
 The Roman ladies wore necklaces and brace¬ 
 lets not only of pearls, hut of precious stones. 
 The antique statue of Lueilla, the wife of Lu¬ 
 cius Terns, the colleague of Marcus Aurelius, 
 represents her with bracelets of three rows. 
 They had also another kind of bracelet, called 
 spinther, which they wore near the elbow r on 
 the left arm. During a long series of time, 
 under the commonwealth, the freed men onh 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 239 
 
 and their children had their ears pierced, to 
 distinguish them from those horn of free pa¬ 
 rents. But when luxury had gained ground, 
 young people of quality, and even men, caused 
 their ears to he pierced, in order to wear pen¬ 
 dents and pearls in them, like the women. It 
 is observed that Caesar, before he obtained the 
 empire, did this fashion great honor, which 
 prevailed till Alexander Servius prohibited the 
 use of it to men. As to jewels, the Roman la¬ 
 dies were so fond of them for a time, that Lol- 
 lia Paulina, whom Agrippina caused to he put 
 to death, for having attempted to marry the 
 emperor Claudius in competition with her, was 
 possessed of them to the amount of almost an 
 hundred and fifty thousand pounds. 
 
 Luxury at length became so general, that 
 the wives of the common people wore chains 
 of silver about their feet. This taste for jew- 
 els produced another for rings, which both men 
 and women wore. At first they had only rings 
 of gold or iron, according to the difference of 
 rank, which served them as seals, and which 
 they wore on the fourth finger. They after¬ 
 wards added a stone finely engraved, hy way of 
 seal; and when luxury had first taken place of 
 this first simplicity, the use of gems and pre¬ 
 cious stones was introduced. They wore them 
 on the fore-finger by way of ornament; after¬ 
 wards they added another on the little finger, 
 so that all the fingers had them except the mid¬ 
 dle one. At length, through a refinement of 
 luxury, they used to change them according to 
 the seasons, and had light rings in summer, 
 
240 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 and heavy ones, set with large stones, for win¬ 
 ter. 
 
 ----- —“Cum verna Canopi 
 
 Crispinus , Tyrias humero revocante laccrnai 
 Ventilet cetivum digitis fundantibus aurum , 
 
 Nec suffere queat majoris pondera gemma;. 
 
 Difficile est Satiram non scribere .Juv. Sat. 1. 
 
 “When I behokl the spawn of conquer’d Nile, 
 
 Crispinus, both in birth and manners vile. 
 
 Facing in pomp, with cloke of Tyrian dye 
 Chang'd oft a day for needless luxury; 
 
 And finding oft occasion to be fann’d, 
 
 Ambitious to produce his lady hand; 
 
 Charg’d with light summer rings his fingers sweat, 
 
 Unable to support a gem of weight: 
 
 Such fulsome objects meeting every where 
 Tis hard to write, but harder to forbear. ”......Drydev. 
 
 chap. cx. 
 
 Of the Houses of the Romansl 
 
 WHEN the commonwealth was at the height 
 of its greatness, the houses of the principal 
 persons were laid out in such a manner, that 
 before the gate there was a kind of portico 
 supported by pillars, and intended to shelter 
 the clients from the weather, who came in the 
 morning to pay their court to their patron. At 
 the entrance of the house was a large hall, or 
 rather gallery, adorned with the statues in 
 wax, silver, or marble, of the ancestors of the 
 family, with a short account of their greatest 
 actions. 
 
 “Tota licet veteres exornent nftdique ccrce 
 Atria , nobilitas sola est atque unica virtue.... ..Juv. Sat. 8. 
 
 “Long galleries of ancestors, and all 
 The follies which ill-grace a country hall. 
 
 Challenge no wonder or esteem from me, 
 
 Virtue alone is true nobility. Stepney. 
 
 All the houses were three stories high. It 
 is not known how their chimnies were made, 
 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 241 
 
 nop whether they had any except in their kitch¬ 
 ens. It appears* however, that they seldom 
 had any in their apartments; for to supply the 
 want of them they had portable furnaces, or 
 tire pans, in which they burnt a certain wood, 
 rubbed with the dregs of olives, after the oil 
 was pressed out of them, to prevent it from 
 smoaking. Seneca says, that in his time, cer¬ 
 tain pipes were invented, which being fixed in 
 the walls, warmed the chambers equally to the 
 upper story, by means of fires made in fur¬ 
 naces, disposed along the bottom of the walls. 
 
 We find that during summer, to cool the 
 rooms, they also made use of pipes, which rose 
 from vaults, from whence they drew the cool 
 air, which they dispersed in its course into the 
 apartments. 
 
 W e are still in ignorance as to what they 
 used in their windows, to admit the light into 
 their rooms, and to keep out the injuries of the 
 weather. It was perhaps linen-cloth, or some 
 stuff equivalent to it. For it is certain, though 
 glass was not unknown to them, (for they had 
 drinking vessels of it) that they did not use it, 
 like us, for windows. Nero employed for that 
 purpose a certain transparent stone, like ala¬ 
 baster, cut in squares, through which the light 
 appeared. And the historian Josephus speaks 
 of a different kind of substance applied for that 
 use, but without explaining himself clearly. 
 He tells us that the emperor Caligula, giving 
 audience to Philo, ambassador from the Jews 
 at Alexandria, in a gallery of one of his pa¬ 
 laces near Home, ordered the windows to be 
 
 X 
 
242 
 
 vlowehs er 
 
 shut, on account of the wind that incommoded 
 them. He adds, that those windows, which 
 kept out the wind, and let in only the light, 
 were so clear and shining, that they might 
 have been taken for rock-crystal. He would 
 not have had occasion to have made so loose 
 and indeterminate a description, if they had 
 been glass, which was so well known by the 
 vessels made of it. It was perhaps a kind of 
 stone, which Pliny says, was common in Spaing 
 could be split into leaves like slate, antf was as 
 transparent as glass. We do not know whether 
 it was brittle; but it is certain that it admit¬ 
 ted the rays of light, and might be seen 
 through. There are, however, many things of 
 antiquity, of which we have but imperfect no¬ 
 tions. 
 
 CHAP. CXI. 
 
 Of the Roman Baths. 
 
 ALL the rich citizens of Home had baths in 
 their houses, which were always placed near 
 the dining-rooms, because it was the custom to 
 bathe before they sat down to table. , For from 
 the time that the frequent use of baths was 
 brought from Greece and Asia to Rome, the 
 Homans had a great taste for them, and thought 
 them as essential to health as their daily food. 
 This obliged them to erect public baths, which 
 multiplied to such a degree, that under the em¬ 
 perors they amounted to eight hundred. Agrip- 
 pa only, in the reign of Augustus, caused above 
 an hundred to be built. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 243 
 
 They‘were usually laid out in different apart¬ 
 ments, which formed different baths, of which 
 the two first were for the common people, who 
 paid scarce half a farthing per head for the 
 use of them, and children were admitted gratis. 
 
 --- “Dum tu quadrante lavatum 
 
 Rex ibis ...Hov Lib. 1 Sat. 3. 
 
 “Whilst fora farthing bath’d, you strut a king.” 
 
 As to others, the price was raised in propor¬ 
 tion to the manner in which they were served. 
 There were people to do all necessary offices. 
 In each apartment were hot, warm and cold 
 baths, so that every one might chuse. There 
 were chambers on the sides for undressing. To 
 clean the skin, they made use of a certain in¬ 
 strument, which they called stirgil, made of 
 silver, copper or ivory, bent like a scythe; 
 and afterwards to smooth it, they rubbed it 
 with a pummice-stonc. They next poured 
 upon it odoriferous oils, prepared for that pur¬ 
 pose. 
 
 In these baths were stoves. The authors of 
 those times observed that every thing which 
 passed in the city, was related in the baths, and 
 even the works of wit were first read there. 
 
 •- "■In medio qui 
 
 Scripta foro resonent sunt multi, quique lavar.tcs Hor. I.ib. 1 Sat. 4n 
 
 “The forum rings with verse, the baths resound; 
 
 Crowds of repeating bards in both are found.” 
 
 At the first establishment ot public baths at 
 home, there were distinct ones for the men 
 and women; but they insensibly became com¬ 
 mon, with this difference only, that the men 
 were served by men, and the women by women. 
 
■244 
 
 pXOWERS OP 
 
 The emperor Adrian perceiving how indecent 
 this was, ordered different baths for each sex. 
 
 At length, the public baths were so common, 
 and the use of them so general, that Pliny ob¬ 
 serves there were three in the village near his 
 country-house. This amazing number of pub* 
 Me baths, of which some were magnificent 
 structures, served no less for the convenience 
 than embellishment of that great city. 
 
 The most superb baths, however, were still 
 far inferior in beauty and extent, to those called 
 Thermo?, which were also public baths, but 
 almost all built by the emperors; in which 
 their principal view seems to have been to dis¬ 
 play their magnificence, having spared nothing 
 that might give an high idea of it. They were 
 spacious and magnificent edifices adorned with 
 porticos and galleries of extraordinary extent, 
 and superb architecture, which contained not 
 only baths, but every thing else that could ren¬ 
 der them agreeable. There were places in 
 them allotted for the exercises of the body; 
 such as leaping, w restling, throwing the discus , 
 foot-ball, and another game with a ball, which 
 came near enough to what is called long or 
 Welch tennis. For the Romans, who in early 
 times cultivated the exercises of the body, only 
 as they conduced to render them more warlike, 
 cultivated them in process of time, as condu¬ 
 cive to health. Wrestling seemed very proper 
 for rendering the body more active and vigo¬ 
 rous, and thereby less subject to the infirmi¬ 
 ties which arise from too much indolence and 
 inaction. It was with this vi^w that Augustus 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 245 
 
 often exercised himself in playing at foot-bail, 
 and that kind of tennis, which we have before 
 mentioned. 
 
 Besides these places of exercise, there were 
 others planted with trees, where people walked 
 in summer. The baths in them were of all 
 kinds, even of sea-water, to which peculiar vir¬ 
 tues were ascribed. There were stoves also in 
 4-lic Thermce, as in the other public baths. They 
 were distributed into different apartments, con¬ 
 sisting of halls of extraordinary extent, the 
 lofty rooms of which were supported by pillars 
 of the most exquisite marble. The pavement 
 was also marble; and the walls were covered 
 with Mosaic work, and adorned with gilding 
 and paintings of great value. But their prin¬ 
 cipal ornament was the prodigious number of 
 marble statues, figures, and vases of the best 
 masters. 
 
 The emperors took pleasure in collecting in 
 these places most of the excellent pieces of 
 painting and sculpture, which the Romans had 
 brought to Home from the principal pities of 
 Greece and Asia. The same magnificence ex¬ 
 tended to all the rest of those edifices; for even 
 the place in which they kept the perfumes, 
 odoriferous oils, essences, and drugs,with which 
 those who had bathed w ere rubbed, was no less 
 adorned. The vases, in which they were pre¬ 
 served, were either of marble, or some curious 
 matter. 
 
 The vessels wherein people bathed, were of 
 fine marble, oriental granite or porphyry, 
 
 X 2 
 
FLOWERS OE 
 
 246 
 
 though of an uncommon size, as may be judged 
 from such as have been found in the ruins of those 
 buildings, most of which serve at this day for 
 the public fountains at Rome. Thus there is 
 no room for thinking, that the authors who 
 have spoken of the magnificence of the Thermo?, 
 intended to impose. 
 
 Besides such large bathing vessels, there 
 were great basons full of water for such as de¬ 
 sired to exercise themselves in swimming; so 
 that nothing was wanting which could contri¬ 
 bute either to pleasure or amusement. 
 
 CHAP. CXII. 
 
 Of the Couches, or Beds, used at the Roman 
 
 Tables . 
 
 IN early times, when simplicity prevailed, 
 the Romans sat at their meals upon benches or 
 seats round the table. But after their com¬ 
 merce with the Greeks and Asiatics, whom 
 they piqued themselves upon imitating, they 
 introduced, instead of chairs or stools, the use 
 of couches or beds, round the table. They 
 were generally of a round form. One side was 
 always left open to receive the service in the 
 middle; and the beds were placed, one at the 
 head, and two on each side, there being only 
 three at each table. On each of the greatest 
 couches there was room only for four persons; 
 for they did not approve of having more than 
 twelve at the same table. The common 
 couches were only for three; and the numbers 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY 
 
 247 
 
 (hat pleased them most were nine, seven or 
 three, having a particular prejudice for odd 
 numbers. 
 
 '‘Tertia ne vacuo cessaret culritra lecto, 
 
 Una simus oz£.”...Juv. Sat. 5. 
 
 “That the third bolster may not want a guest. 
 
 Sup with me, says his lordship.”... .Dryden. 
 
 • 
 
 “Summits ego , etpropc me Viscus Thurinus&c. 
 
 Hor. Lib. 2. Sat. i 
 
 “Sir, I sat first; and stay, I think ’twas so, 
 
 Thurinus next, Vibidius sat below, 
 
 Next Balatro; below him Porcius lies* 
 
 AH uninvited; but as lords are wont, 
 
 Maecenas brought them all on his account.”... .Creech* 
 
 Horace in one of his Satires, informs us, 
 that a canopy was placed over the table. 
 
 “Interea suspensa graves aulcea ruinas . 
 
 Inpatinam fecere.”.... Hor. Lib. 2. Sat. 8. 
 
 “But whilst he talk’d and whilst he prais’d the fish, 
 
 Down came the canopy into the dish.”....Crm7*. 
 
 Though the example of the Asiatics had not 
 a little contributed to introduce among the Ho- 
 mans this lolling posture at table, it is however, 
 also ascribed to the custom ot* bathing imme¬ 
 diately before eating; because, on quitting the 
 bath, the body having occasion for repose, they 
 threw themselves upon beds, which they found 
 too comfortable to quit, when it was necessa¬ 
 ry to eat. For the guests bathed at the per¬ 
 son’s house who invited to supper; and it was 
 for this reason, that it was always observed, 
 in building houses, to place the apartment of 
 the baths near the room in which the company 
 sflpped. The beds for the table were covered 
 with purple, and other rich stuffs. They were 
 low and without backs, differing in those res¬ 
 pects, from the beds where they passed the night* 
 and not much unlike our settees. 
 
24 S 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. CXIIL 
 
 Of the Roman Entertainments. 
 
 BEFORE supper, the guests were always 
 presented with an exact and circumstantial list 
 of the courses, and all the dishes of which the 
 feast was composed. Before they began to 
 eat, they threw dice, in order by way of diver¬ 
 sion, to decide who should be king of the feast. 
 He was obeyed during the whole entertainment, 
 and regulated the number of healths that were 
 drank. 
 
 “Jam te premet nox, fabulceque manes 
 Et domus exilis Plutonia: quo simul mearis 
 Nec regna vini sortire tails. ...Hor. Lib. 1. Od.4 
 
 “-The grim conqueror death, 
 
 Advances swift to stop thy breath; 
 
 And once depriv’d of light, 
 
 We’re wrapt in rrists of endless night: 
 
 Then no more shall mirth and wine 
 Our loves and wit refine. ”..rCrecck. 
 
 The guests were likewise presented with 
 wreaths of flowers and ivy, to which was as¬ 
 cribed the property of preventing the effects of 
 the fumes of wine, by their coolness. After 
 having rubbed their hair with odoriferous es¬ 
 sences, they put those crowns upon their heads, 
 and wore them during the entertainment. Some 
 time before it ended, which was when the 
 healths began to go very briskly round, the 
 master of the house caused a great cup, richer 
 and more beautiful than the rest, to be brought, 
 which was therefore called cuppa magistra , the 
 principal cup, out of which the company drank 
 the healths of those they loved. If it was a 
 mistress, they often, by way of gallantry, obli- 
 
ANCIENT HISTOK*. 
 
 24 9 
 
 ged the lover to drink as many times as there 
 were letters in her name. 
 
 “Post hoc ludas erat cuppapotare magistra. ,, ....Hor» Lib* 2. Sat. 2. 
 
 “The next sport was before the feast broke up, 
 
 To drink the master-bowl, the peremptory cup.” 
 
 Their supper usually c onsisted of three cour¬ 
 ses; but sometimes from an excess of magnifi¬ 
 cence, and a desire to entertain, they were aug¬ 
 mented to seven. The first was of sallads, let¬ 
 tuces, and olives; which, with oysters of the 
 lake of Lucrinus, so famous for that shell fish, 
 and other things of a like nature, in order to 
 excite the appetite were served up. The se¬ 
 cond was composed of roast meats, and the 
 most substantial dishes, amongst which dishes 
 of fish were always intermixed, of which they 
 were such great lovers, that without them they 
 would not have thought themselves well enter¬ 
 tained. As for the third service, it was com¬ 
 posed of fruits and pastry. 
 
 It was not till under the last emperors that 
 the Romans began to use table cloths, which 
 were at first striped with purple, and even with 
 gold.—When they went to eat at the houses of 
 others, they caused a napkin to be brought, 
 which when they returned, served for the do¬ 
 mestics to carry home some pieces of the sup¬ 
 per. They might even send some of it to any 
 of their friends, without its being thought ex¬ 
 traordinary. 
 
 A guest had also the liberty of bringing a 
 friend with him; and this supernumerary was 
 called a shadow , in allusion to the shadow 
 which follows the body; as those who came of 
 themselves without being invited, or brought 
 
250 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 by some of the guests, were called flies, allud¬ 
 ing in like manner to those troublesome insects. 
 
 CIIAP. CXIV. 
 
 Of Games of Chance and Lotteries. 
 
 GAM INC was not so common amongst the 
 Romans as with us. There were even laws 
 that prohibited games of chance; and these pro¬ 
 hibitions were pretty well observed, as long as 
 the commonwealth subsisted. 
 
 - “Nescit equo rudis,” &c ...Hor. Lib. 3. Od. 24. 
 
 “Now to the noble youth ’tis too much pain, 
 
 The steed’9 impetuous fire to vein; 
 
 To risque the manly dangers of the chace: 
 
 But softer arts of these take place; 
 
 To play at billiards with sir Courtley Nice, 
 
 And curse the barb’rous laws that would abolish dice.”...Francw. 
 
 But the games of chance being the taste of 
 several emperors, they got the better of the 
 laws, and became so common, that Juvenal de¬ 
 claims strongly, in his satires, against those 
 who ruined themselves by them. 
 
 - “Alea quando 
 
 Hos animos? neque enim loculis comitantibus itur 
 Ad casum tabulae, posita sed luditur area . 
 
 Plcelia quanta illic dlspcnsatore videbis 
 
 Armigero! simplex nefuror sestertia centum 
 
 Perdere; et horrenti tunicam non rederc servo.”.... Juv. Sat. 1. 
 
 “When were the dice with irmre profusion thrown? 
 
 The well-fiird fobs not emptied now alone, 
 
 But gamesters for whole patrimonies play: 
 
 The steward brings the deeds which must convey, 
 
 The lost estate. What more than madness reigns, 
 
 When one short sitting many hundreds drains, 
 
 And not enough is left him to supply 
 Board-wages or a footman’s livery.”.... Dryden. 
 
 The games of chance of the Romans, of 
 which the knowledge lias come down to us, 
 were played with a kind of dice. In that cal¬ 
 led Talus , they threw four of these dice at once, 
 and when three sixes came up, the cast was 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY* 251 
 
 called Venus, which swept all the money staked. 
 Tessera was played only with three dice upon a 
 table marked like a chequer; and that of even 
 and odd was much used amongst them. They 
 had also another game, which they called La- 
 trunc-uU , that did not depend upon chance, hut 
 upon the skill of the gamesters. They did not 
 use dice in it, hut certain figures which they 
 disposed upon a chequer, as is done at chess, 
 which it very much resembled. 
 
 These were their domestic games. But of¬ 
 ten, when the emperors gave entertainments, 
 before they began, by way of amusement, they 
 caused a lotterv to be drawn, of w hich all the 
 tickets that were distributed gratis among the 
 guests, gained some jewel, or other prize. The 
 emperor Heiiogabalus had one, merely for the 
 sake of pleasantry, of which half the tickets 
 were beneficial, and the other half gained only 
 ridiculous things of no value. There was for 
 instance, in one ticket six slaves, in another six 
 flies, in one, a vase of value, and in another, 
 an earthen pot, and so on of the rest. 
 
 These lotteries were an ingenious contrivance 
 for displaying their liberality, and rendering 
 the feast more lively and affecting, by putting 
 the guests in good humor. 
 
 CHAP. CXV. 
 
 Of the introduction of the common use of Wine 
 among the Romans . 
 
 UNDER the commonwealth, wine was so 
 scarce at Rome, that in the sacrifices the liha 
 
252 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 £ions to the gods were only make with milk. 
 Wine did not become common there, till about 
 six hundred years after the foundation of the 
 city, when vines were planted. It was in these 
 limes of simplicity, that women were prohibited 
 to drink it; and for that reason their near re¬ 
 lations were permitted to salute them, when 
 they came to their houses, in order that they 
 might know whether they had drank any; which 
 if discovered gave their husbands a right to 
 punish them. According to Dionysius Hali- 
 earnassensis, Romulus was the author of the 
 law, which permitted husbands to put their 
 wives to death, if they indulged themselves in 
 drinking wine to excess. Valerius Maximus 
 relates, that one Egnatius Metellus having kil¬ 
 led his wife, whom he found drinking out of 
 the cask, Romulus acquitted him of the mur¬ 
 der. Fabius Pictor says also, that a Roman 
 lady, having picked the lock of a chest in which 
 were the keys of the place where the wine was 
 kept, her parents starved her to death. Men 
 were likewise forbid to drink wine till the age 
 of thirty. Tertullian, in his Apologetic, men¬ 
 tions the laws by which these prohibitions were 
 made; and says they ordained, that not above 
 an hundred pence should be expended upon an 
 entertainment. But towards the declension of 
 the commonwealth, and under the first empe¬ 
 rors, the women were not only permitted to 
 drink wine, but carried the excess of it as far 
 as the men. 
 
 The vintage was considered as a time of di¬ 
 version, in which those employed in it, had the 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 255 
 
 liberty of insulting all passengers. The vines 
 were planted at the roots of trees, and made to 
 creep up them, in order to form bovvers, which 
 is still practised in Italy. The wine was pre¬ 
 served in great earthen vessels, well stopped 
 with pitch, though they were not ignorant of 
 the method of making casks; for they used them 
 in carrying it from place to place, as well as 
 tanned skins of beasts, and green goat skins. 
 The older the wine was, the more it was in es~ 
 teem. To know its age, they marked the year 
 upon the vessel; for which purpose they put it 
 in an upper room, and not in vaults as we do, 
 which appears very extraordinary. 
 
 t '0 nata mecum consuls Manlio c’rc.w.Hor. Lib. 3.0d. 2t» 
 
 “You, ray good cask, are of a date 
 With consul Manlius and me, 
 
 Produce your charge, whate’er it be s 
 Or love, or strife, or loud debate, 
 
 Or gentle sleep, or wit serenely free; 
 
 On such a day, for such a friend, 
 
 With massic juice our souls refine.”.... .Creech. 
 
 ; CHAP. CXVI. 
 
 Of the Supper given to Cicero and Pompey by 
 
 Luculhis . 
 
 WE may judge of the extraordinary luxury 
 of the Roman tables, in Cicero’s time, from 
 what Plutarch relates in the life of Lucullus, 
 whose table was supposed to be the best and 
 most splendidly served. Cicero and Pompey 
 concerted between them to have the pleasure 
 of taking him unprovided; and being alone with 
 Lucullus, told him that they would sup with 
 him, upon condition that he would not speak 
 
 Y 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 £54 
 
 to liis servants to order any thing extraordina¬ 
 ry. He agreed, and only said in their presence, 
 that he would sup in the room Apollo. The 
 magnificence of the services surprised Cicero 
 and Pompey the more, as not having left him, 
 he had not had an opportunity to give particu¬ 
 lar orders. 
 
 But after Lueullus had for some time en¬ 
 joyed the pleasure of their surprise, he confes¬ 
 sed to them, that as soon as his servants knew 
 in which room he was to cat, they were there¬ 
 by instructed as to the order, quantity, and 
 quality of the courses, and the expense of the 
 supper; that being regulated to every apart¬ 
 ment. The expense of the Apollo was fixed 
 at fifty thousand drachmas of silver, which ac¬ 
 cording to the present value of that metal, 
 amounted to above twelve hundred and fifty 
 pounds. This instance clearly shews to what 
 an height the luxury of Home, and the riches 
 of her citizens had arisen. 
 
 CHAP. CXYII. 
 
 Of Marriages , and the Privileges of Married 
 Persons among the Romans. 
 
 WITH the view of facilitating marriages, 
 the commonwealth annexed marks of distinc¬ 
 tion to married persons, in order to discourage 
 libertinism, and to multiply the number of the 
 citizens. 
 
 “Diva iproducas sobolem, patrumque 
 Prosperes decreta super jugandis 
 Fctminis,J>rolisque novaeferaci 
 
 Lege marital... Jlox r CariRc Sec. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 255 
 
 ‘ : Goddess of births- 
 
 Give us a race mature and strong, 
 
 And all those sacred statutes bless 
 That guard the nuptial bed from wrong, 
 
 And crown the state with fair increase.”... .Creech. 
 
 It was ordained that amongst the people, 
 such as were married should have places in the 
 theatre separate from those of the soldiery; 
 that the married magistrates, or fathers of fa¬ 
 milies, should also have precedency of their 
 colleagues, who were not so, and that they 
 should enjoy the same advantage in the case 
 of competition for offices. Besides which, pen¬ 
 alties and fines were imposed upon those, who 
 after a certain age lived in celibacy. 
 
 As the Homans were very much addicted to 
 superstition, and extended it to every thing they 
 did, it is no wonder that marriage was celebra¬ 
 ted amongst them with so many ceremonies, 
 which were the more scrupulously observed, as 
 they believed its happiness depended on it. 
 
 The first thing they did was to take the aus¬ 
 pices before the nuptials, in order to know the 
 will of the gods; and they carefully avoided 
 celebrating them on any of those days which 
 they held to be unfortunate. Plutarch tells 
 us, that they did not marry maids on public 
 holidays; and that widows were permitted to 
 marry on them, in order that they might he 
 seen by fewer people; the generality being em¬ 
 ployed upon those days in solemnizing the fes¬ 
 tival. This shews that second marriages were 
 not in esteem among the Homans. 
 
 When the contract was drawn up, it was 
 sealed with the seals of the parents; and some¬ 
 times the portion was deposited in the hands 
 

 FXOWEItg OF 
 
 of the augur, who had taken the auspices. 
 Wives, according to (he law of Romulus, had 
 the advantage of inheriting the fortunes of their 
 husbands, if they died intestate. When the 
 husband left children, the wife divided it equal¬ 
 ly with them. There were also people who 
 made it their business to negotiate marria ges, 
 and to whom some gratuity was given. The 
 emperors ordained that this premium should 
 be in proportion to the value of the fortune. 
 The age for contracts was not fixed before the 
 time of Augustus; but that emperor ordained 
 that they should not be made till both parties 
 were marriageable. 
 
 The bridegroom, before the nuptials, sent his 
 intended bride an iron ring without any stones 
 in it, which was the ceremony of contract. Up- 
 on the wedding-day, in dressing the bride’s 
 head, it was the custom to part her hair with 
 the point of a spear, and to divide it into six 
 tresses, after the manner of the vestals, to im¬ 
 ply that she would live chastely with her hus¬ 
 band. On her head they put a wreath of flow¬ 
 ers of vervain, and other herbs, w hich she had 
 gathered herself, and over that wreath a veil, 
 which was sometimes adorned with precious 
 stones. They made her put on a pair of shoes 
 of the same color pf the veil, formed in the 
 manner of stilts or buskins, which, raising her 
 higher than those commonly worn, made her 
 stature appear to greater advantage. 
 
 There was anciently another ceremony used 
 among the Latins, which was to put a yoke upon 
 the necks of those who were married, to sig 
 
AXCIKXT HlfcTORV. 
 
 
 nify that marriage is a real yoke; and from 
 thence it had its Latin name conjugium . 
 
 The first Homans observed a ceremony in 
 their marriages, which they called corif arratio e 
 This was to make the new-married couple eat 
 a cake made only of wheat, salt, and water, 
 which the priest had offered to the gods, in or¬ 
 der to imply, by that common and sacred food, 
 the indissoluble union that was to subsist be¬ 
 tween them. 
 
 The bride was dressed in a long robe quite 
 plain, either white or saffron color. The nup 
 tials were always celebrated in the evening, by 
 the light of five torches of pine-tree, or white 
 thorn. Those torches were carried by young 
 children, called pueri lauti , because they were 
 washed and perfumed for that occasion. Their 
 number of five was mysterious, as well as the 
 rest of the ceremony. It was in honor of five 
 divinities, of whom they said those who were 
 married stood in need; these were Jupiter, Ju¬ 
 no, Yenus, Diana, and the goddess of Persua¬ 
 sion. The bride was led by two young chil¬ 
 dren, and a third carried before her the torch 
 of Hymen, which it was the custom for the 
 friends of both parties to take away, lest it 
 should he made use of in some enchantment, 
 that might shorten the life of one of them; for 
 great virtues were ascribed to this torch. 
 
 Whilst the bride was conducted in this man¬ 
 ner to her husband’s house, every one sung Hy¬ 
 men Hymencee , and invoked Thalassius, who 
 was married fo one of the Sabines, forcibly 
 carried off by the first Romans* A distaff was. 
 
 y s- 
 
258 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 carried behind the bride, with a spindle, and a 
 trunk, or basket, which contained her toilet. 
 She was sprinkled with lustral , or holy water, 
 in order that she might enter chaste into the 
 house of her husband. As soon as she arrived 
 at the door, which was adorned with garlands 
 of flowers and green houghs, tire and water 
 were presented to her, to signify that she was 
 to share in the whole fortune of her husband. 
 At the same time it was the custom to ask 
 what her name was; to which she answered 
 Caia, to imply that she would he as good a 
 housewife as Caia Csecilia, the mother of Tar- 
 quinius Prisons. She afterwards put wool 
 upon the door, and rubbed it with oil or (he fat 
 of a wolf. The attendants then carried her 
 over the threshold of the door, taking particu¬ 
 lar care that she did not touch it, because that 
 would have been a very bad omen; and imme¬ 
 diately after, the keys of the house were deli¬ 
 vered to her, to signify that she was entrusted 
 with the whole management of it. She was 
 then made to sit down on a sheep.skin with the 
 wool on it, to put her in mind that she was to 
 be industrious. When the marriage feast was 
 over, the nuptial bed was prepared; and after 
 the matrons called Fronubce , who accompanied 
 the bride, had made an end of giving her in¬ 
 structions, they put her into the genial bed, so 
 called, because it was prepared in honor of the 
 husband’s genius. When the bride was a wi¬ 
 dow, great care was taken to remove out of the 
 chamber, not only the bed, hut all the other 
 i'urniturt, w hith had been used by the first 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 250 
 
 husband; anil even the door of the chamber 
 was changed. The batchelors and maids, on 
 leaving the married pair, desired them to live 
 happily together, and before the door was shut, 
 and they were left alone, the husband threw 
 nuts to the children to divert the attention of 
 the curious by the noise they made in scramb¬ 
 ling for them. 
 
 “Da nuces pueris , iners 
 Concubine; satis diu, 
 
 Lusisti nucibus. Lubet 
 
 Jam service Thalessio 
 
 Concubine nuees da.’' .Catull. Ep. 69, 
 
 “Haste, slow lover, come away; 
 
 Throw the boys the nuts to play; 
 
 Quit for shame thy childish pieasureSj 
 For thy bride and nuptial treasures; 
 
 Haste, it is thy wedding-day; 
 
 Throw the nuts, and come away.” 
 
 The Romans made several of the gods to in 
 tervene at this time, and ascribed abundance 
 hf little trivial employments to them, lor 
 which it was necessary to address each of them 
 separately. The day after the nuptials, the 
 husband made a feast at home, at which the 
 bride, who sat by her husband on the couch at 
 table, leaned upon him in a very familiar man¬ 
 ner. Presents wpre made them that day, anil 
 the married pair sacrificed to the gods. The 
 married women always retained their maiden- 
 names, and did not take those of their hus¬ 
 bands. If it happened that a Roman citizen 
 seduced a free maid, the laws obliged him to 
 either marry her without a portion, or to give 
 her one suitable to her condition* 
 
26 0 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. CXVIII. 
 
 Comparison of Cicero and Demosthenes . 
 
 AS the Romans derived their eloquence, po¬ 
 etry and learning from the Greeks, so they 
 must be confessed to be far inferior to them 
 in genius for all these accomplishments. They 
 were a more grave and magnificent, though less 
 acute and sprightly people. They had neither 
 the vivacity nor sensibility of the Greeks; their 
 passions were not so easily moved, nor their 
 conceptions so lively. In comparison of them, 
 they were a phlegmatic nation. Their Ian- 
 guage resembles their character: it was regu¬ 
 lar, firm and stately, hut wanted that simple 
 and expressive naivete, and particularly that 
 flexibility to suit every different mode and spe¬ 
 cies of composition, for which the Greek 
 tongue is distinguished above that of every 
 other country. 
 
 “Gratis ingenium, Gratis dedid ore rotunda 
 
 Musa loqui .Hor. Art Poet. 
 
 “To her lov’d Greeks the muse indulgent gave 
 
 To her lov’d Greeks with greatness to conceive; 
 
 And in subliiner tone their language raise; 
 
 Her Greeks were only covetous of praise.”. Francis . 
 
 And hence, when we compare together the 
 various rival productions of Greece and Rome, 
 we shall always find this distinction obtain, 
 that in the Greek productions there is more 
 native genius, in the Roman more regularity 
 and art. What the Greeks invented, the Ro¬ 
 mans polished; the one was the original, rough 
 and sometimes incorrect; the other a finished 
 copy. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 261 
 
 With regard to oratory, the very name of 
 Cicero, suggests every thing that is splendid 
 in it. In ail his orations there is high art. He 
 begins, generally, with a regular exordium; 
 and with much preparation and insinuation pre¬ 
 possesses the hearers, and studies to gain their 
 affections. His method is clear, and his argu¬ 
 ments are arranged with great propriety. His 
 method is indeed more clear than that of De¬ 
 mosthenes; and this is one advantage he has 
 over him. We find every thing in its proper 
 place. He never attempts to move till he has 
 endeavored to convince; and in moving, espe¬ 
 cially the softer passions, he is very successful. 
 No man knew the power and force of words 
 better than Cicero. He rolls them along with 
 the greatest beauty and pomp, and in the struc¬ 
 ture of his sentences, is curious and exact to 
 the highest degree. He is always full and 
 flowing, never abrupt. He is a greater ampli¬ 
 fier of every subject, magnificent, and in his 
 sentiments highly moral. His manner is on 
 the whole diffuse, yet it is often happily varied 
 and suited to the subject. In his four orations, 
 for instance, against Cataline, the tone and 
 style of each of them, particularly the first and 
 last, is very different, and accommodated with 
 a great deal of judgment to the occasion, and 
 the situation in which they were spoken. When 
 a great public object roused his mind, and de¬ 
 manded indignation and force, he departs con¬ 
 siderably from the loose and declamatory man¬ 
 ner to which lie leans at other times, and be¬ 
 comes exceeding cogent and vehement. This 
 
262 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 is the ease in his orations against Antony, and 
 those two against Verres and Cataline. 
 
 Together with those high qualities which 
 Cicero possesses, he is not exempt from certain 
 defects, of which it is necessary to take notice. 
 Fo^ the CiccToTTian eloquence Is a pattern so 
 dazzling by its beauties, that, if not examined 
 with accuracy and judgment, it is apt to betray 
 the unwary into a faulty imitation; and I am 
 of opinion, that it has sometimes produced this 
 effect. In roost of his orations, especially those 
 composed in the earlier*part of his life, there 
 is too much art; even carried to the length of 
 ostentation. There is too visible a parade of 
 eloquence. He seems often to aim at obtain¬ 
 ing admiration, rather than at operating con¬ 
 viction, by what he says. Hence on some oc¬ 
 casions, he is showy rather than solid; and dif¬ 
 fuse, where he ought to have been pressing. 
 His sentences are, at all times, round and so¬ 
 norous. They cannot he accused of monotony, 
 for they possess variety of cadence. But from 
 too great a study of magnificence, he is some¬ 
 times deficient in strength. On all occasions, 
 where there is the least room for it, he is full 
 of himself. His great actions, and the real ser¬ 
 vices which he had performed to his country, 
 apologise for this in part. Ancient manners, 
 too, imposed fewer restraints from the side of 
 decorum. But, even after these allowances 
 made; Cicero’s ostentation of himself cannot 
 be wholly palliated; and his orations, indeed all 
 his works, leave on our minds the impression 
 of a good man, but withal of a vain man. 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 263 
 
 The defects whieli we have now taken no¬ 
 tice of in Cicero’s eloquence, were not unob¬ 
 served by his own cotemporaries. “They ven¬ 
 tured to approach him,” says Quinctilian, “as 
 swelling, redundant, and Asiatic; too frequent 
 in repetitions; in his attempts towafds wit, 
 sometimes cold; and in the strain of his compo¬ 
 sition, feeble, desultory and more effeminate 
 than became a man.” 
 
 These censures were undoubtedly carried too 
 far, and savor of malignity and personal enmi¬ 
 ty. They saw his defect^, hut they aggravated 
 them; and the source of these aggravations car* 
 be traced to the difference which prevailed in 
 Home in Cfcero’s days, between two great par¬ 
 ties the Attici and the Asiani. The former, 
 who called themselves the Attics, were the pa¬ 
 trons of what they conceived to be the chaste, 
 simple, and natural style of eloquence: from 
 which they accused Cicero as having departed, 
 and as leaning to the florid “Asiatic manner. In 
 several of his rhetorical works, ^ieero, in his 
 turn, endeavors to expose this sect, as substitu¬ 
 ting a frigid and jejune manner in place of the 
 true Attic eloquence; and contends that his own 
 composition was formed upon the reaT Attic 
 style. 
 
 In the tenth chapter of the last book of 
 Quinctilian’s Institutions, a full account is given 
 of the disputes between these two parties, and 
 of the Rhodian or middle manner between the 
 Attics and Asiatics. Quinctilian, himself de¬ 
 clares on Cicero’s side; and whether it be cal¬ 
 led Attic or Asiatic, prefers the full, the to- 
 
FLOWERS OE 
 
 264 * 
 
 pious, and the amplifying style. He concludes 
 with this very just observation: “Eloquence 
 admits of many different forms; and nothing 
 can he more foolish than to inquire, by which 
 of them an orator is to regulate his composi¬ 
 tion; since every form, which is just in itself, 
 has its own place and use. The orator, ac¬ 
 cording as circumstances require, will employ 
 them all; suiting them, not only to the cause 
 or subject on which he treats, but to different 
 parts of the subject.” 
 
 On the subject of comparing Cicero and De¬ 
 mosthenes, much has been said by critical wri¬ 
 ters. The different manners of these two 
 princes of eloquence, and the distinguishing 
 characters of each, are so strongly marked in 
 their writings, that the comparison is, in many 
 respects, obvious and easy. The character of 
 Demosthenes is vigor and austerity; that of 
 Cicero is gentleness and insinuation. In the 
 one, you find more manliness, in the other more 
 ornament. The one is more harsh, but more 
 spirited and cogent; the other more agreeable, 
 but withal, looser and weaker. 
 
 To account for this difference without any 
 prejudice to Cicero, it has been said, that we 
 must look to the nature of tlieir auditories; that 
 the refined Athenians followed with ease the 
 concise and convincing eloquence of Demos¬ 
 thenes; hut that a manner more popular, more 
 flowery, and declamatory, was requisite in speak¬ 
 ing to the Romans, a people less acute, and 
 less acquainted with the arts of speech. But 
 ft was not satisfactory. For we must observe 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 26 o 
 
 that the Greek orator spoke much oftener be¬ 
 fore a mixed multitude, than the Roman. Al¬ 
 most all the public business of Athens was 
 transacted in popular assemblies. ' The com¬ 
 mon people were his bearers and judges,. 
 Whereas Cicero generally addressed himself 
 to the Patres Conseripti, or in criminal trials to 
 the Prsetor, and select judges; and it cannot be 
 imagined that persons of the highest rank, and 
 best education in Rome, required a more dif¬ 
 fuse manner of pleading than the common ci¬ 
 tizens of Athens? in order to make them un¬ 
 derstand the cause, or relish the speaker. Per¬ 
 haps we shall come nearer the truth, by ob¬ 
 serving that to unite all the qualities, without 
 the least exception, that makes a perfect orator, 
 and to excel equally in each of those qualities, 
 is not to be expected from the limited powers 
 of human genius. The highest degree of 
 strength, is, i suspect, never found united with 
 the highest degree of smoothness and ornament; 
 equal attentions to both are incompatible; and 
 the genius that carries ornament to its utmost 
 length, is not of such a kind, as can excel as 
 much in vigor. For there plainly lies the eba- 
 racteristical difference between these two cele¬ 
 brated orators. 
 
 It is a disadvantage to Demosthenes, besides 
 his conciseness, which sometimes produces ob¬ 
 scurity, that the language in which he writes 
 is less familiar to most of us than the Latin, 
 and that we are less acquainted with the Greek 
 antiquities than we are with the Roman. We 
 read Cicero with more ease, and of course with 
 
 X 
 
266 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 more pleasure. Independent of this circum* 
 stance, too, he is no douht, in himself, a more 
 agreeable writer than the other. But notwith¬ 
 standing this advantage, I am of opinion, that 
 were the state in danger, or some great na¬ 
 tional interest at stake, which drew the serious 
 attention of the public, an oration in the spirit 
 and strain of Demosthenes, would have more 
 weight, and produce greater effects than one in 
 the Ciceronian -manner. Were Demosthenes’ 
 Philippics spoken in a British assembly, in a 
 similar conjuncture of affairs, they would con¬ 
 vince and persuade at this day. The rapid style, 
 the vehement reasoning, the disdain, anger, bold¬ 
 ness, freedom, which perpetually animate them, 
 would render their success infallible over any 
 modern assembly. I question whether the 
 same can be said of Cicero’s orations; whose 
 eloquence, however beautiful, and however 
 suited to the Roman taste, yet borders oftener 
 on declamation, and is more remote from the 
 manner in which we now expect to hear real 
 business and causes of importance to he treated. 
 
 In comparing Demosthenes and Cicero, most 
 of the French critics are disposed to give the 
 preference to the latter. P. Rapin the Jesuit, 
 in the parallels which he has drawn between 
 some of the most ancient Greek and Roman 
 writers, uniformly decides in favor of the Ro¬ 
 man. For the preference which he gives to 
 Cicero, he assigns, and lays stress upon, one 
 reason of a pretty extraordinary nature; name¬ 
 ly, that Demosthenes could not possibly have 
 so complete an insight as Cicero, into the man- 
 
Z6 7 
 
 ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 v 
 
 ners and passions of men. Why not? Because 
 he had the advantage of perusing Aristotle’s 
 treatise on rhetoric, wherein, says our critic, 
 he has fully laid open that mystery. And to 
 support this weighty argument, he enters into 
 a controversy with A. Gellius, in order to prove 
 that Aristotle’s Rhetoric was not published till 
 after Demosthenes had spoken, at least, his 
 most considerable orations. Nothing can be 
 more childish. Such orators as Cicero and 
 Demosthenes, received their knowledge of the 
 human passions, and their power of moving 
 them, from higher sources than any treatise of 
 Rhetoric. 
 
 One French critic has indeed departed from 
 the common track; and after bestowing on Ci- 
 cero those just praises, to which the consent of 
 so many ages shows him to be entitled, con¬ 
 cludes, however, with giving the palm to De¬ 
 mosthenes. This is Fenelon, the famous arch¬ 
 bishop of Cambray, and author of Telemaehus; 
 himself surely no enemy to all the graces and 
 flowers of composition. It is in his reflections 
 on rhetoric and poetry, that he gives this judg¬ 
 ment; a sjnall tract commonly published with 
 his dialogues on eloquence. These dialogues 
 and reflections are particularly worthy of pe¬ 
 rusal, as containing, perhaps, the justest ideas 
 on the subject, that are to be met with in any 
 modern critical writer. 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 CHAP. CXIX. 
 
 Comparison of Virgil and Homer, 
 
 AS to the comparative merit of these two 
 great princes of Epic poetry, Homer and Vir¬ 
 gil, the former must undoubtedly be admitted 
 to^ he the greater genius; tiro latter to be the 
 more correct; writer. Homer wa$ an original 
 in his art, and discovers both the beauties and 
 the 'defects, which are to-be expected in an 
 original author, compared with those who suc¬ 
 ceeded him; more boldness more nature and 
 ease, more sublimity and force, but greater ir¬ 
 regularities and negligences in composition. 
 Virgil has, all along, kept his eye upon Homer; 
 in many places, he has not so much imitated, 
 as he has literally translated him. The de¬ 
 scription of the storm, for instance, in the 
 jEneid, and ./Eneas’ speech upon that occasion, 
 are translations from the fifth hook of the 
 Odyssey; not to mention almost all the similies 
 of Virgil, which are no other thaji copies of 
 those of Homer. The pre-eminence of inven¬ 
 tion, therefore, must, beyond doubt, be ascri¬ 
 bed to Homer. “As to the pre-eminence in 
 judgment.” says Dr. Blair, “though many cri¬ 
 tics are disposed to give it to Virgil, yet, in my 
 opinion, it hangs doubtful. In Homer we ob¬ 
 serve the Greek vivacity; in Virgil, ail the Ro¬ 
 man stateliness. Homer’s imagination is by 
 much the most rich and copious; Virgil’s the 
 most chaste and correct. The strength of the 
 former lies in his power of warming the fancy: 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 269 
 
 that of the latter; in his power of torching the 
 heart. Homer’s style is more simple and ani¬ 
 mated; Virgil’s more elegant and uniform.*— 
 The first has, on many occasions, a sublimity 
 to which the latter never attains; but the lat¬ 
 ter, in return, never sinks below a certain de¬ 
 gree of epic dignity, which cannot so clearly 
 be pronounced of the former. Not, however, 
 to detract from the admiration due to both 
 these great poets, most of Homer’s defects may 
 reasonably be imputed, not to his genius, but 
 to the manners of the age in which he lived, 
 and for the feeble passages of the JBneid, this 
 excuse ought to be admitted, that the JEneid 
 was left an unfinished work.” 
 
 Mr. Pope’s comparison of Homer and Vir 
 gil is no less striking than just; “Homer,’* 
 says he, “hurries and transports us with a com¬ 
 manding impetuosity-, Virgil leads us with an 
 attractive majesty. Homer scatters with a ge¬ 
 nerous profusion, Virgil bestow s with a careful 
 magnificence. Homer, like the Nile, pours 
 out his riches with a sudden overflow; Virgil, 
 like a river in its banks, with a gentle and 
 constant stream. When we behold their bat¬ 
 tles, methinks the two poets resemble the he¬ 
 roes they celebrate. Homer, boundless and 
 irresistible as Achilles, bears all before him, 
 and shines more and more as the tumult in¬ 
 creases; Virgil, calmly daring, like iEneas, 
 appears undisturbed in the midst of action, 
 disposes all about him, and conquers with tran¬ 
 quility. And when we look upon their ma¬ 
 chines, Homer seems like kk own Jupiter in 
 
 z % 
 
270 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 liis terrors, shaking Olympus, scattering the 
 lightnings, and firing the Heavens. Virgil, 
 like the same power in his benevolence, coun¬ 
 selling with the Gods, laying plans for em¬ 
 pires, regularly ordering his whole creation.” 
 
 Dryden speaks of Virgil as a grave, suc¬ 
 cinct, and majestic writer, one who weighed 
 not only every thought, but every word and syl¬ 
 lable; who was still aiming to crowd his sense 
 into as narrow a compass as he could; for which 
 reason he is so very figurative, that he requires, 
 as it were, a grammar apart to construe him. 
 His verse is every where sounding the very 
 thing in your ears, whose sefise it bears; yet 
 the numbers are perpetually varied to increase 
 the delight of the reader, so that the same 
 sounds are never repeated twice together. But 
 though he is smooth where smoothness is re¬ 
 quired, yet he is so far from affecting it, that 
 he seems rather to disdain it; for he frequently 
 makes use of synalo*phas, and concludes his 
 sense in (he middle of his verse. He is every 
 where above the conceits of epigrammatic wit; 
 and gross hyperboles. He maintains majesty 
 ih the midst of plainness. He shines, but glares 
 not, and is stately without ambition. 
 
 Martial says of him, that he could have ex¬ 
 celled Varius in tragedy, and Horace in lyric 
 poetry; hut out of deference to his friends he 
 attempted neither. 
 
 Among the follies of Caligula, we may un¬ 
 doubtedly reckon his hatred and contempt for 
 this poet, whose writings and effigies he endea¬ 
 vored to remove out of all libraries. He bad 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 274 
 
 the confidence to say that Virgil had neither 
 wit nor learning. 
 
 The emperor Alexander Servius judged quite 
 otherwise. He called him the Plato of the po¬ 
 ets, and placed his picture with that of Cicero, 
 in the temple, in which he had placed Achil¬ 
 les and other great men. 
 
 He was so much respected by the senate and 
 the people of Rome, that when they heard any 
 of his verses in the theatre, every body imme¬ 
 diately stood up; and if by chance Virgil was 
 present, they paid him the same respect as they 
 did to Csesai* himself. 
 
 CHAP. CXX. 
 
 Of Horace , and his merit as a lyric poet, 
 
 QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS was 
 born at Venusium, a city of Italy, in the begin¬ 
 ning of December, about the year of Rome 688, 
 three years after the conspiracy of Catiline. 
 His father is said to have been a Salter, the 
 son of a freedman, who was a tax-gatherer. 
 The circumstances of his fortune were not 
 straitened, and observing an early forwardness 
 in his son, he resolved to furnish him with a 
 suitable education, and for that purpose remo¬ 
 ved him to Rome whem he was about ten years 
 old. He bred him in the best school, and in 
 the company of noblemen of the first quality. 
 The father had a good share of natural sense; 
 and fond of the prospect of his son’s future 
 character* he took pleasure in forming the mo 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 ^ * xW 
 
 rals of the youth himself; and all the virtue* 
 arenerositv and good conduct, which were so re- 
 markable in the life of this excellent poet, 
 were principally owing to the care and cultiva¬ 
 tion of the best of fathers, as the son in man^ 
 places of his works gratefully confesses. 
 
 “Si neqtxe avaritiam , ^....Lib. 1 . Sat. 6. 
 
 “If none on me can truly fix disgrace, 
 
 If I am neither covetous nor base, 
 
 If innocent my life; if to commend 
 Myself, I live belov'd by every friend; 
 
 I thank my father for’t.” 
 
 When he was about eighteen, he was sent 
 to Athens, where he completed what his father 
 had so well begun, and acquired all those ac¬ 
 complishments which polite learning, added to 
 the society of the first wits of the age, could 
 afford him. Brutus about this time going into 
 Macedonia, and being under great difficulties 
 to furnish bis army with officers, took Horace 
 into his service, and made him a tribune; but 
 he shamefully fled at the battle of Philippi, and 
 which was the most inglorious action in a sol¬ 
 dier, he threw away his shield. This he con¬ 
 fesses himself in an ode to his friend Pompeius 
 Varus, who was with him in that battle, asld 
 was his companion in flight. 
 
 “Tecum Phiiippos, 
 
 “The bloody wars, Philippi’s field, 
 
 Ignobly having lost my shield, 
 
 With thee I saw secure from wound, 
 
 I saw thee fight, when Pompev proud 
 To Caesar’s stronger virtue bow’d, 
 
 And basely bit the bloody ground.” 
 
 It is supposed that Horace would scarce 
 have been so ingenuous as to confess this infa¬ 
 mous adventure, if he had not had the exam- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 273 
 
 pies of two great poets, Archilochus and Alseus 
 before him, who both owned themselves guilty 
 of the same cowardice. 
 
 The general rout at Philippi reduced this 
 runaway tribune to the greatest distress; for 
 his estate was forfeited, and became a prey to 
 the conquerors. He was naturally indolent, 
 and loved retirement, hut necessity obliged him 
 to write, and his muse so successfully assisted 
 him, that she soon introduced him into the most 
 polite company. 
 
 He soon became acquainted with Virgil,who 
 recommended him to Meesenas, the general pa¬ 
 tron of learning in that age. This great cour¬ 
 tier spoke favorable of him to Augustus, who 
 was so taken with his merit and address, that 
 he made him his chief confidant in his private 
 pleasures and diversions, offered him honors 
 and advantages, which he in a great manner 
 declined accepting, and restored him to the 
 possession of his estate. Growing still more 
 intimate with Mecamas, he had the opportunity 
 of discovering all the amiable parts of his cha- 
 raeter, which wonderfully endeared his patron 
 to him, and made him conceive a very tender 
 friendship for him. The continued favor of 
 the emperor furnished that poet with such a 
 competency, as left him at full liberty to retire 
 and enjoy the fruits of the imperial bounty. In 
 many places he very feelingly describes the 
 pleasures of a country life, and the delights of 
 his villa, or seat at Tibur, and that in the coun¬ 
 try of the Tarentincs. 
 
 His love of retirement increasing with his 
 
274 
 
 ^LOWERS OR 
 
 age, he at last resolved to leave the city, and 
 spend the remainder of his days in the ease and 
 privacy of rural life. He died in the fifty-se¬ 
 venth year of his age, about twenty days after 
 his friend Mecfenas, with whose loss he was so 
 deeply affected that it was supposed to have 
 shortened his life. He was buried near Mecse- 
 nas’ tomb, and by his last words declared Me^ 
 csenas his heir, the violence of his distemper 
 being such that he was not capable of signing 
 his will. He was wholly indifferent to any 
 magnificent funeral rites, or fruitless sorrow 
 for his death. He was confident of immortality 
 from his works. 
 
 Absint inani funere ncenice , c£v....Lib. 2. Ode 20. 
 
 “Say not I died, nor shed a tear, 
 
 Nor round my ashes mourn; 
 
 Nor of ray needless obsequies take care, 
 
 All pomp and state is lost upon an empty urn.'’ 
 
 Horace was of a cheerful temper, fond of 
 ease and liberty, but ready to serve bis friend, 
 and grateful to bis benefactors; of a tender and 
 amorous disposition; warm and passionate, but 
 soon pacified. 
 
 He loved good company and a cheerful glass; 
 but being a person of an elegant taste in con¬ 
 versation, he affected an entire freedom, and 
 that the glass should circulate, or stand still, 
 at the discretion of bis guests. 
 
 He was very short and corpulent, as Augus¬ 
 tus in a letter to him informs us, comparing 
 him to the book he sent him, which was a lit¬ 
 tle thick volume. 
 
 The works of Horace consist of five books 
 of Odes, his Carman Seculare, two bojoks of 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 275 
 
 Satires, two of Epistles, and his letter to the 
 two Pisos upon the art of poetry. 
 
 The Ode is a species of poetical composition 
 which possesses much dignity, and in which 
 many writers have distinguished themselves in 
 every age. Its peculiar character is, that it 
 is intended to be sung, or accompanied with 
 music. Its designation implies this. Ode is 
 in Greek the same with song or hymn; and ly¬ 
 ric poetry imports that the verses are accom¬ 
 panied with a lyre, or musical instrument. 
 This distinction was not, at first, particular to 
 any one species of poetry. For music and po¬ 
 etry were cceval, and were originally always 
 joined together. But after their separation 
 took place, after bards had begun to make verse 
 compositions, which were to be recited or read, 
 not to be sung, such poems as were designed 
 to be still joined to music or song, were by way 
 of distinction, called Odes. 
 
 In the Ode, therefore, poetry retains its first 
 and most ancient form; that form, under which 
 the original bards poured forth their enthusi¬ 
 astic strains, praised their gods and their he¬ 
 roes, celebrated their victories, and lamented 
 their misfortunes. 
 
 “With regard to lyric poetry,” says Raping 
 “Horace found tiie art to join all the force and 
 high flight of Pindar, with all the sweetness 
 and delicacy of Anacreon, and to make himself 
 a new character by uniting the perfections of 
 the other two. For besides that he had a wit 
 naturally pleasant, he had nobleness in his con¬ 
 ceits, and delicacy in his thoughts and seniT 
 
FLOWERS OF 
 
 276 
 
 ments. Those Odes, upon which he chose to 
 bestow pains, are master pieces; but it requires 
 a very clear apprehension to discern all his 
 wit; for there are many secret graces and hid¬ 
 den beauties in his verse, which few can disco- 
 * ver.” 
 
 “Horace,” says Scaliger, “is the most exact 
 and elaborate of all the Greek and Latin poets. 
 His Lyrics have an harmonious and majestic 
 sound. His Odes are so full of fancy and 
 beauty, so much purity in the style, so great a 
 variety, and such new turns in the figures, that 
 they are not only proof against the censure of 
 critics, but also above the highest encomiums. 
 These compositions of his are of several sorts; 
 they are either moral, panegyrical, or Baccha¬ 
 nalian. In his Lyric poems upon divine mat¬ 
 ters, he is grave and majestic; in those which 
 contain the praise of his heroes, pompous and 
 sublime; in those that relate to pleasure and 
 free enjoyment, gay and lively. 'In his Iam¬ 
 bics he is severe and cutting. That which dig¬ 
 nifies his style from all other poets, is the ele¬ 
 gance of his words, and the musical numbers 
 of his verse. There is nothing so delicately 
 turned in all the Roman language. There ap¬ 
 pears in every part of his diction, a kind of no¬ 
 ble and bold purity. Ilis words are chosen 
 with as much exactness as Virgil’s, but there 
 seems to be a greater spirit in them. There is 
 a secret happiness attends his choice, which by 
 Fetronius is called Curiosi Felicitas. But the 
 most distinguishing part of all his character 
 seems to be his briskness, his jollity, and his 
 good humor*” 
 
ANCIENT IIISTOltr. 
 
 '27 7 
 
 “Of all thejyriters of Odes, ancient or mo¬ 
 dern,” says Dr. Blair, “there is none, that, in 
 point of correctness, harmony, and happy ex¬ 
 pression, can vie with Horace. He has de¬ 
 scended from the Pindaric rapture to a more 
 moderate degree of elevation; and joins con¬ 
 nected thought and good sense, with the high¬ 
 est beauties of poetry. He does not often as¬ 
 pire beyond the middle region; and those Odes, 
 in which he attempts the sublime, are perhaps 
 not always his best. The peculiar character 
 in which he excels is grace and elegance; and 
 in his style of composition, no poet has ever 
 attained to a greater perfection than Horace. 
 No poet supports a moral sentiment with more 
 dignity, touches a gay one more happily, or 
 possesses the art of trifling more agreeably, 
 when he eliuses to trifle. His language is so 
 fortunate, that with a single word or epithet, 
 he often conveys a whole description to the fan¬ 
 cy. Hence he ever has been, and ever will 
 continue to be, a favorite author with all per¬ 
 sons of taste.” 
 
 Among the Latin poets of latter ages there 
 have been many imitators of Horace. One of 
 the most distinguished is Casimir, a Polish poet 
 of the last century, who wrote four hooks of 
 Odes, in graceful ease of expression, he is 
 far inferior to the Roman. He oftener affects 
 the sublime; and in the attempt, like other Ly¬ 
 ric writers, frequently becomes harsh and un¬ 
 natural. But on several occasions, he disco¬ 
 vers a considerable degree of original genius, 
 and poetical fire. Buchanan, in some of his 
 
 A A 
 
378 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 Lyric compositions, is very elegant and elas. 
 sicale 
 
 CHAP. CXXL 
 
 Comparison between Horace and Juvenal . 
 
 THE writings of Juvenal-consist of sixteen 
 Satire^, which have justly had their admirers 
 among the learned in all ages. And, indeed, 
 the works of this poet are so complete a sys¬ 
 tem of morality, and so perfect a body of use¬ 
 ful philosophy; they express so just a rage 
 against the shocking vices of the times in 
 which he lived, that lie has scarcely left any 
 thing unsaid upon (he subjects he made choice 
 of. The jealousy and the high guilt of the 
 age, obliged him often to draw characters, and 
 to represent crimes under the names of per¬ 
 sons who had been long dead; for the corrup¬ 
 tion was too great and universal, and the power 
 of the vicious too formidable to be attacked 
 without danger; and this cautious method has 
 been followed successfully by succeeding sati¬ 
 rists, in many states and countries, whicl^la- 
 bored under the same misfortune. 
 
 The Satire of this poet deserves the highest 
 encomiums. He is so full of divine sentiments, 
 and his sentences arc so grave and moral, that 
 he may properly be called The Prophet of the 
 Latin Poets. Many prefer his pieces before 
 ail the morals of Aristotle; and some pro¬ 
 nounce him equal to Seneca and Epictetus. 
 
 To form an exact comparison between Ho¬ 
 race and Juvenal, is a difficult undertaking; 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 279 
 
 If it be only argued which of them was the bet¬ 
 ter poet, the victory is already gained on the 
 side of Horace. Virgil himself must yield to 
 him in his choice of words, and perhaps in the 
 purity of his Latin. He who says that Pindar 
 is inimitable, is himself inimitable in his Odes. 
 But the contention between these two great 
 masters is for the prize of satire; in which con¬ 
 troversy all the Odes and Epodes of Horace 
 are to stand excluded. 
 
 It must be granted by the admirers of Juve¬ 
 nal, that Horace is more copious and profitable 
 in his instructions of human life; but Juvenal 
 is the more delightful author. I am profited 
 by both, I am pleased with both; but I owe 
 more to Horace for mv instruction, and more 
 to Juvenal for my pleasure. Juvenal is of a 
 more vigorous and masculine wit than Horace; 
 he gives me as much pleasure as I can bear; 
 he fully satisfies my expectation; his spleen is 
 raised, and he raises mine. He drives his rea¬ 
 der along with him, and when he is at the end 
 of his journey I willingly stop with him. If 
 we went another stage it would be too far; it 
 would turn delight into fatigue. When he 
 gives over, it is a sign that the subject is ex¬ 
 hausted, and that the wit of man can carry it 
 no farther. 
 
 If any fault can be justly found in Juvenal, 
 it is that he is sometimes too luxuriant, says 
 more than be needs, but never more than 
 pleases. Add to this, that his thoughts are as 
 just as those of Horace, and much more eleva¬ 
 ted. His expressions are sonorous and musi¬ 
 cal, his verses harmonious; and his words are 
 
280 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 suited to his thoughts, sublime and lofty. All 
 these contribute to the pleasure of the reader; 
 and the greater the soul of him who reads, his 
 transports are the greater. 
 
 Horace is always on the amble, Juvenal on 
 the gallop; but his way is perpetually on car¬ 
 pet-ground. He goes with more impetuosity 
 than Horace, but as securely; and his swiftness 
 & ves a lively agitation to the spirits. The 
 sauce of Juvenal is more poignant to create in 
 us an appetite for reading him. The meat of 
 Horace is more nourishing, but the cookery of 
 Juvenal is mere exquisite. So that granting 
 Horace to be the more general philosopher, we 
 cannot deny that Juvenal, in satire, was the 
 greater poet. His thoughts are sharper, and 
 his indignation against vice more vehement. 
 His spirit has more of the commonwealth ge¬ 
 nius. He treats tyranny, and all the vices at¬ 
 tending it. as they deserve, with the ut most ri¬ 
 gor; and consequently a noble soul is better 
 pleased with a zealous vindicator of Roman 
 liberty, than with a seemingly temporizing 
 poet. 
 
 Horace, however, had the disadvantage of 
 the times in which he lived. They were better 
 for the man, and worse for the satirist. Those 
 enormous vices, practised under the reign of 
 Domitian, were unknown in the time of Au¬ 
 gustus Cflesar. Juvenal, therefore, had a lar¬ 
 ger field than Horace. Little follies could not 
 be taken notice of, when oppression was to be 
 scourged instead of avarice. It was not a time 
 to turn into ridicule the false opinions of phi 
 
 4 4 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 281 
 
 iosophers, when the Homan liberty was to lie 
 • asserted, 
 
 CHAP. CXXIL 
 
 Of Pastoral Poetry , and a Comparison between 
 Virgil and Theocritus . 
 
 * 
 
 PASTORAL poetry is a natural, and very 
 agreeable form of poetical composition. Itrc- 
 cals to our imagination those gay scenes, and 
 pleasant views of nature, which commonly are 
 the delight of our childhood and youth; and 
 to which, in more advanced years, the greater 
 part of men recur with pleasure. It exhibits 
 to us a life, with which we are accustomed to 
 associate the ideas of peace, of leisure, and of 
 innocence; and, therefore, we readily set open 
 our heart to such representations as promise to 
 banish from our thoughts the cares of the 
 world, and to transport us into calm Elysian 
 regions. At the. same time, no subject seems 
 to be more favorable to poetry. Amidst rural 
 objects, nature presents, on all bands, the finest 
 field for description; and nothing appears to 
 flow more, of its own accord, into poetical num* 
 hers than rivers and mountains, meadows and 
 hills, docks and trees, and shepherds void of 
 care. Hence this species of poetry has, at all 
 times, allured many readers, and excited many 
 writers. Rut notwithstanding the advantages 
 it possesses, there is hardly any species of po¬ 
 etry which is more difficult to be carried in¬ 
 fection, or in which fewer writers nave excelled, 
 
 a a % 
 
 
282 
 
 FLOWERS GE 
 
 Pastoral life may be considered in three dif¬ 
 ferent views; either such as it now actually is. 
 when the state of shepherds is reduced to he a 
 mean, servile, and laborious state, when their 
 employments are become disagreeable, and 
 their ideas gross and low; or such as we may 
 suppose it once to have been, in the more early 
 and simple ages, when it was a life of ease and 
 abundance; when the wealth of men consisted 
 chiefly in flocks and herds, and the shepherd, 
 though unrefined in his manners, was respected 
 in his state; or, lastly, such as it never was, 
 nor never can in reality he, when to the ease, 
 innocence, and simplicity of the early ages, we 
 attempt to add the polished taste, and cultiva¬ 
 ted manners of modern times. 
 
 Of these three states, the first is too gross 
 and mean, the last too refined and unnatural to 
 be made the ground-work of pastoral poetry. 
 'Either of these extremes is a rock upon which 
 tl$e poet will split, if approached too near it. 
 We shall he disgusted if lie gives us too much 
 of the servile employments and low ideas of 
 actual peasants, as Theocritus is censured for 
 having sometimes done; and if, like some of 
 the French and Italian writers of pastorals, he 
 'makes his shepherds discourse as if they were 
 courtiers and scholars, he then retains the name 
 only, but wants the spirit of pastoral poetry. 
 
 He must, therefore, keep in the middle sta¬ 
 tion between these. He must form to himself 
 the idea of a rural state, such as, in certain 
 pcrWe of society, may have actually taken 
 place, where there was ease, equality, and in¬ 
 nocent. 1 , whero c heni^j.£} s were gay and agree- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 23 £ 
 
 able, without being learned and refined; and 
 plain and artless without being gross and 
 w retched. The great charm of pastoral poetry 
 arises from the view which it exhibits of the 
 tranquility and happiness of a rural life. This 
 pleasing,illusion, therefore, the poet must care¬ 
 fully maintain. He must display to us all that 
 is agreeable in that state, but hide whatever is 
 displeasing. Let him paint its innocence and 
 simplicity to the full, but cover its rudeness 
 and misery. Distresses, indeed, and anxieties, 
 he may attribute to it; for it would be perfectly 
 unnatural to suppose any condition of human 
 life to be without them; hut they must be of 
 such a nature as not to shock the fancy with 
 any thing peculiarly disgusting in the pastoral 
 life. The shepherd may well be afflicted for 
 the displeasure of his mistress, or for the loss 
 of a favorite lamb. It is a sufficient recom¬ 
 mendation of any state to have only such evils 
 as these to deplore. In short, it is the pasto¬ 
 ral life somewhat embellished and beautified, 
 at least seen on its fairest side only, that the 
 poet ought to present to us. But let him take 
 care, that embellishing nature, he do not alto¬ 
 gether disguise her; or pretend to join with 
 rural simplicity and happiness, such improve¬ 
 ments as are unnatural and foreign to it. If 
 it be not exactly real life which he presents to 
 us, it must, however, be somewhat (hat resem¬ 
 bles it. This is the general idea of pastoral 
 poetry. 
 
 In the following beautiful lines of his first 
 Eclogue, Virgil has, in the true spirit of a pas- 
 
284 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 assemblage of images of rural pleasure, as can 
 any where be found. 
 
 “Fortunate senex! hie inter Jlumina nota , 
 
 Etfrontes sacros,frigis captabis opucum, <b'c. 
 
 “Happy old man! here mid the accustom’d streams, 
 
 And sacred springs you’ll shun the scorching beams. 
 
 While from yon willow fence thy pasture’s bound, 
 
 The bees that suck their flowery stores around. 
 
 Shall sweetly mingle with the whisp’ring boughs, 
 
 Their lulling murmurs, and invite repose. 
 
 While from steep rocks, the pruner's song is heard; 
 
 Nor the soft cooing dove, thy fav’rite bird, 
 
 Mean while shall cease to breathe her melting strain, 
 
 Nor turtles from the serial elms to plain.”... Wharton. 
 
 Theocritus and Virgil, indeed, are models of 
 writing well in this sort of poetry. Theocri¬ 
 tus is more sweet, more natural, and more de¬ 
 scriptive than Virgil. Virgil on the other 
 hand, is more judicious, more exact, and more 
 regular. Theocritus hath more of all the 
 graces which constitute the ordinary beauty of 
 poetry; Virgil has more of good sense, more 
 vigor, more nobleness, more modesty, After 
 all, Theocritus is the original, Virgil is only 
 the copy, though he has copied many things 
 so happily, that they equal the original itself. 
 
 “That which distinguishes Theocritus,’’ 
 says Dryden, “from all other poets both Greek 
 and Latin, and which raises him even above 
 Virgil in his Eclogues, is the inimitable ten¬ 
 derness of his passions, and the natural ex¬ 
 pressions of them in words, so well adapted to 
 pastoral poetry. A simplicity shines through 
 all he writes; he shews his art and learning by 
 disguising both. His shepherds never rise above 
 their country education in their complaints of 
 love. There is the same difference betwixt 
 him and Virgil, as there is betwixt Tasso’s 
 Aminta, and the Pastor Fido of Guarini. Vir¬ 
 gil's shepherds are too well read in the philo- 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 285 
 
 sophy of Epicurus and Plato; and Guarini’s 
 seem to have been bred in courts. But Theo¬ 
 critus and Tasso have taken theirs from cotta* 
 ges and plains.” 
 
 It was said of Tasso in relation to his simili- 
 tudes, that he never departed from the woods; 
 that is, all his comparisons are taken from the 
 country* The same may be said of Theocri¬ 
 tus. His descriptions and natural beauties are 
 richer, and more picturesque than those of 
 Virgil. 
 
 “What rural scenery,” says Dr. Blair, “can 
 he painted in more lively colors, than the fol¬ 
 lowing description exhibits?” 
 
 ——————“On soft beds recline 
 
 Of lentisk, and young branches of the vine: 
 
 Poplars and elms above their foliage spread, 
 
 Lent a cool shade, and wav’d the breezy bead? 
 
 Below a stream, from the nymph’s sacred cave, 
 
 In free meanders led its murm’ring wave: 
 
 In the warm sun-beams, verdant shades among. 
 
 Shrill grasshopper’s renew’d their plaintive song; 
 
 At distance far, conceal’d in shades alone, 
 
 Sweet Philomela pour’d her tuneful moan: 
 
 The lark, the goldfinch, warbled lays of love, 
 
 And sweetly pensive coo’d the turtle doye; 
 
 While honey-bees, forever on the wing, 
 
 Humm’d round the flow’rs, or sipt the silver spring. 
 
 The rich, ripe season, gratified the sense, 
 
 With summer’s sweets, and autumn’s redolence. 
 
 Apples and pears lay strew’d in heaps around, 
 
 And the plum’s loaded branches kiss’d the ground .”...Fawkes 
 
 CHAP. CXXIII. 
 
 Of Seneca , 
 
 SENECA was born at Corduba, in Spain, 
 about the beginning of the Christian sera. 
 Though he was b£je'ad to the law, his genius led 
 him rather to philosophy, and he applied his 
 wit to morality and virtue. Notwithstanding 
 his philosophic studies, he was first made ques- 
 
286 
 
 FLOWERS OF 
 
 tor, then priefor, and some say that he was 
 chosen consul; but whether he bore those ho¬ 
 nors before or after his banishment is uncertain. 
 
 In the first year of the emperor Claudius, he 
 was banished into Corsica, when Julia, the 
 daughter of Germanicus, was accused by Mes- 
 salina of adultery; Seneca being charged as one 
 of the adulterers. But Messalina dying, and 
 Agrippina being married to Claudius, she pre¬ 
 vailed upon the emperor to recai Seneca, after 
 he had lived in exile about eight years. She 
 afterwards recommended him as tutor to her 
 son Nero. Had that prince attended to the 
 wisdom of his preceptor, through the course of 
 his reign, as much as he did for the first five 
 years of it, he would have been the delight in¬ 
 stead of the detestation of mankind. 
 
 Nero condemned Seneca to die, under pre¬ 
 tence that he had conspired with Piso, to de¬ 
 prive him of the government. The manner of 
 his death is particularly related by Tacitus. 
 “Now follows,” says he, “the death of Seneca, 
 to Nero’s great satisfaction; not because it ap¬ 
 peared that he was of Piso’s conspiracy, but 
 because Nero was resolved to do that by the 
 sword, which he could not effect by poison; for 
 it is reported that Nero had bribed Cleonicus, 
 Seneca’s freed man, to give bis master poison, 
 which did not succeed; for his diet was very 
 simple. He lived chiefly upon vegetables, and 
 seldom drank any thing but water. 
 
 “Natalis was sent upon a visit to him with 
 a complaint, that he would not permit Piso to 
 visit him. To whom Seneca answered, that 
 frequent meetings and conferences between 
 
ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 287 
 
 them could do neither of them any good, but 
 that he had a great interest in Piso’s welfare. 
 Upon this Granius Silvanus, a captain of the 
 guard, was sent to examine Seneca upon the 
 discourse which had passed between him and 
 Natalis, and to return his answer. He found , 
 Seneca at supper with his wife, Paulina, and 
 iwo of his friends, and immediately gave him 
 an account of his commission. Seneca told 
 him that it was true, that Natalis had been with 
 him in Piso’s name, with a complaint that Piso 
 could not be admitted to see him, and that he 
 excused himself by reason of his want of health. 
 
 “This answer of Seneca was delivered to 
 Csesar in the presence of Poppsea and Tigeili- 
 nus, the intimate confidants of this barbarous 
 prince; and Nero asked him, whether he could 
 gather any thing from Seneca, as if he intend¬ 
 ed to kill himself? The tribune’s answer was, 
 that he did not find him at all affected with the 
 message, nor so much as change countenance 
 upon it. Go back to him then, says Nero, and 
 tell him that he is condemned to die; but that 
 the manner of his death is left to his own choice. 
 $eneca received the message without surprise 
 or disorder, and chose to die by having bis 
 veins opened in a warm bath. 
 
 the d^y of his death, seeing his friends 
 ^ery much affected, he said to them: Where 
 is ali your philosophy now? where is all your 
 premeditated resolutions against weakness of 
 behavior? Is there any man so ignorant of 
 Nero’s cruelty, as to expect, after the murder 
 M his another, and his brother, that he should 
 spare* the life of his tutor? 
 
288 
 
 FLOWERS OF ANCIENT HISTORY. 
 
 “After some general expressions to this pur¬ 
 pose, lie took his wife in his arms, and having 
 somewhat fortified her against the present ca¬ 
 lamity, he besought and conjured her to mo¬ 
 derate her sorrows, and betake herself to the 
 contemplation and comforts of a virtuous life, 
 which would be ample compensation to her for 
 the loss of her husband. Paulina, on the other 
 hand, said she was determined to bear him 
 company, and ordered the executioner to do his 
 office. 
 
 “Accordingly, the veins of both their arms 
 were opened at the same time. But after Pau¬ 
 lina had bled for a considerable time, Nero 
 gave orders to prevent her death, for fear his 
 cruelty should grow more insupportable and 
 odious. Whereupon the soldiers gave all free¬ 
 dom and encouragement to her servants to bind 
 up her wounds, and to stop the blood; but whe¬ 
 ther at the time they were doing it, she was 
 sensible of it, is a question. She survived her 
 husband for some years, with all respect to his 
 memory; but*so miserably pale and wan, that 
 every body might read the loss of her blood 
 and spirits ifr her very countenance.” 
 
 Seneca was an excellent moralist, and a 
 sound philosopher; but he does not make so 
 considerable a figure as a poefe? and a writer of 
 tragedies. His sentiments, indeed, are^sublime^ 
 and his images lively and poetical; but both the 
 fable and execution of his plays are irregular. 
 He wants that noble simplicity, and pathetic 
 manner which recommended Euripides; and he 
 seems to have written more for the use /)f the 
 closet, than of the stage- 
 

 ' * m \ v> ^ 
 
 ' A :• \> 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 V 
 
 L 
 
 K ■* 
 
 % N 
 
 '• '•• •* ’ • v \ v 
 
 % y* "N'A'a* 
 
 vwuw *..i kT' 
 
 ^wjmnnc ^ t J., 
 
 \\ J* *** *• * . 
 
 ^ ^ - ' v ' V v * • *VV » % 
 
 Gt 
 
 
 it 
 « 
 
 
 C**M|U 4 V, 
 
 c 
 
 «4WTt.uv 
 
jr 
 
 
 iinc* 
 
 tied 
 
 4 b’ 
 
 der 
 
 noyypief} 0 
 
 f 
 
 . 
 
 
 -rfrviwrrnn 
 
 <Tj:.v. v.-v. •••*«•• a 
 
 s*nu*<* 
 
 ^ 4 /mi^ 
 
 2«*i 
 
 i 
 

 RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 D59 
 
 .A21 
 
 1817