^ -y^-j^ ^ ^ m \ ' / ^ \ i \ ^ i/\ * X s .* ^ I " /\v ^ \* & ... A \ :> \ / f / \ i V *' y **. -~f /' AS A TKIFLING MARK OF ESTEEM AND GRATITUDE, VERY HUMBLE SERVANT, THE PRINTER. ST. JOHN'S SQUARE, Feb. 4, 1823. ADVERTISEMENT. The learned quotations have been carefully examined and corrected : and, what has long been a desideratum in all the English editions, a LIFE of the AUTHOR has been prefixed. The whole of the plates (nineteen in number) have been engraved expressly for this Edition : and a com- petent person has been employed to examine the maps. The proprietors therefore think they may fairly af- firm, that the present is the most complete and hand- some Edition ever published, MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. IT is a remarkable instance of literary injustice, that the Author of the Ancient History, while describing the events of empires, and delineating the ^manners of nations, and the characters of individuals, has been suffered (in this country at least) to have the actions of his own life condemned to the silence of utter ob- livion. Numerous editions of these volumes have passed, in all forms, through the British press, without the smallest memoir having been conceded to the spot- less fame of the learned writer. A curiosity to become acquainted with the lives of those whose works have gra- tified us, and a desire of comparing their actions in the turbulence of the world with their sentiments in the calm of the closet, are feelings so natural and universal, that we trust we shall not be refused the thanks of the En^- O lish readers of Rollin, for endeavouring to supply, from the best sources to which we have access, a sketch of the life of the amiable historian. Charles Rollin was born in the city of Paris, on the 30th of January, 1661. He derived no celebrity from his parentage : he was the second son of a cutler at Pa- ris, and was originally destined, like his elder brother, to follow the business of his father. A Benedictine friar, whom he sometimes served at mass, discovered in him more intelligence and love of learning, than he could submit to see sacrificed to a mechanical occupation. He declared to Rollin's mother his opinion of her son's ability, and descanted upon the advantage of cultiva- ting such eminent talents. The affectionate parent, who was a widow, thought herself precluded by necessity from a scheme which her discernment approved. She urged her inability to defray the expenses of a learned education for her son : but this obstacle being after- X MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. wards surmounted by the zeal of the benevolent eccle- siastic/ young Rollin was dismissed from toils to which he was superior, and full of eager delight commenced the more pleasing labours of college. He pursued his studies with that avidity ' which grows by what it feeds on ;' and the wonderful celerity of his progress soon requited the patronage of his Benedic- tine friend. The amiableness of his heart disclosed it- self as visibly as the quickness of his genius. The alteration of his views and circumstances did not swell his bosom into any disdain of his former condition ; and his behaviour to his mother was changed in no- thing, but the greater delicacy of his tenderness and submission. She was made to participate in the tri- umphs and honours of her son ; as she often found, under her humble mansion, persons of high birth and eminent stations soliciting that young Rollin might pass the vacations with their sons, who were his fellow- students at college. After having studied the humanities and philosophy at the college of Plessis, he devoted three years to theology at the Sorbonne, one of the most famous schools in Europe for divinity. His teacher in rheto- ric was M. Hersan, a professor of considerable reputa- tion in France, This gentleman conceived such an exalted opinion of Rollin's virtue and abilities, that he declared he was sometimes tempted to call him divine. When any composition of prose or verse was required from him, the professor was not ashamed to commend his pupil even to the disparagement of himself. ' Ap- ply (he would say) to Rollin ; he will do it better than 1 can.'f When M. Hersan relinquished his duties at the col- lege of Plessis, our Author, though only in the twenty - * He obtained for young Rollin * une bourse' at the college of Plessis. Speaking of the ' boursiersj Rollin observes, (Traite des Etudes, torn. 4. p. 371.) ' Us sont lesenfants de la maison ; et les col- leges, dans leur origine, ont etefondes pour eux.' They are upon the foundation, therefore, like the scholars at the colleges of Cambridge. f Vie de Rollin prefixed to Traite des Etudes. To this, once for all, we acknowledge many obligations. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. xi third year of his age, was judged by the university competent to succeed so able and learned a master. Nothing but his own modesty debarred him from the honour : he consented however to become professor of an inferior class, and in 1687 was advanced to the chair of rhetoric. In the following year M. Hersan, with the permission of the king, resigned, in favour of Rollin, the professorship of eloquence in the Royal college. The warm eulogies and accumulated benefits which our Author received from his venerable master, might have awakened in hearts, less susceptible than his, some lively emotions of gratitude. Rollin always de- lighted to pay the most affectionate acknowledgments to his benefactor. At the end of his second vo- lume of Trait& dcs Etudes, he has given to the world M. Hersan's character, which, if drawn with fidelity (and we doubt not it is), exhibits a union of learning and virtue, to which there are few parallels. He thus speaks of him : ' He was accustomed to behave towards me in the character of parent as well as master, having always loved me as his son. In the classes he took particular care of my instruction, destining me even then to be his successor. I can say, without flattery, that no one ever possessed greater talent for making his pu- pils relish the beauties of authors, and for inspiring them with emulation. The funeral oration of M. Le Tellier, chancellor, which he pronounced in the Sorbonne, and which is the only piece of prose that he permitted to be published, is sufficient to shew how far he excelled in delicacy of taste; and the verses which we have from his pen may pass for models in that kind of com- position. But he was still more estimable for the qua- lities of his heart, than those of his mind. Kindness, simplicity, modesty,* disinterestedness, contempt of riches, generosity carried almost to excess, these vir- tues constituted his character. He n^ver availed him- self of the unbounded confidence which a powerful minister^ placed in him, except for the purpose of ob- liging others. At the time I was principal of the col- * ' He would never allow himself to be chosen rector of the uni- versity.' fM.de Louvois. Xii MEMOIRS OF ROLLIX. lege of Beauvais, lie sacrificed, from kindness to myself and love to the public, two thousand crowns to defray there the expense of some necessary repairs and embel- lishments. But the last years of his life, though spent in retirement and obscurity, surpassed all the rest. He withdrew to Compiegne, the place of his birth. There, separated from all society, occupied solely in the study of sacred history, which had always been his delight, having continually in his mind the thought of death* and eternity, he devoted himself entirely to the service of the poor children of the town. He built for them a school, perhaps the most handsome in the kingdom, and established a master for their instruction. He fulfilled the office of one himself: he assisted very frequently at their lessons : he almost always had some of them at his table : he clothed many : he distributed to all, at stated seasons, different rewards for their encourage- ment : and his sweetest consolation was to think, that after his death these children would make for him the same prayer that the famous Gerson, whose humility led him to become schoolmaster at Lyons, requested in his will to be made for him by his pupils : " My God, my Creator, have pity upon thy poor servant, John Ger- son." He has had the blessing to die poor in some sort in the midst of the poor ; that which remained of his property having hardly sufficed for a last endow- ment which he had made of Sisters of Charity for the instruction of girls, and the care of sick persons.' Such was the preceptor ; and we shall see the pupil, who has given this account, practising similar virtues, and engaged in occupations equally useful. Although Rollin was intrusted, at an early period of life, with the duties of a very important situation, he acquitted himself in them with all the wisdom and gravity of age, no less than with the zeal and activity of youth. Con- sidering that nothing could be more necessary to a stu- dent than a knowledge of his native tongue, he re- quired his pupils to pay a more strict attention to the ' He published a collection of extracts \vhich he had made upon this subject, called, Pensees edifiantes sur la mart, tirces des propres paroles de TEcriture saint c et des saints P2res.' MEMOIRS OF ROLLIK. Xlll French language, and to make themselves familiar with the chefs d'ceuvre of poetry and eloquence which it contains. Classical learning appears to have been in a declining state ; for the knowledge of the Greek language had been so much neglected, that Rollin is called the reviver of it in the university. To fix the minds of his pupils more attentively upon their stu- dies, he established examinations, to which the public were admitted, and in which it was the duty of the scholars to give an account of, and answer questions relative to, the Latin or Greek authors they had read during the preceding years. These exercises were found so useful, and were so agreeable to the taste of the nation, that without any decree of the university, they were adopted by all the colleges ; and from these they passed into private schools, and penetrated (our Author tells us) into all the provinces. Although sensible of the duty of respecting the cus- toms of the university, there was one practice to which he declared an invincible repugnance, from that love of propriety which in his bosom was paramount to all other considerations. It was a custom, supported much more by its antiquity than its wisdom, for the profes- sors to compose tragedies, the parts of which were sustained by their pupils. Rollin argues most strenu- ously in his fourth volume of Traite des Etudes against these theatrical exhibitions : and as part of his reason- ing applies to the annual performances of Terence's plays, at one of our great public schools, it may be worth while to give a short abstract of his opinions upon the subject. After adverting to the inconvenience and the labour to which the professors were subjected by the practice, he complains that it often happened that the scholars, under the pretext of preparing for the tragedy, aban- doned or neglected their regular studies for nearly two months. He next alludes to the expenses incurred. He declares that the pupils did not gain even the ad- vantage of improving their elocution : that Quintilian* * Ne gestus quidem omnis ac motus a comcedis petendus est. Quanquam enim utrumque eorum ad quemdam modum praestare MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. remarks after Cicero, that there is a great difference between the delivery of players and of orators : why, therefore, accustom the young to a faulty manner, which they will be compelled to abandon, when they come to speak upon real business in public ? He adds, that the greatest objection against scenical exhibitions, is the injury which it is probable will be inflicted upon the piety and morals of the young performers. It is natural enough they should be sjeized with a desire of gaining ocular instruction in the best manner of filling their parts ; and for that purpose they may frequent the theatre too often, and imbibe such a taste for plays, as may be followed with fatal results. If our seminaries are to be converted into playhouses, the passion of love, even in its most honourable form, should be ex- cluded. All that makes one feel the impression of love (says M. de Fenelon*), ' the more it is softened and disguised, the more dangerous it appears to me.' M. de la Rochefoucault condemns plays for the same reason. Rollin's concluding objection is of such a solemn and weighty nature, that we shall give the translation of his own words : ' There had crept in an abuse still more intolerable, one expressly forbidden by the law of God | (I know not what was the origin of the pro- debet orator, plurimum tarnen aberit a scenico. Quintil. lib. i. cap. 11. * Education des Filles. t ' The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman's garment: for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.' Deut. xxii. 5. In Bishop Mant's Bible we meet with the following note to this passage. ' It was an idolatrous custom for men to wear the flowered garments of women, when they worshipped Venus ; and for women to wear a coat of mail and armour, when they wor- shipped Mars; these dresses being accounted more pleasing to them, as better suiting their particular characters ; for Venus was supposed to be the goddess of pleasure and love, and Mars the god of arms and war. The idolatrous notion of deities of different sexes was a great corruption of the knowledge of the true God ; and gave great occasion for debauchery and impurities, even in their religious worship. It was this custom which the present law was designed to discountenance.' Lowman. Without questioning the correctness of this statement, we may MEMOIRS OF RQLLIN. XV hibition), and which kept its ground a long time in the university : it was that of robing the young pupils in female dresses in the tragedies. Can the world have been ignorant during so many years that such a custom (to use the expression of Scripture) was an abomina- tion in the sight of God ? The imprudence of some person, who perhaps had little knowledge or little re- ligion, may have first introduced it; and men afterwards followed, without- reflection, a practice which they found established. v Since the university has forbidden it, all persons have opened their eyes, and complied with a regulation so wise and necessary. Those who had the most concern in it, were chiefly persuaded by what they heard related of a gentleman who was an able professor,* and still more remarkable for his vir- tue ; who at his death evinced extreme pain at having followed a custom, which he knew had been to some scholars an occasion of immorality (dereglemenf). That is the time and situation in which we should place our- selves to judge soberly of what we should follow, and what we should avoid.' M. Rollin proceeds with obvious satisfaction to relate the manner in which the exhibition of tragedies was formally condemned by the corporation of the city of Toulouse, and literary exercises adopted instead at the college of Esquile. In our Author's time most of the colleges at Paris had relinquished the obnoxious custom, and it was afterwards totally abandoned at the university. Why do we (who often boast so loudly of our superior virtue and discernment) retain amongst us a practice which was condemned in France, and exploded from the country, nearly a century ago? If all the force of Rollin's arguments respecting the criminality of such a custom could be annihilated, what possible benefit can accrue from the annual performances at "Westminster-school ? observe, that the prohibition, * a man shall not put on a woman's garment/ is so express and unqualified, that every violation of it, for whatever purpose, must be accounted a sin. The words 'all that do so are abomination unto the Lord,' declare the sin to be of such a heinous nature, that a Christian should tremble at the thought of being wantonly guilty of it. * M.de Belleville, professor of rhetoric in the college of Plessis. Xvi MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. Although WQ must admire the delicacy and philan- thropy of many of Terence's sentiments, yet the ideas which predominate in his scenes, are those of soft lovers and lying slaves. How far the scholars of Westmin- ster are obliged to submit to these scenic exhibitions, and how far the yoke is one which cannot be dis- carded, is a deliberation which concerns those who are intrusted with the government of the school. It can- not be impossible that the female characters at least should be expunged : and is it not fit that moral pro- priety should be more consulted than dramatic harmo- ny ? Parents, who consider it the most important part of their duty carefully to guard the virtuous principles of their children, cannot follow a more zealous guide than the amiable Rollin. We warn them, therefore, to hesitate before they sanction a custom from which his feelings always recoiled with the most lively abhorrence. After having held the professorship of rhetoric at the college of Plessis with great reputation for the space of eight or ten years, our Author resigned his post, with the view of devoting his leisure to the study of ancient history. But his absence from the university was short : he was recalled in the end of the year 1694 to fill the situation of rector. This dignity he enjoyed two years successively ; which prolongation of his office was a rare distinction, and an honourable proof .of the confidence which Alma Mater reposed in his zeal and abilities. Of the numbers of strangers who visit Paris, to gratify their curiosity and indulge in pleasure, how many are ignorant that the capital of luxuries contains a venerable seat of learning. The metropolitan uni- versity of France is renowned for the antiquity of its origin, the eminence of its professors, and the erudi- tion of its scholars. Pope Honorius III. called it a pa- radise of delights which the hand of the Most High had planted at Paris, the school of all kinds of literature. The University styled herself the eldest daughter of kings ; a title which she might justly assume on ac- count of the many important privileges anciently be- stowed upon, her by royal favour. Her schools at MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. Xvii first consisted of four divisions, according to the num- ber of nations or tribes, of which she formed the uni- versity. The distinction of nations or tribes was after- wards merged in the four faculties of divinity, civil and canon law, physic, and the sciences, The rector, was the supreme head of the whole body. On being elected to this high station, Rollin presided in it with the most laudable vigilance and assiduity : he was strict in maintaining the discipline of the col- leges : he revived the ancient customs, and introduced some salutary reforms. He complied with the statutes of the university which enjoined him to visit the col- leges ; although his predecessors had thought them- selves at liberty to neglect this useful duty. He con- verted into a law the practice of commencing the lecture, in the classes of humanity and philosophy, with the explanation of some passage of Scripture. With the same view of extending biblical knowledge, he pub- lished, for the benefit of the inferior classes, a collection of maxims selected from the Old and New Testament. Although there was no man more humble and inoffen- sive, when he was only personally concerned ; he was very tenacious of the rights of his office, considering that the dignity of the university was united with his own. At a public thesis of law (says Amelot de la Houssaye), he would never suffer that the Archbishop of Sens, Fortin de la Hoguette, should take precedence of him.' He mortified the pride of another archbishop with a severe reproof of a practical nature. At the feast of Candlemas, it was the rector's duty, prescribed by ancient custom, to present a wax taper to the king and the queen, and, among other eminent persons, to the arch- bishop of Paris. The metropolitan, M. de Harlay, not feeling much gratification at this honour, adopted a very unceremonious method of receiving it. Upon the arrival of the deputies of the university, a gentleman of his household appeared, who made the Archbishop's apologies, and received the taper in his stead. M. Rol- lin, aware of the indignity put upon his predecessors, and expecting the same himself, took suitable precau- tions, and determined to resent indifference with indif- VOL. i. b Xviii MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. ference. When therefore he had arrived with all his train in the court before the porch of Notre- Dame, in- stead of waiting upon M. de Harlay, he sent the syndic of the university with orders to carry the taper to the archbishop's gentleman. His office of rector expiring, Rollin was engaged in superintending the education of the nephews of Cardi- nal de Noailles. The Abbe Vittement recalled him to a public station by obtaining for him the place of Prin- cipal of the college of Beauvais. Rollin at first ex- pressed some repugnance at the thought of filling such a situation ; not, we suppose, from any indolent love of ease, but from an anxious sensibility which magnified in his apprehension the difficulties he would have to encounter. Such appears to have been the state of his feelings when he wrote to M. Duguet, a learned theo- logian, by whose persuasion chiefly Rollin's scruples were overcome. l You have almost forced me (declares our Author to him) to undertake an important and dif- ficult office ; you are bound to assist me in bearing the weight of it. I have to instruct in religion, youths who are becoming numerous ; it is for you to furnish me with such lights and instructions as I ought to impart to them.' The connexion of learned men is often as ad- vantageous to the public, as it is agreeable to themselves. The consequence of Rollin's entreaty was, that M. Du- guet composed his Commentaires sur Touvrage des SLV jours et sur la Gen&se. The first volume of this work, printed separately under the title of Explication sur I'ouvrage des sixjours, is an excellent performance, in which the useful throughout is enlivened with the agreeable.* The college of Beauvais soon exhibited proofs of the estimation in which Rollin's talents were held by his countrymen. This society, which previously had been almost deserted, began to abound with scholars under the government of its new principal. A singular instance is given of the uncommon reputation which he enjoyed. A rich gentleman of one of the provinces, attracted by Rollin's fame, brought his son to be re- * Si&cles Litteraires de la France. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XIX ceived as a pensioner in the college of Beauvais. Rol- lin declared his inability to admit him, as the number of pensioners was already inconveniently great; and, to convince the father, he conducted him through all the apartments and dormitories, which were completely occupied. However, parental expectation was not to be so easily frustrated : i I have come to Paris (ex- claimed the father) on purpose to bring you my son ; I shall depart to-morrow, and I will send him to you with a bed ; I have but him, you may put him in the court, in the cellar, if you please, but let him be in your college, and from that moment I shall have no uneasi- ness about him.' The goodness of Rollin could not re- sist such an appeal as this. He was obliged to receive the youth, and to dispose of him in his own apartments, until he could place him amongst the other scholars. In our Author's time the duties of a principal resem- bled those of a master of a seminary, more than of a head of a college, in modern days. It was his province not only to guard the discipline, and preside over the stu- dies of the scholars, but also to instruct them in reli- gious and moral duties, and even attend to their diet and personal comforts. With what care, what vigilance and affection, each of these parts of his office should be fulfilled, Rollin has explained at length in his Traite des Etudes. The description must have been easy to him ; for (according to the testimony of those who knew him), in particularizing the duties of a principal, he has given the details of what was his own invariable practice. He endeavoured to perpetuate among his countrymen the accomplishments of learning, and the principles of correct taste. There is no purer joy (he declares*) to a scholar and a man of virtue, than to contribute by his exertions to qualify youths for the office of skilful pro- fessors ; and the pleasure is heightened, if he acts upon motives of gratitude, to repay in some measure the be- nefits which he himself has received from the university. Rollin's actions were in conformity with this generous sentiment. He was too amiable not to be warmed with * Trait6 des Etudes. b2 XX MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. a grateful remembrance of the manner in which he him- O ,' self had been raised to eminence : it was impossible he should forget the benevolence of his Benedictine friend, the favours of M. Hersan, and the dignities which the university had bestowed upon him. He requited these obligations by labouring to advance others in that ho- nourable course which he himself had trodden. One of the most learned of his pupils was M. Crevier, the author of several voluminous works. This gentleman continued Rollin's Roman History, but in the task has proved himself inferior to his master. He published also, besides other works, a History of the Roman Emperors : and there is an edition of Livy, which passes under his name, although he is not entitled to the cre- dit of the whole performance. The origin of this work deserves to be recorded. The notes of Crevier's Livy, which are concise and learned, were the result of lite- rary conversations held between Roll in, some of the professors of the college of Beauvais, the Abbe d'As- feld, and others. M. Crevier, as the youngest person, had the task of digesting and compiling the matter of these discussions. They took place when the duties of college were finished > and originated in the zeal of Rol- lin, who considered them as no more than a recreation. Thus, even the leisure of this learned man was inge- niously employed, and became productive of benefit to the republic of letters. But no virtues and no qualifications,' however distin- guished, could protect him from the rage of religious animosity. He was persecuted for Jansenism, a crime which those, who are not much acquainted with theo- logical controversies, may desire to be explained to them. The name of Cornelius Jansen or Jansenius, bishop of Ypres, has become celebrated on account of his posthu- mous work, called Augustinus, which is deeply impreg- nated with Calvinistic sentiments. About the middle of the seventeenth century this book was made the pre- text of a violent controversy in France. The Jesuits, incensed against the followers of Jansen, and inflamed with the lust of dominion, more perhaps than the love of truth, caused the following articles, as expressing the MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. Bishop of Ypres's faith, to be condemned by the Faculty of Theology at Paris, and afterwards by Pope Innocent the Tenth. 1. There are divine precepts which even good men cannot obey without the assistance of God. 2. That no man can resist the influence of divine grace on his mind. 3. That to render human actions meritorious, it is not necessary for them to be free from necessity, but con- straint. 4. That the doctrine of free-will is a gross error. 5. That Jesus Christ died not for all men, but only for the elect. The Jansenists uttered complaints and replies : and as the propositions, which were declared heretical, were not given in the words of Jansen, they denied that they were to be found in his book. In the sequel, the two parties were entangled in a vehement dispute concern- ing the extent of divine grace. The Jesuits main- tained, i that there is a general grace bestowed upon all mankind, but in such a sense subordinated to free-will, that this grace is rendered efficacious or in- efficacious as the will chooses, without any additional assistance from God, and without needing any thing exterior to itself to make its operations effectual ; on which account it is distinguished by the epithet suffi- cient. The Jansenists, on the contrary, affirm, that no grace is actually sufficient, unless it be also efficacious ; that is, that all those principles which do not determine the will to act effectively, are insufficient for action, be- cause, they say, no one can act without efficacious grace."* The ablest advocates of the Jansenists were M. Arnauld, and other members of the Society of Port Royal ; together with the celebrated Blaise Pascal, a man whose profound and universal genius it is impos- sible to contemplate without astonishment. If it were ever allowable to rejoice at a controversy, it would be when it gives birth to such admirable works as Pascal's Provincial Letters. The eloquence of Frenchmen of the most opposite tastes and sentiments, has been * Provincial Letters. Letter 2. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. employed in panegyrizing this extraordinary produc- tion. It was the opinion of Voltaire, that the best co- medies of Moliere do not surpass the Provincial Letters in wit, nor the discourses of Bossuet excel them in sub- limity. The Bishop of Meaux himself, who is perhaps the most eloquent of all the moderns, being interrogated what work (omitting his own writings) he should most desire to be the author of, answered, the Provincial Letters. D'Alembert and Boileau have contributed eulogies equally warm and unqualified as the preced- ing. The work, which so many acute judges have con- spired to praise, was eventually the, chief cause of the extinction of the order of the Jesuits. Pascal made a transition from the subject of sufficient and efficacious grace, to attack the principles and morality of his ad- versaries : and he exposed their artful iniquity with so much pungency of ridicule, and so much vehemence of reproof, that they became universally contemptible. Al- though their order was not suppressed in Europe, nor expelled even from France, till more than a century af- terwards ; yet they gradually lost their authority, and were unable to withstand the keenness and the weight of those arguments which Pascal had taught their ene- mies to wield against them. They retained their power, however, long enough to inflict consummate vengeance upon the society of Port Royal. When the ferocious Jesuit Michael Le Tellier was appointed confessor to Louis XIV., that monastery, which had become illus- trious by the residence of learned scholars, and devout nuns, was razed to the ground, and the very dead dis- interred to gratify the revenge of the disciples of the fanatic Loyola. Rollin's offences consisted in the constancy with which he retained his friendship for some of the exiled mem- bers of Port Royal, and in the courage which animated him to write in defence of what he considered to be the doctrines of truth. Thus rendering himself hateful to a powerful party, he became the victim of their intrigues, and was finally ordered to quit the college of Beauvais. He bore this injury with great magnanimity. Although compelled unjustly to forego the duties of a principal, MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XX111 he still retained the most anxious regard for the youth over whom he had presided. His chief concern was to see such a successor in his place, as would be most competent to support the interests and reputation of the college. The person whom his own judgment approved was M. Coffin : and when he was assured that the ap- pointment of this gentleman was agreeable to others as well as himself, he found his bosom relieved of the greatest inquietude which disturbed him. On the even- ing of the 6th of June, 1712, after having paid in cha- pel the sacrifice of devotion to his heavenly Protector, Rollin silently left the college, without any attendant, and with little consolation but what was afforded him by a mind conscious of its integrity. The scholars were not aware till after his departure, that the connex- ion with their virtuous principal was dissolved. When the unwelcome intelligence was announced to them, then (says M. Crevier, who was a witness of the scene) it was evident how much Rollin was beloved. As soon as it was known with certainty, that he had departed from the college never to enter it again in his former capacity, the grief of the scholars was loud and univer- sal. The Boursiers expressed their regret in a more honourable manner than by empty lamentations. Rol- lin had been accused of negligence to them in particular : in order to confute this calumny, and repair as far as possible an injury to which they had been made ac- cessory, they addressed to him a letter, and all put their signatures to a testimonial, avouching their deep- est respect and gratitude to the master from whom they had been so unexpectedly separated. Rollin fixed his residence in a retired part of Paris, where he had purchased a small house, which he in- habited until his death. The concerns of education, and the interests of the youth of France, still occupied his attention. His solitude was constantly intruded upon by parents, who came to consult him respecting their children. They seemed to think they should not fully discharge their duty to their offspring, unless they sought the benefit of M. Rollin's judicious advice. His kindness satisfied the parental anxieties of all who XXIV MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. approached him ; but his most tender regard was re- served for his late scholars of the college of Beauvais. In this M. Coffin sympathized with him, and paid so much deference to his predecessor's judgment, as not to venture to undertake any thing of importance with- out his counsel. The fruit of Rollin's leisure, and first production from his pen, was an edition of Quintilian's Institutions, which has been republished in London, and is the chief edition which is used in the schools of our Gallic neighbours. In this publication our Author gave a pre- face, written in pure Latinity, ably characterizing the merit of the great Roman rhetorician, and explaining the utility of his work for the purpose of forming both the orator and the man of virtue. As the book was designed chiefly for juvenile scholars, he retrenched those parts of the author, which seemed obscure and redundant. He elucidated the text with a selection of short notes, and prefixed a summary to the head of each chapter. This edition appeared in 1715, and the same year the university appointed him Procureur, or chief of the nation of France. In this office he had an opportunity of giving a public specimen of that eloquence, in the study and explanation of which so many years of his life had been employed. The regency under Louis XV. had just bestowed upon the citizens the privilege of gratuitous instruction ; which favour they were ena- bled to grant by securing a fixed stipend to each pro- fessor of the university. The funds to defray these salaries, were levied from the department of the Post. This tax was no more than a debt of justice to the uni- versity, which had mada the first attempt, in France, for the establishment of posts, by those messengers who used to conduct the young students from foreign na- tions to Paris, and were the only agents of communi- cation between them and their country. Roll in having to express the public thanks for the bounty of Louis, endeavoured (as he himself informs us*) to explain the earnest and careful manner in which the university la- * Dedication to Traite des Etudes. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXV boured to imbue the minds of her scholars not only with learning, but much more with tenets of probity and religion. His discourse was so gratifying to the mem- bers of the learned body, which he represented, that they requested him to expand his thoughts, and to dis- cuss in detail what he had been obliged to treat in a very brief and cursory manner. The following is their decree extracted from the records of the university. 'Anno Domini 1720, die 13 Januarii. ' Placuit per amplissimum Rectorem, Universitatis nomine, gratias maximas agi haberique domino Carolo Rollin, cumque ei precibus agi, ut orationem suam ty- pis imprimat ac faciat publici juris ; sin vinci modes- tia non possit, saltern partem earn suae orationis quse est de Ratione docendi in Academia Parisiensi usur- pari consueta, fusius aliquanto atque uberius, per sin- gula capita explicet, etc. Atque ita ab amplissimo Rectore conclusum fuit, signatum Coffini, Rector.' Considering this request as obligatory as a com- mand, Rollin took up his pen, and produced his Traite des Etudes, or Manner of Teaching and Studying the Belles Lettres. This work, which is very comprehen- sive in its plan, is divided into six parts. In the first, the Author treats of the study of languages, the French, the Latin, and the Greek. In the second, he discourses of poetry ; and in the third, of rhetoric. The two next are appropriated to history and philosophy ; and the last, which is intended to direct the judgment of teach- ers, enters into a detail concerning the management of youth, and the government of a college. These sub- jects are discussed, if not always in a profound, at least in an agreeable manner. Rollin possessed the French art of saying common things in a pleasant way ; and his disquisitions often shew more oratorical neatness, than philosophical depth. Those who can read Blair's Lec- tures in their own language, need not undertake the task of studying the Traite des Etudes. Still, the pe- rusal of the latter work will repay the reader of taste ; as besides displaying the most anxious and watchful MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. zeal for the good of the community, it developes the character, and embodies many of the chief beauties, of the best French and classical writers. The book is curious also, as unfolding the ancient institutes and dis- cipline of the university of Paris. Perplexed as parents are liable to be, with a multiplicity of novel schemes of education, let them determine that no system is com- plete, which does not embrace all the points which Rollin enumerates learning, morals, and religion. The ancient university of Paris (we are assured by him*) aimed at three objects : first, to cultivate the minds of youth, and adorn them with all the knowledge which they are capable of receiving ; next, to rectify and regulate their hearts by the principles of honour and probity, in order to make them good citizens ; and lastly, as the perfection and consummation of the work, to actuate them with the spirit of sincere Christians. From the time of the delivery of Rollin's public ha- rangue to the completion of his Traite des Etudes, was a period of nearly ten years ; at the end of which the university again elevated him to the office of Rector. Rollin had not abandoned his principles, nor his ene- mies softened their intolerance. In a discourse which he delivered on the 1 1th of December, 1730, he shewed that neither time nor persecution had convinced him of the error of those doctrines, which had occasioned his for- mer disgrace. How far he was indiscreet in thus re- kindling religious feuds, we have not precise information enough to enable us to determine. Although it seems irreconcilable with his character that he should be guilty of any acrimonious bitterness in avowing his opinions, yet his delinquency was considered as un- pardonable as before. The honours, which would have expired in a few months, were violently seized from him : he was displaced from his post, and driven into his former retirement. Intolerance could not snatch the pen from his hands, nor close the press against his publications. To assist those studies of youth, over which he was debarred from * Discours Preliminaire. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXV11 personally presiding, he composed his Ancient History, which appeared in thirteen volumes at different times, between 1730 and 1738. Of all his works, this is the one which has obtained for its author the greatest de- gree of celebrity: it has spread his renown through the most intelligent nations of Europe ; and what is no small distinction, has made his name as familiar to English readers, as the names of the most esteemed writers among their own countrymen. A reputation so emi- nent must be built upon solid merit. The author of the Ancient History has effected much more than he professed to undertake ; since his volumes, rising above the rank of an ordinary accompaniment to scholastic studies, contain a fund of knowledge and gratification suitable to the taste of every description of readers. They are so deeply imbued with the spirit and learn- ing of antiquity, that those who are debarred from the original works of the classical writers, cannot go to a better source to form correct notions of the temper and manners of ancient people: while the more accom- plished scholar will be delighted to find the substance of his studies embodied, and presented to the review of his mind, in one consistent work. The plan of the Ancient History, which embraces the events of many centuries, and the exploits of many na- tions, required that its author should possess a very extensive range of erudition. It was necessary to search all the stores of antiquity, in order to ascend to the most distant epochs of the Egyptian and Assyrian annals, and to describe the numerous transactions of Carthaginians, and Greeks, and Macedonians. Ac- cordingly we find, there is scarcely a classical writer from whom Rollin has not enriched his pages : histo- rians and poets, philosophers and orators, are all con- strained in turn to furnish incidents and allusions, and embellish the account of their own, or preceding ages. The variety of scenes and events, through which the reader is carried, is sufficient to stimulate the dullest curiosity, and sustain an ardent interest in the mind. We are transported to the greatest cities of the world, to Carthage, to Athens and Babylon, amidst a sue- XXviii MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. cession of events which possess all the liveliness and splendour of romance without its exaggerations. We become familiarized with the most noble characters of antiquity : we accompany Hannibal in his invasion of Italy, follow Cyrus to the throne of Persia, and are amazed at the daring achievements of Alexander in his rapid conquest of the East. We pass from the tu- mults of the camp to the noise of the forum, and learn how Pericles and Demosthenes swayed the minds of the capricious Athenians ; or retiring to the converse of philosophers, we hear Socrates discourse upon the rules of practical wisdom, and wonder how so much acuteness and magnanimity should be repaid with an in- famous death. In short, we meet with such a number of curious incidents, noble sentiments, and weighty apo- phthegms, that the chief spoils of ancient times being collected together, only a moderate industry is requi- site to store them in our minds. Upon the moral instruction to be gained from the perusal of history, Rollin always carefully enlarges. His pages are almost as thickly interspersed with re- flections as those of Euripides ; but with more propriety, as it is the peculiar province of history to instruct by maxims drawn from experience, while tragedy aspires to purify the soul by the emotions of terror and pity. Our Author's custom of moralizing so diffusely, is to be at- tributed to his solicitude for the virtuous principles of the young, for whose benefit chiefly his Ancient His- tory was compiled. Persons however of riper age and more mature judgment may be delighted with his sen- timents. It was a compliment paid him by that Duke of Cumberland who was his contemporary : f I know not how M. Rollin manages : every where else reflections weary me ; in his book they charm me, and I never lose a single word of them.' Whatever opinion we may form of the profusion with which his sentiments are lavished, it is impossible not to admire their excellent tendency. Nothing can be more pure, more noble, and more pious, than our Author's reflections. In estimating the qua- lities of any great character, his judgment is never daz- zled by the lustre of specious exploits : he makes the MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXIX true glory of actions to consist in the virtuous motives which inspired them, and the degree of utility which followed, or was likely to follow, their execution. As the education of all the learned part of Christendom is grounded upon a close acquaintance with the writings of Pagan authors, nothing should be more carefully guarded against, than an anomalous mixture of Christian and Heathen principles. An unqualified admiration of Heathen characters, will gradually infuse into the heart the tenets of Heathen morality ; so that a scholar often, by a process imperceptible to himself, incorpo- rates the sentiments of Paganism with the profession of Christianity. Rollin was aware of this danger, to which the lovers of classical literature are exposed. To counteract it, he determines the merit of Pagan ac- tions by the standard of Christian morality. Nor is this unjust : to judge men by a perfect law which they did not possess, would be a flagrant breach of equity ; but to estimate actions in the abstract by any rule which is not rigidly correct, would be voluntarily to mislead our own understandings. In the perusal, therefore, of An- cient History, it is sufficient sometimes to admire the magnanimity of the great characters which it portrays, without imitating their conduct. Rollin is generally careful to intercept our admiration, whenever it is likely to exceed due bounds ; and he animadverts upon the sentiments which might be excusable in a Heathen, but can admit of no palliation under the light which revealed religion has imparted. This correctness and delicacy of moral feeling, which pervades our Author's work, will considerably enhance its value with those who know how artfully their principles may be attacked in the midst of historical disquisition. It would have detracted nothing from their elegance, but would have obviated the reproach, which they bear, of disinge- nuous and rancorous hostility to the Christian reve- lation, if the two most accomplished historians of our own country had not deviated from the track before them, in order to asperse a faith, the excellence of which they were too arrogant and self-sufficient to ap- preciate. Rollin labours to establish, and not con- XXX MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN- found, the principles of his readers : his taste as well as virtue would not allow him to interrupt the pleasures of fancy, or the emotions of the heart, by a silly and unexpected sneer. If he enchants us not with all the graces of Hume or Gibbon, neither does he attempt to perplex us with their insidious sophisms. To study his volumes is to accustom ourselves to form correct sentiments, and to nourish a generous enthusiasm for piety and virtue. His style (of which it is not fair to judge with rigo- rous minuteness from a translation, which was executed many years ago) possesses a graceful ease, and harmo- nious sweetness. It is formed upon the model of Xenophon; with the writings of which historian he had an accurate acquaintance, as they constituted his fa- vourite study. He has imitated his beauties with so much success, that as the disciple of Socrates was de- nominated the Attic Bee, so the pupil of Hersan has been styled the Bee of France* Amidst many excellences his work does not exhibit much historical acumen. He is not eminent for that critical sagacity, which guides the reader satisfactorily through various discrepancies, preserves him from be- ing imposed upon by the hasty accounts of historians, and often collects the truth from a few scattered hints or allusions, ingeniously compared together. Rollin confides with too much credulity in the unfounded anecdotes and exaggerated relations of the ancient writers ; and while his facts are not always authentic, neither is his chronology remarkable for its accuracy. Minor defects have been observed. Important and trifling occurrences are sometimes mingled together in awkward confusion : and he has contributed to the in- equality of style, which disfigures his book, by fre- quently borrowing fifty or sixty pages together from different modern writers. f These obligations he inge- * ' Un honnete homme, Rollin, dit M. Montesquieu (CEuvres posth.) a, par ses ouvrages d'Histoire, enchante le public. C'est le cceur qui parle au cceur ; on sent une secrete satisfaction d'entendre parler la vertu : c'est Vabellk de la France: f Siecles Litteraires de la France. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXxi nuously avows, and never affects to treat in a new way the subjects, which have been discussed satisfactorily by others before him. The reputation of our Author's writings attracted the notice of the great, from whom he received many flattering marks of regard . The Prince Royal of Prussia, afterwards Frederick II. cherished a warm esteem for him, and in one of his letters complimented him with a sentiment worthy of Mecsenas : ' Des hommes tels que vous marchent a cote des souverainsJ The Queen of England had expressed a desire to maintain a corre- spondence with him, but the plan was frustrated by her death. The Duke of Orleans intrusted to him the superintendence of the studies of his son, and wished him to take every Monday an account of the young prince's proficiency. Such intercourse as this, however honourable, was too distant to supply the place of that friendship, which seldom subsists in its full warmth of af- fection, butbetween equals. Amongst the private friends of Rollin were ranked many men whose talents and si- tuations reflected a degree of honour upon the persons, whom they judged worthy of their intimate regard. The Abbe d'Asfeld is particularly named as the most tender and amiable friend of our Author. The souls of these two virtuous men were attracted together and united by a close conformity of sentiments, by the same earnest piety, and the same pure taste in the stu- dies of literature. Rollin allowed the Abbe to partici- pate in all his labours and in all his pleasures. He dis- burdened his anxieties to him, while he was at the head of the college of Beauvais ; and assisted himself by his judgment during the composition of his learned works. He made him also the companion of his rural walks ; in which the two friends perused together the Lives of Plutarch, thus contriving that the beauties of nature and the beauties of learning should be tasted at the same time, and each be heightened by the other. Rollin softened the pressure of old age by the in- nocent pleasures of conviviality. During the last years of his life he yielded, more freely than before, to the numerous invitations with which his society was XX*ii MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. courted. Every day almost he dined abroad with his friends ; excepting Sundays and festivals, when his piety kept him at home, that he might be able to at- tend vespers. At these entertainments his kindness and address always effected some useful object. Parents were benefited by his experienced counsels ; and the children, whom they presented to him, were encouraged by his tenderness, and improved by his skilful interrogatories. If sometimes after the repast (his biographer relates) he happened to slip away without being observed by any one, he was sure to be found in an adjoining apartment with a young scholar, who was giving an account to him of some passage of history, or reciting some choice piece of eloquence or poetry. Thus he enjoyed one of those pure gratifications, which Cicero* enumerates as compatible with the con- dition of old age : ' Quid enim est jucundius senectute stipata studiis juventutis ? An ne eas quidem vires se- nectuti relinquemus, ut adolescentulos doceat, instituat, ad omne officii munus instruat ? quo quidem opere quid potest esse prseclarius?' He verified, also, the same orator's commendation of age : ' Sed videtis, ut se- nectus non modo languid a atque iners non sit, verum etiam sit operosa, et semper agens aliquid et moliens ; tale scilicet, quale cujusque studium in superiore vita fuit.' He was sixty years old when he took up the pen the first time to write in his native language ; and he was nearly ten years older when he commenced his Ancient History, a laborious work, which seemed to require the vigorous application of youth, in order to execute it. The love of ease did not overcome his in- dustry even at seventy-five ; for it was at such an ad- vanced stage of life that he ventured to undertake a new work. This was the Roman History from the foundation of Rome to the battle of Actium ; the first volume of which was published with the last of the Ancient History. It appears by his letters that he de- liberated some time with his pious friends, whether he should commence an arduous undertaking at a declin- * De Senectute. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXXlll ing age, which he desired to consecrate entirely to the studies and meditations of religion. It was represented to him, that the sacrifice of his leisure being so advan- tageous to youth, could not fail to be acceptable to his Creator. He was persuaded by this reasoning, and lived to finish nearly half of the intended work. This last performance does not possess sufficient merit to exalt it to a comparison with the Ancient History ; which inferiority has been supposed to arise, either from the natural decay of age, which had enfeebled his powers, or from the fierceness and tumult of the events of the Roman republic, which might be disgusting to his tranquil disposition, and the peaceful sentiments of old age. His desire of being useful, or else that garrulity which increases with years, betrayed him into an unpardonable excess of moralizing. While he merely indicates many important events, he dwells with pro- lixity upon those which furnish opportunity for the serious reflections with which he was burdened. The greatest benefit of the work to a French reader is, that he may enjoy in it the finest parts of Livy elegantly translated into his own language.* M. Crevier conti- nued the History from the ninth to the sixteenth vo- lume ; and however little praise Rollin's part of the per- formance has received, his pupil's has been commended still less. But our Author's name had acquired sufficient lustre from his former publications ; and as his days had been honourably spent, so they were triumphantly closed. In the short illness, which was fatal to him, when the last sacraments were being administered, his friends and pupils were overpowered with gvief, and could not refrain from tears. Elated with Christian hope, and anticipating the glorious reward of his labours, he piously reproved their lamentations, by declaring : ' I wish to see no tears and no marks of affliction ; this day with us is a festival.' Supported by such holy sentiments he joyfully expired, after a long life, which had been extended to the eighty-first year. The mem- * Si&cles Litteraires. VOL, I. C XXXIV MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. bers of the university were present at the solemnity of his funeral ; but the customary eulogy by a public dis- course was denied him. The same religious hatred, which persecuted him during his life, saddened his obsequies, and suppressed the praise which was due to his memory. Neither his venerable age, nor his nu- merous virtues, had been able to preserve him from the aspersions of calumny. He had been accused of con- cealing in his humble mansion a press, from which issued anonymous pamphlets, inimical to the peace of both church and state. The informations against him were so positive and urgent, that Cardinal Fleury, the minister, ordered the police to examine his house ; and the search was as rigorous, as the accusation had been malicious and groundless. Thus in life and in the grave, this most harmless man was the victim of Jesu- itical hatred. Louis XVI. endeavoured to cancel the injustice which had been done him, and ordered a sta- tue to be erected to his memory, among those of the most illustrious men of France. To this honour he was indisputably entitled, by be- ing adorned with all those excellences which consti- tute a great and amiable character. In Rollin we ad- mire learning ennobled by virtue, and virtue exalted by piety. He lived in a brilliant era of French lite- rature, in an age of the most perfect orators and poets. Although his works do not elevate him to the renown of the most eminent writers of his country, yet his ta- lents were very considerable, his learning extensive, and his taste pure and classical. Of his virtues we may affirm, that they were almost without a blemish. We see him presiding over the education of the youth of France with as much affection and vigilance, as if he were the patriarch of the whole nation, and had adopted all the children of the country as his sons. We observe him in retirement constantly practising the lessons which he taught, and portraying the loveli- ness of virtue by the efficacy of a good example. Depressed by an obscure birth and an humble for- tune, Rollin had to surmount many difficulties, in order to gain the eminent posts of learning. It was his own MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXXV strength chiefly on which he was compelled to rely ; as he had no friends, but those whom his exemplary conduct and superior talents happened to conciliate. When his success had equalled his merit, and perhaps surpassed his ambition, his mind was as humble as if he had remained in the obscurity in which he was born. He never affected any disdain of his former condition, nor attempted to conceal the meanness of his birth ; on the contrary, he gave notoriety to it by his own pen, and in a Latin epigram reminds one of his friends, that he took his flight from the caves of JEtna to the tops of Pindus. Doctissimo viro N. Bosquillon, cum ei cultellura in xenia mitteret. JStna haec, non Pindus, tibi mittit munera : morem Cyclopes Musis prsecipuere suum. Translatum jEtnseis mePindi in culmina ab antris Hie se, si nescis, culter, amice, docet. * At the time he was caressed by the most illustrious persons in Europe, he lived in a style as simple and unostentatious as that of the plainest citizen. His house was so small, that it could sometimes with diffi- culty contain the numerous visitants who flocked to * There are some other verses by Rollin which are a proof of his amiable condescension. He sent to young Lepelletier a large taper, such as it was customary to present to the presidents of par- liament at the feast of Candlemas; at the same time he addressed to him the following lines, which must be understood as spoken by the university. Ad venustulum et elegantulum et peramabilem Pelteriolum, cum. ei, tanquam future quondum senatus principi, cereum. mitteret. Incipe, parve puer, dono cognoscere matrem, Venturique istud pignus honoris habe. Talia supremi queis sedes summa senatus Contigerit, soleo munera ferre viris. Te manet haec sedes t : summum Themis ipsa tribunal (Vera cano) patri destinat, inde tibi.f Cura sit interea ludo tibi fingere corpus, Mox animum pulchris artibus ipsa colam. Academia Parisiensis, primogenita regum filia, 31 Jan. 1695. t This prediction was verified : for twelve years afterwards, M. Lepelletier was first president, and he was succeeded by his son. c 2 XXXVI MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. him. Splendour and parade were wearisome to him. When courtesy compelled him to be present at those entertainments, which had no attraction but the luxury of the repast, and the rank of the guests, he always re- turned home dissatisfied. ' Those dinners (he would complain) < where one does nothing but dine, fatigue me : I reckon such days lost.' He preferred the tables of virtuous citizens, who were zealous for the education of their children : with them he had always an oppor- tunity to discharge his duty ; These (he would say) are my dukes and peers? His moderation was a virtue which proceeded from disinterestedness, and not a duty imposed by unavoid- able poverty. He had many opportunities of enrich- ing himself, all of which he magnanimously overlooked or rejected. He never availed himself of his intercourse with the great for the purpose of self-aggrandizement ; although his income at the time of his greatest prospe- rity, was scarcely three thousand livres.* He relin- quished those profits which would have been only the just remuneration of his study and labours : for the sole stipulation which he made with the bookseller who published his works was, that he might be allowed to indemnify him, if he should happen to incur any loss. After he had quitted the college of Beauvais, his friend and protector the president of Mesmes secretly solicited for him a pension upon an ecclesiastical be- nefice. When he was upon the point of obtaining his request, he sent for Rollin to communicate the in- telligence, which he thought would be joyfully received. But our Author, having heard the proposal, exclaimed with surprise, ( A pension, my Lord, for me ! why, what service have I rendered the church, that I should pos- sess ecclesiastical revenues ?' The president reminded him, that the Christian education which he had given to so many youths was a service rendered to the church as well as the state ; and urged him, as he was far from rich, to accept the assistance which was offered. i My Lord (replied Rollin), I am richer than the king ;' and firmly persisted in rejecting property to which he thought * One hundred and twenty-five pounds. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXXVii none but churchmen entitled. The impropriators of this country have been too long in possession of church lands, to feel any scruples concerning the validity of their titles : when however they see half the clergy im- poverished, and themselves abounding in wealth, they might very aptly put the question to their consciences, ' What service have we done to the church, that we should possess ecclesiastical revenues?' The property which has been so long enjoyed by them, and the right to which has been solemnly recognised, no moderate and peaceable subject would desire to see disturbed : but when the clergy, who are compelled to undergo an expensive education, and afterwards to devote their time and studies to ecclesiastical functions, are envied a mechanic's pittance, which is all that most of them ever gain from the altar ; surely they may be permitted to silence clamour, and repel odium, by pointing to the impropriators, and asking what those laymen have done for the church, that they possess its revenues, without any of the dispute or obloquy which the clergy en- counter ? Although straitened in his circumstances, Rollin is commended for great liberality and beneficence. He assisted with his purse the scholars whom he intended for professors, and who were too indigent to defray the entire expenses attendant upon their studies. Every month his servant distributed alms to a considerable amount: and on one occasion, being informed of the increase of the price of bread, he wrote to his faith- ful domestic from the chateau d'Asfeld : ' You must double the ordinary distribution for the last month, and for this : you must even make it triple, if you think it ne- cessary. Do not be afraid of impoverishing me by giving too much : it is laying out my money at great interest.' In devotion, our Author was rigid, and even super- stitious. During the time of the popular fanaticism respecting the Abbe Paris,* Rollin was to be seen pray- ing at the tomb of the pious deacon. * Francis Paris, a famous deacon of Paris, was the eldest son of a counsellor of parliament. After the death of his father, he XXXviii MEMOIRS OF HOLLIN. He said his breviary with the most punctual regu- larity. He heard mass every day, and always received the sacrament on Sundays. He cherished a singular devotion towards the Virgin Mary ; and on the days consecrated to her worship, he usually went to Notre- Dame, where^he heard mass, communicated, and passed part of the morning in prayers. Every year, if he was at Paris in the month of October, he made on foot the pilgrimage of St. Denys, during the festival of that apostle of France. He visited also every year his parish church of St. John en Greve, in order to renew his baptismal vows at the sacred font. It was a practice which he commenced when he was principal, and afterwards continued till his death, to pray every day to the infant Jesus Christ for the young, to the Virgin Mary for mothers, and to St. Joseph for fathers and masters. During Lent he practised great austerities, and ob- served the discipline of the primitive ages of the church. Such is the picture which has been drawn of Rollin's devotion. Protestants perhaps may be tempted to smile at some of his superstitious performances ; but it relinquished all his property to his brother, and retiring from the world, devoted himself to prayer, and the rigorous duties of peni- tence. He submitted even to manual labours, and wove stockings for the poor, whom he considered as his brethren. He died in his retreat in 1727, being 37 years of age. His brother having erected a tomb for him in the cemetery of St. Medard, the poor whom the deacon had relieved, some rich persons who had been edified, and many females who had been instructed by him, resorted to the se- pulchre, to pray and exercise their devotion. Among the multi- tudes of sick persons who at last flocked to the tomb, a few cures were effected, which were considered by the Jansenists as miracu- lous, but which might be naturally occasioned by violent convul- sions, which would ' produce a removal of disorders depending upon obstruction.' The disturbance at length became so great, that the government was obliged to order the cemetery to be closed in January, 1 732. The Parisian miracles (with two other instances still more weak) Mr. Hume has been audacious and silly enough to compare with the miracles recorded in the New Testament. Dr. Paley has re^ plied to the sophist in his Evidences, part. i. prop. 2. chap. 2. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. XXXIX is their duty, while they shun his errors, to imitate his piety, and the amiable virtues which were engendered by it. It has been usual to prefix to the English edition of the Ancient History a letter from Bishop Atterbury ; and as the great celebrity of the writer makes it interesting, we shall not presume to withhold it. A Letter written by the Right Reverend Dr. FRANCIS ATTERBURY, late Lord Bishop of Rochester, to M. ROLLIN, in commendation of this Work. REVERENDE ATQUE ERUDITISSIME VIR, CUM, monente amico quodam, qui juxta aedes tuas habitat, scirem te Parisios revertisse, statui salutatum te ire, ut primum per valetudinem liceret. Id officii, ex pedum innrmitate aliquandiu dilatum, cum tandem me impleturum sperarem, frustra fui ; domi non eras. Restat, ut quod coram exequi non potui, scriptis saltern literis praestem ; tibique ob ea omnia, quibus a te auc- tus sum, beneficia, grates agam, quas habeo certe, et semper habiturus sum, maximas. Revera munera ilia librorum nuperis a te annis edi- torum egregia ac perhonorifica mini visa sunt. Multi enim facio, et te, vir praestantissime, et tua omnia quse- cunque in isto literarum genere perpolita sunt ; in quo quidem Te caeteris omnibus ejusmodi scriptoribus facile antecellere, atque esse eundem et dicendi et sentiendi magistrum optimum, prorsus existimo ; cumque in ex- colendis his studiis aliquantulum ipse et operae et tem- poris posuerim, libere tamen profiteer me, tua cum le- gam ac relegam, ea edoctum esse a te, non solum quas nesciebam prorsus, sed etiam quae antea didicisse mihi visus sum. Modeste itaque nimium de opere tuo sentis, cum juventuti tantum instituendae elaboratum id esse contendis. Ea certe scribis, quae a viris istiusmodi re- rum baud imperitis, cum voluptate et fructu legi pos- sunt. Vetera quidem et satis cognita revocas in me- moriam ; sed ita revocas, ut illustres, ut ornes ; ut xl MEMOIRS OF ROLL1N. aliquid vetustis adjicias quod novum sit, alienis quod omnino tuum : bonasque picturas bona in luce collo- cando efficis, ut etiam iis, a quibus saepissime conspec- tae sunt, elegantiores tamen solito appareant, et placeant magis. Certe, dum Xenophontem saepius versas, ab illo et ea quae a te plurimis in locis narrantur, et ipsum ubi- que narrandi modum videris traxisse, stylique Xeno- phontei nitorem ac venustam simplicitatem non imitari tantum, sed plane assequi : ita ut si Gallice scisset Xe- nophon, non aliis ilium, in eo argumento quod tractas, verbis usurum, non alio prorsus more scripturum, ju- dicem. Haec ego, haud assentandi causa (quod vitium procul a me abest), sed vere ex animi sententia dico. Cum enim pulchris a te donis ditatus sim, quibus in eodem aut in- alio quopiam doctrinae genere referendis impa- rem me sentio, volui tamen propensi erga te animi gra- tique testimonium proferre, et te aliquo saltern munus- culo, etsi perquam dissimili, remunerari. Perge, vir docte admodum et venerande, de bonis literis, quae nunc neglectse passim et spretse jacent, bene mereri ; perge juventutem Gallicam (quando illi solum- modo te utilem esse visj optimis et prasceptis et exem- plis informare. Quod ut facias, annis aetatis tuae elapsis multos adji- ciat Deus ! iisque decurrentibus sanum te praestet atque incolumem. Hoc ex animo optat ac vovet Tui observantissimus FRANCISCUS ROFFENSIS. Pransurum te mecum post festa dixit mihi amicus ille noster, qui tibi vicinus est. Cum statueris tecum quo die adfuturus es, id illi significabis. Me certe annis malisque debilitatum, quandocunque veneris, domi in- venies. 6 Kal.Jan. 1731. MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. xli TRANSLATION. REVEREND AND MOST LEARNED SIR, WHEN I was informed by a friend who lives near you, that you were returned to Paris, I resolved to wait on you, as soon as my health would permit. After having been prevented by the gout for some time, I was in hopes at length of paying my respects to you at your house, and went thither, but found you not at home. It is incumbent on me, therefore, to do that in writing, which I could not in person, and for all the favours you have been pleased to confer upon me, to return you the warmest acknowledgments which, as I now feel, I shall ever continue to cherish. And indeed I esteem the books you have lately pub- lished, as presents of uncommon value, and such as do me very great honour. For I have the highest esteem, most excellent Sir, both for you, and for every thing that comes from so masterly a hand as yours, in the kind of learning of which you treat ; in which I sin- cerely believe that you far excel all other writers, and are at the same time the best master both of speaking and thinking well : and I freely confess that, though I had applied some time and pains in cultivating such studies, when I read your volumes over and over again, I am instructed by you not only in things of which I was entirely ignorant, but also those which I fancied myself to have learned before. You have, therefore, too modest an opinion of your work, when you declare it composed solely for the instruction of youth. What you write may undoubtedly be read with pleasure and improvement by persons who are proficients in learning of that kind. For whilst you call to mind ancient facts and things sufficiently known, you do it in such a manner, that you illustrate, you embellish them; still adding something new to the old, something entirely your own to the labours of others : by placing good pictures in a good light, you make them appear with unusual elegance and more exalted beauties, even to those who have seen and studied them most. In your frequent correspondence with Xenophon, Xlii MEMOIRS OF ROLLIN. you have certainly extracted from him, both what you relate in many places, and every where his very man- ner of relating ; you seem not only to have imitated, but attained, the shining elegance and beautiful sim- plicity of that author's style: so that had Xenophon excelled in the French language, in my judgment, he would have used no other words, nor written in any other manner, upon the subjects you treat, than you have done. 1 do not say this out of flattery (which is far from being my vice), but from my real sentiments and opi- nion. As you have enriched me with your handsome presents, which I know how incapable I am of repaying either in the same or in any other kind of learning, I was willing to testify my gratitude and affection for you, and at least to make you some small, though ex- ceedingly unequal, return. Go on, most learned and venerable Sir, to deserve well of sound literature, which now lies universally neglected and despised. Go on, in forming the youth of France (since you will have their utility to be your sole view) upon the best precepts and examples. Which that you may effect, may it please God to add many years to your life, and during the course of them to preserve you in health and security. This is the earnest wish and prayer of, Your most faithful friend, FRANCIS ROFFEN. P. S. Our friend, your neighbour, tells me you in- tend to dine with me after the holidays. When you have fixed upon the day, be pleased to let him know it. Whenever you come, you will be sure to find one so weak with age and sufferings, as I am, at home. DecemberZG, 1731. It is proper to add, that the volumes of the Ancient History not being published by the Author all at one time, there were several prefaces or introductions for the different parts of the work. These by the English editors have been retrenched and incorporated into one. R. L. London, Feb. 5, 1823. CONTENTS OF THE EIGHT VOLUMES. VOL. I. BOOK I. The ancient history of the Egyptians. BOOK II. The history of the Carthaginians. VOL. II. BOOK II. continued. The history of the Carthaginians. BOOK III. The history of the Assyrians. BOOK IV. The foundation of the empire of the Persians and Medes, by Cyrus : containing the reigns of Cyrus, of Cambyses, and Smerdis the Magian. BOOK V. The history of the origin and first settlement of the several states and governments of Greece. BOOK VI. The history of the Persians and Grecians. VOL. III. BOOK VI. continued. The history of the Persians and Grecians. BOOKS VII. and VIII. The history of the Persians and Grecians. BOOK IX. The history of the Persians and Grecians ; continued during the first fifteen years of the reign of Artaxerxes Mnemon. VOL. IV. BOOK IX. continued. The ancient history of the Persians and Grecians. BOOK X. The ancient history of the Persians and Grecians. BOOK XL The history of Dionysius the elder and younger, tyrants of Syracuse. BOOKS XII. and XIII. The history of the Persians and Grecians. BOOK XIV. The history of Philip. VOL. V. BOOK XV. The history of Alexander. BOOK XVI. The history of Alexander's successors. Xliv CONTENTS OF THE EIGHT VOLUMES. VOL. VI. BOOKS XVII. and XVIII. The history of Alexander's successors. BOOK XIX. Sequel of the history of Alexander's successors. VOL. VII. BOOK XIX. continued. Sequel of the history of Alexander's successors. BOOKS XX. and XXI. The history of Alexander's successors continued. VOL. VIII. BOOK XXII. The history of Syracuse. BOOK XXIII. The history of Pontus. BOOK XXIV. The history of Egypt. Chronological Table. General Index. CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Page PREFACE. The usefulness of profane history, especially with regard to religion ........ i Of religion ... ...... xxvi Of the feasts xxix The Panathena ........ ibid. Feasts of Bacchus . . . . . . . xxxi The feast of Eleusis ....... xxxiii Of auguries, oracles, &c. ...... xxxvii Of auguries . . . . . . . . xxxviii Of oracles .......... xl Of the games and combats . . . . . .1 Of the Athletse, or combatants ...... Iv Of wrestling . . . . . . . . . Ivii Of boxing, or the cestus . . . . . lix Of the pancratium . . . .. . . . . Ix Of the discus, or quoit ....... ibid. Of the pentathlum . . . . . . . . Ixi Of races . . . . . . . . . . Ixii Of the foot-race . Ixiii Of the horse-races ........ Ixiv Of the chariot-races ........ Ixv Of the honours and rewards granted to the victors . . . Ixix The different taste of the Greeks and Romans in regard to public shows Ixxi Of the prizes of wit, and the shows and representations of the theatre Ixxiv Extraordinary fondness of the Athenians for the entertainments of the stage. Emulation of the poets in disputing the prizes in those representations. A short idea of dramatic poetry Ixxvi The origin and progress of tragedy. Poets who excelled in it at Athens : JEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides . Ixxvii Of the ancient, middle, and new comedy . . . Ixxxviii The theatre of the ancients described ..... xcvi Passion for the representations of the theatre one of the prin- cipal causes of the decline, degeneracy, and corruption, of the Athenian state ........ c Epochas of the Jewish history . . . . . . cviii Roman history . . . . . . cix The origin and condition of the Elotee, or Helots . , .ex Lycurgus, the Lacedaemonian lawgiver . . . . cxi War between the Argives and the Lacedaemonians . cxii Wars between the Messenians and Lacedaemonians . . cxiii CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Page The second Messenian war .... cxviii . ibid, cxxvi cxxvii . ibid. . ibid. '' JV^ixcedonia Kings of Bithynia Pergamus ..... cxxix cxxx . ibid. Tyrants of Heraclea ..... Kings of Syracuse ..... Other kine:s cxxxii cxxxiii cxxxiv BOOK I. THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS. PART I. The description of Egypt : with an account of what is most curious and remarkable in that country . .135 CHAP. I. Thebais 136 II. Middle Egypt, or Heptanomis . . . .137 SECT. I. The obelisks 139 II. The pyramids 140 III. The labyrinth 143 IV. The lake of Mceris . . . . .144 V. The inundations of the Nile ..... 145 1. The sources of the Nile 146 2. The cataracts of the Nile 147 3. Causes of the inundations of the Nile . . 148 4. The time and continuance of the inundations . ibid. 5. The height of the inundations .... 149 6. The canals of the Nile and spiral pumps . 151 7. The fertility caused by the Nile . . .152 8. Two different prospects exhibited by the Nile . 154 9. The canal formed by the Nile, by which a com- munication is made between the two seas . ibid. CHAP. III. Lower Egypt .,..;.. 155 PART II. Of the manners and customs of the Egyptians . 160 CHAP. I. Concerning the kings and government . .161 II. Concerning the priests and religion of the Egyptians 167 SECT. I. The worship of the various deities . . . .169 II. The ceremonies of the Egyptian funerals . .175 CHAP. III. Of the Egyptian soldiers and war . . . 179 IV. Of their arts and sciences . . . . .180 V. Of their husbandmen, shepherds, and artificers . 182 VI. Of the fertility of Egypt 186 PART III. The history of the kings of Egypt . . .192 The kings of Egypt 194 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. BOOK II. THE HISTORY OF THE CARTHAGINIANS. Page PART I. Of the character, manners, religion, and government, of the Carthaginians ... . . . . 231 SECT. I. Carthage formed after the model* of Tyre, of which that city was a colony . .... ibid. II. The religion of the Carthaginians . . . . 232 III. Form of the government of Carthage . . . 238 The suffetes 239 The senate 240 The people 241 The tribunal of the Hundred .... ibid. Defects in the government of Carthage . . . 243 IV. Trade of Carthage, the first source of its wealth and power ........ 245 V. The mines of Spain, the second source of the riches and power of Carthage ..... 247 VI. War 248 VII. Arts and sciences ...... 252 VIII. The character, manners, and qualities, of the Car- thaginians 255 PART II. The history of the Carthaginians .... 258 CHAP. I. The foundation of Carthage, and its aggrandizement, till the time of the first Punic war .... ibid. Conquests of the Carthaginians in Africa -261 Sardinia 263 Spain .... 264 Sicily . . . -267 CHAP. II. The history of Carthage, from the first Punic war to its destruction ....... 299 ART. I. The first Punic war 300 The Libyan war ; or against the mercenaries 322 The second Punic war ...... 333 The remote and more immediate causes of the second Punic war 334 War proclaimed ....... 341 The beginning of the second Punic war 342 The passage of the Rhone ...... 344 The march after the battle of the Rhone . 346 Passage over the Alps ...... 348 Hannibal enters Italy ...... 351 Battle of the cavalry near the Ticinus .... 353 Trebia 356 Thrasymene ...... 360 Hannibal's conduct with respect to Fabius 363 The state of affairs in Spain 368 The battle of Cannae ibid. Hannibal takes up his winter-quarters in Capua 375 The transactions relating to Spain and Sardinia 378 The ill success of Hannibal. The sieges of Capua and Rome ibid CONTENTS OF VOL. I. Page The defeat and death of the two Scipios in Spain .381 Asdrubal 382 Scipio conquers all Spain. Is appointed consul, and sails into Africa. Hannibal is recalled .... 385 Interview between Hannibal and Scipio, in Africa, followed by a battle 390 A peace concluded between the Carthaginians and the Ro- mans. The end of the second Punic war 392 A short reflection on the government of Carthage, in the time of the second Punic war 396 The interval between the second and third Punic war 397 SECT. I. Continuation of the history of Hannibal ibid. Hannibal undertakes and completes the reformation of the courts of justice, and the treasury of Carthage . ibid. Hannibal's retreat and death ..... 400 character and eulogium .409 PREFACE. iit another* because of the unrighteous dealings and wicked- ness committed therein. We discover this important truth in going He presided at back to the most remote antiquity, and the SfSSfa* gin f p ro / a e hist T; l rr- i-^ e flood. dispersion of the posterity oi Noah into the several countries of the earth where they settled. Liberty, chance, views of interest, a love for certain countries, and similar motives, were, in outward appearance, the only causes of the different choice which men made in these various migrations. But the Scriptures inform us, that amidst the trouble and confusion that followed the sudden change in the language of Noah's de- scendants, God presided invisibly over all their counsels and deliberations; that nothing was transacted but by the Almighty's appointment; and that he alone guided* and settled all mankind, agreeably to the dictates of his mercy and justice : b The Lord scattered them abroad from thence upon the face of all the earth. It is true, indeed, that God, even in those early ages, had a peculiar regard for that people, whom he was one day to consider as his own. He pointed out the country which he designed for them; he caused it to be possessed by another laborious nation, who applied themselves to culti- vate and adorn it; and to improve the future inheritance of the Israelites. He then fixed, in that country, the like number of families, as were to be settled in it, when the sons of Israel should, at the appointed time, take posses- sion of it; and did not suffer any of the nations, which were not subject to the curse pronounced by Noah against Canaan, to enter upon an inheritance that was to be given up entirely to the Israelites. -\-Quando dividebat Altissi- mus gentes, quando separabat filios Adam, constituit ter- minos populorum juxta numerum filiorum Israel. But this peculiar regard of God to his future people, does not in- terfere with that which he had for the rest of the nations of the earth, as is evident from the many passages of Scrip- ture, which teach us, that the entire succession of ages is present to him; that nothing is transacted in the whole a Ecclus. x. 8. b Gen. xi. 8, 9. * The ancients themselves, according to Pindar, (Olymp. Od. vii.) had retained some idea, that the dispersion of men was not the effect of chance, but that they had been settled in different countries by the ap- pointment of Providence. f " When the Most High divided to the nations their inheritance, when he separated the sons of Adam, he set the bounds of the people according to the number of the children of Israel" (whom he had in view). This is one of the interpretations given to this passage. Vide Bp. Manfs Bible. Deut. xxxii. 8. iv PREFACE. universe, but by his appointment ; and that he directs the several events of it from age to age. b Tu es Deus conspec- tor seculorum. A seculo usque in seculum respicis. We must therefore consider, as an indis- God alone has putable principle, and as the basis and fixed the fate of foundation of the study of profane history, all empires, both that the prov idence of the Almighty has, his own^eople! from a11 eternity, appointed the establisb- and the reign of ment, duration, and destruction, of kin g- his Son. doms and empires, as well in regard to the general plan of the whole universe, known only to God, who constitutes the order and wonderful har- mony of its several parts ; as particularly with respect to the people of Israel, and still more with regard to the Messiah, and the establishment of the Church, which is his great work, the end and design of all his other works, and ever present to his sight ; c Notum CL seculo est Domino opus suum. God has vouchsafed to discover to us, in Holy Scripture, a part of the relation of the several nations of the earth to his own people; and the little so discovered, diffuses great light over the history of those nations, of whom we shall have but a very imperfect idea, unless we have re- course to the inspired writers. They alone display, and bring to light, the secret thoughts of princes, their inco- herent projects, their foolish pride, their impious and cruel ambition: they reveal the true causes and hidden springs of victories and overthrows ; of the grandeur and declen- sion of nations; the rise and ruin of states; and teach us, what indeed is the principal benefit to be derived from history, the judgment which the Almighty forms both of princes and empires, and consequently what idea we our- selves ought to entertain of them. Not to mention Egypt, that served at first Powerful kings as the cradle (if I may be allowed the ex- appointed to pu- pression) of the holy nation; and which Israci r protect afterward was a severe prison, and a fiery furnace to* it; and, at last, the scene . of the most astonishing miracles that God ever wrought m favour of Israel ; not to mention, I say, Egypt, the mighty empires of Nineveh and Babylon fur- nish a thousand proofs of the truth here advanced. Their most powerful monarchs, Tiglath-Pileser, Shal- b Ecclus. xxxvi. 17. xxxix. 19. c Acts, xv. 18. * " I will bring you out from under the burdens of the Egyptians, and will rid you out of their bondage." Exod. vi. 6. " Out of the iron fur- nace, even out of Egypt/' Dent. iv. 20- PREFACE. v maneser, Sennacherib, Nebuchadnezzar, and many more, were, in God's hand, as so many instruments, which he employed to punish the transgressions of his people. d He lifted up an ensign to the nations from far, and hissed unto them from the end of the earth, to come and receive his orders. He himself put the sword into their hands, and appointed their marches daily. He breathed courage and ardour into their soldiers ; made their armies indefatigable in labour, and invincible in battle ; and spread terror and consterna- tion wherever they directed their steps. The rapidity of their conquests ought to have enabled them to discern the invisible hand which conducted them. But, says one of these* kings in the name of the rest, *By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom; .for I am prudent : and I have removed the bounds of the people, and have robbed their treasures, and I have put down the inhabitants like a valiant man. And my hand hath found as a nest the riches of the people : and as one gathereth eggs that are left, have I gathered all the earth; and there was none that moved the wing, or opened the mouth, or peeped. But this monarch, so august and wise in his own eye, how did he appear in that of the Almighty ? Only as a subaltern agent, a servant sent by his master: f The rod of his anger, and the staff in his hand. God's design was to chastise, not to extirpate, his children. But Sennacherib s had it in his heart to destroy and cut off all nations. What then will be the issue of this kind of contest between the designs of God, and those of this prince ? h At the time that he fancied himself already possessed of Jerusalem, the Lord, with a single blast, disperses all his proud hopes; destroys, in one night, a hundred fourscore and five thou- sand of his forces : andf putting a hook in his nose, and a bridle in his lips (as though he had been a wild beast), he leads him back to his own dominions, covered with infamy, through the midst of those nations, who, but a little before, had beheld him in all his pride and haughtiness. Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, appears still more visibly governed by a Providence, to which he himself is an entire stranger, but which presides over all his delibera- tions, and determines all his actions. . d Isai. v. 2630. x. 2834. xiii. 4, 5. e Isai. x. 13, 14. f Isai. x. 5. * Ibid. ver. 7. h Ibid. ver. 12. * Sennacherib. f " Because thy rage against me and thy tumult is come up into mine cars, therefore 1 will put my hook in thy nose, and my bridle in thy lips, and I will turn thec back by the way by which tliou earnest." 2 Kings, xix. 28. vi PREFACE. 1 Being come at the head of his army to two highways, the one of which led to Jerusalem, and the other to Rab- bath, the chief city of the Ammonites, this king, not know- ing which of them it would be best for him to strike into, debates for some time with himself, and at last casts lots. God makes the lot fall on Jerusalem, to fulfil the menaces he had pronounced against that city, viz. to destroy it, to burn the temple, and lead its inhabitants into captivity. k One would imagine, at first sight, that this king had been prompted to besiege Tyre, merely from a political view, viz. that he might not leave behind him so powerful and well-fortified a city ; nevertheless, a superior will had decreed the siege of Tyre. God designed, on one side, to humble the pride of Ithobal its king, who fancying himself wiser than Daniel, whose fame was spread over the whole east; and ascribing entirely to his rare and uncommon pru- dence the extent of his dominions, and the greatness of his riches, persuaded himself that he was l a god, and sat in the seat of God. On the other side, he also designed to chas- tise the luxury, the voluptuousness, and the pride, of those haughty merchants, who thought themselves kings of the sea, and sovereigns over crowned heads ; and especially, that inhuman joy of the Tyrians, who looked upon the fall of Jerusalem (the rival of Tyre) as their own aggrandize- ment. These were the motives which prompted God him- self to lead Nebuchadnezzar to Tyre ; and to make him execute, though unknowingly, his commands. IDCIRCO ecce EGO AD DUG AM ad Tyrum Nabuchodonosor. * To recompense this monarch, whose army the Almighty had caused m to serve a great service against Tyre (these are God's own words) ; and to compensate the Babylonish troops, for the grievous toils they had sustained during a thirteen years' siege ; n l will give, saith the Lord God, the land of Egypt unto Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon ; and he shall take her multitude, and take her spoil, and take her prey, and it shall be the wages for his army. The same Nebuchadnezzar , eager to immortalize his name by the grandeur of his exploits, was determined to heighten the glory of his conquests by his splendour and magnificence, in embellishing the capital of his empire with pompous edifices, and the most sumptuous ornaments. But whilst a set of adulating courtiers, on whom he lavished the j Ezek. xxi. 1923. k Chap, xxvi, xxvii, xxviii. 1 Chap, xxviii. 2. m Chap. xxix. 18. 20. n Ibid. ver. 19. Dan. iv. 134. * This incident is related more at large in the history of the Egyptians, under the reign of Amasis. PREFACE. Tii highest honours and immense riches, make all places re- sound with his name, an august senate of watchful spirits is formed, who weigh, in the balance of truth, the actions of kings, and pronounce upon them a sentence from which there lies no appeal. The king of Babylon is cited before this tribunal, in which there presides the Supreme Judge, who, to a vigilance which nothing can elude, adds a holi- ness that will not allow of the least irregularity. Vigil et sanctus. In this tribunal all Nebuchadnezzar's actions, which were the admiration and wonder of the public, are examined with rigour ; and a search is made into the in- ward recesses of his heart, to discover his most hidden thoughts. How will this formidable inquiry end ? At the instant that Nebuchadnezzar, walking in his palace, and revolving, with a secret complacency, his exploits, his grandeur, and magnificence, is saying to himself, p Is not this great Baby Ion that I built for the house of the kingdom, by the might of my power, and for the honour of my majesty? in this very instant, when, by vainly flattering himself that he held his power and kingdom from himself alone, he usurped the seat of the Almighty ; a voice from heaven pronounces his sentence, and declares to him, that, q his kingdom was departed from him, that he should be driven from men, and his dwelling be with the beasts of the field, until he knew that the Most High ruled in the kingdoms of men, and gave them to whomsoever lie would. This tribunal, which is for ever assembled, though invi- sible to mortal eyes, pronounced the like sentence on those famous conquerors, on those heroes of the pagan world, who, like Nebuchadnezzar, considered themselves as the sole authors of their exalted fortune ; as independent on authority of every kind, and as not holding of a superior power. As God appointed some princes to be the instruments of his vengeance, he made others the dispensers of his good- ness. He ordained Cyrus to be the deliverer of his people ; and, to enable him to support with dignity so glorious a function, he endued him with all the qualities which consti- tute the greatest captains and princes : and caused that ex- cellent education to be given him, which the heathens so much admired, though they neither knew the Author nor true cause of it. We see in profane history the extent and swiftness of his conquests, the intrepidity of his courage, the wisdom of his views and designs ; his greatness of soul, his noble genero- sity; his truly paternal affection for his subjects; and, on P Dan, iv. 30. q Chap. iv. 31, 32. viii PREi-'ACE. their part, the grateful returns of love and tenderness, which made them consider him rather as their protector and father, than as their lord and sovereign. We find, I say, all these particulars in profane history ; but we do not perceive the secret principle of so many exalted qualities, nor the hid- den spring which set them in motion. But Isaiah discloses them, and delivers himself in words suitable to the greatness and majesty of the God who in- spired him. He * represents this all-powerful God of armies as leading Cyrus by the hand, marching before him, con- ducting him from city to city, and from province to pro- vince ; subduing nations before him, loosening the loins of kings, breaking in pieces gates of brass, cutting in sunder the bars of iron, throwing down the walls and bulwarks of cities, and putting him in possession of the treasures of darkness, and the hidden riches of secret places. r The prophet also tells us the cause and motive of all these wonderful events. It was in order to punish Baby- lon, and to deliver Judah, that the Almighty conducts Cy- rus, step by step, and gives success to all his enterprises. b / have raised him up in righteousness, and I will direct all his ways. For Jacob my servant's sake, and Israel mine elect. But this prince is so blind and ungrateful, that he does not know his master, nor remember his benefactor. i I have surnamed thee, though thou hast not known me. I girded thee, though thou hast not known me. Men seldom form to themselves a right A fine image of judgment of true glory, and the duties es- the regal office. sential to regal power. The Scripture alone gives us a just idea of them, and this it does in a wonderful manner, u under the image of a very large and strong tree, whose top reaches to heaven, and whose branches extend to the extremities of the earth. As its foliage is very abundant, and it is bowed down with fruit, it constitutes the ornament and felicity of the plains around it. It supplies a grateful shade, and a secure re- treat to beasts of every kind: animals, both wild and tame, are safely lodged beneath it, the birds of heaven dwell in its branches, and it supplies food to all living creatures. r lsai.xlv.!3,14. 8 Chap. xlv. 13.4. 'Chap. xlv. 4,5. "Dan.iv. 10, 11. * " Thus saith the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I haveholden, to subdue nations before him ; and I will loose theloinsof kings, to open before him the two-leaved gates, and the gates shall not be shut: " I will go before thee, and make the crooked places straight: will break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron: " And I will give thee the treasures of darkness, and hidden riches of secret places, that thou mayest know, that I the Lord which call thee by thy name, am the God of Israel/' Isai. xlv. PREFACE. ix Can there be a more just or more instructive idea of the kingly office, whose true grandeur and solid glory does not consist in that splendour, pomp, and magnificence, which surround it; nor in that reverence and exterior homage which are paid to it by subjects, and which are justly due to it; but in the real services and solid advantages it pro- cures to nations, whose support, defence, security, and asylum, it forms (both from its nature and institution), at the same time that it is the fruitful source of blessings of every kind ; especially with regard to the poor and weak, who ought to find, beneath the shade and protection of royalty, a sweet peace and tranquillity not to be interrupted or disturbed; whilst the monarch himself sacrifices his ease, and experiences alone those storms and tempests from which he shelters all others ? I think that I observe this noble image, and the execu- tion of this great plan (religion only excepted) realized in the government of Cyrus, of which Xenophon has given us a picture, in his beautiful preface to the history of that prince. He has there specified a great number of nations, which, though separated from each other by vast tracts of country, and still more widely by the diversity of their manners, customs, and language, were however all united, by the same sentiments of esteem, ? everence, and love, for a prince, whose government they wished, if possible, to have continued for ever, so much happiness and tranquil- lity did they enjoy under it.* To this amiable and salutary govern- A just idea of the ment > let us oppose the idea which the sa- conquerorsofan- cred writings give us of those monarchs tiquity. and conquerors so much boasted by anti- quity, who, instead of making the happi- ness of mankind the sole object of their care, were prompt- ed by no other motives than those of interest and ambition. x The Holy Spirit represents them under the symbols of monsters generated from the agitation of the sea, from the tumult, confusion, and dashing of the waves one against the other ; and under the image of cruel wild beasts, which spread terror and desolation universally, and are for ever gorging themselves with blood and slaughter; bears, lions, tigers, and leopards. How strong and expressive is this colouring ! Nevertheless, it is often from such destructive models, that the rules and maxims of the education generally be- 2 Dan. vii. * 'ESvvrjOrj iTriOvjtttav kpftaXelv Toaa.vri\v TOV aet ry avrov. y^'Ofty a%iovv K x PREFACE. stowed on the children of the great are borrowed ; and it is these ravagers of nations, these scourges of mankind, they propose to make them resemble. By inspiring them with the sentiments of a boundless ambition, and the love of false glory, they become (to borrow an expression from Scripture) y young lions; they learn to catch the prey, and devour men to lay waste cities, to turn lands and their ful- ness into desolation by the noise of their roaring. And when this young lion is grown up, God tells us, that the noise of his exploits, and the renown of his victories, are nothing but a frightful roaring, which fills all places with terror and desolation. The examples I have hitherto mentioned, extracted from the history of the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians, and Persians, prove sufficiently the supreme power exercised by God over all empires ; and the relation he has thought fit to establish between the rest of the nations of the earth and his own peculiar people. The same truth appears as conspicuously under the kings of Syria and Egypt, suc- cessors of Alexander the Great ; between whose history, and that of the Jews under the Maccabees, every body knows the close connexion. To these incidents I cannot forbear adding another, which, though universally known, is not therefore the less remarkable ; I mean the taking of Jerusalem by Titus. z When he had entered that city, and viewed all the fortifi- cations of it, this prince, though a heathen, owned the all- powerful arm of the God of Israel ; and, in a rapture of admiration, cried out, " It is manifest that the Almighty has fought for us, and has driven the Jews from those towers ; since neither the utmost human force, nor that of all the engines in the world, could have effected it." Besides the visible and sensible con- God has always nexion of sacred and profane history, there disposed of hu- i s another more secret and more distinct man events, with relation with resp ect to the Messiah, for relation to the . ,, r A , . , . , , reign of the Mes- whose coming the Almighty, whose work siah. was ever present to his sight, prepared man- kind from far, even by the state of ignorance and dissoluteness in which he suffered them to be immersed during four thousand years. It was to make mankind sen- sible of the necessity of our having a Mediator, that God permitted the nations to walk after their own ways ; while neither the light of reason, nor the dictates of philosophy, could dispel the clouds of error, or reform their depraved inclinations. y Ezek. xix. 3. 7. z Joseph. I. iii. c. 46. PREFACE. *i When we take a view of the grandeur of empires, the majesty of princes, the glorious actions of great men, the order of civil societies, and the harmony of the different members of which they are composed, the wisdom of le- gislators, and the learning of philosophers, the earth seems to exhibit nothing to the eye of man but what is great and resplendent; nevertheless, in the eye of God it was equally barren and uncultivated, as at the first instant of the crea- tion. a The earth was without form and void. This is say- ing but little ; it was wholly polluted and impure (the reader will observe that I speak here of the heathens), and ap- peared, to God, only as the haunt and retreat of ungrateful and perfidious men, as it did at the time of the flood. b The earth was corrupt before God,'and was filled with violence. Nevertheless, the Sovereign Arbiter of the universe, who, pursuant to the dictates of his wisdom, dispenses both light and darkness, and knows how to check the impetuous tor- rent of human passions, would not permit mankind, though abandoned to the utmost corruptions, to degenerate into absolute barbarity, and brutalize themselves, in a manner, by the extinction of the first principles of the law of nature, as is seen in several savage nations. Such an obstacle would have too much retarded the rapid progress, promised by him to the first preachers of the doctrine of his Son. He darted from far, into the minds of men, the rays of several great truths, to dispose them for the reception of others more important. He prepared them for the instruc- tions of the gospel, by those of philosophers; and it was with this view that God permitted the heathen professors to examine, in their schools, several questions, and es- tablish several principles, which are nearly allied to reli- gion ; and to engage the attention of mankind, by the bril- liancy of their disputations. It is well known, that the phi- losophers inculcate in every part of their writings, the ex- istence of a God, the necessity of a Providence that pre- sides over the government of the world, the immortality of the soul, the ultimate end of man, the reward of the good and punishment of the wicked, the nature of those duties which constitute the band of society, the character of the virtues that are the basis of morality, as prudence, justice, fortitude, temperance, and other similar truths, which, though incapable of guiding men to righteousness, were yet of use to scatter certain clouds, and to dispel certain ob- scurities. It is by an effect of the same providence, which prepared, from far, the ways of the gospel, that, when the Messiah * Gen. i.2. b Chap. vi. 11. Xii PREFACE. revealed himself in the flesh, God had united together al- most all nations, by the Greek and Latin tongues ; and had subjected to one monarch, from the ocean to the Euphrates, all the people not united by language, in order to give a more free course to the preaching of the apostles. The study of profane history, when entered upon with judgment and maturity, must lead us to these reflections, and point out to us the manner in which the Almighty makes the em- pires of the earth subservient to the establishment of the kingdom of his Son. It ought likewise to teach us how to appre- Exterior talents c * ate a11 tnat gli tters most in the eye of the indulged to the world, and is most capable of dazzling it. heathens. Valour, fortitude, skill in government, pro- found policy, merit in magistracy, capacity for the most abstruse sciences, beauty of genius, delicacy of taste, and perfection in all arts : these are the objects which profane history exhibits to us, which excite our ad- miration, and often our envy. But at the same time this very history ought to remind us, that the Almighty, ever since the creation, has indulged to his enemies all those shining qualities which the world esteems, and on which it frequently bestows the highest eulogiums ; while, on the contrary, he often refuses them to his most faithful servants, whom he endues with talents of an infinitely superior na- ture, though men neither know their value, nor are desirous of them. c Happy is that people that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord. I shall conclude this first part of my pre- We must not be face with a reflection which results natu- too profuse in rally from what has been said. Since it is certain that a11 these ? reat men > w ^ are so much boasted of in profane history, were so unhappy as not to know the true God, and to dis- please him ; we should therefore be cautious and circum- spect in the praises which we bestow upon them. * St. Austin, in his Retractions, repents his having lavished so many encomiums on Plato, and the followers of his philo- sophy ; because these, says he, were impious men, whose doctrine, in many points, was contrary to that of Jesus Christ. However, we are not to imagine, that St. Austin sup- c Psal. cxliv. 15. * Laus ipsa, qua Platonem vel Platonicos sen Academicos philosophos tantiim extuli, quantum impios homines non oportuit, non immerito mi hi displicuit ; prcescrtim quorum contra errores inagnos defendenda est Chris- tiana doctrina. JRctract. I. i. c. 1. PREFACE. Xiii poses it to be unlawful for us to admire and praise what- ever is either beautiful in the actions, or true in the maxims, of the heathens. He * only advises us to correctwhatever is erroneous, and to approve whatever is conformable to recti- tude and justice in them. He applauds the Romans on many occasions, and particularly in his book A De Civitate Dei, which is one of the last and finest of his works. He there shews, that the Almighty raised them to be victorious over nations, and sovereigns of a great part of the earth, because of the gentleness and equity of their government (alluding to the happy ages of the Republic); thus bestowing on vir- tues that were merely human, rewards pf the same kind, with which that people, blind on this subject, though so enlight- ened on others, were so unhappy as to content themselves. St. Austin therefore does not condemn the encomiums which are bestowed on the heathens, but only the excess of them. Students ought to take care, and especially we, who by the duties of our profession are obliged to be perpetually conversant with heathen authors, not to enter too far into the spirit of them ; not to imbibe, unperceived, their senti- ments, by lavishing too great applauses on their heroes ; nor to give into excesses which the heathens indeed did not consider as such, because they were not acquainted with virtues of a purer kind. Some persons, whose friend- ship I esteem as I ought, and for whose learning and judg- ment I have the highest regard, have found this defect in some parts of my work, on the Method of teaching and studying the Belles Lettres, &c.; and are of opinion, that I have gone too great lengths in the encomiums which I be- stow on the illustrious men of paganism. I indeed own, that the expressions on those occasions are sometimes too strong and too unguarded : however, I imagined that I had supplied a proper corrective to this, by the hints which I have interspersed in those four volumes; and, therefore, that it would be only losing time to repeat them : not to mention my having laid down, in different places, the prin- ciples which the fathers of the church establish on this head, declaring, with St. Austin, that without true piety, that is, without a sincere worship of the true God, there can be no true virtue; and that no virtue can be such, whose object is worldly glory ; a truth, says this father, acknowledged universally by those who are inspired with real and solid piety. d lllud constat inter omnes veraciter pios, neminem sine verd pietate, id est, veri Dei vero cultu, d Lib. v. cap. 19. 21, &c. e De Civitate Dei, lib. v. c. 19. * Id in quoque corrigendum, quod pravum est ; quod autem rectum est, approbandum. De Bapt. cont. Donat. 1. vii.'c. 16. Xk PREFACE. veram posse habere virtutem ; nee earn veram esse f quando gloria servit humance. e When I observed that Perseus had not resolution enough to kill himself, I do not thereby pretend to justify the prac- tice of the heathens, who looked upon suicide as lawful ; but simply to relate an incident, and the judgment which Paulus ^Emilius passed on it. Had I barely hinted a word or two against that custom, it would have obviated all mis- take, and left no room for censure. The ostracism, employed in Athens against persons of the greatest merit ; theft connived at, as it appears, by Ly- curgus in Sparta ; an equality of good established in the same city, by the authority of the state, and things of a like nature, may admit of some difficulty. However, I shall pay a more immediate attention to these* particulars, when the course of the history brings me to them ; and shall avail myself with pleasure of such lights as the learned and un- prejudiced may favour me by communicating. In a work like that I now offer the public, intended more immediately for the instruction of youth, it were heartily to be wished, that not one single thought or expression might occur, that could contribute to inculcate false or dangerous principles. When I first set about writing the present history, I proposed this for my maxim, the import- ance of which I perfectly conceive, but am far from ima- gining that I have always observed it, though it was my intention to do so ; and therefore on this, as on many other occasions, I shall stand in need of the reader's indulgence. As I write principally for young persons, and for those who do not intend to make very deep researches into an- cient history, I shall not burden this work with a sort of erudition, that might have been naturally introduced into it, but does not suit my purpose. My design is, in giving a continued series of ancient history, to extract from the Greek and Latin authors all that I shall judge most useful and entertaining with respect to the transactions, and most instructive with regard to the reflections. I should wish to be able to avoid, at the same time, the dry sterility of epitomes, which convey no distinct idea to the mind ; and the tedious accuracy of long histories, which tire the reader's patience. I am sensible that it is difficult to steer exactly between the two extremes ; and although, in the two parts of history of which this first volume con- sists, I have retrenched a great part of what we meet with e Vol. iv. p. 385. * This Mr. Rollin has done admirably in the several volumes of his Ancient History. PREFACE. xv in ancient authors, they may still be thought too long : but I was afraid of spoiling the incidents, by being too studi- ous of brevity. However, the taste of the public shall be my guide, to which I shall endeavour to conform hereafter. I was so happy as not to displease the public in my first* attempt. I wish the present work may be equally success- ful, but dare not raise my hopes so high. The subjects I there treated, viz. polite literature, poetry, eloquence, and curious and detached pieces of history, gave me an oppor- tunity of introducing into it from ancient and modern au- thors, whatever is most beautiful, affecting, delicate, and just, with regard both to thought and expression. The beauty and justness of the things themselves which I of- fered the reader, made him more indulgent to the manner in which they were presented to him ; and besides, the va- riety of the subjects supplied the want of those graces which might have been expected from the style and composition. But I have not the same advantage in the present work, the choice of the subjects not being entirely at my discre- tion. In a connected history, an author is often obliged to relate a great many things that are not always very in- teresting, especially with regard to the origin and rise of empires ; and these parts are generally overrun with thorns, and offer very few flowers. However, the sequel will fur- nish matter of a more pleasing nature, and events that en- gage more strongly the reader's attention ; and I shall take care to make use of the valuable materials which the best authors will supply. In the mean time, I must entreat the reader to remember that in a wide extended and beautiful region, the eye does not every where meet with golden har- vests, smiling meads, and fruitful orchards; but sees, at different intervals, wild and less cultivated tracts of land. And, to use another comparison, furnished by f Pliny, some trees in the spring emulously shoot forth a numberless mul- titude of blossoms, which by this rich dress (the splendour and vivacity of whose colours charm the eye) proclaim a happy abundance in a more advanced season; while other {trees, of a less gay appearance, though they bear good fruits, have not however the fragrance and beauty of blossoms, nor seem to share in the joy of reviving nature. The reader will easily apply this image to the composition of history. * The Method of teaching and studying the Belles Lettres, &c. \ Arborumflos est pleni veris indicium , et anni renascentis; flos yaudium arborum. Tune se novas, aliasque qudm sunt, ostendunt, tune variis colo- rum picturis in certamen usque luxuriant. Sed hoc negatum plerisque. Non enim omnes florent, et sunt tristes qutedam, quceque non sentiunt gaudia annorum ; nee ullo flore exhilarantur, natalesve pomorum recursus annuos versicolori nuntio promittunt. Plin. Hist. Nat. 1. Ixvi. c. 25. J As the fig-trees. *Vi PREFACE. To adorn and enrich my own, I will be so ingenuous as to confess, that I do not scruple, nor am ashamed, to rifle from all quarters, and that I often do not cite the authors from whom I transcribe, because of the liberty I occa- sionally take to make some slight alterations. I have made the best use in my power of the solid reflections that occur in the second and third parts of the Bishop of Meaux's* Universal History, which is one of the most beautiful and most useful books in our language. I have also received great assistance from the learned Dean Prideaux's Con- nexion of the Old and New Testament, in which he has traced and cleared up, in an admirable manner, the parti- culars relating to ancient history. I shall take the same liberty with whatever comes in my way, that may suit my design, and contribute to the perfection of my work. I am very sensible, that it is not so much for a person's reputation, thus to make use of other men's labours, and that it is in a manner renouncing the name and quality of author. But I am not over fond of that title ; and shall be extremely well pleased, and think myself very happy, if I can but deserve the name of a good compiler, and supply my reader^ with a tolerable history ; who will not be over solicitou to inquire whether it be an original composition of myo> or not, provided they are but pleased with it. I canni/c determine the exact number of volumes which this work will make; but am persuaded there will be no less than ten or twelve.f Students, with a very moderate application, may easily go through this course of history in a year, without interrupting their other studies. Ac- cording to my plan, my work should be given to the highest form but one. Youths in this class are capable of plea- sure and improvement from this history; and I would not have them enter upon that of the Romans till they study rhetoric. It would have been useful, and even necessary, to have given some idea of the ancient authors from whence I have extracted the facts which I here relate. But the course itself of the history will naturally give me an opportunity of mentioning them. In the mean time, it may not be impro- The judgment per to take notice of the superstitious cre- we ought to form dulity with which most of these authors are rod? e ieT gU and re P roacne d, on the subject of auguries, aus- oracles, of the pices, prodigies, dreams, and oracles. And, ancients. indeed, we are shocked to see writers, so judicious in all other respects, lay it down * Mons. Bossuet. t Former editions of this work were printed in ten volumes. PREFACE. xvii as a kind of law, to relate these particulars with a scrupu- lous accuracy ; and to dwell gravely on a tedious detail of trifling and ridiculous ceremonies, such as the flight of birds to the right or left hand, signs discovered in the smoking entrails of beasts, the greater or less greediness of chickens in pecking corn, and a thousand similar absurdities. It must be confessed, that a sensible reader cannot, with- out astonishment, see persons among the ancients in the highest repute for wisdom and knowledge; generals who were the least liable to be influenced by popular opinions, and most sensible how necessary it is to take advantage of auspicious moments; the wisest councils of princes per- fectly well skilled in the arts of government; the most august assemblies of grave senators ; in a word, the most powerful and most learned nations in all ages: to see, I say, all these so unaccountably weak, as to make to depend on these trifling practices, and absurd observances, the de- cision of the greatest affairs, such as the declaring of war, the giving battle, or pursuing a victory deliberations that were of the utmost importance, and on which the fate and welfare of kingdoms frequently depended. But, at the same time, we must be so just as to own, that their manners, customs, and laws, would not permit '* ?en, in these ages, to dispense with the observation of the?/ prac- tices : that education, hereditary tradition transmitted from immemorial time, the universal belief and consent of dif- ferent nations, the precepts, and even examples of philoso- phers ; that all these, I say, made the practices in question appear venerable in their eyes : and that these ceremonies, how absurd soever they may appear to us, and are really so in themselves, constituted part of the religion and pub- lic worship of the ancients. This religion was false, and this worship mistaken; yet the principle of it was laudable, and founded in nature: the stream was corrupted, but the fountain was pure. Man assisted only by his own light, sees nothing beyond the present moment. Futurity is to him an abyss invisible to the most keen, the most piercing sagacity, and exhibits nothing on which he may with certainty fix his views, or form his resolutions. He is equally feeble and impotent with regard to the execution of his designs. He is sensible, that he is dependant entirely on a Supreme Power, that disposes all events with absolute authority, and whichj in spite of his utmost efforts, and of the wisdom of the best concerted schemes, by raising only the smallest obstacles and slightest disappointments, renders it impossible for him to execute his measures. VOL. i. c xuii PREFACE. This obscurity and weakness oblige him to have re- course to a superior knowledge and power: he is forced, both by his immediate wants, and the strong desire he has to succeed in all his undertakings, to address that Being who he is sensible has reserved to himself alone the know- ledge of futurity, and the power of disposing it as he sees fitting. He accordingly directs prayers, makes vows, and offers sacrifices, to prevail, if possible, with the Deity, to reveal himself, either in dreams, in oracles, or other signs which may manifest his will ; fully convinced that nothing can happen but by the divine appointment; and that it is a man's greatest interest to know this supreme will, in or- der to conform his actions to it. This religious principle of dependance on, and venera- tion of, the Supreme Being, is natural to man: it is im- printed deep in his heart; he is reminded of it, by the in- ward sense of his extreme indigence, and by all the objects which surround him ; and it may be affirmed, that this per- petual recourse to the Deity, is one of the principal foun- dations of religion, and the strongest band by which man is united to his Creator. Those who were so happy as to know the true God, and were chosen to be his peculiar people, never failed to address him in all their wants and doubts, in order to obtain his succour, and to know his will. He accordingly vouch- safed to reveal himself to them; to conduct them by appa- ritions, dreams, oracles, and prophecies ; and to protect them by miracles of the most astonishing kind. But those who were so blind as to substitute falsehood in the place of truth, directed themselves, for the like aid, to fictitious and deceitful deities, who were not able to answer their expectations, nor recompense the homage that mortals paid them, any otherwise than by error and illusion, and a fraudulent imitation of the conduct of the true God. Hence arose the vain observation of dreams, which, from a superstitious credulity, they mistook for salutary warnings from heaven; those obscure and equivocal an- swers of oracles, beneath whose veil the spirits of darkness concealed their ignorance; and, by a studied ambiguity, reserved to themselves an evasion or subterfuge, whatever might be the event. To this are owing the prognostics with regard to futurity, which men fancied they should find in the entrails of beasts, in the flight and singing of birds, in the aspect of the planets, in fortuitous accidents, and in the caprice of chance; those dreadful prodigies that filled a whole nation with terror, and which, it was PREFACE. xix believed, nothing could expiate but mournful ceremonies, and even sometimes the effusion of human blood : in fine, those black inventions of magic, those delusions, enchant- ments, sorceries, invocations of ghosts, and many other kinds of divination. All I have here related was a received usage, observed by the heathen nations in general: and this usage was founded on the principles of that religion of which I have given a short account. We have a signal proof of this in that passage of the Cyropaedia, w where Cambyses, the father of Cyrus, gives that young prince such noble instruc- tions; instructions admirably well adapted to form the great captain and great king. He exhorts him, above all things, to pay the highest reverence to the gods; and not to undertake any enterprise, whether important or inconsi- derable, without first calling upon and consulting them; he enjoins him to honour the priests and augurs, as being their ministers and the interpreters of their will, but yet not to trust or abandon himself so implicitly and blindly to them, as hot by his own application, to learn every thing relating to the science of divination, of auguries and auspices. The reason which he gives for the subordination and depend- ance in which kings ought to live with regard to the gods, and the benefit derived from consulting them in all things, is this: How clear-sighted soever mankind may be in the ordinary course of affairs, their views are always very narrow and bounded with regard to futurity; whereas the Deity, at a single glance, takes in all ages and events. As the gods, says Cambyses to his son, are eternal, they know equally all things, past, present, and to come. With regard to the mortals who address them, they give salutary counsels to those whom they are pleased to favour, that they may not be ignorant of what things they ought, or ought not to undertake. If it is observed, that the deities do not give the like counsels to all men, we are not to wonder at it, since no necessity obliges them to attend to the welfare of those persons on whom they do not vouchsafe to confer their favour. Such was the doctrine of the most learned and most en- lightened nations, with respect to the different kinds of divination; and it is no wonder that the authors who wrote the history of those nations, thought it incumbent on them, to give an exact detail of such particulars as constituted part of their religion and worship, and was frequently, in a w Xenoph. in Cyrop. 1. i. p. 25, 27. X x .PREFACE. manner, the soul of their deliberations, and the standard of their conduct. I therefore was of opinion, for the same reason, that it would not be proper for me to omit entirely, in the ensuing history, what relates to this subject, though I have, however, retrenched a great part of it. Archbishop Usher is my usual guide in chronology. In the history of the Carthaginians I commonly set down four eras: The year from the creation of the world, which, for brevity's sake, I mark thus, A.M.; those of the foun- dation of Carthage and Rome ; and lastly, the year before the birth of our Saviour, which I suppose to be the 4004th year of the world; wherein I follow Usher and others, though they suppose it, to be four years earlier. We shall now proceed to give the reader the proper pre- liminary information concerning this work, according to the order in which it is executed. To know in what manner the states and kingdoms were founded, that have divided the universe; the steps where- by they rose to that pitch of grandeur related in history; by what ties families and cities were united, in order to con- stitute one body or society, and to live together under the same laws and a common authority; it will be necessary to trace things back, in a manner, to the infancy of the world, and to those ages in which mankind, being dispers- ed into different regions (after the confusion of tongues), began to people the earth. In these early ages every father was the supreme head of his family; the arbiter and judge of whatever contests and divisions might arise within it; the natural legislator over his little society ; the defender and protector of those, who by their birth, education, and weakness, were under his protection and safeguard, and whose interests pater- nal tenderness rendered equally dear to him as his own. But although these masters enjoyed an independent au- thority, they made a mild and paternal use of it. So far from being jealous of their power, they neither governed wjth haughtiness, nor decided with tyranny. As they were obliged by necessity to associate their family in their do- mestic labours, they also .summoned them together, and asked their opinion in matters of importance. In this manner all aifairs were transacted in concert, and for the common good. The laws which paternal vigilance established in this little domestic senate, being dictated with no other view than to promote the general welfare; concerted with such children as were come to years of maturity, and accepted PREFACE. xxir by the inferiors with a full and free consent; were reli- giously kept and preserved in families as an hereditary polity, to which they owed their peace and security. But different motives gave rise to different laws. One man, overjoyed at the birth of a first-born son, resolved to distinguish him from his future children, by bestowing on him a more considerable share of his possessions, and giving him a greater authority in his family. Another, more attentive to the interest of a beloved wife, or darling daughter whom he wanted to settle in the world, thought it incumbent on him to secure their rights and increase their advantages. The solitary and cheerless state to which a wife would be reduced in case she should become a widow, affected more intimately another man, and made him provide beforehand, for the subsistence and comfort of a woman who formed his felicity. From these differ- ent views, and others of the like nature, arose the different customs of nations, as well as their rights, which are in- finitely various- In proportion as every family increased, by the birth of children, and their marrying into other families, they ex- tended their little domain, and formed, by insensible de- grees, towns and cities. These societies growing, in process of time, very nu- merous; and the families being divided into various branches, each of which had its head, whose different in- terests and characters might interrupt the general tran- quillity ; it was necessary to intrust one person with the government of the whole, in order to unite all these chiefs or heads under a single authority, and to maintain the public peace by a uniform administration. The idea which men still retained of the paternal government, and the happy effects they had experienced from it, prompted them to choose from among their wisest and most virtuous men, him in whom they had observed the tenderest and most fatherly disposition. Neither ambition nor cabal had the least share in this choice; probity alone, and the repu- tation of virtue and equity, decided on these occasions,, and gave the preference to the most worthy.* To heighten the lustre of their newly acquired dignity, and enable them the better to put the laws in execution, as well as to devote themselves entirely to the public good; to defend the state against the invasions of their neighbours, and the factions of discontented citizens; the title of king was bestowed upon them, a throne was erected, * Quos ad fastigium hujits majestatis non amlitio popularis, sed spectattt inter bonos moderatio provehebat. Justin. 1. i. c. 1. xxii PREFACE. and a sceptre put into their hands; homage was paid them, officers were assigned, and guards appointed for the security of their persons ; tributes were granted ; they were invested with full powers to administer justice, and for this purpose were armed with a sword, in order to restrain injustice, and punish crimes. At first,* every city had its particular king, who, being more solicitous to preserve his dominion than to enlarge it, confined his ambition within the limits of his native country. But the almost unavoidable feuds which break out between neighbours; jealousy against a more power- ful king; a turbulent and restless spirit; a martial dispo- sition, or thirst of aggrandisement; or the display of abi- lities; gave rise to wars, which frequently ended in the entire subjection of the vanquished, whose cities were possessed by the victor, and increased insensibly his do- minions. Thus,f a first victory paving the way to a se- cond, and making a prince more powerful and enterpri- sing, several cities and provinces were united under one monarch, and formed kingdoms of a greater or less extent, according to the degree of ardour with which the victor had pushed his conquests. But among these princes were found some, whose am- bition being too vast to confine itself within a single king- dom, broke over all bounds, and spread universally like a torrent, or the ocean; swallowed up kingdoms and nations; and fancied that glory consisted in depriving princes of their dominions, who had not done them the least injury; in carrying fire and sword into the most re- mote countries, and in leaving every where bloody traces of their progress! Such was the origin of those famous empires which included a great part of the world. Princes made a various use of victory, according to the diversity of their dispositions or interests. Some, con- sidering themselves as absolute masters of the con- quered, and imagining they were sufficiently indulged in sparing their lives, bereaved them, as well as their chil- dren; of their possessions, their country, and their liberty; subjected them to a most severe captivity ; employed them in those arts which are necessary for the support of life, in the lowest and most servile offices of the house, in the painful toils of the field; and frequently forced them, by * Fines imperil tueri magis qutim proferre mos erat. Intro, suatn cuique patriam reynafinielantur. Justin. I. i. c. 1. f Domitis proximis, cum accessione virium fortior ad alios transiret, et proximo, quaque victoria instrumentum. sequentis esset, totius orientis popu- los sulegit. Justin, ibid. PREFACE. xxtfi the most inhuman treatment, to dig in mines, and ransack the bowels of the earth, merely to satiate their avarice ; and hence mankind were divided into freemen and slaves, masters and bondmen. Others introduced the custom of transporting whole na- tions into new countries, where they settled them, and gave them lands to cultivate. Other princes again, of more gentle dispositions, con- tented themselves with only obliging the vanquished na- tions to purchase their liberties, and the enjoyment of their laws and privileges, by annual tributes laid on them for that purpose ; and sometimes they would suffer kings to sit peaceably on their thrones, upon condition of their paying them some kind of homage. But such of these monarchs as were the wisest and ablest politicians, thought it glorious to establish a kind of equa- lity betwixt the nations newly conquered and their other subjects ; granting the former almost all the rights and pri- vileges which the others enjoyed : and by this means the great number of nations, that were spread over different and far distant countries, constituted, in some measure, but one city, at least but one people. Thus I have given a general and concise idea of mankind, from the earliest monuments which history has preserved on this subject ; the particulars whereof I shall endeavour to relate, in treating of each empire and nation. I shall not touch upon the history of the Jews, nor that of the Romans. The history of the Carthaginians, that of the Assyrians, and the Lydians, which occurs in the second volume, is supported by the best authorities ; but it is highly neces- sary to review the geography, the manners and customs of the different nations here treated of; and first with regard to the religion, manners, and institutions of the Persians and Grecians ; because these shew their genius and character, which, we may call, in some measure, the soul of history. For to take notice only of facts and dates, and confine our curiosity and researches to them, would be imitating the imprudence of a traveller, who, in visiting many coun- tries, should content himself with knowing their exact distance from each other, and consider only the situation of the several places, their buildings, and the dresses of the people ; without giving himself the least trouble to con- verse with the inhabitants, in order to inform himself of their genius, manners, disposition, laws, and government. Homer, whose design was to give, in the person of Ulysses, xxiv PREFACE. / a model of a wise and intelligent traveller, tells us, at the ve\y opening of his Odyssey, that his hero informed him- self very exactly of the manners and customs of the several people whose cities he visited; in which he ought to be imitated by every person who applies himself to the study of history. As Asia will hereafter be the principal scene of the his- tory we are now entering upon, it may not be improper to give the reader such a general idea of it, as may at least make him acquainted with its most considerable provinces and cities. The northern and eastern parts of Asia are less known in ancient history. To the north are ASIATIC SAJIMATIA and ASIATIC SCY- THIA, which answer to Tartary. Sarmatia is situated between the river Tanais, which se- parates Europe and Asia, and the river Rha, or Volga. Scythia is divided into two parts ; the one on this, the other on the other side of mount Imaus. The nations of Scythia best known to us are the Sacce and Massagetce. The most eastern parts are, S ERIC A, Cathay ; SIN ARUM REGIO, China; and INDIA. This last country was better known anciently than the two former. It was divided into two parts ; the one on this side the Ganges, included be- tween that river and the Indus, which now composes the dominions of the Great Mogul ; the other part was that on the other side of the Ganges. The remaining part of Asia, of which much greater men- tion is made in history, may be divided into five or six parts, taking it from east to west. I. UPPER ASIA, which begins at the river Indus. The chief provinces are GEDROSIA, CARMANIA, ARACHOSIA, DRANGIANA, BACTRIANA, the capital of which was Bac- tra; SOGDIANA, MARGIANA, HYRCANIA, near the Cas- pian Sea; PARTHIA, MEDIA, its chief city Ecbatana ; PERSIA, the cities of Persepolis and Elymais; SUSIANA, the city of Susa ; ASSYRIA, the city of Nineveh, situated on the river Tigris; MESOPOTAMIA, between the Euph- rates and Tigris; BABYLONIA, the city of Babylon on the river Euphrates. II. ASIA BETWEEN THE PoNTUS EUXINUS AND THE CASPIAN SEA. Therein we may distinguish four provinces. 1. COLCHIS, the river Phasis, and mount Caucasus. 2. IBE- RIA. S.ALBANIA; which two last-mentioned provinces now form part of Georgia. 4. The greater ARMENIA. This is separated from the lesser by the Euphrates ; from Meso- PREFACE. xxv potamia by mount Taurus ; and from Assyria by mount Niphates. Its cities are Artaxata and Tigranocerta> and the river Araxes runs through it. III. ASIA MINOR. This may be divided into four or five parts, according to the different situation of its provinces, 1. Northward, the shore of the Pontus Euxinus ; PON- TUS, under three different names. Its cities are, Trapezus, not far from which are the people called Chalybes or Chal- dcei ; Themiscyra, a city on the river Thermodon, and fa- mous for having been the abode of the Amazons. PAPH- LAGONIA, BITHYNIA; the cities of which are, Niece, Pru- sa, Nicomedia, Chalcedon opposite to Constantinople and Heraclea. 2. Westward, going down by the shores of the JEgean sea: MYSIA, of which there are two. The LESSER, in which stood Cyzicus, Lampsacus, Parium, Abydos oppo- site to Sestos from which it is separated only by the Dar- danelles ; Dardanum, Sigceum, Ilion, or Troy ; and almost on the opposite side, the little island of Tenedos. The rivers are, the ^Esepus, the Granicus, and the Simois. Mount Ida. This region is sometimes called Phrygia Minor, of which Troas is part. The GR EATER MYSIA. Antandros, Trajanopolis, Adra- myttium, Pergamus. Opposite to this Mysia is the island of LESBOS ; the cities of which are, Methymna, where the celebrated Arion was born ; and Mitylene, which has given to the whole island its modern name Metelin. JEoLiA. Elea, Curtice, Phoccea. IONIA. Smyrna, Clazomence, Teos, Lebedus, Colophon, Ephesus, Priene, Miletus. CARIA. Laodicea,Antiochia, Magnesia, Alabanda. The river Mceander. DORIS. Halicarnassus Cnidos. Opposite to these four last countries, are the islands CHIOS, SAMOS, PATHMOS, Cos ; and lower, towards the south, RHODES. 3. Southward, along the Mediterranean ; LYCIA, the cities of which are, Telmesus, Patara. The river Xanthus. Here begins mount Taurus, which runs the whole length of Asia, and assumes different names, ac- cording to the several countries through which it passes. PA M PHY LI A. Perga, Aspendus, Sida. CILICIA. Seleucia, Corycium, Tarsus, on the river Cyd- nus. Opposite to Cilicia is the island of Cyprus. The cities are, Salamis, Amathus, and Paphos. 4. Along the banks of the Euphrates, going up northward; The LESSER ARMENIA. Comana, Arabyza, Melitene, xxv i PREFACE. Satala. The river Melas, which empties itself into the Euphrates. 5. Inland: CAPPADOCIA ; the cities whereof are, Neoctesarea, Co- mana Pontica, Sebastia, Sebastopolis, Dioccesarea, Ccesarea, otherwise called Mazaca, and Tyana. LYCAONIA and ISAURIA. Iconium, Isauria. PISIDIA. Seleucia and Antiochia of Pisidia. LYDIA. Its cities are, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia. The rivers are, Caystrus, and Hermus, into which the Pac- tolus empties itself. Mount Sipylus and Tmolus. PHRYGIA MAJOR. Synnada, Apamia. IV. SYRIA, now named Suria, called under the Ro- man emperors the East, the chief provinces of which are, 1. PALESTINE, by which name is sometimes understood all Judea. Its cities are, Jerusalem, Samaria, and Ccesarea Palestina. The river Jordan waters it. The name of Pa- lestine is also given to the land of Canaan, which extended along the Mediterranean ; the chief cities of which were Gaza, Ascalon, Azotus, Accaron, and Gath. 2. PHOENICIA, whose cities are, Ptolemais, Tyre, Sidon, and Berytus. Its mountains, Libanus, and Antilibanus. 3. SYRIA, properly so called, or ANTIOCHENA; the cities whereof are, Antiochia, Apamia, Laodicea, and Se- leucia. 4. COMAGENA. The city of Samosata. 5. COELESYRIA. The cities are, Zeugma, Thapsacus, Palmyra, and Damascus. V. ARABIA PETRJSA. Its cities are, Petra, and Bostra. Mount Casius. DESERT A. FELIX. Of Religion. It is observable, that in all ages and in every country the several nations of the world, however various and opposite in their characters, inclinations, and manners, hava always united in one essential point ; the inherent opinion of an adoration due to a Supreme Being, and of external forms calculated to evince such a belief. Into whatever country we cast our eyes, we find priests, altars, sacrifices, festi- vals, religious ceremonies, temples, or places consecrated to religious worship. Among every people we discover a reverence and awe of the Divinity ; an homage and honour paid to him; and an open profession of an entire de- pendance upon him in all their undertakings, in all their necessities, in all their adversities and dangers. In- capable of themselves to penetrate into futurity and to en- sure success, we find them careful to consult the Divinity PREFACE. xxvti by oracles, and by other methods of a like nature ; and to merit his protection by prayers, vows, and offerings. It is by the same supreme authority they believe the most so- lemn treaties are rendered inviolable. It is that which gives sanction to their oaths ; and to it by imprecations is referred the punishment of such crimes and enormities as escape the knowledge and power of men. On all their pri- vate concerns, voyages, journeys, marriages, diseases, the Divinity is still invoked. With him their every repast be- gins and ends. No war is declared, no battle fought, no enterprise formed, without his aid being first implored; to which the glory of the success is constantly ascribed by public acts of thanksgiving, and by the oblation of the most precious of the spoils, which they never fail to set apart as appertaining by right to the Divinity. No variety of opinion is discernible in regard to the foundation of this belief. If some few persons, depraved by false philosophy, presume from time to time to rise up against this doctrine, they are immediately disclaimed by the public voice. They continue singular and alone, with- out making parties, or forming sects : the whole weight of the public authority falls upon them ; a price is set upon their heads ; whilst they are universally regarded as exe- crable persons, the bane of civil society, with whom it is criminal to have any kind of commerce. So general, so uniform, so perpetual a consent of all the nations of the universe, which neither the prejudice of the passions, the false reasoning of some philosophers, nor the authority and example of certain princes, have ever been able to weaken or vary, can proceed only from a first prin- ciple, which forms a part of the nature of man ; from an inward sentiment implanted in his heart by the Author of his being ; and from an original tradition as ancient as the world itself. Such were the source and origin of the religion of the ancients; truly worthy of man, had he been capable of persisting in the purity and simplicity of these first princi- ples : but the errors of the mind, and the vices of the heart, those sad effects of the corruption of human nature, have strangely disfigured their original beauty. There are still some faint rays, some brilliant sparks of light, which a ge- neral depravity has not been able to extinguish utterly ; but they are incapable of dispelling the profound darkness of the gloom which prevails almost universally, and presents nothing to view but absurdities, follies, extravagances, li- centiousness, and disorder; in a word, a hideous chaos of frantic excesses and enormous vices. xxviii PREFACE. Can any thing be more admirable than these principles laid down by Cicero ?* That we ought above all things to be convinced that there is a Supreme Being, who presides over all the events of the world, and disposes every thing as sovereign lord and arbiter : that it is to him mankind are indebted for all the good they enjoy : that he penetrates into, and is conscious of, whatever passes in the most se- cret recesses of our hearts : that he treats the just and the impious according to their respective merits : that the true means of acquiring his favour, and of being pleasing in his sight, is not by employing of riches and magnificence in the worship that is paid to him, but by presenting him with a heart pure and blameless, and by adoring him with an unfeigned profound veneration. Sentiments so sublime and religious were the result of the reflections of some few who employed themselves in the study of the heart of man, and had recourse to the first principles of his institution, of which they still retained some valuable relics. But the whole system of their reli- gion, the tendency of their public feasts and ceremonies, the essence of the Pagan theology, of which the poets were the only teachers and professors, the very example of the gods, whose violent passions, scandalous adventures, and abominable crimes, were celebrated in their hymns erodes, and proposed in some measure to the imitation, as well as adoration, of the people : these were certainly very unfit means to enlighten the mind of men, and to form them to virtue and morality. It is remarkable, that in the greatest solemnities of the Pagan religion, and in their most sacred and venerable mys- teries, far from perceiving any thing which can recommend virtue, piety, or the practice of the most essential duties of ordinary life, we find the authority of laws, the imperious power of custom, the presence of magistrates, the assembly of all orders of the state, the example of fathers and mo- thers, all conspire to train up a whole nation from their in- fancy in an impure and sacrilegious worship, under the name, and in a manner under the sanction, of religion itself; as we shall soon see in the sequel. After these general reflections upon Paganism, it is time to proceed to a particular account of the religion of the Greeks. I shall reduce this subject, though infinite in it- * Sit hoc jam d. principio persuasion civibus : dominos esse omnium rerum ac moderatores deos, eaque qua geruntur eorum geri judido ac numine ; eosdemque optime de genere hominum mereri ; et, qualis quisque sit, quid agat, quid in se admittat, qua mente, qua pietate religiones colat, intueri ; piorumque et impiorum habere rationem Ad divos adeunto caste, Pieta- tem adkibento, opes amovento. Cic. de Leg, 1. ii. n. 15 et 19. PREFACE. xxix self, to four articles, which are, 1. The feasts. 2. The ora- cles, auguries and divinations. 3. The games and combats. 4. The public shows and representations of the theatre. In each of these articles, I shall treat only of what appears most worthy of the reader's curiosity, and has most relation to this history. I omit saying any thing of sacrifices, having given a sufficient idea of them elsewhere.* Of the Feasts. AN infinite number of feasts were celebrated in the se- veral cities of Greece, and especially at Athens, of which I shall describe only three of the most famous ; the Pana- thenea, the feasts of Bacchus, and those of Eleusis. The Panathenea. THIS feast was celebrated at Athens in honour of Minerva, the tutelary goddess of that city, to which she gave her name,f as well as to the feast of which we are speaking. Its institution was ancient, and it was called at first the Athenea ; but after Theseus had united the several towns of Attica into one city, it took the name of Panathenea. These feasts were of two kinds, the great and the less, which were solemnizec(ot ; and these were chosen for the symmetry of their shape, and the vigour of their complexion. Athenian matrons, of great age, also accompanied them in the same equipage. The grown and robust men formed the second class. They were armed' at all points, and had bucklers and lances. After them came the strangers that inhabited Athens, carrying mattocks, instruments proper for tillage. Next followed the Athenian women of the same age, at- tended by the foreigners of their own sex, carrying vessels in their hands for the drawing of water. The third class was composed of the young persons of both sexes, selected from the best families in the city. The young men wore vests, with crowns upon their heads, and sang a peculiar hymn in honour of the goddess. The maids carried baskets, Kavr)$6poi, in which were placed the sacred utensils proper to the ceremony, covered with veils, to keep them from the sight of the spectators. The person, to whose care those sacred things were intrusted, was bound to observe a strict continence for several days be- fore he touched them, or distributed them to the Athenian virgins ;* or rather, as Demosthenes says, his whole life and conduct ought to have been a perfect model of virtue and purity. It was a high honour for a young woman to be chosen for so noble and august an office, and an insupportable affront to be deemed unworthy of i> /fipwv apiOfibv ayvtvsiv povov, a\\d TOV (3iov o\ov Demost. in extrema Aristocratia. PREFACE. xxxi it. We shall see that Hipparchus offered this indignity to the sister of Harmodius, which extremely incensed the conspirators against the Pisistratidae. These Athenian virgins were followed by the foreign young women, who carried umbrellas and seats for them. The children of both sexes closed the pomp of the pro- cession. In this august ceremony, the pa^qSol were appointed to sing certain verses of Homer; a manifest proof of the es- timation in which the works of that poet were held, even with regard to religion. Hipparchus, son of Pisistratus, first introduced that custom. I have observed elsewhere,* that in the gymnastic games of this feast, a herald proclaimed, that the people of Athens had conferred a crown of gold upon the celebrated physician Hippocrates, in gratitude for the signal services which he had rendered the state during the pestilence. In this festival the people of Athens put themselves, and the whole republic, under the protection of Minerva, the tutelary goddess of their city, and implored of her all kind of prosperity. From the time of the battle of Marathon, in these public acts of worship, express mention was made of the Plataeans, and they were joined in all things with the people of Athens. Feasts of Bacchus. THE worship of Bacchus had been brought out of Egypt to Athens, where several feasts had been established in honour of the god; two particularly more remarkable than all the rest, called the great and the less feasts of Bacchus. The latter were a kind of preparation for the former, and were celebrated in the open field about autumn. They were named Lenaea, from a Greek word a that signifies a wine-press. The great feasts were commonly called Dio- nysia, from one of the names of that god, b and were solem- nized in the spring within the city. In each of these feasts the public were entertained with games, shows, and dramatic representations, which were attended with a vast concourse of people, and exceeding magnificence, as will be seen hereafter: at the same time the poets disputed the prize of poetry, submitting to the judgment of arbitrators, expressly chosen for that purpose, their pieces, whether tragic or comic, which were then re- presented before the people. These feasts continued many days. Those who were ini- tiated, mimicked whatever the poets had thought fit to * Vol. iii. c. 3. 2. a A^oe. b Dionysius. xxxii PREFACE. feign of the god Bacchus. They covered themselves with the skins of wild beasts, carried a thyrsus in their hands, a kind of pike with ivy-leaves twisted round it; had drums, horns, pipes, and other instruments calculated to make a great noise; and wore upon their heads wreaths of ivy and vine branches, and of other trees sacred to Bacchus. Some represented Silenus, some Pan, others the Satyrs, all dressed in suitable masquerade. Many of them were mounted on asses; others dragged* goats along for sa- crifices. Men and women, ridiculously dressed in this manner, appeared night and day in public ; and imitating drunkenness, and dancing with the most indecent gestures, ran in throngs about the mountains and forests, scream- ing and howling furiously; the women especially seemed more outrageous than the men; and, quite out of their senses, in their -{-furious transports invoked the god, whose feast they celebrated, with loud cries; ivot Baic^f, w "laK^> r 'Ioj3ac^, or 'I(JL> BaK^. This troop of Bacchanalians was followed by the virgins of the noblest families in the city, who were called icav)0opo, from carrying baskets on their heads, covered with vine leaves and ivy. To these ceremonies others were added, obscene to the last excess, and worthy of the god who chose to be ho- noured in such a manner. The spectators gave in to the prevailing humour, and were seized with the same frantic spirit. Nothing was seen but dancing, drunkenness, de- bauchery, and all that the most abandoned licentiousness can conceive of gross and abominable. And this an entire people, reputed the wisest of all Greece, not only suffered, but admired and practised. I say an entire people; for Plato, J speaking of the Bacchanalia, says in direct terms, that he had seen the whole city of Athens drunk at once. c Livy informs us, that this licentiousness of the Bac- chanalia having secretly crept into Rome, the most horrid disorders were committed there under cover of the night, and the inviolable secrecy which all persons who were initiated into these impure and abominable mysteries, were obliged, under the most horrid imprecations, to ob- serve. The senate, being apprised of the affair, put a stop c Liv. 1. xxxix. n. 8, 18. * Goats were sacrificed, because they spoiled the vines. f From this fury of the Bacchanalians these feasts were distinguished by the name of Orgia. 'Opy), ira, furor. J Hdffav IQtaaafjiijv rijv iroXiv irepi TO. Aiovvffia utOvovffav. Lib. i. de Leg, p. 637. PREFACE. xxxiii to those sacrilegious feasts by the most severe penalties ; and first banished the practisers of them from Rome, and afterward from Italy. These examples inform us, *how far a mistaken sense of religion, that covers the greatest crimes with the sacred name of the Divinity, is capable of misleading the mind of man. The Feasts of Eleusis. THERE is nothing in all Pagan antiquity more celebrated than the feast of Ceres Eleusina. The ceremonies of this festival were called, by way of eminence, the mysteries, from being, according to Pausanias, as much above all others, as the gods are above men. Their origin and in- stitution are attributed to Ceres herself, who, in the reign of Erechtheus, coming to Eleusis, a small town of Attica, in search of her daughter Proserpine, whom Pluto had carried away, and finding the country afflicted with a famine, invented corn as a remedy for that evil, with which she rewarded the inhabitants. fShe not only taught them the use of corn, but instructed them in the principles of probity, charity, civility, and humanity; from whence her mysteries were called Oeapotyopia, and Initia. To these first happy lessons fabulous antiquity ascribed the cour- tesy, politeness, and urbanity, so remarkable among the Athenians. These mysteries were divided into the less and the greater ; of which the former served as a preparation for the latter. The less were solemnized in the month of An- thesterion, which answers to our November; the great in the month Boedromion, which corresponds to August. Only Athenians were admitted to these mysteries; but of them, each sex, age, and condition, had a right to be received. All strangers were absolutely excluded, so that Hercules, Castor and Pollux, were obliged to be adopted as Athe- nians in order to their admission; which, however, extend- ed only to the lesser mysteries. I shall consider princi- pally the great, which were celebrated at Eleusis. Those who demanded to be initiated into them, were * NiKil in speciem fallacius est quam prava religio, ubi deorum numen prcetenditur sceleribus. Liv. xxxix. n. 10. f Multa eximia divinaque videntur Athence tuce peperisse, atque in vitam hominum attulisse ; turn nihil melius ittis mysteriis, quibus ex agresti irn- manique vita exculti ad humanitatem et mitigati sumus, initiaque ut appet~ lantur, ita re vera principia vita cognovimus. Cic. I. ii. de Leg. n. 36. Teque Ceres, et Libera, quartan sacra, sicut opiniones hominum ac reli- giones ferunt, longe maximis atque occultissimis ceremoniis continentur: a quibus initia vitce atque victus, legum, morum, mansuetudinis, humanitatis exempla hominibus et civitatibus data ac dispertita esse dicuntur. Id. Cic. in Verr. de Supplic. n. 186. VOL. I. d xxxiv PREFACE. obliged, before their reception, to purify themselves in the lesser mysteries, by bathing in the river Ilissus, by saying certain prayers, offering sacrifices, and, above all, by living in strict continence during a certain interval of time pre- scribed them. That time was employed in instructing them in the principles and elements of the sacred doctrine of the great mysteries. When the time for their initiation arrived, they were brought into the temple; and to inspire the greater reve- rence and terror, the ceremony was performed in the night. Wonderful things took place upon this occasion. Visions were seen, and voices heard of an extraordinary kind. A sudden splendour dispelled the darkness of the place, and disappearing immediately, added new horrors to the gloom. Apparitions, claps of thunder, earthquakes, heightened the terror and amazement; whilst the person to be admit- ted, overwhelmed with dread, and sweating through fear, heard, trembling, the mysterious volumes read to him, if in such a condition he was capable of hearing at all. These nocturnal rites gave birth to many disorders, which the severe law of silence imposed on the persons initiated, prevented from coming to light, *as St. Gregory Nazian- zen observes. What cannot superstition effect upon the mind of man, when once his imagination is heated? The president in this ceremony was called Hierophantes. He wore a peculiar habit, and was not permitted to marry. The first who served in this function, and whom Ceres herself instructed, was Eumolpus ; from whom his succes- sors were called Eumolpidse. He had three colleagues ; d one who carried a torch; another a herald, e whose office was to pronounce certain mysterious words ; and a third to attend at the altar. Besides these officers, one of the principal magistrates of the city was appointed to take care that all the cere- monies of this feast were exactly observed. He was called the king/ and was one of the nine Archons. His business was to offer prayers and sacrifices. The people gave him four assistants, 5 one chosen from the family of the Eumol- pidae, a second from that of the Ceryces, and the two last from two other families. He had besides ten other minis- ters to assist him in the discharge of his duty, and parti- cularly in offering sacrifices, from whence they derived their name. h . h . * QlStv 'EXsuoriv ravra, icai ol T&V ffiuTTU^vuv jeai ffiuirijs ovruv aiwv btrral. Orat. de sacr. lumin. PREFACE. xx\v The Athenians initiated their children of both sexes very early into these mysteries, and would have thought it cri- minal to have let them die without such an advantage. It was their general opinion, that this ceremony was an en- gagement to lead a more virtuous and regular life; that it recommended them to the peculiar protection of the god- desses (Ceres and Proserpine), to whose service they de- voted themselves; and procured to them a more perfect and certain happiness in the other world ; whilst, on the contrary, such as had not been initiated, besides the evils they had to apprehend in this life, were doomed, after fheir descent to the shades below, to wallow eternally in dirt, filth, and excrement. Diogenes the Cynic believed nothing of the matter, and when his friends endeavoured to per- suade him to avoid such a misfortune, by being initiated before his death "What," said he, " shall Agesilaus and Epaminondas lie amongst mud and dung, whilst the vilest Athenians, because they have been initiated, pos- sess the most distinguished places in the regions of the blessed?" Socrates was not more credulous; he would not be initiated into these mysteries, which was perhaps one reason that rendered his religion suspected. k Without this qualification, none were admitted to enter the temple of Ceres ; and Livy informs us of two Acarna- nians, who, having followed the crowd into it upon one of the feast-days, although out of mistake and with no ill design, were both put to death without mercy. It was also a capital crime to divulge the secrets and mysteries of this feast. Upon this account Diagoras the Melian was pro- scribed, and a reward set upon his head. It very nearly cost the poet JEschylus his life, for speaking too freely of it in some of his tragedies. The disgrace of Alcibiades proceeded from the same cause. * Whoever had violated this secrecy, was avoided as a wretch accursed and ex- communicated. 'Pausanias, in several passages, wherein he mentions the temple of Eleusis, and the ceremonies j Diogen. Laert. 1. vi. p. 389. k Liv. 1. xxxi. n. 14. 1 Lib. i. p. 26, and 71. * Est et'fideli into, silentio Merces. Vetabo, qui Cereris sacrum Vulgarit arcana, sub Isdem Sit trcibibus,fragilemve mecum Soivat phaselum. Hor. Od. 2. lib. iii. Safe is the silent tongue, which none can blame, Who keeps the faithful secret merits fame : Beneath one roof ne'er let him rest with me, Who Ceres' mysteries reveals; In one frail bark ne'er let us put to sea, Nor tempt the jarring winds with spreading sails. xxxvi PREFACE. practised there, stops short, and declares he cannot pro- ceed, because he had been forbidden by a dream or vision. This feast, the most celebrated of profane antiquity, was of nine days' continuance. It began the fifteenth of the month Boedromion. After some previous ceremonies and sacrifices on the first three days, upon the fourth, in the evening, began the procession of the Basket; which was laid upon an open chariot slowly drawn by oxen, *and followed by a long train of the Athenian women. They all carried mysterious baskets in their hands, filled with several things, which they took great care to conceal, and covered with a veil of purple. This ceremony represent- ed the basket into which Proserpine put the flowers she was gathering when Pluto seized and carried her off. The fifth day was called the day of the Torches; because at night the men and women ran about with them in imi- tation of Ceres, who having lighted a torch at the fire of mount ^Etna, wandered about from place to place in search of her daughter. The sixth was the most famous day of all. It was called lacchus, which is the same as Bacchus, the son of Jupiter and Ceres, whose statue was then brought out with great ceremony, crowned with myrtle, and holding a torch in its hand. The procession began at the Ceramicus, and passing through the principal places of the city, continued to Eleusis. The way leading to it was called the sacred way, and lay across a bridge over the river Cephisus. m This procession was very numerous, and generally con- sisted of thirty thousand persons. The temple of Eleusis, where it ended, was large enough to contain the whole of this multitude; and "Strabo says, its extent equal to that of the theatres, which every body knows were capable of holding a much greater number of people. The whole way re-echoed with the sound of trumpets, clarions, and other musical instruments. Hymns were sung in honour of the goddesses, accompanied with dancing, and other extraordinary marks of rejoicing. The route before men- tioned, through the sacred way, and over the Cephisus, was the usual one: but after the Lacedaemonians, in the Peloponnesian war, had fortified Decelia, the Athenians were obliged to make their procession by sea, till Alci- biades re-established the ancient custom. m Herod. 1. viii. c. 65. n Lr. ix. p. 395. * Tardaque Eleusince matris volventia plaustra. Virg. Georg. lib. i. ver. 163. The Eleusinian mother's mystic car Slow rolling > PREFACE. xxxvii The seventh day was solemnized by games, and the gym- nastic combats, in which the victor was awarded with a measure of barley; without doubt because it was at Eleu- sis the goddess first taught the method of raising that grain, and the use of it. The two following days were em- ployed in some particular ceremonies, neither important nor remarkable. During this festival it was prohibited, under very great penalties, to arrest any person whatsoever, in order to their being imprisoned, or to present any bill of complaint to the judges. It was regularly celebrated every fifth year, that is, after a revolution of four years ; and history does not mention that it was ever interrupted, except upon the taking of Thebes by Alexander the Great. The Athe- nians, who were then upon the point of celebrating the great mysteries, were so much affected with the ruin of that city, that they could not resolve, in so general an affliction, to solemnize a festival which breathed nothing but merriment and rejoicing. p lt was continued down to the time of the Christian emperors. Valentinian would have abolished it, if Praetextatus, the proconsul of Greece, had not represented, in the most lively and affecting terms, the universal sorrow which the abrogation of that feast would occasion among the people; upon which it was suffered to subsist. It is supposed to have been finally suppressed by Theodosius the Great; as were all the rest of the Pagan solemnities. Of Auguries, Oracles, fyc. NOTHING is more frequently mentioned in ancient his- tory, than oracles, auguries, and divinations. No war was made, or colony settled; nothing of consequence was undertaken, either public or private, without hav- ing first consulted the gods. This was a custom uni- versally established amongst the Egyptian, Assyrian, Grecian, and Roman nations; which is no doubt a proof, as has been already observed, that it was derived from ancient tradition, and that it had its origin in the religion and worship of the true God. It is not indeed to be ques- tioned, but that God, before the deluge, did manifest his will to mankind in different methods, as he has since done to his people, sometimes in his own person and vivd voce, sometimes by the ministry of angels or of prophets in- spired by himself, and at other times by apparitions or in dreams. When the descendants of Noah dispersed them- Plut. in vit. Alex. p. 671. P Zozim. Hist. I. iv. xxxviii PREFACE. selves into different regions, they carried this tradition along with them, which was every where retained, though altered and corrupted by the darkness and ignorance of idolatry. None of the ancients have insisted more upon the necessity of consulting the gods on all occasions by auguries and oracles than Xenophon; and he founds that necessity, as I have more than once observed elsewhere, upon a principle deduced from the most refined reason and discernment. He represents, in several places, that man of himself is very frequently ignorant of what is ad- vantageous or pernicious to him ; that, far from being ca- pable of penetrating the future, the present itself escapes him : so narrow and short-sighted is he in all his views, that the slightest obstacles can frustrate his greatest de- signs; that the Divinity alone, to whom all ages are pre- sent, can impart a certain knowledge of the future to him : that no other being has power to facilitate the success of his enterprises ; and that it is reasonable to believe he will enlighten and protect those, who adore him with the purest affection, who invoke him at all times with greatest con- stancy and fidelity, and consult him with most sincerity and integrity. Of Auguries. WHAT a reproach is it to human reason, that so luminous a principle should have given birth to the absurd reason- ings, and wretched notions, in favour of the science of au- gurs and soothsayers, and been the occasion of espousing, with blind devotion, the most ridiculous puerilities : should have made the most important affairs of state depend upon a bird's happening to sing upon the right or left hand ; upon the greediness of chickens in pecking their grain ; the inspection of the entrails of beasts ; the liver's being entire and in good condition, which, according to them, did some- times entirely disappear, without leaving any trace or mark of its having ever subsisted ! To these superstitious obser- vances may be added, accidental rencounters, words spoken by chance, and afterward turned into good or bad pas- sages ; forebodings, prodigies, monsters, eclipses, comets ; every extraordinary phenomenon, every unforeseen acci- dent, with an infinity of chimeras of the like nature. Whence could it happen, that so many great men, illus- trious generals, able politicians, and even learned philoso- phers, have actually given in to such absurb imaginations ? Plutarch, in particular, so estimable in other respects, is to be pitied for his servile observance of the senseless cus- PREFACE. xxxix toms of the Pagan idolatry, and his ridiculous credulity in dreams, signs, and prodigies. PHe tells us in his works, that he abstained a great while from eating eggs, upon ac- count of a dream, with which he has not thought fit to make us farther acquainted. The wisest of the Pagans knew well how to appreciate the art of divination, and often spoke of it to each other, and even in public, with the utmost contempt, and in a manner best adapted to expose its absurdity. The grave censor Cato was of opinion, that one soothsayer could not look at another without laughing. Hannibal was amazed at the simplicity of Prusias, whom he had advised to give battle, upon his being diverted from it by the inspection of the entrails of a victim. " What/' said he, " have you more confidence in the liver of a beast, than in so old and experienced a captain as I am ?" Marcellus, who had been five times consul, and was augur, said, that he had disco- vered a method of not being put to a stand by the sinister flight of birds, which was, to keep himself close shut up in his litter. Cicero explains himself upon the subject of auguries without ambiguity or reserve. Nobody was more capable of speaking pertinently upon it than himself (as M. Morin observes in his dissertation upon the same subject). As he was adopted into the college of augurs, he had made himself acquainted with their most abstruse secrets, and had all possible opportunity of informing himself fully in their science. That he did so, sufficiently appears from the two books he has left us upon divination, in which, it may be said, he has exhausted the subject. In the second, wherein he refutes his brother Quintus, who had espoused the cause of the augurs, he combats and defeats his false reasonings with a force, and at the same time with so refined and delicate a raillery, as leaves us nothing to wish ; and he demonstrates by proofs, each more convincing than the other, the falsity, contrariety, and impossibility, of that art. *But what is very surprising, in the midst of all his argu- ments, he takes occasion to blame the generals and magis- trates, who on important conjunctures had contemned the prognostics ; and maintains, that the use of them, as great P Sympos. lib. ii. Quaest. 3. p. 635. * Errabat multis in rebus antiquitas ; quam velusujam, vel doctrind, vel vetustate immutatam videmus. Retinetur autem et ad opinionem vulgi, et ad magnas utilitates reip. mos, religio, disciplina, jus augurum, eottegii auc- toritas. Nee verb non omni supplicio digni P. Claudius, L. Junius con- sules, qui contra auspicia navigdrunt. Parendum enimfuit religioni, nee patrius mos tarn contumaciter repudiandus, Divin. 1. ii. n. 70, 71. xi PREFACE. an abuse as it was in his own opinion, ought nevertheless to be respected, out of regard to religion, and the prejudices of the people. All that I have hitherto said tends to prove, that Paganism was divided into two sects, almost equally enemies of reli- gion ; the one by their superstitious and blind regard for auguries, the other by their irreligious contempt and deri- sion of them. The principle of the first, founded on one side upon the ignorance and weakness of man in the affairs of life, and on the other upon the prescience of the Divinity and his al- mighty providence, was true ; but the consequence deduced from it in favour of auguries, false and absurd. They ought to have proved that it was certain, that the Divinity him- self had established these external signs to denote his in- tentions, and that he had obliged himself to a punctual conformity to them upon all occasions : but they had no- thing of this in their system. These auguries and divina- tions therefore were the effect and invention of the igno- rance, rashness, curiosity, and blind passions, of man, who presumed to interrogate God, and to oblige him to give an- swers upon every idle imagination and unjust enterprise. The others, who gave no real credit to any thing enjoined by the science of augury, did not fail, however, to observe its trivial ceremonies through policy, in order the better to subject the minds of the people to themselves, and to re- concile them to their own purposes, by the assistance of superstition : but by their contempt for auguries, and their inward conviction of their falsity, they were led into a dis- belief of the Divine Providence, and to despise religion itself; conceiving it inseparable from the numerous absur- dities of this kind, which rendered it ridiculous, and conse- quently unworthy a man of sense. Both the one and the other behaved in this manner, be- cause, having mistaken the Creator, and abused the light of nature, which might have taught them to know and to adore him, they were deservedly abandoned to their own darkness, and to a reprobate mind ; and, if we had not been enlightened by the true religion, we, even at this day, should give ourselves up to the same superstitions. Of Oracles. No country was ever richer in, or more productive of, oracles, than Greece. I shall confine myself to those which were the most noted. The oracle of Dodona, a city of the Molossians, in Epirus, PREFACE. xli was much celebrated ; where Jupiter gave answers either by vocal oaks, * or doves, which had also their language, or by resounding basins of brass, or by the mouths of priests and priestesses. q The oracle of Trophonius in Boeotia, though he was no- thing more than a hero, was in great reputation. After many preliminary ceremonies, as washing in the river, of- fering sacrifices, drinking a water called Lethe, from its quality of making people forget every thing, the votaries went down into his cave, by small ladders, through a very narrow passage. At the bottom was another little cavern, the entrance of which was also exceeding small. There they lay down upon the ground, with a certain composition of honey in each hand, which they were indispensably obliged to carry with them. Their feet were placed within the opening of the little cave ; which was no sooner done, than they perceived themselves borne into it with great force and velocity. Futurity was there revealed to them ; but not to all in the same manner. Some saw, others heard, wonders. From thence they returned quite stupified, and out of their senses, and were placed in the chair of Mne- mosyne, the goddess of memory ; not without great need of her assistance to recover their remembrance, after their great fatigue, of what they had seen and heard ; admitting they had seen or heard any thing at all. Pausanias, who had consulted that oracle himself, and gone through all these ceremonies, has left a most ample description of it ; to which r Plutarch adds some particular circumstances, which 1 omit, to avoid a tedious prolixity. s The temple and oracle of the Branchidae, in the neigh- bourhood of Miletus, so called from Branchus, the son of Apollo, was very ancient, and in great esteem with all the lonians and Dorians of Asia. Xerxes, in his return from Greece, burnt this temple, after the priests had delivered its treasures to him. That prince, in return, granted them an establishment in the remotest parts of Asia, to secure them against the vengeance of the Greeks. After the war was over, the Milesians re-established that temple with a magnificence which, according to Strabo, surpassed that of Pausan. 1. ix. p. 602. 604. r Plat, de gen. Socr. p. 590. 8 Herod. 1. i. c. 157. Strab. I. xiv. p. 034. * Certain instruments were fastened to the tops of oaks, which, being shaken by the wind, or by some other means, gave a confused sound. Servius observes, that the same word, in the Thessalian language, signi- fies dove and prophetess, which had given room for the fabulous tradition of doves that spoke. It was easy to make those brazen basins sound by some secret means, and to give what signification they pleased to a con- fused and inarticulate noise. xlii PREFACE. all the other temples of Greece. When Alexander the Great had overthrown Darius, he utterly destroyed the city where the priests Branchidae had settled, of which their descendants were at that time in actual possession, punish- ing in the children the sacrilegious perfidy of their fathers. *Tacitus relates something very singular, though not very probable, of the oracle of Claros, a town of Ionia, in Asia Minor, near Colophon. " Germanicus," says he, " went to consult Apollo at Claros. It is not a woman that gives the answers there, as at Delphi, but a man, chosen out of certain families, and almost always of Miletus. It is suffi- cient to let him know the number and names of those who come to consult him. After which he retires into a cave, and having drunk of the waters of a spring within it, he delivers answers in verse upon what the persons have in their thoughts, though he is often ignorant, and knows no- thing of composing in measure. It is said, that he foretold to Germanicus his sudden death, but in dark and ambigu- ous terms, according to the custom of oracles." I omit a great number of other oracles, to proceed to the most famous of them all. It is very obvious, that I mean the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. He was worshipped there under the name of the Pythian, a title derived from the ser- pent Python, which he had killed, or from a Greek word, that signifies to inquire, rrvOiaOai, because people came thither to consult him. From thence the Delphic priestess was called Pythia, and the games there celebrated, the Pythian games. Delphi was an ancient city of Phocis in Achaia. 1 1 stood upon the declivity, and about the middle, of the mountain Parnassus, built upon a small extent of even ground, and surrounded with precipices, that fortified it without the help of art. "Diodorus says, that there was a cavity upon Par- nassus, from whence an exhalation rose, which made the goats dance and skip about, and intoxicated the brain. A shepherd having approached it, out of a desire to know the causes of so extraordinary an effect, was immediately seized with violent agitations of body, and pronounced words, which, without doubt, he did not understand himself; but which, however, foretold futurity. Others made the same experiment, and it was soon rumoured throughout the neighbouring countries. The cavity was no longer ap- proached without reverence. The exhalation was con- cluded to have something divine in it. A priestess was appointed for the reception of its effects, and a tripod placed upon the vent, called by the Latins, Cortina, perhaps from 1 Tacit. Anna!. I. ii. c. 54. Lib. xiv. p. 427, 428. PREFACE. xliii the skin x that covered it. From thence she gave her ora- cles. The city of Delphi rose insensibly round about this cave; and a temple was erected, which, at length, became very magnificent. The reputation of this oracle almost effaced, or at least very much exceeded, that of all others. At first a single Py thia sufficed to answer those who came to consult the oracle, as they did not yet amount to any great number ; but in process of time, when it grew into universal repute, a second was appointed to mount the tri- pod alternately with the first, and a third chosen to succeed in case of death, or disease. There were other assistants besides these to attend the Pythia in the sanctuary, of whom the most considerable were called prophets ; y it was their business to take care of the sacrifices, and to inspect them. To these the demands of the inquirers were delivered by word of mouth, or in writing ; and they returned the answers as we shall see in the sequel. We must not confound the Pythia with the Sibyl of Del- phi. The ancients represent the latter as a woman that roved from country to country, venting her predictions. She was at the same time the Sibyl of Delphi, Erythrae, Babylon, Cumae, and many other places, from her having resided in them all. The Pythia could not prophesy till she was intoxicated by the exhalation from the sanctuary of Apollo. This mi- raculous vapour had not that effect at all times and upon all occasions. The god was not always in the inspiring humour. At first he imparted himself only once a year, but at length he was prevailed upon to visit the Pythia every month. All days were not proper, and upon some it was not permitted to consult the oracle. These unfor- tunate days occasioned an oracle's being given to Alex- ander the Great worthy of remark. He went to Delphi to consult the god, at a time when the priestess pretended it was forbidden to ask him any questions, and would not enter the temple. Alexander, who was always warm and tenacious, took hold of her by the arm to force her into it, when she cried out, *Ah, my sow, you are not to be resisted! or, My son, you are invincible! Upon which words he de- clared he would have no other oracle, and was contented with that he had received. The Pythia, before she ascended the tripod, was a long time preparing for it by sacrifices, purifications, a fast of three days, and many other ceremonies. The god denoted his approach by the moving of a laurel, that stood before * Corium. y npo^rat. * AVIK^TOQ el, w irdi. xliv PREFACE. the gate of the temple, which shook also to its very foun- dations. As soon* as the divine vapour, like a penetrating fire, had diffused itself through the entrails of the priestess, her hair stood upright upon her head, her looks grew wild, she foamed at the mouth, a sudden and violent trembling seized her whole body, with all thef symptoms of distraction and frenzy. She uttered, at intervals, some words almost inar- ticulate, which the prophets carefully collected, and ar- ranged with a certain degree of order and connexion. Af- ter she had been a certain time upon the tripod, she was reconducted to her cell, where she generally continued many days to recover from her fatigue ; and, as Lucan says/ a sudden death was often either the reward or punishment of her enthusiasm : Numinis aut ptena est niors immature recepti, Aut pretium. The prophets had poets under them, who made the ora- cles into verses, which were often bad enough, and gave occasion to remark, that it was very surprising, that Apollo, who presided over the choir of the muses, should inspire his priestess no better. But Plutarch informs us, that it was not the god who composed the verses of the oracle. He inflamed the Pythia's imagination, and kindled in her soul that living light, which unveiled all futurity to her. The words she uttered in the heat of her enthusiasm, having neither method nor connexion, and coming only by starts, if that expression may be used, from the bottom of her sto- ' Lib. y. * Cuitaliafanti Ante fores, subitb non vultus, non color units, Non compttB mansere comes : sed pectus anhelum, JEt rdbiefera corda tument ; majorque videri, Nee mortale sonans ; afflata est numine quando Jam propiore del. Virg. ^En. 1. vi. v. 46 51. f Among the various marks which God has given us in the Scriptures to distinguish his oracles from those of the devil, the fury or madness, at- tributed by Virgil to the Pythia, et rdbiefera corda tument, is one. It is I, saith God, that shew the falsehood of the diviner's predictions, and give to such as divine, the motions of fury and madness ; or, according to Isa. xliv. 25, That frustrateth the tokens of the liar, and maketli diviners mad. Instead of which, the prophets of the true God constantly gave the divine answers in an equal and calm tone of voice, and with a noble tranquillity of behaviour. Another distinguishing mark is, that the demons gave their oracles in secret places, by-ways, and in the obscurity of caves; whereas God gave his in open day, and before all the world. I have tiot spoken in secret, in a dark place of the earth, Isa. xlv. 1 9. / have not spoken in secret from the beginning. Isa. xlviii. 16. So that God did not permit the devil to imitate his oracles, without imposing such conditions upon him, as might distinguish between the true and false inspiration. PREFACE. X!Y mach, or rather 2 from her belly, were collected with care by the prophets, who gave them afterward to the poets to be turned into verse. These Apollo left to their own genius and natural talents ; as we may suppose he did the Pythia when she herself composed verses, which, though not of- ten, happened sometimes. The substance of the oracle was inspired by Apollo, the manner of expressing it was the priestess's own : the oracles were however often given in prose. The general characteristics of oracles were * ambiguity, obscurity, and convertibility (if I may use that expression), so that one answer would agree with several various, and sometimes directly opposite, events. By the help of this artifice, the demons, who of themselves are not capable of knowing futurity, concealed their ignorance, and amused the credulity of the Pagan world. When Croesus was upon the point of invading the Medes, he consulted the oracle of Delphi upon the success of that war, and was answered, that by passing the river Halys, he would ruin a great em- pire. What empire, his own, or that of his enemies? He was to guess that ; but whatever the events might be, the oracle could not fail of being in the right. As much may be said upon the same god's answer to Pyrrhus : Aio te, ^Eacida, Romanes vincere posse. I repeat it in Latin, because the equivocality, which equally implies, that Pyrrhus could conquer the Romans, and the Romans Pyrrhus, will not subsist in a translation. Under the cover of such ambiguities, the god eluded all difficulties, and was never in the wrong. It must, however, be confessed, that sometimes the an- swer of the oracle was clear and circumstantial. I have related, in the history of Croesus, the stratagem he made use of to assure himself of the veracity of the oracle, which was, to demand of it, by his ambassador, what he was doing at a certain time prefixed. The oracle of Delphi replied, in verse, that he was causing a tortoise and a lamb to be dressed in a vessel of brass, which was really the case. a The em- peror Trajan made a similar trial of the god at Heliopolis, by sending him a letterf sealed up, to which he demanded an answer. The oracle made no other return, than to com- z 'Eyya ot ov V aywva Troiovvraty aXXd irepl PREFACE. liii Pliny, in relating this laudable custom. "O grandeur, truly Roman, that would assign no other reward but ho- nour, for the preservation of a citizen ! a service, indeed, above all reward ; thereby sufficiently evincing their opi- nion, that it was criminal to save a man's life from the motive of lucre and interest!" O mores ceternos, qui tan- ta opera honore solo donaverint ; et cum reliquas coronas auro commendarent, salutem civis in pretio esse noluerint, clard professione servari quidem hominem nefas esse lucri causa ! Amongst all the Grecian games, the Olympic held unde- niably the first rank ; and that for three reasons. They were sacred to Jupiter, the greatest of the gods ; instituted by Hercules, the first of the heroes ; and celebrated with more pomp and magnificence, amidst a greater concourse of spectators attracted from all parts, than any of the rest. q lf Pausanias may be believed, women were prohibited to be present at them upon pain of death ; and during their continuance, it was ordained, that no woman should ap- proach the place where the games were celebrated, or pass on that side of the river Alpheus. One only was so bold as to violate this law, and slipped in disguise amongst those who were training the wrestlers. She was tried for the offence, and would have suffered the penalty enacted by the law, if the judges, in regard to her father, her brother, and her son, who had all been victors in the Olympic games, had not pardoned her offence, and saved her life. This law was very conformable with the manners of the Greeks, amongst whom the ladies were very reserved, sel- dom appeared in public, had separate apartments, called Gyncecea, and never ate at table with the men when strangers were present. It was certainly inconsistent with decency to admit them at some of the games, as those of wrestling and the Pancratium, in which the combatants fought naked. The same Pausanias tells us, in another place, that the priestess of Ceres had an honourable seat in these games, and that virgins were not denied the liberty of being present at them. For my part, I cannot conceive the reason of such inconsistency, which indeed seems incredible. The Greeks thought nothing comparable to the victory in these games. They looked upon it as the perfection of glory, and did not believe it permitted to mortals to desire any thing beyond it. *Cicero assures us, that with them it was no less honourable than the consular dignity in its i Pausan. 1. y. p. 297. r Ibid. 1. vi. p. 382. * Olympiorum victoria, Gratis consulatus ille antiquus videbatur. TuscuJ. Quaest. lib. ii. n. 41. )iv PREFACE. original splendour with the ancient Romans. And in an- other place he says, that *to conquer at Olympia, was al- most, in the estimation of the Grecians, more great and glo- rious, than to receive the honour of a triumph at Rome. Horace speaks in still stronger terms of this kind of victory. fHe is not afraid to say, that it exalts the victor above hu- man nature ; they were no longer men, but gods. We shall see hereafter what extraordinary honours were paid to the victor, of which one of the most affecting was, to date the year with his name. Nothing could more effec- tually stimulate their endeavours, and make them regard- less of expenses, than the assurance of immortalizing their names, which, through all future ages, would be enrolled in their annals, and stand in the front of all laws made in the same year with the victory. To this motive may be added the joy of knowing, that their praises would be cele- brated by the most famous poets, and form the subject of conversation in the most illustrious assemblies ; for these odes were sung in every house, and formed a part in every entertainment. What could be a more powerful incentive to a people, who had no other object and aim than that of human glory ? I shall confine myself upon this head to the Olympic games, which continued five days; and shall describe, in as brief a manner as possible, the several kinds of combats of which they were composed. M. Burette has treated this subject in several dissertations, printed in the Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres ; wherein purity, perspi- cuity, and elegance of style, are united with profound eru- dition. I make no scruple in appropriating to my use the riches of my brethren ; and, in what I have already said upon the Olympic games, have made very free with the late Abbe* Massieu's remarks upon the Odes of Pindar. The combats which had the greatest share in the solem- nity of the public games, were boxing, wrestling, the pan- cratium, the discus or quoit, and racing. To these may be added, the exercises of leaping, throwing the dart, and that of the trochus, or wheel; but as these were neither important nor of any great reputation, I shall content myself with having only mentioned them in this place. For the better methodising the particulars of these games and exercises, * OJympionicum esse apud Grtecos prope majus fuit et gloriosius qudm Roma triumphasse. Pro Flacco, num. xxxi. f Palmaque nobilis Terrnrum dominos evehit ad deos. Od. i. lib. 1. Sive quos Elea domum reducit Palma ccelestes. Od. ii. lib. iv. PREFACE. Iv it will be necessary to begin with an account of the Ath- letae, or combatants. Of the Athleta, or Combatants. THE term Athletae is derived from the Greek word a0Xoe, which signifies labour, combat. This name was given to those who exercised themselves with an intention to dis- pute the prizes in the public games. The art by which they formed themselves for these encounters, was called Gymnastic, from the Athletae's practising naked. Those who were designed for this profession frequented, from their most tender age, the Gymnasia or Palaestrae, which were a kind of academies maintained for that pur- pose at the public expense. In these places, such young people were under the direction of different masters, who employed the most effectual methods to inure their bodies for the fatigues of the public games, and to train them for the combats. The regimen they were under was very hard and severe. At first they had no other nourishment than dried figs, nuts, soft cheese, and a coarse heavy sort of bread, called jua?a. They were absolutely forbidden the use of wine, and enjoined continence ; which Horace ex- presses thus : Qui studet optatam cursu contingere metam Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit, Abstinuit venere et vino. Art. Poet. v. 412. Who in the Olympic race the prize would gain, Has borne from early youth fatigue and pain, Excess of heat and cold has often try'd, Love's softness banish'd, and the glass deny'd. St. Paul, by a comparison drawn from the Athletae, exhorts the Corinthians, near whose city the Isthmian games were celebrated, to a sober and penitent life. Those who strive, says he, for the mastery, are temperate in all things : Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incor- ruptible. *Tertullian uses the same thought to encourage the martyrs. He makes a comparison from what the hopes of victory made the Athletae endure. He repeats the severe and painful exercises they were obliged to undergo ; the continual denial and constraint in which they passed the best years of their lives ; and the voluntary privation which they imposed upon themselves, of all that was most pleas- ing and grateful to their passions. It is true, the Athletae did not always observe so severe a regimen, but at length * Nempe enim et Athletce segregantur ad strictiorem disciplinam, ut ro- bori cedificando vacent ; continentur ti luxurid, and in a na- tural manner ; the weight of the body, and the strength of the muscles, having more share in it than address and skill. Theseus was the first that reduced it to method, and refined it by the rules of art. He was also the first who established the public schools called Palasircz, where the young people had masters to instruct them in it. The wrestlers, before they began the combat, were rub- bed all over in a rough manner, and afterward anointed with oils, which added to the strength and flexibility of their limbs. But as this unction, by making the skin too slippery, rendered it difficult for them to take hold of each other, they remedied that inconvenience, sometimes by rolling themselves in the dust of the Palaestra, some- times by throwing a fine sand upon each other, kept for that purpose in the Xystae, or porticoes of the Gymnasia. Thus prepared, the wrestlers began their combat. They were matched two against two, and sometimes several couples contended at the same time. In this combat, the whole aim and design of the wrestlers was, to throw their adversary upon the ground. Both strength and art were employed for this purpose : They seized each other by the arms, drew forwards, pushed backwards, used many dis- tortions and twistings of the body ; locking their limbs into each other's, seizing by the neck, throttling, pressing in their arms, struggling, plying on all sides, lifting from the ground, dashing their heads together like rams, and twisting one Gen. xxxii. 24. Iviii PREFACE. another's necks. The most considerable advantage in the wrestler's art, was to make himself master of his adver- sary's legs, of which a fall was the immediate consequence. From whence Plautus says in his Pseudolus, speaking of wine, * He is a dangerous wrestler, he presently trips up the heels. The Greek terms viroaKtiXiZtiv and irrepvlZtiv, and the Latin word supplantare, seem to imply, that one of these arts consisted in stooping down to seize the antagonist un- der the soles of his feet, and in raising them up to give him a fall. In this manner the Athletae wrestled standing, the com- bat ending with the fall of one of the competitors. But when it happened that the wrestler who was down drew his adversary along with him, either by art or accident, the combat continued upon the sand, the antagonists tumbling and twining with each other in a thousand different ways, till one of them got uppermost, and compelled the other to ask quarter, and confess himself vanquished. There was a third sort of wrestling called 'AKpox/>toy*6c, from the Ath- letae's using only their hands in it, without taking hold of the body, as in the other kinds ; and this exercise served as prelude to the greater combat. It consisted in interming- ling their fingers, and in squeezing them with all their force ; in pushing one another, by joining the palms of their hands together ; in twisting their fingers, wrists, and other joints of the arm, without the assistance of any other mem- ber ; and the victory was his, who obliged his opponent to ask quarter. The combatants were to fight three times successively, and to throw their antagonists at least twice, before the prize could be adjudged to them. * Homer describes the wrestling of Ajax and Ulysses; Ovid, that of Hercules and Achelous ; Lucan, of Hercules and Antaeus ; and Statius, in his Thebaid, that of Tydeus and Agylleus. The wrestlers of greatest reputation amongst the Greeks, were Milo of Crotona, whose history I have related else- where at large, and Polydamas. The latter, alone and without arms, killed a furious lion upon mount Olympus, in imitation of Hercules, whom he proposed to himself as a model in this action. Another time, having seized a bull by one of his hinder legs, the beast could not get loose with- out leaving his hoof in his hands. He could hold a cha- riot behind, while the coachman whipped his horses in vain 1 Iliad. 1. xxiii. v. 708, &c. Ovid. Metam. 1. ix. v. 31, &c. Phars. 1. iv. v. 612. Stat. I. vi. v. 847. * Captat pedes primum, luciator dolosus est. PREFACE. lix to make them go forward. Darius Nothus, king of Persia, hearing of his prodigious strength, was desirous of seeing him, and invited him to Susa. Three soldiers of that prince's guard, and of that band which the Persians called immortal, esteemed the most warlike of their troops, were ordered to fall upon him. Our champion fought, and killed them all three. Of Boxing, or the Cestus. BOXING is a combat at blows with the fist, fronl whence it derives its name. The combatants covered their fists with a kind of offensive arms, called Cestus^ and their heads with a sort of leather cap, to defend their temples and ears, which were most exposed to blows, and to deaden their violence. The Cestus was a kind of gauntlet, or glove, made of straps of leather, and plated with brass, lead, or iron. Their use was to strengthen the hands, of the com- batants, and to add violence to their blows. Sometimes the Athletae came immediately to the most violent blows, and began their onset in the most furious manner. Sometimes whole hours passed in harassing and fatiguing each other, by a continual extension of their arms, rendering each other's blows ineffectual, and endeavouring by that sparring to keep off their adversary. But when they fought with the utmost fury, they aimed chiefly at the head and face, which parts they were most careful to de- fend, by either avoiding or parrying the blows made at them. When a combatant came on to throw himself with all his force and vigour upon another, they had a surprising ad- dress in avoiding the attack, by a nimble turn of the body, which threw the imprudent adversary down, and deprived him of the victory. However fierce the combatants were against each other, their being exhausted by the length of the combat, would frequently reduce them to the necessity of making a truce ; upon which the battle was suspended by mutual consent for some minutes, that were employed in recovering their fatigue, and rubbing off the sweat in which they were bathed: after which they renewed the fight, till one of them, by let- ting fall his arms, through weakness and faintness, ex- plained that he could no longer support the pain or fatigue, and desired quarter; which was confessing himself van- quished. Boxing was one of the roughest and most dangerous of the gymnastic combats; because, besides the danger of being crippled, the combatants ran the hazard of their lives. They sometimes fell down dead, or dying, upon the sand ; though that seldom happened, except the vanquished per- Ix PREFACE. son persisted too long in not acknowledging his defeat ; yet it was common for them to quit the field with a counte- nance so disfigured, that it was not easy to know them af- terward ; carrying away with them the sad marks of their vigorous resistance, such as bruises and contusions in the face, the loss of an eye, their teeth knocked out, their jaws broken, or some more considerable fracture. We find in the poets, both Latin and Greek, several de- scriptions of this kind of combat. In Homer, that of Epeus and Euryalus ; u in Theocritus, of Pollux and Amycus ; in Apollonius Rhodius, the same battle of Pollux and Amy- cus ; in Virgil, that of Dares and Entellus; and in Statius, and Valerius Flaccus, of several other combatants. Of the Pancratium. THE Pancratium * was so called from two Greek words, which signify, that the whole force of the body was neces- sary for succeeding in it. It united boxing and wrestling in the same fight, borrowing from one its manner of strug- gling and flinging, and from the other, the art of dealing blows and of avoiding them with success. In wrestling it was not permitted to strike with the hand, nor in boxing to seize each other in the manner of the wrestlers ; but in the Pancratium, it was not only allowed to make use of all the gripes and artifices of wrestling, but the hands and feet, and even the teeth and nails, might be employed to conquer an antagonist. This combat was the most rough and dangerous. A Pancratiast in the Olympic games (called Arrichion, or Ar- rachion), perceiving himself almost suffocated by his ad- versary, who had got fast hold of him by the throat, at the same time that he held him by the foot, broke one of his enemy's toes, the extreme anguish of which obliged him to ask quarter at the very instant that Arrichion himself ex- pired. . The Agonothetae crowned Arrichion, though dead, and proclaimed him victor. Philostratus has left us a very lively description of a painting, which represented this combat. Of the Discus, or Quoit. THE Discus was a kind of quoit of a round form, made sometimes of wood, but more frequently of stone, lead, or other metal ; as iron or brass. Those who used this exer- cise were called Discoboli, that is, flingers of the Discus. The epithet icarwjua&oe, which signifies borne upon the 11 Dioscor. Idyl. xxii. Argonautic, lib. ii. ./Eneid. I. v. Thebaid. 1. vii. Argonaut. 1. iv. * n&v Kparos . PREFACE. Ixi shoulders, given to this instrument by Homer, sufficiently shews that it was of too great a weight to be carried from place to place in the hands only, and that the shoulders were necessary for the support of such a burden for any length of time. The intent of this exercise, as of almost all the others, was to invigorate the body, and to make men more capable of supporting the weight and use of arms. In war they were often obliged to carry such loads, as appear exces- sive in these days, either of provisions, fascines, palisades ; or in scaling of walls, when, to equal the height of them, several of the besiegers mounted upon the shoulders of each other. The Athletae, in hurling the Discus, put themselves into the posture best adapted to add force to their cast ; that is, they advanced one foot, upon which they leaned the whole weight of their bodies. They then poised the Discus in their hands, and whirling it round several times almost ho- rizontally, to add force to its motion, they threw it off with the joint strength of hands, arms, and body, which had all a share in the vigour of the discharge. He that flung the Discus farthest was the victor. The most famous painters and sculptors of antiquity, in their endeavours to represent naturally the attitudes of the Discoboli, have left to posterity many masterpieces in their several arts. Quintilian exceedingly extols a statue of that kind, which had been finished with infinite care and ap- plication by the celebrated Myron : *What can be more finished, says he, or express more happily the muscular dis- tortions of the body in the exercise of the Discus , than the Discobolus of Myron ? Of the Pentathlum. THE Greeks gave this name to an exercise composed of five others. It is the common opinion, that those five ex- ercises were wrestling, running, leaping, throwing the dart, and the Discus. It is believed that this sort of combat was decided in one day, and sometimes the same morning : and that to obtain the prize, which was single, it was re- quired that a combatant should be the victor in all those exercises. The exercise of leaping, and throwing the javelin, of which the first consisted in leaping a certain length, and the other in hitting a mark with a javelin at a certain dis- tance, contributed to the forming of a soldier, by making * Quid tarn distortum et elaboratum, quam est ille Discobolus Myronis? Quintil. lib. ii. cap. 13. Ixii PREFACE. him nimble and active in battle, and expert in flinging the spear and dart. Of Races. OF all the exercises which the Athletes cultivated with so much pains and industry to enable them to appear in the public games, running held the foremost rank. The Olym- pic games generally opened with races, and were solem- nized at first with no other exercise. The place where the Athletae exercised themselves in running, was generally called the Stadium by the Greeks ; as was that wherein they disputed in earnest for the prize. As the lists or course for these games was at first but one *Stadium in length, it took its name from its measure, and was called the Stadium, whether precisely of that extent, or of a much greater. Under that denomination was in- cluded not only the space in which the Athletes ran, but also that which contained the spectators of the gymnastic games. The place where the Athletae contended, was called Scamma, from its lying lower than the rest of the Stadium, on each side of which, and at the extremity, ran an ascent, or kind of terrace, covered with seats and benches, upon which the spectators were seated. The most remarkable parts of the Stadium were its entrance, middle, and ex- tremity. The entrance of the course, from whence the competitors started, was marked at first only by a line drawn on the sand from side to side of the Stadium. To that at length was substituted a kind of barrier, which was only a cord strained tight in the front of the horses or men that were to run. It was sometimes a rail of wood. The opening of this barrier was the signal for the racers to start. The middle of the Stadium was remarkable only by the circumstance of having the prizes allotted to the victors set up there. tSt. Chrysostom draws a fine comparison from this custom. As the judges, says he, in the races and other games, expose in the midst of the Stadium, to the view of the champions, the crowns which they are to receive; in like man- ner the Lord, by the mouth of his prophets, has placed^ in the midst of the course, the prizes which he designs for those who have the courage to contend for them. * The Stadium was a measure of distance among the Greeks, and, was, accordingto Herodotus, 1. ii. c. 149, six hundred feet in length. Pliny says, lib. ii. c. 23, that it was six hundred and twenty-five. Those two - authors may be reconciled by considering the difference between the Greek and Roman foot; besides which, the length of the Stadium varies, according to the difference of times and places, f Horn. Iv. in Matth. c. 16. PREFACE. Ixiii At the extremity of the Stadium was a goal, where the foot-races ended, but in those of chariots and horses they were to run several times round it without stopping, and afterward conclude the race by regaining the other extre- mity of the lists, from whence they started. There were three kinds of races, the chariot, the horse, and the foot-race. I shall begin with the last, as the more simple, natural, and ancient. 1. Of the Foot-race. THE runners, of whatever number they were, ranged themselves in a line, after having drawn lots for their places. * Whilst they waited the signal to start, they practised, by way of prelude, various motions to awaken their activity, and to keep their limbs pliable and in a right temper. They kept themselves in wind by small leaps, and making little excursions, that were a kind of trial of their speed and agi- lity. Upon the signal being given, they flew towards the goal, with a rapidity scarce to be followed by the eye, which was solely to decide the victory. For the Agonistic laws prohibited, under the penalty of infamy, the attaining it by any foul method. In the simple race, the extent of the Stadium was run but once, at the end of which the prize attended the victor; that is, he who came in first. In the race called AmvXoc, the competitors ran twice that length ; that is, after having arrived at the goal, they returned to the barrier. To these may be added a third sort, called AoXtxoc, which was the longest of all, as its name implies, and was composed of several Diauli. Sometimes it consisted of twenty-four Stadia backwards and forwards, turning twelve times round the goal. /There were some runners in ancient times, as well among the Greeks as Romans, who have been much celebrated for their swiftness. y Pliny tells us, that it was thought prodi- y Plin. 1. vii. c. 20. * Tune rite citatos Explorant, acuuntgue gradus, variasque per artes Instimulant docto languentia membra tumultu. Poplite nunc flexo sidunt, nunc lubricaforti Pectora collidunt plausu : nunc ignea tollunt Crura brevemquefugam nee opinofine reponunt. Stat. Theb. lib. vi. v. 587, &c. They try, they rouse their speed, with various arts ; Their languid limbs they prompt to act their parts, Now with bent hams, amidst the practis'd crowd, They sit; now strain their lungs, and shout aloud ; Now a short flight with fiery steps they trace, And with a sudden stop abridge the mimic race. buv PREFACE. gibus in Phidippides to run eleven hundred and forty Sta- dia 2 between Athens and Lacedaernon in the space of two days, till Anystis, of the latter place, and Philonides, the runner of Alexander the Great, went twelve hundred Stadia a in one day, from Sieyon to Elis. These runners were de- nominated ifyicpoSpojuot, as we find in that passage of He- rodotus 5 , which mentions Phidippides. In the consulate of Fonteius and Vipsanus, in the reign of Nero, a boy of nine years old ran seventy-five thousand paces between noon and night. Pliny adds, that in his time there were runners, who ran one hundred and sixty thousand paces d in the Circus. Our wonder at such a prodigious speed will increase (continues he), d if we reflect, that when Tiberius went to Germany to his brother Drusus, then at the point of death, he could not arrive there in less than four-and- twerity hours, though the distance was but two hundred thousand paces f , and he changed his carriage three times,* and went with the utmost diligence. 2. Of the Horse-races. THE race of a single horse with a rider was less cele- brated among the ancients, yet it had its favourers amongst the most considerable persons, and even kings themselves, and was attended with uncommon glory to the victor. Pin- dar, in his first ode, celebrates a victory of this kind, ob- tained by Hiero, king of Syracuse, to whom he gives the title of KtXTje, that is, Victor in the horse-race ; which name was given to the horses carrying only a single rider, KcX^rf?. Sometimes the rider led another horse by the bri- dle, and then the horses were called Desultorii, and their riders Desultores ; because, after a number of turns in the Stadium, they changed horses, by dexterously vaulting from one to the other. A surprising address was necessary upon this occasion, especially in an age unacquainted with the use of stirrups, and when the horses had no saddles, which made the leap still more difficult. Among the African troops there were also cavalryf called Desultores, who vaulted from one horse to another, as occasion required ; and these were generally Numidians. * 57 leagues. a 60 leagues. b Herod. 1. vi. c. 106. c 30 leagues. d More than 53 leagues. e Val. Max. 1. v. c. 5. f 67 leagues. * He had only a guide and one officer with him. f Nee omnes Numida in dextro locati cornu, sed quibus desultorum in mo- dum binos trahentibus equos, inter acerrimam scspe pugnam, in recentem equum ex fesso armatis transultare moserat; tanta velocitas ipsis, tamque docile equorum genus est. Liv. lib. xxiii. PREFACE. Ixv 3. Of the Caariot-races. THIS kind of race was the most reno\vaed of all the exer- cises used in the games of the ancients, and that from whence most honour redounded to the victors; which is not to be wondered at, if we consider whence it arose. It is pliin that it was derived from the constant custom of princes, heroes, and great men, of fighting in battle upon chariots. Homer has an infinity of examples of this kind. This custom being admitted, it is natural to suppose it very agreeable to those heroes, to have their charioteers as ex- pert as possible in driving, as their success depended, in a very great measure, upon the address of their drivers. It was anciently, therefore, only to persons of the first consi- deration, tliat this office was confided. Hence arose a laud- able emulation to excel others in the art of guiding a cha- riot, and a kind of necessity to practise it very much, in or- der to succeed. The high rank of the persons who made use of chariots, ennobled, as it always happens, an exer- cise peculiar to them. The other exercises were adapted to private soldiers and horsemen, as w nestling, running, and the single-horse-race ; but the use of chariots in the field was always reserved to princes, and generals of armies. Hence it was, that all those who presented themselves in the Olympic games to dispute the prize in the chariot- races, were persons considerable either for their riches, their birth, their employments, or great actions. Kings themselves eagerly aspired to this glory, from the belief that the title of victor in these games was scarce inferior to that of conqueror, and that the Olympic palm added new dignity to the splendours of a throne. Pindar's odes inform us, that Gelon and Hiero, kings of Syracuse, were of that opinion. Dionysius, who reigned there long after them, carried the same ambition much higher. Philip of Mace- don had these victories stamped upon his coins, and seemed as mucli gratified with them as with those obtained against the enemies or his state. e All the world knows the answer of Alexander the Great on this subject. When his friends asked him whether he would not dispute the prize of the races in these games ? Yes, said he, if kings were to be my antagonists. Which shews, that he would not have dis- dained these contests, if there had been competitors in them worthy of him. The chariots were generally drawn by two or four horses, ranged abreast : biga, quadriga. Sometimes mules sup- plied the place of horses, and then the chariot was called e Plut. in Alex. p. 666. VOL, y f Ixvi PREFACE. aVr/vrj. Pindar, in the fifth ode of his first book, celebrates one Psaumis, who had obtained a triple victory : one by a chariot drawn by four horses, rtOp'nnry', another by one drawn by mules, eiTnjvrj; and the third by a single horse, KtAijrt, which the title of the ode expresses. These chariots, upon a signal given, started together from a place called Carceres. Their places were regulated by lot, which was not an indifferent circumstance as to the victory ; for as they were to turn round a boundary, the chariot on the left was nearer than those on the right, which consequently had a greater compass to take. It appears from several passages in Pindar, and especially from one in Sophocles, which I shall cite very soon, that they ran twelve times round the Stadium. He that came in first the twelfth round was victor. The chief art consisted in taking the best ground at the turning of the boundary : for if the charioteer drove too near it, he was in danger of dashing the chariot to pieces; and if he kept too wide of it, his near- est antagonist might cut between him, and get foremost. It is obvious that these chariot-races could not be run without some danger ; for as the * motion of the wheels was very rapid, and it was requisite to graze against the bound- ary in turning, the least error in driving would have broken the chariot in pieces, and might have dangerously wounded the charioteer. An example of which we find in the Elec- tra of Sophocles, who gives an admirable description of a chariot-race run by ten competitors. The pretended Ores- tes, at the twelfth and last round, which was to decide the victory, having only one antagonist, the rest having been thrown out, was so unfortunate as to break one of his wheels against the boundary, and falling out of his seat en- tangled in the reins, the horses dragged him violently for- wards along with them, and tore him to pieces. But this very seldom happened. f To avoid such danger, Nestor gave the following directions to his son Antilochus, who was going to dispute the prize in the chariot-race. My son, says he, drive your horses as near as possible to the bound- ary ; for which reason, always incline your body over your chariot, get the left of your competitors, and encouraging the horse on the right, give him the rein, whilst the near horse, hard held, turns the boundary so close that the nave of the wheel seems to graze upon it; but have a care of running against the stone, lest you wound your horses, and dash the chariot in pieces. f Horn. II. I. xxiii. v. 334, &c. * Metaque fervidis evitata rotis. Horat. Od. i. lib. i. The goal shunn'd by the burning wheels. PREFACE. Jxvii Father Montfaucon mentions a difficulty, in his opinion of much consequence, in regard to the places of those who contended for the prize in the chariot-race. They all started indeed from the same line, and at the same time, and so far had no advantage of each other ; but he, whose lot gave him the first place, being nearest the boundary at the end of the career, and having but a small compass to describe in turn- ing about it, had less way to make than the second, third, fourth, &c. especially when the chariots were drawn by four horses, which took up a greater space between the first and the others, and obliged them to make a larger circle in coming round. This advantage twelve times together, as must happen, admitting the Stadium was to be run round twelve times, gave such a superiority to the first, as seemed to assure him infallibly of the victory against all his com- petitors. To me it seems that the fleetness of the horses, joined with the address of the driver, might countervail this odds : either by getting before the first, or by taking his place ; if not in the first, at least in some of the subsequent rounds ; for it is not to be supposed, that in the progress of the race, the antagonists always continued in the same order in which they started. They often changed places in a short interval of time, and in that variety and vicissitude consisted all the diversion of the spectators. It was not required, that those who aspired to the victory should enter the lists, and drive their chariots in person. Their being spectators of the games, or even sending their horses thither, was sufficient; but in either case, it was previously necessary to register the names of the persons for whom the horses were to run, either in the chariot or single-horse-races. g At the time that the city of Potidaea surrendered to Philip, three couriers brought him advices ; the first, that the Illyrians had been defeated in a great battle by his ge- neral Parmenio ; the second, that he had carried the prize of the horse-race in the Olympic games; and the third, that the queen was delivered of a son. Plutarch seems to insi- nuate, that Philip was equally delighted with each of these circumstances. h Hiei$ sent horses to Olympia, to run for the prize, and caused a magnificent pavilion to be erected for them. Upon this occasion Themistocles harangued the Greeks, to per- suade them to pull down the tyrant's pavilion, who had re- fused his aid against the common enemy, and to hinder his horses from running with the rest. It does not appear that any regard was had to this remonstrance ; for we find, by * Plat, in Alex, p. 666. h Pint, in Themist. p. 124. f 2 Ixviii PREFACE. one of Pindar's odes, composed in honour of Hiero, that he won the prize in the equestrian races. 1 No one ever carried the ambition of making a great figure in the public games of Greece so far as Alcibiades, in which he distinguished himself in the most splendid man- ner, by the great number of horses and chariots which he kept only for the races. There never was either private person or king, that sent, as he did, seven chariots at once to the Olympic games, wherein he carried the first, second, and third prizes; an honour no one ever had before him. The famous poet Euripides celebrated these victories in an ode, of which Plutarch has preserved a fragment. The vic- tor, after having made a sumptuous sacrifice to Jupiter, gave a magnificent feast to the innumerable multitude of spectators at the games. It is not easy to comprehend, how the wealth of a private person should suffice for so enormous an expense : but Antisthenes, the scholar of So- crates, who relates what he saw, informs us, that many ci- ties of the allies, in emulation of each other, supplied Alci- biades with all things necessary for the support of such in- credible magnificence ; equipages, horses, tents, sacrifices, the most exquisite provisions, the most delicate wines ; in a word, all that was necessary to the support of his table or train. The passage is remarkable ; for the same author assures us, that this was not only done when Alcibiades went to the Olympic games, but in all his military expeditions and journeys by land or sea. Wherever, says he, Alci- biades travelled, he made use of four of the allied cities as his servants. Ephesus furnished him with tents, as magnifi- cent as those of the Persians ; Chios took care to provide for his horses ; Cyzicum supplied him with sacrifices, and provi- sions for his table; and Lesbos gave him wine, with whatever else was requisite for his house. I must not omit, in speaking of the Olympic games, that the ladies were admitted to dispute the prize in them as well as the men ; and that many of them obtained it. k Cynisca, sister of Agesilaus king of Sparta, first opened this new path of glory to her sex, and was proclaimed conqueror in the race of chariots with four horses, ^his victory, of which till then there had been no example, did nr/t fail of being celebrated with all possible splendour. m A magni- ficent monument was erected at Sparta in honour of Cynis- ca; and the Lacedaemonians, though otherwise very little sensible to the charms of poetry, appointed a poet to trans- mit this new triumph to posterity, and to immortalize its me- 1 Plut. in Alcibiad. p. 196, k Pausan. 1. iii. p. 172. ' Ibid. p. 188. m Ibid. p. 172. PREFACE. Ixix mory by an inscription in verse. "She herself dedicated a chariot of brass, drawn by four horses, in the temple of Delphi ; in which the charioteer was also represented ; a certain proof that she did not drive it herself. In process of time, the picture of Cynisca, drawn by the famous Apel- les, was annexed to it, and the whole adorned with many inscriptions in honour of that Spartan heroine. Of the Honours and Rewards granted to the Victors. THESE honours and rewards were of several kinds. The acclamations of the spectators in honour of the victors were only a prelude to the prizes designed them. These prizes were different wreaths of wild olive, pine, parsley, or laurel, according to the different places where the games were ce- lebrated. Those crowns were always attended with branches of palm, that the victors carried in their right hands ; which custom, according to Plutarch/ arose (perhaps) from a property of the palm-tree, which displays new vigour the more endeavours are used to crush or bend it, and is a symbol of the courage and resistance of the champion who had obtained the prize. As he might be victor more than once in the same games, and sometimes on the same day, he might also receive several crowns and palms. When the victor had received the crown and palm, a he- rald, preceded by a trumpet, conducted him through the Stadium, and proclaimed aloud the name arid country of the successful champion, who passed in that kind of review be- fore the people, whilst they redoubled their acclamations and applauses at the sight of him. When he returned to his own country, the people came out in a body to meet him, and conducted him into the city, adorned with all the marks of his victory, and riding upon a chariot drawn by four horses. He made his entry not through the gates, but through a breach purposely made in the walls. Lighted torches were carried before him, and a numerous train followed to do honour to the procession. The athletic triumph almost always concluded with feasts made for the victors, their relations, and friends, either at the expense of the public, or by private individuals, who regaled not only their families and friends, but often a great part of the spectators. q Alcibiades, after having sacrificed to the Olympian Jupiter, which was always the first care of the victor, treated the whole assembly. Leophron did the same, as Athenaeus reports ; r who adds, that Empedo- n Pausan. 1. v. p. 309. Id. 1. vi. p. 344. P Sympos. 1. viii. quaest.4. 1 Plut. in Alcib. p. J96. r Lib. i. p. 3. j xx PREFACE. cles of Agrigentum, having conquered in the same games, and not having it in his power, being a Pythagorean, to re- gale the people with flesh or fish, caused an ox to be made of a paste, composed of myrrh, incense, and all sorts of spices, of which pieces were given to all who were present. One of the most honourable privileges granted to the ath- letic victors, was the right of precedency at the public games. At Sparta it was a custom tor the king to take them with him in military expeditions, to fight near his person, and to be his guard ; which, with reason, was judged very honour- able. Another privilege, in which advantage was united with honour, was that of being maintained for the rest of their lives at the expense of their country. s That this ex- pense might not become too chargeable to the state, Solon reduced the pension of a victor in the Olympic games to five hundred drachmas ; l in the Isthmian to a hundred ; u and in the rest in proportion. The victor and his country con- sidered this pension less as a relief of the champion's indi- gence, than as a mark of honour and distinction. They were also exempted from all civil offices and employments. The celebration of the games being over, one of the first cares of the magistrates, who presided in them, was to in- scribe, in the public register, the name and country of the Athletae who had carried the prizes, and to annex the spe- cies of combat in which they had been victorious. The chariot-race had the preference to all other games. Hence the historians, who date occurrences by the Olympiads, as Thucydides, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Diodorus Sicu- lus, and Pausanias, almost always express the Olympiad by the name and country of the victors in that race. The praises of the victorious Athletae were amongst the Greeks one of the principal subjects of their lyric poetry. We find that all the odes of the four books of Pindar turn upon it, each of which takes its title from the games in which the combatants signalized themselves, whose victo- ries those poems celebrate. The poet, indeed, frequently enriches his matter, by calling in to the champion's assist- ance, incapable alone of inspiring all the enthusiasm ne- cessary, the aid of the gods, heroes, and princes, who have any relation to his subject ; and to support the flights of imagination, to which he abandons himself. Before Pin- dar, the poet Simonides practised the same manner of wri- ting, intermingling the praises of the gods and heroes with those of the champions whose victories he sang. x lt is re- lated upon this head, that one of the victors in boxing, Diog. Laert.in Solon, p. 37. * About III. u About 2/. * Gic. de Orat. 1. ii. n. 352, 353. Phsed. L ii. fab. 24. Quintil. I. xi, c. 2. PREFACE. Ixxi called Scopas, having agreed with Simonides for a poem upon his victory, the poet, according to custom, after having given the highest praises to the champion, expatiated in a long digression to the honour of Castor and Pollux. Sco- pas, satisfied in appearance with the performance of Simo- nides, paid him, however, only the third part of the sum agreed on, referring him for the remainder to the Tyndari- dae, whom he had celebrated so well. And in fact he was well paid by them, if we may believe the sequel; for, at the feast given by the champion, whilst the guests were at ta- ble, a servant came to Simonides, and told him, that two men, covered with dust and sweat, were at the door, and desired to speak with him in all haste. He had scarce set his foot out of the chamber, in order to go to them, when the roof fell in, and crushed the champion, with all his guests, to death. Sculpture united with poetry to perpetuate the fame of the champions. Statues were erected to the victors, especially in the Olympic games, in the very place where they had been crowned, and sometimes in that of their birth also ; which was commonly done at the expense of their country. Amongst the statues which adorned Olympia, were those of several children of ten or twelve years old, who had ob- tained the prize at that age in the Olympic games. They did not only raise such monuments to the champions, but to the very horses to whose swiftness they were indebted for the Agonistic crown: and y Pausanias mentions one, which was erected in honour of a mare, called Aura, whose history is worth repeating. Phidolas her rider, having fallen off in the beginning of the race, the mare continued to run in the same manner as if he had been upon her back. She outstripped all the rest ; and upon the sound of the trumpets, which was usual towards the end of the race to animate the competitors, she redoubled her vigour and cou- rage, turned round the goal; and, as if she had been sensi- ble that she had gained the victory, presented herself before the judges of the games. The Eleans declared Phidolas victor, with permission to erect a monument to himself and the mare that had served him so well. The different Taste of the Greeks and Romans, in regard to Public Shows. BEFORE I make an end of these remarks upon the com- bats and games so much in estimation amongst the Greeks, I beg the reader's permission to make a reflection, that may y Lib. vi, p. 368. Ixxii PREFACE. seive to explain the difference of character between the Greeks and Romans, with regard to this subject. The most common entertainment of the latter, at which the fair sex, by nature tender and compassionate, were pre- sent in throngs, was the combat of the gladiators, and of men with bears and lions; in wlrch the cries of the wounded and dying, and the abundant effusion of human blood, sup- plied a grateful spectacle for a whole people, who feasted their cruel eyes with the savage pleasure of seeing men murder one another in cool blood ; and in the times of the persecutions, with the tearing in pieces of old men and in- fants, of women and tender virgins, whose age and weak- ness are apt to excite compassion in the hardest hearts. In Greece these combats were absolutely unknown, and were only introduced into some cities, after their subjection to the Roman people. z The Athenians, however, whose distinguishing characteristics were benevolence and hu- manity, never admitted them into their city ; and when it was proposed to introduce the combats of the gladiators, that they might not be outdone by the Corinthians in that point, First throw down, cried out an * Athenian from the midst of the assembly, throw down the altar, erected above a thousand years ago by our ancestors to Mercy. It must be allowed that in this respect the conduct and wisdom of the Greeks were infinitely superior to that of the Romans. I speak of the wisdom of Pagans. Convinced that the multitude, too much governed by the objects of sense to be sufficiently amused and entertained with the pleasures of the understanding, could be delighted only with sensible objects, both nations were studious to divert them with games and shows, and such external contrivances as were proper to affect the senses ; in the institution of which, each evinced and followed its peculiar inclination and dis- position. The Romans, educated in war, and accustomed to bat- tles, always retained, notwithstanding the politeness upon which they piqued themselves, something of their ancient ferocity ; and hence it was, that the effusion of blood, and the murders exhibited in their public shows, far from in- spiring them with horror, formed a grateful entertainment to them. The insolent pomp of triumphs flowed from the same source, and argued no less inhumanity. To obtain this honour, it was necessary to prove, that eight or ten thou- z Lucian.in vit. Dcmonact. p. 1014. * It was Demonax, a celebrated philosopher, whose d'sciple Lucian had been. He flourished in the reign of Marcus Aurelius. PREFACE* Ixxii sand men had been killed in battle. The spoils, which were carried with so much ostentation, proclaimed, that an in- finity of worthy families had been reduced to the utmost misery. The innumerable troop of captives had been free persons a few days before, and were often distinguishable for honour, merit, and virtue. The representation of the towns that had been taken in the war, explained that they had sacked, plundered, and burnt, the most opulent cities ; and had either destroyed or enslaved their inhabitants. In short, nothing was more inhuman, than to drag kings and princes in chains before the chariot of a Roman citizen, and to insuU their misfortunes and humiliation in that public manner. The tnmaphal arches, erected under the emperors, where the enemies appeared with chains upon their hands and legs, could proceed only from a haughty fierceness of disposition, and an inhuman pride, that took delight in immortalizing the shame and sorrow of subjected nations. a The joy of the Greeks after a victory was far more mo- dest. They erected trophies, indeed, but of wood, a sub- stance of no long duration, which time would soon consume; and these it was prohibited to renew. Plutarch's reason for this is admirable.* After time had destroyed and ob- literated the marks of dissension and enmity that had divided nations, it would have been the excess of odious and bar- barous animosity, to have thought of re-establishing them, to perpetuate the remembrance of ancient quarrels, which could not be buried too soon in silence and oblivion. He adds, that the trophies of stone and brass, since substituted to those of wood, reflect no honour upon those who intro- duced the custom. b I am pleased with the grief depicted on Agesilaus's countenance, after a considerable victory, wherein a great number of his enemies, that is to say, of Greeks, were left upon the field, and to hear him utter, with sighs and groans, these words, so full of moderation and humanity: Oh,.un- Tiappy Greece, to deprive thyself of so many brave citizens, and to destroy those who had been sufficient to have conquered all the Barbarians! The same spirit of moderation and humanity prevailed in the public shows of the Greeks. Their festivals had no- thing mournful or afilictive in them. Every thing in those feasts tended to delight, friendship, and harmony ; and in a Plut. in Queest. Rom. p. 273. b Plut. in Lacon. Apophthegm, p. 211. * "On rov xpovov TO, artfjLfia TTJQ irpbg rovg TroXepiovQ flia^opac a/Jvpovi/rog, avrovs dvaXanfidvtiv KO.I Kawoiroitiv iirtyOovov larl Kcti $Ck PREFACE. that consisted one of the greatest advantages which resulted to Greece from the solemnization of these games. The re- publics, separated by distance of country and diversity of interests, having the opportunity of meeting from time to time, in the same place, and in the midst of rejoicing and festivity, allied themselves more strictly with one another, stimulated each other against the Barbarians and the com- mon enemies of their liberty, and made up their differences by the mediation of some neutral state in alliance with them. The same language, manners, sacrifices, exercises, and worship, all conspired to unite the several little states of Greece into one great and formidable nation ; and to pre- serve amongst them the same disposition, the same princi- ples, the same zeal for their liberty, and the same fondness for the arts and sciences. Of the Prizes of Wit, and the Shows and Representations of the Theatre. I HAVE reserved, for the conclusion of this head, another kind of competition, which does not at all depend upon the strength, activity, and address of the body, and may be called with reason the combat of the mind : wherein the orators, historians, and poets, made trial of their capacities, and submitted their productions to the censure and judgment of the public. The emulation in this sort of dispute was so much the more lively and ardent, as the victory in question might justly be deemed to be infinitely superior to all others, because it affects the man more nearly, is founded on his personal and internal qualities, and decides upon the merit of his intellectual capacity ; which are advantages we are apt to aspire after with the utmost vivacity and passion, and of which we are least of all inclined to renounce the glory to others. It was a great honour, and at the same time a most sen- sible pleasure, for writers, who are generally fond of fame and applause, to have known how to unite in their favour the suffrages of so numerous and select an assembly as that of the Olympic games ; in which were present all the finest geniuses of Greece, and all who were most capable of judg- ing of the excellency of a work. This theatre was equally open to history, eloquence, and poetry. c Herodotus read his history at the Olympic games to all Greece, assembled at them, and was heard with such applause, that the names of the nine Muses were given to the nine books which compose his work, and the people cried out wherever he passed, That is he, who has written our Lucian. in Herod, p. 622. PREPACK history, and celebrated our glorious successes against the Barbarians so excellently. All who had been present at the games, caused after- ward every part of Greece to resound with the name and glory of this illustrious historian. Lucian, who writes the fact which I have related, adds, that after the example of Herodotus, many of the sophists and rhetoricians went to Olympia, to read the harangues of their composing; finding that the shortest and most cer- tain method of acquiring a great reputation in a little time. d Plutarch observes, that Lysias, the famous Athenian orator, contemporary with Herodotus, pronounced a speech in the Olympic games, wherein he congratulated the Greeks upon their reconciliation with each other, and their having united to reduce the power of Dionysius the Tyrant, as upon the greatest action they had ever done. e We may judge of the eagerness of the poets to signalize themselves in these solemn games, from that of Dionysius himself. That prince, who had the foolish vanity to be- lieve himself the most excellent poet of his time, appointed readers, called in Greek /oai/^Sot (rhapsodists), to read se- veral pieces of his composing at Olympia. When they be- gan to pronounce the verses of the royal poet, the strong and harmonious voices of the readers occasioned a pro- found silence, and they were heard at first with the great- est attention, which continually decreased as they went on, and turned at last into downright horse-laughs and hooting ; so miserable did the verses appear. f He com- forted himself for this disgrace by a victory he gained some time after in the feast of Bacchus at Athens, in which he caused a tragedy of his composition to be represented. The disputes of the poets in the Olympic games were no- thing in comparison with the ardour and emulation that prevailed at Athens ; which is what remains to be said Upon this subject, and therefore I shall conclude with it, taking occasion to give my readers, at the same time, a short view of the shows and representations of the theatre of the ancients. Those who would be more fully informed on this subject, will find it treated at large in a work lately made public by the reverend Father Brumoi, the Jesuit; a work which abounds with profound knowledge and erudi- tion, and with reflections entirely new, deduced from the nature of the poems of which it treats. I shall make con- siderable use of that piece, and often without citing it; which is not uncommon with me. d Plut. de vit. Orat. p. 836. Diod. 1. xiv. p. 318. f Diod. 1. xv. p. 381. Ixxvi PREFACE. Extraordinary Fondness of the Athenians for the Entertain^ ments of the Stage. Emulation of the Poets in disputing the Prizes in those Representations. A short Idea of Dra- matic Poetry. No people ever expressed so much ardour and eagerness for the entertainments of the theatres as the Greeks, and especially the Athenians. The reason is obvious ; as no people ever demonstrated such extent of genius, nor car- ried so far the love of eloquence and poesy, taste for the sciences, justness of sentiments, elegance of ear, and deli- cacy in all the refinements of language. * A poor woman, who sold herbs at Athens, discovered Theophrastus to be a stranger, by a single word which he affectedly made use of in expressing himself. The common people got the trage- dies of Euripides by heart. The genius of every nation expresses itself in the people's manner of passing their time, and in their pleasures. The great employment and delight of the Athenians were to amuse themselves with works of wit, and to judge of the dramatic pieces, that were acted by public authority several times a year, espe- cially at the feasts of Bacchus, when the tragic and comic poets disputed for the prize. The former used to present four of their pieces at a time ; except Sophocles, who did not think fit to continue so laborious an exercise, and con- fined himself to one performance, when he disputed the prize. The state appointed judges, to determine upon the merit of the tragic or comic pieces, before they were represented in the festivals. They were acted before them in the pre- sence of the people ; but undoubtedly with no great prepa- ration. The judges gave their suffrages, and that perfor- mance, which had the most voices, was declared victorious, received the crown as such, and was represented with all possible pomp at the expense of the republic. This did not, however, exclude such pieces, as were only in the second or third class. The best had not always the pre- ference ; for what times have been exempt from party, ca- price, ignorance, and prejudice ? g ^Elian is very angry with the judges, who, in one of these disputes, gave only the second place to Euripides. He accuses them of judg- ing either without capacity, or of suffering themselves to be bribed. It is easy to conceive the warmth and emulation, which these disputes and public rewards excited amongst * ./Elian, 1. ii. c. 8. * Attica anus Theophrastum, hominem alioqui disertissimum, annotate unius affectatione verbi, hospitem dixit. Quint. 1. viii. c. 1. PREFACE. ixxvli the poets, and how much they contributed to the perfection to which Greece carried dramatic performances. The dramatic poem introduces the persons themselves, speaking and acting upon the stage : in the epic, on the contrary, the poet only relates the different adventures of his characters. It is natural to be delighted with fine de- scriptions of events, in which illustrious persons and whole nations are interested ; and hence the epic poem had its origin. But we are quite differently affected with hearing those persons themselves, with being the confidants of their most secret sentiments, and auditors and spectators of their resolutions, enterprises, and the happy or unhappy events at- tending them. To read and see an action, are quite different things ; we are infinitely more moved with what is acted, than with what we merely read. Our eyes as well as our minds are addressed at the same time. The spectator, agreeably deceived by an imitation so nearly approaching life, mistakes the picture for the original, and thinks the object real. This gave birth to dramatic poetry, which includes tragedy and comedy. To these may be added the satyric poem, which derives its name from the satyrs, rural gods, who were always the chief characters in it; and not from the satire, a kind of abusive poetry, which has no resemblance to this, and is of a much later date. The satyric poem was neither tragedy nor comedy, but something between both, participating of the character of each. The poets, who disputed the prize, generally added one of these pieces to their tragedies, to allay the gravity and solemnity of the one, with the mirth and pleasantry of the other. There is but one example of this ancient poem come down to us, which is the Cyclops of Euripides. I shall confine myself upon this head to tragedy and comedy; both which had their origin amongst the Greeks, who looked upon them as fruits of their own growth, of which they could never have enough. Athens was re- markable for an extraordinary appetite of this kind. These two poems, which were for a long time comprised under the general name of tragedy, received there by degrees such improvements, as at length raised them to their highest perfection. The Origin and Progress of Tragedy. Poets who excelled in it at Athens; JEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. THERE had been many tragic and comic poets before Thespis ; but as they had made no alterations in the origi- Ixxviii PREFACE. nal rude form of this poem, and as Thespis was the first that made any improvement in it, he was generally es- teemed its inventor. Before him, tragedy was no more than a jumble of buffoon tales in the comic style, inter- mixed with the singing of a chorus in praise of Bacchus ; for it is to the feasts of that god, celebrated at the time of the vintage, that tragedy owes its birth. La tragedie, inforrae et grossiere en uaissant, N'6toit qu'un simple choeur, oft chacun en dansant, Et du dieu des raisins entonnant les louanges, S'eftbroit d'attirer de fertiles vendanges. La, lo vin et la joie eveillant les esprits, Du plus habile chantre un bouc toit le prix. Soileau, Art. Poet, chant, iii. Formless and gross did tragedy arise, A simple chorus, rather mad than wise ; For fruitful vintages the dancing throng Roar'd to the god of grapes a drunken song: Wild mirth and wine sustain'd the frantic note, And the best singer had the prize, a goat. Thespis made several alterations in it, which Horace de- scribes after Aristotle, in his Art of Poetry. The *first was to carry his actors about in a cart, whereas before they used to sing in the streets, wherever chance led them. Another was to have their faces smeared over with wine- lees, instead of acting without disguise, as at first. He also introduced a character among the chorus, who, to give the actors time to rest themselves and to take breath, re- peated the adventures of some illustrious person; which recital, at length, gave place to the subjects of tragedy. Thespis fut le premier, qui barbouille de lie, Promena par les bourgs cette heureuse folie, Et d'acteurs mal orn6s chargeant un tombereau, Amusa les passans d'un spectacle nouveau. Soileau, Art. Poet, chant, iii. First Thespis, smear'd with lees, and void of art, The grateful folly vented from a cart; And as this tawdry actors drove about, The sight was new, and charm'd the gaping rout. * Ignotum tragiccB genus invenisse cametnce Dicitur, et plaustris vexisse poemata Thespis, Quce canerent agerentque perunctifcecibus ora. Hor. de Art. Poet. When Thespis first exposed the tragic Muse, Rude were the actors, and a cart the scene, Where ghastly faces, smear'd with lees of wine, Frighted the children, and amused the crowd. Roscom. Art. of Poet. PREFACE. Ixxix k Thespis lived in the time of Solon. That A.M. 3440. wise legislator, upon seeing his pieces Ant. J. C. 564. performed, expressed his dislike, by strik- ing his staff against the ground ; appre- hending that these poetical fictions, and idle stories, from mere theatrical representations, would soon become matters of importance, and have too great a share in all public and private affairs. It is not so easy to invent, as to improve A.M. 3464. the inventions of others. The alterations Ant. J. C.540. Thespis made in tragedy, gave room for ^Eschylus to make new and more con- siderable of his own. He was born at Athens, in the first year of the sixtieth Olympiad. He took upon him the profession of arms, at a time when the Athenians reckoned almost as many heroes as citizens. He was at the battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Platasa, where he did his duty. But his disposition called him A.M. 3514. elsewhere, and put him upon entering into Ant. J. C. 490. another course, where no less glory was to be acquired; and where he was soon without any competitors. As a superior genius, he took upon him to reform, or rather to create tragedy anew; of which he has, in consequence, been always acknow- ledged the inventor and father. Father Brumoi, in a dis- sertation which abounds with wit and good sense, explains the manner in which ^Eschylus conceived the true idea of tragedy from Homer's epic poems. The poet himself used to say, that his works were the remnants of the feasts given by Homer in the Iliad and Odyssey. Tragedy, therefore, took a new form under him. He gave * masks to his actors, adorned them with robes and trains, and made them wear buskins. Instead of a cart he erected a theatre of a moderate elevation, and entirely changed their style; which from being merry and burlesque, as at first, became majestic and serious. Eschyle dans le choeur jetta les personages: D'un masque plus honnete habillales visages: Sur les ais d'un theatre en public exhauss6 Fit paroitre 1'acteur d'un brodequin chauss6. Boileau, Art. Poet. k Plut. in Solon, p. 95. * Post hunc persona pallaque repertor honestee JEschylus, et modicis instravit pulpita tignis, Et docuit magnumque loqui, nitique cothurno. Hor. de Art. Poet. This JSschylus (with indignation) saw, And built a stage, found out a decent dress. Brought \izards in, a civiler disguise, And taught men how to speak and how to act. Roseom. Art. Poet. ixxx PREFACE. From JSschylus the chorus learnt new graco : He veil'd with decent masks the actor's face, Taught him in buskins Lrst to tread the stage, And raised a theatre to please the age. But that was only the external part or body of tragedy. Its soul, which was the most important and essential ad- dition of ^Eschylus, consisted in the vivacity and spirit of the action, sustained by the dialogue of the persons of the drama introduced by him ; in the artful working up of the stronger passions, especially of terror and pity, which, by alternately afflicting and agitating the soul with mournful or terrible objects, produce a grateful pleasure and delight from that very trouble and emotion; in the choice of a subject, great, noble, interesting, and contained within due bounds by the unity of time, place, and action: in short, it is the conduct and disposition of the whole piece, which, by the order and harmony of its parts, and the happy connexion of its incidents and intrigues, holds the mind of the spectator in suspense till the catastrophe, and then restores him his tranquillity, and dismisses him with satis- faction. The chorus had been established before ./Eschylus, as it composed alone, or next to alone, what was then called tragedy. He did not therefore exclude it, but, on the con- trary, thought fit to incorporate it, to sing as chorus between the acts. Thus it supplied the interval of resting, and was a kind of person of the drama, employed * either in giving useful advice and salutary instructions, in espousing the party of innocence and virtue, in being the depository of secrets, and the avenger of violated religion, or in sustain- ing all those characters at the same time, according to Ho- * Actoris paries chorus officiumque virile Defendat, neu quid medios intercinat actus, Quod nonproposito conducat,et heereat apte. Ille bonisfaveatque, et concilietur amicis, Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes. Ille dopes laudet mensce brevis; ille salubrem Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis. Ille tegat commissa, deosque precetur et oret, Ut redeat miseris t abeat fortuna superbis.Hor. de Art. Poet. The chorus should supply what action wants, And hath a generous and manly part; Bridles wild rage, loves rigid honesty, And strict observance of impartial laws, Sobriety, security, and peace, And begs the gods to turn blind Fortune's wheel, To raise the wretched, and pull down the proud ; But nothing must be sung between the acts, But what someway conduces to the plot. Roscon. Art. of Poetry PREFACE. Ixxxi race. The coryphaeus, or principal person of the chorus, spoke for the rest. In one of ./Eschylus's pieces, called the Eumenides, the poet represents Orestes at the bottom of the stage, sur- rounded by the furies, laid asleep by Apollo. Their figure must have been extremely horrible, as it is related, that upon their waking and appearing tumultuously on the thea- tre, where they were to act as a chorus, some women miscar- ried with the surprise, and several children died of the fright. The chorus at that time consisted of fifty actors. After this accident, it was reduced to fifteen by an express law, and at length to twelve. I have observed, that one of the alterations made by ^Eschylus in tragedy, was the mask worn by his actors. These dramatic masks had no resemblance to ours, which only cover the face, but were a kind of case for the whole head, and which, besides the features, represented the beard, the hair, the ears, and even the ornaments used by women in their head-dresses. These masks varied ac- cording to the different pieces that were acted. The subject is treated at large in a dissertation of M. Bom- din's, inserted in the Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres. I could never comprehend, as I have observed,? in speak- ing of pronunciation, how masks came to continue so long upon the stage of the ancients ; for certainly they could not be used, without considerably deadening the spirit of the action, which is principally expressed in the counte- nance, the seat and mirror of what passes in the soul. Does it not often happen, that the blood, according as it is put in motion by different passions, sometimes covers the face with a sudden and modest blush, sometimes inflames it with the heat of rage and fury, sometimes retires, leav- ing it pale with fear, and at others diffuses a calm and amiable serenity over it ? All these affections are strongly imaged and distinguished in the lineaments of the face. The mask deprives the features of this energetic language, and of that life and soul, by which it is the faithful inter- preter of all the sentiments of the heart. I do not wonder, therefore, at Cicero's remark upon the action of Roscius.* Our ancestors, says he, were better judges than we are. They could not wholly approve even Roscius himself whilst he performed in a mask. Vol. iv. P Manner of Teaching, vol. iv. * Qub melius nostri illi senes, qui personatum, ne Roscium quidem, mag- iwpere laudabant. Lib. iii. do Or at. n. 221. VOL. \. Sf Ixxxii PREFACE. jEschylus was in the sole possession of the glory of the stage, with almost every voice in his favour, when a young rival made his appearance to dispute the palm with him. This was Sophocles. He was born at Co- A.M. 3509. lonos, a town in Attica, in the second year Ant. J. C. 495. of the seventy-first Olympiad. His father was a blacksmith, or one who kept people of that trade to work for him. His first essay was a master- piece. When, upon the occasion of Cimon's having found the bones of Theseus, and their being brought to Athens, a dispute between the tragic poets was appointed, Sophocles entered the lists with ^Eschylus, and car- A.M. 3534. ried the prize against him. The ancient Ant.J.C.470. victor, laden till then with the wreaths he had acquired, believed them all lost by failing of the last, and withdrew in disgust into Sicily to king Hiero, the protector and patron of all the learned in disgrace at Athens. He died there soon after in a very singular manner, if we may believe Suidas. As he lay asleep in the fields, with his head bare, an eagle, taking his bald crown for a stone, let a tortoise fall upon it, which killed him. Of ninety, or at least seventy tragedies, com- posed by him, only seven are now extant. Nor have those of Sophocles escaped the injury of time better, though one hundred and seventeen in number, and according to some one hundred and thirty. He retained to extreme old age all the force and vigour of his genius, as appears from a circumstance in his history. His children, unworthy of so great a father, upon pretence that he had lost his senses, summoned him before the judges, in order to obtain a decree, that his estate might be taken from him, and put into their hands. He made no other defence, than to read a tragedy he was at that time composing, called CEdi- pus at Colonos, with which the judges were so charmed, that he carried his cause unanimously; and his children, detested by the whole assembly, got nothing by their suit, but the shame and infamy due to so flagrant ingratitude. He was twenty times crowned victor. Some say he ex- pired in repeating his Antigone, for want of power to re- cover his breath, after a violent endeavour to pronounce a long period to the end ; others, that he died of joy upon his being declared victor, contrary to his expectation. The figure of a hive was placed upon his tomb, to perpetuate the name of Bee, which had been given him, from the sweet- ness of his verses: whence it is probable, the notion was derived of the bees having settled upon his lips, when in PREFACE. Ixxxiii his cradle. He died in his ninetieth year, A.M. 3599. the fourth of the ninety-third Olympiad, Ant. J. C. 405. after having survived Euripides six years, who was not so old as himself. The latter was born in the first year of A.M. 3524. the seventy-fifth Olympiad, at Salamis, Ant. J. C. 480. whither his father Mnesarchus and mother Clito had retired, when Xerxes was pre- paring for his great expedition against Greece. He ap- plied himself at first to philosophy, and, amongst others, had the celebrated Anaxagoras for his master. But the danger incurred by that great man, who was very near being made the victim of his philosophical tenets, inclined him to the study of poetry. He discovered in himself a genius for the drama, unknown to him at first ; and employed it with such success, that he entered the lists with the great masters of whom we have been speaking. *His works sufficiently denote his profound application to philosophy. They abound with excellent maxims of morality: and it is in that view that Socrates in his time, and fCicero long after him, set so high a value upon Euripides. One cannot sufficiently admire the extreme delicacy ex- pressed by the Athenian audience on certain occasions, and their solicitude to preserve the reverence due to moral- ity, virtue, decency, and justice. It is surprising to observe the warmth with which they unanimously reproved what- ever seemed inconsistent with them, and called the poet to an account for it, notwithstanding his having a well-founded excuse, as he had given such sentiments only to persons notoriously vicious, and actuated by the most unjust pas- sions. Euripides had put into the mouth of Bellerophon a pom- pous panegyric upon riches, which concluded with this thought : Riches are the supreme good of the human race, and with reason excite the admiration of the gods and men. The whole theatre cried out against these expressions ; and he would have been banished directly, if he had not desired the sentence to be respited till the conclusion of the piece, in which the advocate for riches perished miserably. He was in danger of incurring serious inconveniences from an answer he puts into the mouth of Hippolytus. Phaedra's nurse represented to him, that he had engaged himself under an inviolable oath to keep her secret. My * Sententiis densus, et in Us qua & sapientibus sunt, pent ipsis est par. Quintil. 1. x. c. 1. t Cui (Euripidi) tu quantiim credas nescio ; ego certe singulos ejus ver- sus singula testimonia puto. Epist. viii. 1. 14. ad Famil. Ixxxiv PREFACE. tongue, it is true, pronounced that oath, replied he, but my heart gave no consent to it. This frivolous distinction ap- peared to the whole people, as an express contempt of the religion and sanctity of an oath, that tended to banish all sincerity and good faith from society and the intercourse of life. Another maxim* advanced by Eteocles in the tragedy called the Phoenicians, and which Caesar had always in his mouth, is no less pernicious : If justice may be violated at all, it is when a throne is in question ; in other respects, let it be duly revered. It is highly criminal in Eteocles, or rather in Euripides, says Cicero, to make an exception in that very point wherein such violation is the highest crime that can be committed. Eteocles is a tyrant, and speaks like a tyrant, who vindicates his unjust conduct by a false maxim ; and it is not strange that Cassar, who was a tyrant by nature, and equally unjust, should lay great stress upon, the sentiments of a prince whom he so much resembled. But what is remarkable in Cicero, is his falling upon the poet himself, and imputing to him as a crime, the having advanced so pernicious a principle upon the state. 3 Lycurgus, the orator, who lived in the time of Philip and Alexander the Great, to re-animate the spirit of the tragic poets, caused three statues of brass to be erected, in the name of the people, to ^Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euri- pides ; and having ordered their works to be transcribed, he appointed them to be carefully preserved amongst the public archives, from whence they were taken from time to time to be read ; the players not being permitted to re- present them on the stage. The reader expects, no doubt, after what has been said relating to the three poets, who invented, improved, and carried tragedy to its perfection, that I should point out the peculiar excellences of their style and character. For that I must refer to Father Brumoi, who will do it much better than it is in my power. After having laid down, as an undoubted principle, that the epic poem, that is to say Homer, pointed out the way for the tragic poets ; and hav- ing demonstrated, by reflections drawn from human nature, upon what principles and by what degrees, this happy imi- Plut. in vit. x. oral. p. 841. * Ipse autem socer (Casar) in ore semper GrcBCos versus Euripidis de Phcenissis habebat, quos dicam ut potero, incondite fortasse, sed tamen ut res possit intelligi : Nam, si violandum estjus, regnandi gratia Viotandum est; aliis rebus pictatem colas. Capitalis Eteocles, vel potius Euripides, qui id unurn, quod omnium scele- atissimumfuerity exceperit. Offic. I. iii. n. 32. PREFACE. Jxxxv tation was conducted to its end ; he goes on to describe the three poets above mentioned, in the most lively and bril- liant colours. Tragedy took at first from ./Eschylus, its inventor, a much more lofty style than the Iliad ; that is, the magnum loqui mentioned by Horace. Perhaps ./Eschylus, who had a full conception of the grandeur of the language of tragedy, carried it too high. It is not Homer's trumpet, but some- thing more. His pompous, swelling, gigantic diction, re- sembles rather the beating of drums and the shouts of bat- tle, than the noble harmony of the trumpets. The eleva- tion and grandeur of his genius would not permit him to speak the language of other men, so that his Muse seemed rather to walk in stilts, than in the buskins of his own in- vention. Sophocles understood much better the true excellence of the dramatic style : he therefore copies Homer more closely, and blends in his diction that honeyed sweetness, from whence he was denominated the Bee, with a gravity that gives his tragedy the modest air of a matron, compelled to appear in public with dignity, as Horace expresses it. The style of Euripides, though noble, is less removed from the familiar ; and he seems to have affected rather the pathetic and the elegant, than the nervous and the lofty. AsCorneille, says Father Brumoi in another place, after having opened to himself a path entirely new and unknown to the ancients, seems like an eagle towering in the clouds, from the sublimity, force, unbroken progress, and rapidity in his flight ; and, as Racine, in copying the ancients in a manner entirely his own, imitates the swan, that sometimes floats upon the air, sometimes rises, then falls again, with an elegance of motion, and a grace peculiar to herself; so JEschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, have each of them a particular characteristic and method. The first, as the in- ventor and father of tragedy, is like a torrent rolling impe- tuously over rocks, forests, and precipices; the second re- sembles a * canal, which flows gently through delicious gardens ; and the third a river, that does not follow its course in a continued line, but loves to turn and wind his silver wave through flowery meads and rural scenes. This is the character which Father Brumoi gives of the * I know not whether the idea of a canal that flows gently through deli- cious gardens, is well adapted to designate the character of Sophocles, which is peculiarly distinguished by nobleness, grandeur, and elevation. That of an impetuous and rapid stream, whose waves, from the violence of Uicir motion, are loud, and to be heard afar off, seems to me a more suitable image of that poet. jxxxvi PRKFACE. three poets, to whom the Athenian stage was indebted for its perfection in tragedy. *JEschylus drew it out of its original chaos and confusion, and made it appear in some degree of lustre ; but it still retained the rude unfinished air of things in their beginning, which are generally defective in point of art and method. Sophocles and Euripides added infinitely to the dignity of tragedy. The style of the first, as has been observed, is more noble and majestic; of the latter, more tender and pathetic ; each perfect in their way. In this diversity of character, it is difficult to decide which is most excellent. The learned have always been divided upon this head ; as we are at this day, with re- spect to the f two poets of our own nation, whose tragedies have made our stage illustrious, and not inferior to that of Athens. I have observed, that the tender and pathetic distin- guishes the compositions of Euripides, of which Alexander of Pherae, the most cruel of tyrants, was a proof. That barbarous man, upon seeing the Troades of Euripides acted, found himself so moved with it, that he quitted the theatre before the conclusion of the play ; professing that he was ashamed to be seen in tears for the distress of He- cuba and Andromache, who had never shewn the least com- passion for his own citizens, of whom he had butchered such numbers. When I speak of the tender and pathetic, I would not be understood to mean a passion that softens the heart into effeminacy, and which, to our reproach, is almost alone, or at least more than any other passion, received upon our stage, though rejected by the ancients, and condemned by the nations around us of greatest reputation for their genius, and taste for the sciences and polite learning. The two great principles for moving the passions amongst the ancients, were terror and pity.* And indeed, as we naturally refer every thing to ourselves, or our own particular interest, when we see persons of exalted rank or virtue sinking un- der great evils, the fear of the like misfortunes, with which we know that human life is on all sides invested, seizes upon us, and from a secret impulse of self-love, we find our- selves sensibly affected with the distresses of others ; be- sides which, the sharing a f common nature with the rest of our species, makes us sensible to whatever befals them. * Tragadias primus in lucem JEschylus protulit : sublimis et gravis, et grandiloquus seepe usque ad vitium ; sed rudis in plerisque et incompositus. Quintil. 1. x. c. 1. f Corneille and Racine. I Homo sum: humani nihil et me alienum puto. Tor. PREFACE. Ixxxvii Upon a close and attentive inquiry into those two passions, they will be found the most deeply inherent, active, exten- sive, and general, affections of the soul ; including all or- ders of men, great and small, rich and poor, of whatever age or condition. Hence the ancients, accustomed to con- sult nature, and to take her for their guide in all things, with reason conceived terror and compassion to be the soul of tragedy ; and that those affections ought to prevail in it. The passion of love was in no estimation amongst them, and had seldom any share in their dramatic pieces ; though with us it is a received opinion, that they cannot be supported without it. It is worth our trouble to examine briefly in what man- ner this passion, which has always been deemed a weak- ness and a blemish in the greatest characters, got such foot- ing upon our stage. Corneille, who was the first who brought the French tragedy to any perfection, and whom all the rest have followed, found the whole nation en- amoured with the perusal of romances, and little disposed to admire any thing not resembling them. From the desire of pleasing his audience, who were at the same time his judges, he endeavoured to move them in the manner they had been accustomed to be affected ; and, by introducing love in his scenes, to bring them the nearer to the predomi- nant taste of the age for romance. From the same source arose that multiplicity of incidents, episodes, and adven- tures, with which our tragic pieces are crowded and ob- scured ; so contrary to probability, which will not admit such a number of extraordinary and surprising events in the short space of four-and-twenty hours ; so contrary to the simplicity of ancient tragedy ; and so adapted to con- ceal, by the assemblage of so many different objects, the sterility of the genius of a poet, more intent upon the mar- vellous, than upon the probable and natural. Both the Greeks and Romans have preferred the iambic to the heroic verse in their tragedies ; not only because the first has a kind of dignity better adapted to the stage, but, whilst it approaches nearer to prose, retains sufficiently the air of poetry to please the ear : and yet has too little of it to put the audience in mind of the poet, who ought not to appear at all in representations, where other persons are supposed to speak and act. Monsieur Dacier makes a very just reflection on this subject. He says, that it is the misfortune of our tragedy . to have almost no other verse than what it has in common with epic poetry, elegy, pas- toral, satire, and comedy ; whereas the learned languages have a great variety of versification. Jxxxviii PREFACE. This inconvenience is highly obvious in our tragedy ; which consequently is obliged to lose sight of nature and probability, as it obliges heroes, princes, kings, and queens, to express themselves in a pompous strain in their familiar conversation, which it would be ridiculous to attempt in real life. The giving utterance to the most impetuous pas- sions in a uniform cadence, and by hemistichs and rhymes, would undoubtedly be tedious and offensive to the ear, if the charms of poetry, the elegance of expression, and the spirit of sentiments, and perhaps, more than all of them, the resistless force of custom, had not in a manner subject- ed our reason, and spread a veil before our judgment. It was not chance, therefore, which suggested to the Greeks the use of iambics in their tragedy. Nature itself seems to have dictated that kind of verse to them. In- structed by the same unerring guide, they made choice of a different versification for the chorus, better adapted to the motions of the dance, and the variations of the song ; be- cause it was necessary for poetry here to shine out in all its lustre, whilst the mere conversation between the real actors was suspended. The chorus was an embellishment of the representation, and a relaxation to the audience, and therefore required more exalted poetry and numbers to support it, when united with music and dancing. Of the Old, Middle, and New Comedy. WHILST tragedy was thus rising to perfection at Athens, comedy, the second species of dramatic poetry, and which, till then, had been much neglected, began to be cultivated with more attention. Nature was the common parent of both. We are sensibly affected with the dangers, dis- tresses, misfortunes, and, in a word, with whatever relates to the lives and conduct of illustrious persons ; and this gave birth to tragedy. And we are as curious to know the adventures, conduct, and defects, of our equals ; which sup- ply us with occasions of laughing, and being merry at the expense of others. Hence comedy derives itself ; which is properly an image of private life. Its design is to ex- pose defects and vices upon the stage, and, by affixing ridi- cule to them, to make them contemptible ; and consequent- ly, to instruct by diverting. Ridicule, therefore (or, to ex- press the same word by another, pleasantry), ought to pre- vail in comedy. This species of entertainment took at different times three different forms at Athens, as well from the genius of the poets, as from the influences of the government, which occasioned various alterations in it. PREFACE. Ixxxix The old comedy, so called * by Horace, and which he dates after the time of ^Eschylus, retained something of its original rudeness, and the liberty it had been used to take of throwing out coarse jests, and reviling the spectators from the cart of Thespis. Though it was become regular in its plan, and worthy of a great theatre, it had not learnt to be more reserved. It represented real transactions, with the names, dress, gestures, and likeness, in masks, of whomsoever it thought n't to sacrifice to the public derision. In a state where it was held good policy to unmask what- ever carried the air of ambition, singularity, or knavery, comedy assumed the privilege to harangue, reform, and ad- vise, the people upon their most important interests. No one was spared in a city of so much liberty, or rather licentiousness, as Athens was at that time. Generals, ma- gistrates, government, the very gods were abandoned to the poet's satirical vein ; and all was well received, provided the comedy was diverting, and the Attic salt not wanting. u In one of these comedies, not only the priest of Jupiter determines to quit his service, because no more sacrifices are offered to the god ; but Mercury himself comes, in a starving condition, to seek his fortune amongst mankind, and offers to serve as a porter, sutler, bailiff', guide, door- keeper; in short, in any capacity, rather than return to heaven. In another", the same gods, reduced to the extre- mity of famine, from the birds having built a city in the air, whereby their provisions are cut off, and the smoke of incense and sacrifices prevented from ascending to heaven, depute three ambassadors in the name of Jupiter to conclude a treaty of accommodation with the birds, upon such condi- tions as they shall approve. The chamber of audience, where the three famished gods are received, is a kitchen well stored with excellent game of all sorts. Here Hercules, deeply smitten with the smell of roast meat, which he appre- hends to be more exquisite and nutritious than that of in- cense, begs leave to make his abode, and to turn the spit, and assist the cook upon occasion. The other pieces of Aristophanes abound with strokes still more satirical and severe upon the principal divinities. I am not much surprised at the poet's insulting the gods, and treating them with the utmost contempt, as from them he had nothing to fear ; but I cannot help wondering at his having brought the most illustrious and powerful persons of Athens upon the stage, and presuming to attack the * Successit vetus his comcedia non sine multd Laude. Hor. in Art. Poet. u Plutus. The Birds. xc PREFACE. government itself, without any manner of respect or re- serve. Cleon having returned triumphant, contrary to the gene- ral expectation, from the expedition against Sphacteria, was looked upon by the people as the greatest captain of that age. Aristophanes, to set that bad man in a true light, who was the son of a tanner, and a tanner himself, and whose rise was owing solely to his temerity and impudence, was so bold as to make him the subject of a comedy/ without being awed by his power and influence: but he was obliged to play the part of Cleon himself, and appeared for the first time upon the stage in that character ; not one of the come- dians daring to represent it, nor to expose himself to the resentment of so formidable an enemy. His face was smeared over with wine-lees ; because no workman could be found, that would venture to make a mask resembling Cleon, as was usual when persons were brought upon the stage. In this piece he reproached him with embezzling the public treasures, with a violent passion for bribes and presents, with craft in seducing the people, and denies him the glory of the action at Sphacteria, which he attributes chiefly to the share his colleague had in it. In the Acharnians, he accuses Lamachus of having been made general, rather by bribery than merit. He imputes to him his youth, inexperience, and idleness ; at the same time that he, and many others, whom he covertly designates, convert to their own use the rewards due only to valour and real services. He reproaches the republic with their prefer- ence of the younger citizens to the elder, in the government of the state, and the command of their armies. He tells them plainly, that when peace shall be concluded, neither Cleo- nymus, Hyperbolus, nor many other such knaves, all men- tioned by name, shall have any share in the public affairs ; they being always ready to accuse their fellow-citizens of crimes, and to enrich themselves by such informations. In his comedy called the Wasps, imitated by Racine in his Plaideurs, he exposes the mad passion of the people for pro- secutions and trials at law, and the enormous injustice fre- quently committed in passing sentence and giving judgment. The poet, z concerned to see the republic obstinately bent upon the unhappy expedition to Sicily, endeavours to ex- cite in the people a thorough disgust for so ruinous a war, and to inspire them with the desire of a peace, as much the in- terest of the victors as the vanquished, after a war of seve- ral years' duration, equally pernicious to each party, and capable of involving all Greece in ruin. y The Knights. z The Peace. PREFACE. xci None of Aristophanes's pieces explains better his bold- ness, in speaking upon the most delicate affairs of the state in the crowded theatre, than his comedy called Lysistrata. One of the principal magistrates of Athens had a wife of that name, who is supposed to have taken it into her head to compel Greece to conclude a peace. She relates, how, during the war, the women, inquiring of their husbands the result of their counsels, and whether they had not resolved to make peace with Sparta, received no answers but impe- rious looks, and orders to mind their own business : that, however, they perceived plainly to what a low condition the government was declined : that they took the liberty to re- monstrate mildly to their husbands upon the sad conse- quences of their rash determinations, but that their humble representations had no other effect than to offend and enrage them : that, at length, being confirmed by the general opi- nion of all Attica, that there were no longer any men in the state, nor heads for the administration of affairs, their pa- tience being quite exhausted, the women had thought it pro- per and advisable to take the government upon themselves, and preserve Greece, whether it would or no, from the folly and madness of its resolves. For her part, she declares, that she has taken possession of the city and treasury, in order, says she, to prevent Pisander and his confede- rates, the four hundred administrators, from exciting trou- bles, according to their custom, and from robbing the pub- lic as usual. (Was ever any thing so bold ?) She goes on to prove, that the women only are capable of retrieving affairs, by this burlesque argument ; that admitting things to be in such a state of perplexity and confusion, the sex, accus- tomed to untangling their threads, were the only persons to set them right again, as being best qualified with the ne- cessary address, patience, and moderation. The Athenian politics are thus made inferior to those of the women, who are only represented in a ridiculous light, to turn the deri- sion upon their husbands, who were engaged in the admi- nistration of the government. These extracts from Aristophanes, taken almost word for word from Father Bruinoi, seemed to me very proper to give an insight into that poet's character, and the genius of the ancient comedy, which was, as we see, a satire of the most poignant and severe kind, that had assumed*to itself an in- dependency from respect to persons, and to which nothing was sacred. It is no wonder that Cicero condemns so li- centious and uncurbed a liberty.* It might, he says, have * Quern ilia non attigit, vel potius quern non vexavit ? Esto, popular es ho- mines, improbos, in remp. seditiosos, Clconem, Cleophontem, Hyperbolum *cii PREFACE. been tolerable, had it attacked only bad citizens, and sedi- tious orators, who endeavoured to raise commotions in the state, such as Cleon, Cleophon, and Hyperbolus : but when a Pericles, who for many years had governed the common- wealth both in war and peace with equal wisdom and au- thority (he might have added, and a Socrates, declared by Apollo the wisest of mankind) is brought upon the stage to be laughed at by the public, it is as if our Plautus or Nae- vius had attacked the Scipios, or Ceecilius had dared to revile Marcus Cato in his plays. That liberty is still more offensive to us, who are born and live under a monarchical government, which is far from be- ing favourable to licentiousness. But without intending to justify the conduct of Aristophanes, which is certainly in- excusable, I think, to judge properly of it, it would be ne- cessary to lay aside the prejudices of birth, nations, and times, and to imagine we live in those remote ages, in a state purely democratical. We must not fancy Aristophanes to have been a person of little consequence in his republic, as the comic writers generally are in our days. The king of Persia had a very different idea of him. c It is a known story, that in an audience of the Greek ambassadors, his first inquiry was after a certain comic poet (meaning Ari- stophanes), that put all Greece in motion, and gave such effectual counsels against him. Aristophanes did that upon the stage, which Demosthenes did afterward in the public assemblies. The poet's reproaches were no less animated than the orator's. In his comedies he uttered the same sentiments as he had a right to deliver from the public rostrum. They were addressed to the same people, upon the same occasions of the state, the same means of success, and the same obstacles to their measures. In Athens, the whole people were the sovereign, and each of them had an equal share in the supreme authority. Upon this they were continually intent, were fond of discoursing upon it them- selves, and of hearing the sentiments of others. The public affairs were the business of every individual ; on which they were desirous of being fully informed, that they might know how to conduct themselves on every occasion of war or peace, which frequently offered, and to decide upon their own, as well as upon the destiny of their allies or enemies. Hence rose the liberty taken by the comic poets, of dis- patiamur Sed Periclem, dim jam SUCB civitati maxima auctoritate plurimos annos domi et belli prafuisse't, violari versibus, et eos agi in scena, non j)lits decuit, quam si Plautus noster voluisset, aut Navius, P. et Cn. Sci- ij aut CcEcilius M. Catoni maledicere. Ex fragm. Cic. de Rep. Jib. iv. c Aristoph. in Acharn. PREFACE. xciii cussing affairs of the state in their performances. The peo- ple were so far from being offended at it, or at the manner in which those writers treated the principal persons of the state, that they conceived their liberty in some measure to consist in it. Three * poets particularly excelled in the old comedy; Eupolis, Cratinus, and Aristophanes. The last is the only one of them whose pieces have come down to us entire ; and out of the great number which he composed, eleven are all that remain. He flourished in an age when Greece abounded with great men, arid was contemporary with So- crates and Euripides, whom he survived. During the Pelo- ponnesian war, he made his greatest figure ; less as a writer to amuse the people with his comedies, than as censor of the government, retained to reform the state, and to be al- most the arbiter of his country. He is admired for an elegance, poignancy, and happiness of expression, or, in a word, that Attic salt and spirit, to which the Roman language could never attain, and forf which Aristophanes is more remarkable than any other of the Greek authors. His particular excellence was raillery. None ever touched what was ridiculous in the characters whom he wished to expose with such success, or knew better how to convey it in all its full force to others. But it wo.uld be necessary to have lived in his times, to be qualified to judge of this. The subtle salt and spirit of the ancient raillery, according to Father Brumoi, is evaporated through length of time, and what remains of it is become flat and insipid to us ; though the sharpest part will retain its vigour throughout all ages. Two considerable defects are justly imputed to this poet, which very much obscure, if not entirely efface, his glory. * Eupolis, atque Cratinus, Aristophanesque poeta, Atque alii, quorum comcedia pnsca virorum est, Si quis erat dignus describi, quod mains, aut fur, Quod mcechusforet, aut sicarius, aut alioqui Famosus ; multa cum libertate notabant.Hor. Sat. iv. 1. i. With Aristophanes' satiric rage, When ancient comedy amused the age, Or Eupolis's or Cratinus' wit, And others that all-licensed poem writ ; None, worthy to be shewn, escaped the scene, No public knave, or thief of lofty mien ; The loose adult'rer was drawn forth to sight; The secret murd'rer trembling lurk'd the night ; Vice play'd itself, and each ambitious spark ; All boldly branded with the poet's mark. t Antiqua comcedia sinceram illam sermonis Attici gratiam propt sola retinet. Quintil. xcir PREFACE. These are, low buffoonery, and gross obscenity ; and it has in vain been attempted to offer, in excuse for the first of these faults, the character of his audience ; the bulk of which generally consisted of the poor, the ignorant, and dregs of the people, whom, however, it was as necessary to please, as the learned and the rich. The depraved taste of the lower order of people, which once banished Cratinus and his company, because his scenes were not grossly comic enough for them, is no excuse for Aristophanes, as Menan- der could find out the art of changing that grovelling taste, by introducing a species of comedy, not altogether so modest as Plutarch seems to insinuate, yet much less licentious than any before his time. The gross obscenities, with which all Aristophanes's comedies abound, have no excuse ; they only denote to what a pitch the libertinism of the spectators, and the de- pravity of the poet, had proceeded. Had he even impreg- nated them with the utmost wit, which however is not the case, the privilege of laughing himself, or of making others laugh, would have been too dearly purchased at the ex- pense of decency and good manners.* And in this case it may well be said, that it were better to have no wit at all, than to make so ill a use of it.f F. Brumoi is very much to be commended for having taken care, in giving a general idea of Aristophanes's writings, to throw a veil over those parts of them that might have given offence to modesty. Though such behaviour be the indispensable rule of religion, it is not always observed by those who pique themselves most on their erudition, and sometimes prefer the title of Scholar to that of Christian. The old comedy subsisted till Lysander's time, who, upon having made himself master of Athens, changed the form of the government, and put it into the hands of thirty of the principal citizens. The satirical liberty of the theatre was offensive to them, and therefore they thought fit to put a stop to it. The reason of this alteration is evident, and confirms the reflection made before upon the privilege which the poets possessed of criticising with impunity the persons at the head of the state. The whole authority of Athens was then invested in tyrants. The democracy was abolished. The people had no longer any share in the government. They were no more the prince ; their sovereignty had ex- pired. The right of giving their opinions and suffrages upon affairs of state was at an end ; nor dared they, either in * Nimium ris&s pretium est, si probitatis impendio constat. Quintil. lib. vi. c. 3. \ Non pejus duxerim tardi ingenii cssc, quam mali. Quintil. lib. i. c. 3. PREFACE. xcv their own persons or by the poets, presume to censure the sentiments and conduct of their masters. The calling per- sons by their names upon the stage was prohibited ; but poetical ill-nature soon found the secret of eluding the in- tention of the law, and of making itself amends for the re- straint which was imposed upon it by the necessity of using feigned names. It then applied itself to discover what was ridiculous in known characters, which it copied to the life, and from thence acquired the double advantage of gratify- ing the vanity of the poets, and the malice of the audience, . n a more refined manner : the one had the delicate plea- sure of putting the spectators upon guessing their meaning, and the other of not being mistaken in their suppositions, and of affixing the right name to the characters represented. Such was the comedy, since called the Middle Comedy, of which there are some instances in Aristophanes. It continued till the time of Alexander the Great, who having entirely assured himself of the empire of Greece by the defeat of the Thebans, caused a check to be put upon the licentiousness of the poets, which increased daily. From thence the New Comedy took its birth, which was only an imitation of private life, and brought nothing upon the stage but feigned names, and fictitious adventures. Chacun peint avec art dans ce nouveau miroir, S'y vit avec plaisir, ou crut ne s'y pas voir. L'avare des premiers rit du tableau fidele D'un avare souvent trac6 sur son module ; Et mille fois un fat, finement exprim6, M6connut le portrait sur lui-meme form6. Boileau, Art. Poet, chant, iii. In this new glass, whilst each himself survey'd, He sat with pleasure, though himself was play'd ; The miser grinn'd whilst avarice was drawn, Nor thought the faithful likeness was his own; His own dear self no imaged fool could find, But saw a thousand other fops design'd. This may properly be called fine comedy, and is that of Menander. Of one hundred and eighty, or rather eighty plays, according to Suidas, composed by him, all of which Terence is said to have translated, there remain only a few fragments. "We may form a just judgment of the merit of the originals from the excellence of the copy. Quintilian, in speaking of Menander, is not afraid to say,* that with the beauty of his works, and the height of his reputation, he obscured, or rather obliterated, the fame of all other writers * Atque ille quidem omnibus ejusdem operis auctoribus dbstulit nomen, et fulgore quodam sua claritatis tenebras obduxit. Quintil. lib. x. c. 1. xcvi PREFACE. in the same way. He observes, in another passage, that his own times were not so just f to his merit as they ought to have been, which has been the fate of many others ; but that he was sufficiently made amends by the favourable opinion of posterity. And indeed Philemon, a comic poet, who flourished about the same period, though older than Menander, was preferred before him. The Theatre of the Ancients described. I HAVE already observed, that ^Eschylus was the first founder of a fixed and durable theatre adorned with suit- able decorations. It was at first, as well as the amphithe- atres, composed of wooden planks, the seats in which rose one above another ; but those having one day broke down, by having too great a weight upon them, the Athenians, excessively enamoured of dramatic representations, were induced by that accident to erect those superb structures, which were imitated afterwards with so much splendour by the Roman magnificence. What I shall say of them, has almost as much relation to the Roman as the Athenian theatres ; and is extracted entirely from M. Boindin's learn- ed dissertation upon the theatre of the ancients/ who has treated the subject in its fullest extent. The theatre of the ancients was divided into three prin- cipal parts; each of which had its peculiar appellation. The division for the actors was called in general the scene, or stage ; that for the spectators was particularly termed the theatre, which must have been of vast extent/ as at Athens it was capable of containing above thirty thousand persons; and the orchestra, which amongst the Greeks was the place assigned for the pantomimes and dancers, though at Rome it was appropriated to the senators and vestal virgins. The theatre was of a semicircular form on one side, and square on the other. The space contained within the semicircle, was allotted to the spectators, and had seats placed one above another to the top of the building. The square part in the front of it, was appropriated to the actors ; and in the interval, between both, was the orchestra. - The great theatres had three rows of porticoes, raised one upon another, which formed the body of the edifice, and at the same time three different stories for the seats. From the highest of those porticoes the women saw the representation, sheltered from the weather. The rest of t Quidam, sicut Menander, justiora posterorwrn, quctm SWE cetatis, judicia sunt consecuti. Quintil. lib. iii. c. 6. e Memoirs of the Acad. of Inscript. &c. vol. i. p. 136, &c. f Strab. 1. ix. p. 395. Herod. I. viii. c. 65. PREFACE. xcvii the theatre was uncovered, and all the business of the stage was performed in the open air. Each of these stories consisted of nine rows of seats, including the landing-place, which divided them from each other, and served as a passage from side to side. But as this landing-place and passage took up the space of two benches, there were only seven to sit upon, and conse- quently in each story there were seven rows of seats. They were from fifteen to eighteen inches in height, and twice as much in breadth; so that the spectators had room to sit at their ease, and without being incommoded by the legs of the people above them, no foot-boards being provided for them. Each of these stories of benches were divided in two dif- ferent manners ; in their height by the landing-places, called by the Romans Prcecinctiones, and in their circumferences by several stair-cases, peculiar to each story, which inter- secting them in right lines, tending towards the centre of the theatre, gave the form of wedges to the quantity of seats between them, from whence they were called Cunei. Behind these stories of seats were covered galleries, through which the people thronged into the theatre by great square openings, contrived for that purpose in the walls next the seats. Those openings were called Vomitoria, from the multitude of people crowding through them into their places. As the actors could not be heard to the extremity of the theatre, the Greeks contrived a means to supply that defect, and to augment the force of the voice, and make it more distinct and articulate. For that purpose they invented a kind of large vessels of copper, which were disposed under the seats of the theatre, in such a manner, as made all sounds strike upon the ear with more force and distinctness. The orchestra being situated, as I have observed, be- tween the two other parts of the theatre, of which one was circular and the other square, it participated of the form of each, and occupied the space between both. It was di- vided into three parts. The first and most considerable was more particularly called the orchestra, from a Greek word 8 that signifies to dance. It was appropriated to the pantomimes and dancers, and to all such subaltern actors as played between the acts, and at the end of the representations. The second was named Qv^i\j\, from its being square, in the form of an altar. Here the chorus was generally placed. VOL. I. xcviii PREFACE. And in the third, the Greeks disposed their band of mu- sic. They called it vTrocric^vtov, from its being situate at the bottom of the principal part of the theatre, to which they gave the general name of the scene. I shall describe here this third part of the theatre, called the scene ; which was also subdivided into three different parts. The first and most considerable was properly called the scene, and gave its name to this whole division. It occu- pied the whole front of the building from side to side, and was the place allotted for the decorations. This front had two small wings at its extremity, from which hung a large curtain, that was let down to open the scene, and drawn up between the acts, when any thing in the representation made it necessary. The second called by the Greeks indifferently TrpoaKriviov, and Aoyttov, and by the Romans Proscenium, and Pulpitum, was a large open space in front of the scene, in which the actors performed their parts, and which, by the help of the decorations, represented either a public square or forum, a common street, or the country ; but the place so repre- sented was always in the open air. The third division was a part reserved behind the scenes, and called by the Greeks Trapao-idjviov. Here the actors dressed themselves, and the decorations were locked up. In the same place were also kept the machines, of which the ancients had abundance in their theatres. As only the porticoes and the building of the scene were roofed, it was necessary to draw sails, fastened with cords to masts, over the rest of the theatre, to screen the audience from the heat of the sun. But as this contrivance did not prevent the heat, occasioned by the perspiration and breath of so numerous an assembly, the ancients took care to al- lay it by a kind of rain ; conveying the water for that use above the porticoes, which falling again in form of dew through an affinity of small pores concealed in the statues, with which the theatre abounded, did not only diffuse a grateful coolness all around, but the most fragrant exhala- tions along with it; for this dew was always perfumed. Whenever the representations were interrupted by storms, the spectators retired into the porticoes behind the seats of the theatre. The fondness of the Athenians for representations of this kind cannot be expressed. Their eyes, their ears, their imagination, their understanding, all shared in the satisfac- tion. Nothing gave them so sensible a pleasure in drama- tic performances, either tragic or comic, as the strokes PREFACE. xcix which were aimed at the affairs of the public ; whether pure chance occasioned the application, or the address of the poets, who knew how to reconcile the most remote subjects with the transactions of the republic. They entered by that means into the interests of the people, took occasion to soothe their passions, authorize their pretensions Justify, and sometimes condemn, their conduct, entertain them with agreeable hopes, instruct them in their duty in certain nice conjunctures ; in consequence of which they often not only acquired the applauses of the spectators, but credit and in- fluence in the public affairs and counsels : hence the thea- tre became so grateful, and so interesting to the people. It was in this manner, according to some authors, that Eu- ripides artfully adapted his tragedy of Palamedes* to the sentence passed against Socrates ; and pointed out, by an illustrious example of antiquity, the innocence of a philo- sopher, oppressed by malignity supported by power and faction. Accident was often the occasion of sudden and unfore- seen applications, which from their appositeness were very agreeable to the people. Upon this verse of JEschylus, in praise of Amphiaraus, TTis his desire Not to appear, but be the great and good, the whole audience rose up, and unanimously applied it to Aristides 11 . The same thing happened to Philopcemen at the Nemsean games. At the instant he entered the theatre, these verses were singing upon the stage ; -He comes, to whom we owe Our liberty, the noblest good below. A 11 the Greeks cast their eyes upon Philopcemen 1 , and with clapping of hands, and acclamations of joy, expressed their veneration for the hero. k ln the same manner at Rome, during the banishment of Cicero, when some verses of fAccius, which reproached the Greeks with their ingratitude in suffering the banish- ment of Telamon, were repeated by ./Esop, the best actor of his time, they drew tears from the eyes of the whole as- sembly. Upon another, though very different, occasion, the Ro- h Plut. in Aristid. p. 320. * Plut. in Philoposm. p. 362. k Cic. in Orat. pro Sext. n. 120, 123. * It is not certain whether this piece was prior or posterior to the death of Socrates. f O ingratiftci Argivi, inanes Graii, immemores beneficii, Exutare sivistis, sivistis pelli, pulsum patimini. h 2 o PREFACE. man people applied to Porapey the Great some verses to this effect : J Tis our unhappiness has made thee great; and then addressing the people ; The time shall come when you shall late deplore So great a power confided to such hands ; the spectators obliged the actor to repeat these verses se- veral times. Fondness for theatrical Representations one of the principal Causes of the Decline, Degeneracy, and Corruption, of the Athenian State. WHEN we compare the happy times of Greece, in which Europe and Asia resounded with nothing but the fame of the Athenian victories, with the later ages, when the power of Philip and Alexander the Great had in a manner reduced it to slavery, we shall be surprised at the strange alteration in that republic. But what is most material, is the inves- tigation of the causes and progress of this declension : and these M. de Tourreil has discussed in an admirable manner in the elegant preface to his translation of Demosthenes' Orations. There were no longer, he observes, at Athens, any traces of that manly and vigorous policy, equally capable of planning good and retrieving bad success. Instead of that, there remained only an inconsistent loftiness, apt to evapo- rate in pompous decrees. They were no more those Athe- nians, who, when menaced by a deluge of Barbarians, de- molished their houses to build ships with the timber, and whose women stoned the abject wretch to death that pro- posed to appease the great king by tribute or homage. The love of ease and pleasure had almost entirely extinguished that of glory, liberty, and independence. Pericles, that great man, so absolute, that those who en- vied him treated him as a second Pisistratus, was the first author of this degeneracy and corruption. With the design of conciliating the favour of the people, he ordained that upon such days as games or sacrifices were celebrated, a certain number of oboli should be distributed amongst them ; and that in the assemblies in which affairs of state were to be discussed, every individual should receive a certain pecuniary gratification in right of being present. Thus the members of the republic were seen for the first time to sell their care in the administration of the govern- ment, arid to rank amongst servile employments the most noble functions of the sovereign power. 1 Cic. ad Attic. 1. ii. Epist. 19. Val. Max. 1. vi. c. 2. PREFACE. ci It was not difficult to foresee where so excessive an abuse would end : and, to remedy it, it was proposed to establish a fund for the support of the war, and to make it a capital crime to advise, upon any account whatsoever, the appli- cation of it to other uses; but, notwithstanding, the abuse always subsisted. At first it seemed tolerable, whilst the citizen, who was supported at the public expense, endea- voured to deserve it by doing his duty in the field for nine months together. Every one was to serve in his turn, and whoever failed was treated as a deserter without distinction : but at length the number of the transgressors carried it against the law ; and impunity, as it commonly happens, multiplied their number. People accustomed to the de- lightful abode of a city, where feasts and games were per- petually taking place, conceived an invincible repugnance for labour and fatigue, which they looked upon as un- worthy of free-born men. It was therefore necessary to find amusement for this indolent people, to fill up the great void of an unactive, useless life. Hence arose principally their fondness, or rather frenzy, for public show. The death of Epaminon- das, which seemed to promise them the greatest advantage, gave the final stroke to their ruin and destruction. Their courage, says Justin 11 , did not survive that illustrious The- ban. Freed from a rival, who kept their emulation alive, they sunk into a lethargic sloth and effeminacy. The funds for armaments by land and sea were soon lavished upon games and feasts. The seaman's and soldier's pay was distributed to the idle citizen. An indolent and luxurious mode of life enervated every breast. The representations of the theatre were preferred to the exercises of the camp. Valour and military knowledge were entirely disregarded. Great captains were in no estimation ; whilst good poets and excellent comedians engrossed the universal applause. Extravagance of this kind makes it easy to comprehend in what multitudes the people thronged to the dramatic performances. As no expense was spared in embellishing them, exorbitant sums were sunk in the service of the theatre. If, says Plutarch , an accurate calculation were to be made, what each representation of the dramatic pieces cost the Athenians, it would appear, that their expenses in playing the Bacchanalians, the Phoenicians, CEdipus, An- tigone, Medea, and Electra (tragedies written either by So- phocles or Euripides), were greater than those which had been employed against the Barbarians in defence of the liberty, and for the preservation of Greece. This gave a " Justin. 1. vi. c. 9. Plut. de glor. Athon. p. 349. cii PREFACE. Spartan just reason to exclaim, on seeing an estimate of the enormous sums laid out in these contests of the tragic poets, and the extraordinary pains taken by the magis- trates who presided in them?, that a people must be void of sense to apply themselves in so warm and serious a manner to things so frivolous. For, added he, games should be only games ; and nothing is more unreasonable than to purchase a short and trivial amusement at so great a price. Plea- sures of this kind agree only with public rejoicings and sea- sons of festivity, and were designed to divert people at their leisure hours ; but should by no means interfere with the affairs of the public, nor the necessary expenses of the go- vernment. After all, says Plutarch, in the passage which I have already cited, of what utility have these tragedies been to Athens, though so much boasted by the people, and ad- mired by the rest of the world ? I find that the prudence of Themistocles enclosed the city with strong walls ; that the fine taste and magnificence of Pericles improved and adorned it; that the noble fortitude of Miltiades preserved its liberty ; and that the moderate conduct of Cimon ac- quired it the empire and government of all Greece. If the wise and learned poetry of Euripides, the sublime diction of Sophocles, the lofty buskin of JEschylus, have obtained equal advantages for the city of Athens, by delivering it from impending calamities, or by adding to its glory, I am willing (he goes on) that dramatic pieces should be placed in competition with trophies of victory, the poetic theatre with the field of battle, and the compositions of the poets with the great exploits of the generals. But what a com- parison would this be ? On the one side would be seen a few writers, crowned with wreaths of ivy, and dragging a goat or an ox after them, the rewards and victims assigned them for excelling in tragic poetry : on the other, a train of illustrious captains, surrounded by the colonies which they founded, the cities which they captured, and the nations which they subjected. It is not to perpetuate the victories of ^Eschylus and Sophocles, but in remembrance of the glorious battles of Marathon, Salamis, Eurymedon, and many others, that so many feasts are celebrated every month with such pomp by the Grecians. The inference which Plutarch draws from hence, in which we ought to agree with him, is, that it was the highest im- prudence in the * Athenians thus to prefer pleasure to duty, p Plut. Sympos. 1. vii. quest. \ii. p. 710. * 'AjjKtpTavovfftv 'A Orjvaioi /teyaXa, rqv ffirovtyv tig rrjv TfaiSiciv KaravaMo- , TovrtOTi /xtyaXwv aTTOffroXwv Sairavag Kal 77< ,1 TX c j* A Ai the quality of guardian to the young prince. Philip after the death of Antigonus, as- A.M. 3784. cended the throne at the age of fourteen years, and reigned something more than forty. PREFACE. cxxvii His son Perseus succeeded him, and reign- A. M. 3824. ed about eleven years. He was defeated and taken prisoner by Paulus JEmilius ; and Ma- cedonia, in consequence of that victory, was added to the provinces of the Roman empire. IV. The Kingdom of Thrace, and Bithynia, fyc. THIS fourth kingdom, composed of several separate pro- vinces very remote from one another, had not any succes- sion of princes, and did not long subsist in its first condi- tion ; Lysiniachus, who first obtained it, having been killed in a battle after a reign of twenty years, and all his family being exterminated by assassinations, his dominions were dismembered, and no longer constituted one kingdom. Beside the provinces which were divided among the cap- tains of Alexander, there were others which had been either formed before, or were then erected, into different states, independent of the Greeks, whose power greatly increased in process of time. Kings of Bithynia. WHILST Alexander was extending his con- A. M. 3686. quests in the East, Zypethes had laid the foundations of the kingdom of Bithynia. It is not certain who this Zypethes was, unless that * Pau- sanias, from his name, conjectures that he was a Thracian. His successors, however, are better known. Nicomedes I. This prince invited the Gauls A. M. 3726. to assist him against his brother, with whom he was engaged in a war. Prusias I. Prusias II. surnamedthe Hunter, in whose A. M. 3820. court Hannibal took refuge, and assisted him with his counsels, in his war against Eu- menes II. king of Pergamus. Nicomedes II. was killed by his son Socrates. Nicomedes III. was assisted by the Romans in his wars with Mithridates, and bequeathed to them at his death the kingdom of Bithynia, as a testimonial of his gratitude to them ; by which means these territories became a Roman province. Kings of Pergamus. THIS kingdom at first comprehended only one of the smallest provinces of Mysia, on the coast of the sea, over-against the island of Lesbos. * Lib. v. p. 310. cxxviii PREFACE. It was founded by Philetaerus, a eunuch, A.M. 3721. who had served under Docimus, a corn- Ant. J. C. 283. mander of the troops of Antigonus. Lysi- machus confided to him the treasures he had deposited in the castle of the city of Pergamus, and he became master both of these and the city after the death of that prince. He governed this little sovereignty for the space of twenty years, and then left it to Enmenes his nephew. Eumenes J. enlarged his principality, by A. M. 3741. the addition of several cities, which he took Ant. J. C. 263. from the kings of Syria, having defeated Antiochus, the son of Seleucus, in a battle. He reigned twenty- two years. He was succeeded by Attalus I. his cou- A.M. 3763. sin-german, who assumed the title of king, Ant.J. C. 241. after he had conquered the Galatians; and transmitted it to his posterity, who enjoyed it to the third generation. He assisted the Romans in their war with Philip, and died after a reign of forty-three years. He left four sons. His successor was Eumenes II. his eldest A.M. 3807. son, who founded the famous library of Ant. J. C. 197. Pergamus. He reigned thirty-nine years, and left the crown to his brother Attalus, in the quality of guardian to one of his sons whom he had by Stratonice, the sister of Ariarathes king of Cappadocia. The Romans enlarged his dominions considerably, after the victory they obtained over Antiochus the Great. Attalus II. espoused Stratonice his bro- A.M.3845. ther's widow, and took extraordinary care Ant. J. C. 159. of his nephew, to whom he left the crown, after he had worn it twenty-one years. Attalus III. surnamed Philometor, dis- A.M.3866. tinguished himself by his barbarous and Ant. J. C. 138. extraordinary conduct. He died after he had reigned five years, and bequeathed his riches and dominions to the Romans. Aristonicus, who claimed the succession, A.M. 3871. endeavoured to defend his pretensions Ant. J. C. 133. against the Romans, but the kingdom of Pergamus was reduced, after a war of four years, into a Roman province. Kings of Pontus. THE kingdom of Pontus, in Asia Minor, A.M. 3490. was anciently dismembered from the mo- Ant. J. C. 514. narchy of Persia, by Darius the son of Hystaspes, in favour of Artabazus, who is PREFACE. cxxix said, by some historians, to have been the son of one of those Persian lords who conspired against the Magi. Pontus is a region of Asia Minor, situated partly along the coast of the Euxine sea (Pontus Euxinus), from which it derives its name. It extends from the river Halys, as far as Colchis. Several princes reigned in that country since Artabazus. The sixth monarch was Mithridates I. who A.M. 3600. is properly considered as the founder of Ant. J. C. 404. the kingdom of Pontus, and his name was assumed by the generality of his successors. He was succeeded by his son Ariobar- A.M.3641. zanes, who had governed Phrygia under Ant. J. C. 363. Artaxerxes Mnemon : he reigned twenty- six years. His successor was Mithridates II. An- A.M.3667. tigonus suspecting, in consequence of a Ant. J. C. 337. dream, that he favoured Cassander, had determined to destroy him, but he eluded the danger by flight. This prince was called Krior^e, or the Founder, and reigned thirty-five years. Mithridates III., who succeeded him, Arrt ^J 3 C302 a< *ded Cappadocia and Paphlagonia to his dominion, and reigned thirty-six years. After the reigns of two other kings, Mithridates IV. the great-grandfather of Mithridates the Great, ascended the throne, and espoused a daughter of Seleucus Callinicus, king of Syria, by whom he had Laodice, who was married to Antiochus the Great. He was succeeded by his son Pharnaces, A. M. 3819. who had some disagreement with the kings Ant. J. C. 185. of Pergamus. He made himself master of Sinope, which afterwards became the capi- tal of the kingdom of Pontus. After him reigned Mithridates V., surnamed Euergetes, the first who was called the friend of the Romans, because he had assisted them against the Carthaginians in the third Punic war. He was succeeded by his son Mithri- A. M. 3880. dates VI. surnamed Eupator. This is the Ant. J. C. 124. great Mithridates who sustained so long a war with the Romans: he reigned sixty- six years. Kings of Cappadocia. STRABo a informs us, that Cappadocia was divided into a Strab. I. xii. p. 534. VOL. I. k cxxx PREFACE. two Satrapies, or governments, under the Persians, as it also was under the Macedonians. The maritime part of Cappadocia formed the kingdom of Pontus: the other tracts constituted Cappadocia properly so called, or Cappadocia Major, which extended along mount Taurus, and to a great distance beyond it. When Alexander's captains divided the A. M. 3682. provinces of his empire among themselves, Aiit. J. C. 322. Cappadocia was governed by a prince named Ariarathes. Perdiccas attacked and defeated him, alter which he caused him to be slain. His son Ariarathes re-entered the kingdom of his father some time after this event, and established himself so ef- fectually, that he left it to his posterity. The generality of his successors assumed the same name, and will have their place in the series of the history. Cappadocia, after the death of Archelaus, the last of its kings, became a province of the Roman empire, as the rest of Asia also did much about the same time. Kings of Armenia. ARMENIA, a vast country of Asia, extending on each side of the Euphrates, was conquered by the Persians; after which it was transferred, with the rest of the empire, to the Macedonians, and at last fell to the share of the Ro- mans. It was governed for a great length of time by its own kings, the most considerable of whom was Tigranes, who espoused the daughter of the great Mithridates, king of Pontus, and was also engaged in a long war with the Romans. This kingdom supported itself many years, be- tween the Roman and Parthian empires, sometimes de- pending on the one and sometimes on the other, till at last the Romans became its masters. Kings ofEpirus. EPIRUS is a province of Greece, separated from Thes- saly and Macedonia by mount Pindus. The most power- ful people of this country were the Molossians. The kings ofEpirus pretended to derive their descent from Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles, who established himself in that country; and called themselves JEacidae, from ^Ea- cus, the grandfather of Achilles. b The genealogy of the latter kings, who were the only sovereigns of this country of whom any accounts remain, is variously related by authors, and consequently must be doubtful and obscure. k Diod. 1. xvi. p. 466. Justin. 1. viii. c. 6. Plut. in PVrrho, PREFACE. cxxxi Aryrabas ascended the throne, after a long succession of kings ; and as he was then very young, the states of Epirus, who were sensible that the welfare of the people depends on the proper education of their princes, sent him to Athens, which was the residence and centre of all the arts and sciences, in order to cultivate, in that excellent school, such knowledge as was necessary to form the mind of a king. He there learned the art of reigning, and * as he surpassed all his ancestors in ability and knowledge, he was in con- sequence infinitely more esteemed and beloved by his peo- ple than they had been. When he returned from Athens, he made laws, established a senate and magistracy, and regulated the form of the government. Neoptolemus, whose daughter Olympias had espoused Philip king of Macedon, attained an equal share in the regal government with Arymbas his eldest brother, by the influence of his son-in-law. After the death of Arymbas, ^Eacidas, his son, ought to have been his successor ; but Philip had still sufficient influence to procure his expulsion from the kingdom by the Molossians, who establised Alex- ander, the son of Neoptolemus, sole monarch of Epirus. Alexander espoused Cleopatra, the daughter of Philip, and marched with an army into Italy, where he lost his life in the country of the Brutians. ^Eacidas then ascended the throne, and reigned without any associate in Epirus. He espoused Phthia, the daugh- ter of Menon the Thessalian, by whom he had two daugh- ters, Deidamia and Troias, and one son, the celebrated Pyrrhus. As he was marching to the assistance of Olympias, his troops mutinied against him, condemned him to exile, and slaughtered most of his friends. Pyrrhus, who was then an infant, happily escaped this massacre. Neoptolemus, a prince of the blood, but whose particu- lar extraction is little known, was placed on the throne by the people of Epirus. Pyrrhus, being recalled by his subjects at the age of twelve years, first shared the sovereignty with ]\ eoptole- mus; but having afterwards divested him of his dignity, he reigned alone. This history will treat of the various ad- A.M. 3733. ventures of this prince. He died in the Ant. J. c. 271. city of Argos, in an attack to make himself master of it. Helenus, his son, reigned after him for some time in Epirus, which was afterwards united to the Roman empire. * Quanta doctior ma yoribus, tanto et gratior populofuit. Just. 1. xvii. c.3. k 2 exxxii PREFACE. Tyrants of Heraclea. HERACLEA is a city of Pontus, anciently founded by the Boeotians, who sent a colony into that country by the order of an oracle. c When the Athenians, having conquered the Persians, had imposed a tribute on the cities of Greece and Asia Minor, for the fitting out and support of a fleet intended for the defence of the common liberty, the inhabitants of Heraclea, in consequence of their attachment to the Per- sians, were the only people who refused to acquiesce in so just a contribution. Lamachus was therefore sent against them, and he ravaged their territories; but a violent tem- pest having destroyed his whole fleet, he beheld himself abandoned to the mercy of that people, whose innate fe- rocity might naturally have been increased, by the severe treatment they had lately received. But * they had re- course to no other vengeance than kindness; they furnish- ed him with provisions and troops for his return, and were willing to consider the depredations which had been com- mitted in their country as advantageous to them, if at that price they could convert the enmity of the Athenians into friendship. Some time after this event, the populace A.M. 3640. of Heraclea excited a violent commotion Ant. J. C. 364. against the rich citizens and senators, who having implored assistance to no effect, first from Timotheus the Athenian, and afterwards from Epaminondas the Theban, were necessitated to recall Clearchus a senator to their defence, whom themselves had banished; but his exile had neither improved his morals nor rendered him a better citizen than he was before. He therefore made the troubles, in which he found the city involved, subservient to his design of subjecting it to his own power. With this view he openly declared for the people, caused himself to be invested with the highest office in the magistracy, and assumed a sovereign autho- rity in a short time. Being thus become a professed ty- rant, there were no kinds of violence to which he had not recourse against the rich and the senators, to satiate his avarice and cruelty. He proposed for his model Diony- c Justin. 1. xvi. c. 3 5. Diod. 1. xv. p. 390. * Heraclienses honestiorem beneficii, quam ultionis occasionem rati, in- structos commeatibus auxiliisque dimittunt; bene agrorum suorum popula- tionem impensam existimantes, si, quos hostes habuerant, amicos reddidis- scnt. Justin. PREFACE. cxxxiii sius the Tyrant, who had established his power over the Syracusans at the same time. After a hard and inhuman servitude of twelve years, two young citizens, who were Plato's disciples, and had been instructed in his maxims, formed a conspiracy against Clearchus, and slew him ; but though they delivered their country from the tyrant, the tyranny still subsisted. A M sr52 d Timotheus, the son of Clearchus, as- Ant.J c'352. sumed his place, and pursued his conduct for the space of fifteen years. e He was succeeded by his brother Dio- A. M. 3667. nysius, who was in danger of being dispos- Ant.J.C. 337. sessed of his authority by Perdiccas; but as this last was soon destroyed, Dionysius contracted a friendship with Antigonus, whom he assisted against Ptolemy in the Cyprian war. He espoused Amastris, the widow of Craterus, and daughter of Oxiathres, the brother of Darius. This alliance inspired him with so much courage, that he assumed the title of king, and enlarged his dominions by the addition of several places which he seized on the confines of He- raclea. He died two or three years before the A. M. 3700. battle of Ipsus, after a reign of thirty-three Ant. J. C.304. years, leaving two sons and a daughter under the tutelage and regency of Amastris. This princess was rendered happy in her administration, by the affection Antigonus entertained for her. She found- ed a city, and called it by her own name; into which she transplanted the inhabitants of three other cities, and es- poused Lysimachus, after the death of Antigonus/ Kings of Syracuse. HIERO, and his son Hieronymus, reign- Ant J C 269 ed at s Y ra cuse; the first fifty-four years, the second but one year. A.M. 3789 Syracuse recovered its liberty by the Ant! J.C.215. death of the last, but continued in the in- terest of the Carthaginians, which Hiero- Ant J C 213 nymus had caused it to espouse. His con- duct obliged Marcellus to form the siege of that city, which he took the following year. I shall enlarge upon the history of these two kings in another place. d Diod. 1. xvi. p. 435. e Ibid. p. 478. f Jbid. 1, xx. p. 833. cxxxiv PREFACE. Other Kings. SEVERAL kings likewise reigned in the Cimmerian Bos- phorus, as also in Thrace, Cyrene in Africa, Papnlagonia, Colchis, Iberia, Albania, and a variety of other places; but their history is very uncertain, and their successions have but little regularity. These circumstances are very different with respect to the kingdom of the Parthians, who formed themselves, as we shall see in the sequel, into such a powerful monarchy, as became formidable even to the Roman empire. That of the Bactrians received its original about the same pe- riod : I shall treat of each in their proper places. CATALOGUE of the Editions of the principal GREEK AUTHORS cited in this WORK. HERODOTUS. Franco/. An. 1608. THUCYDIDES. Apud Henricum Stephanum, An. 1588. XENOPHON. Lutelice Parisiorum, apud Socielatem Grcecarum Editionum, An. 1625. POLYBIUS. Parisiis, An. 1609. DIODORUS SICULUS. Hanovice, Typis Wechelianis, An. 1604. PLUTARCH us. Lulelice Parisiorum apud Socielatem Grcecarum Editionum, An. 1624. STRABO. Lutetice Parisiorum, Typis regiis, An. 1620. ATHEN^EUS. Lugduni, An. 1612. PAUSANIAS. Hanovice, Typis Wechelianis, An. 1613. APPIANUS ALEXANDER. Apud Henric. Stephan. An. 1592. PLATO. Ex novd Joannis Serrani interpretation. Apud Henricum Stephanum, An. 1578. ARISTOTELES. Lutetice Parisiorum, apud Societatem Grcecarum Editionum, An. 1619. ISOCRATES. Apud Paulum Stephanum, An. 1604. DIOGENES LAERTIUS. Apud Henricum Stephanum. An. 1594. DEMOSTHENES. Franco/. An. 1604. ARRIANUS. Lugd. Batav. An. 1704. BOOK I. _____ THE ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE EGYPTIANS. PART I. Description of Egypt : with an Account of whatever is most curious and remarkable in that Country. EGYPT comprehended anciently, within limits of no very great extent, a prodigious number of cities/ and an incredible multitude of inhabitants. It is bounded on the east by the Red Sea and the Isthmus of Suez ; on the south by Ethiopia, on the west by Libya, and on the north by the Mediterranean. The Nile runs from south to north, through the whole coun- try, about two hundred leagues in length. This coun- try is enclosed on each side with a ridge of mountains, which very often leave, between the foot of the hills and the river Nile, a tract of ground of not above half a day's journey in length, 5 and sometimes less. On the west side, the plain grows wider in some places, and extends to twenty-five or thirty leagues. The great- est breadth of Egypt is from Alexandria to Damietta, being about fifty leagues. Ancient Egypt may be divided into three principal parts : Upper Egypt, otherwise called Thebais, which was the most southern part ; Middle Egypt, or Hepta- nomis, so called from the seven Nomi or districts it con- a It is related that under Aniasis, there were twenty thousand inha- bited cities in Egypt. Herod. 1. ii. c. 177. b A day's journey is twenty-four eastern, or thirty-three English miles and a quarter. 130 DESCRIPTION tained : Lower Egypt, which included what the Greeks called Delta, and all the country as far as the Red Sea, and along the Mediterranean to Rhinocolura, or mount Ca- sius. Under Sesostris/ all Egypt became one kingdom, and was divided into thirty-six governments or Nomi r ten in Thebais, ten in Delta, and sixteen in the country between both. The cities of Syene and Elephantina divided Egypt from Ethiopia ; and in the days of Augustus were the boundaries of the Roman empire : Claustra olim Romani Imperil, Tacit. Annal. lib. ii. cap. 6l. CHAP. I. THEBAIS. THEBES, from whence Thebais had its name, might vie with the noblest cities in the universe. Its hundred gates, celebrated by Homer/ are universally known ; and acquired it the surname of Hecatornpylos, to distin- guish it from the other Thebes in Boeotia. Its popula- tion was proportionate to its extent ; e and, according to history, it could send out at once two hundred chariots and ten thousand fighting men at each of its gates. The Greeks and Romans have celebrated its magnificence and grandeur/ though they saw it only in its ruins ; so au- gust were the remains of this city. In the Thebaid/ now called Said, have been disco- vered temples and palaces which are still almost entire, adorned with innumerable columns and statues. One palace especially is admired, the remains whereof seem to have existed purely to eclipse the glory of the most pompous edifices. Four walks extending farther than the eye can see, and bounded on each side with sphinxes, composed of materials as rare and extraordinary as their size is remarkable, serve as avenues to four porticoes, whose height is amazing to behold. And even they who c Strabo, 1. xvii. p. 787. d Horn. II. i. ver. 381. e Strabo, 1. xvii. p. 816. f Tacit. Ann. 1. ii. c. 60. * Thevenot's Travels. OF EGYPT. 137 have given us the description of this wonderful edifice, had not time to go round it ; and are not sure that they saw above half: however, what they had a sight of was astonishing. A hall, which in all appearance stood in the middle of this stately palace, was supported by a hun- dred and twenty pillars six fathoms round, of a propor- tionable height, and intermixed with obelisks, which so many ages have not been able to demolish. Painting had displayed all her art and magnificence in this edifice. The colours themselves, which soonest feel the injury of time, still remain amidst the ruins of this wonderful structure, and preserve their beauty and lustre ; so hap- pily could the Egyptians imprint a character of immor- tality on all their works. Strabo, h who was on the spot, describes a temple he saw in Egypt, very much resem- bling that of which I have been speaking. The same author, 1 describing the curiosities of The- bais, speaks of a very famous statue of Memnon, the remains whereof he had seen. It is said that this statue, when the beams of the rising sun first shone upon it in the morning, uttered an articulate sound. k And indeed Strabo himself was an ear-witness of this ; but then he doubts whether the sound came from the statue. CHAP. II. MIDDLE EGYPT, OR HEPTANOMIS. MEMPHIS was the capital of this part of Egypt. In this city were to be seen many stately temples; among them that of the god Apis, who was honoured here after a particular manner. I shall speak of it hereafter, as well as of the pyramids which stood in the neighbourhood of this place, and rendered it so famous. Memphis was situated on the west side of the Nile. Grand Cairo, 1 which seems to have succeeded Mem- h Lib. xvii. p. 805. i P. 816. k Germanicus aliis quoque miraculis intendit aniimun, quorum praeci- pua fuere Memnonis saxea effigies, ubi radiis solis icta est, vocalcm so- num reddens, &c. Tacit. Annal. 1. ii. c. 61. ' Thevenot. 138 DESCRIPTION phis, is built on the other side of that river. The castle of Cairo is one of the greatest curiosities in Egypt. It stands on a hill without the city, has a rock for its foun- dation, and is surrounded with walls of a vast height and solidity. You go up to the castle by a way hewn out of the rock, and which is so easy of ascent, that loaded horses and camels get up without difficulty. The great- est rarity in this castle is Joseph's well, so called, either because the Egyptians are pleased with ascribing what is most remarkable among them to that great man, or because such a tradition has been preserved in the coun- try. This is a proof, at least, that the work in question is very ancient ; and it is certainly worthy the magnifi- cence of the most powerful kings of Egypt. This well has, as it were, two stories, cut out of the solid rock to a prodigious depth. The descent to the reservoir of water, between the two wells, is by a staircase seven or eight feet broad, consisting of two hundred and twenty steps, and so contrived, that the oxen employed to throw up the water, go down with all imaginable ease, the de- scent being scarcely perceptible. The well is supplied from a spring, which is almost the only one in the whole country. The oxen are continually turning a wheel with a rope, to which a number of buckets are fastened. The water thus drawn from the first and lowermost well is conveyed by a little canal into a reservoir, which forms the second well ; from whence it is drawn to the top in the same manner, and then conveyed by pipes to all parts of the castle. As this well is supposed by the in- habitants of the country to be of great antiquity, and has indeed much of the antique manner of the Egyptians, I thought it might deserve a place among the curiosities of ancient Egypt. Strabo m speaks of a similar engine, which, by wheels and pulleys, threw up the water of the Nile to the top of a very high hill ; with this difference, that, instead of oxen, a hundred and fifty slaves were employed to turn these wheels. The part of Egypt of which we now speak, is famous m Lib. xvii. p. 807. OF EGYPT. 139 for several rarities, each of which deserves a particular examination. I shall mention only the principal, such as the obelisks, the pyramids, the labyrinth, the lake of Moeris, and the Nile. SECT. I. THE OBELISKS. Egypt seemed to place its chief glory in raising mo- numents for posterity. Its obelisks form at this clay, on account of their beauty as well as height, the principal ornament of Rome ; and the Roman power, despairing to equal the Egyptians, thought it honour enough to borrow the monuments of their kings. An obelisk is a quadrangular, taper, high spire, or py- ramid, raised perpendicularly, and terminating in a point, to serve as an ornament to some open square ; and is very often covered with inscriptions or hieroglyphics, that is, with mystical characters or symbols used by the Egyptians to conceal and disguise their sacred things, and the mysteries of their theology. Sesostris erected in the city of Heliopolis two obelisks of extreme hard stone, brought from the quarries of Syene, at the extremity of Egypt. 11 They were each one hundred and twenty cubits high, that is, thirty fathoms, or one hundred and eighty feet. The emperor Augus- tus, having made Egypt a province of the empire, caused these two obelisks to be transported to Rome, one whereof was afterwards broken to pieces. He dared not venture to make the same attempt upon a third, which was of a monstrous size. p It was made in the reign of Rameses : it is said that twenty thousand men were employed in the cutting of it. Constantius, more daring than Augustus, caused it to be removed to Rome. Two of these obelisks are still to be seen there, as well as another a hundred cubits, or twenty-five fathoms high, and eight cubits, or two fathoms, in diameter. Caius Caesar had it brought from Egypt in a ship of so odd a form, that, according to Pliny , q the like had never been seen. a Diod. lib. i. p. 37. Ifc is proper to observe, once for all, that an Egyptian cubit, accord- ing to Mr. Greaves, was one foot nine inches and about f of our measure. P Plin. 1. xxxvi. c. 8, 9. * Plin. 1. xxxvi. c. 9. 140 DESCRIPTION Every part of Egypt abounded with this kind of obe- lisks ; they were for the most part cut in the quarries of Upper Egypt, where some are now to be seen half finished. But the most wonderful circumstance is, that the ancient Egyptians should have had the art and contrivance to dig even in the very quarry a canal, through which the water of the Nile ran in the time of its inundation ; from whence they afterwards raised up the columns, obelisks, and statues, on rafts r proportioned to their weight, in order to convey them into Lower Egypt. And as the country was intersected every where with canals, there were few places to which those huge bodies might not be carried with ease ; although their weight would have broken every other kind of engine. SECT. II. THE PYRAMIDS. A pyramid is a solid or hollow body, 8 having a large, and generally a square base, and terminating in a point. There were three pyramids in Egypt more famous than the rest, one whereof was justly ranked among the seven wonders of the world ; they stood not very far from the city of Memphis. I shall take notice here only of the largest of the three. This pyramid, like the rest, was built on a rock, having a square base, cut on the outside as so many steps, and decreasing gradu- ally quite to the summit. It was built with stones of a prodigious size, the least of which were thirty feet, wrought with wonderful art, and covered with hierogly- phics. According to several ancient authors, each side was eight hundred feet broad, and as many high. The summit of the pyramid, which to those who viewed it from below, seemed a point, was a fine platform, com- posed of ten or twelve massy stones, and each side of that platform sixteen or eighteen feet long. M. de Chazelles, of the Academy of Sciences, who went purposely on the spot in 1 693, gives us the follow- ing dimensions : r Rafts are pieces of flat timber put together, to carry goods on rivers. 9 Herod. 1. ii. c. 134, &c. Diod. 1. i. p. 3941. Plin. lib. xxxvi. c. 12. OF EGYPT. J41 The side of the square base 1 10 fathoms. The fronts are equilateral triangles,} 12 10Q e and therefore the superficies of > f th s the base is j The perpendicular height 77 f fathoms. The solid contents 313,5QO cubical fathoms. A hundred thousand men were constantly employed about this work, and were relieved every three months by the same number. Ten complete years were spent in hewing out the stones, either in Arabia or Ethiopia, and in conveying them to Egypt; and twenty years more in building this immense edifice, the inside of which contained numberless rooms and apartments. There were expressed on the pyramid, in Egyptian cha- racters, the sums it cost only for garlic, leeks, onions, and other vegetables of this description, for the work- men ; and the whole amounted to sixteen hundred ta- lents of silver, 1 that is, four millions five hundred thou- sand French livres ; from whence it was easy to conjec- ture what a vast sum the whole expense must have amounted to. Such were the famous Egyptian pyramids, which by their figure, as well as size, have triumphed over the in- juries of time and the Barbarians. But what efforts soever men may make, their nothingness will always appear. These pyramids were tombs ; and there is still to be seen, in the middle of the largest, an empty sepul- chre, cut out of one entire stone, about three feet deep and broad, and a little above six feet long. u Thus all this bustle, all this expense, and all the labours of so many thousand men for so many years, ended in pro- curing for a prince, in this vast and almost boundless pile of building, a little vault six feet in length. Besides, the kings who built these pyramids, had it not in their power to be buried in them ; and so did not enjoy the sepulchre they had built. The public hatred which they incurred, by reason of their unheard-of cruelties to their subjects, in laying such heavy tasks upon them, occa- sioned their being interred in some obscure place, to e About 200,0007. sterling. u Strabo mentions the sepulchre, lib. xvii. p. 808, 142 DESCRIPTION prevent their bodies from being exposed to the fury and vengeance of the populace. This last circumstance/ which historians have taken particular notice of, teaches us what judgment we ought to pass on these edifices, so much boasted of by the an- cients. It is but just to remark and esteem the noble genius which the Egyptians had for architecture ; a ge- nius that prompted them from the earliest times, and before they could have any models to imitate, to aim in all things at the grand and magnificent ; and to be in- tent on real beauties, without deviating in the least from a noble simplicity, in which the highest perfection of the art consists. But what idea ought we to form of those princes, who considered as something grand, the raising by a multitude of hands, and by the help of money, immense structures, with the sole view of ren- dering their names immortal ; and who did not scruple to destroy thousands of their subjects to satisfy their vain- glory ! They differed very much from the Romans, who sought to immortalize themselves by works of a magni- ficent kind, but, at the same time, of public utility. Pliny w gives us, in few words, a just idea of these py- ramids, when he calls them a foolish and useless osten- tation of the wealth of the Egyptian kings ; Return pe- cunice otiosa ac stulta ostentatio : and adds, that by a just punishment their memory is buried in oblivion ; the his- torians not agreeing among themselves about the names of those who first raised those vain monuments; Inter eos non constat a quibus factce sint, justissimo casu oblite- ratis tantce vanitatis auctoribus. In a word, according to the judicious remark of Diodorus, the industry of the architects of those pyramids is no less valuable and praise- worthy, than the design of the Egyptian kings is con- temptible and ridiculous. But what we should most admire in these ancient monuments, is, the true and standing evidence they give of the skill of the Egyptians in astronomy ; that is, in a science which seems incapable of being brought to per- fection, but by a long series of years, and a great num- ber of observations. M. de Chazelles, when he mea- v Diod. lib. i. p. 40. w Lib. xxxvi. cap. 12. OF EGYPT. 143 sured the great pyramid in question, found that the four sides of it were turned exactly to the four quarters of the world ; and consequently shewed the true meridian of that place. Now, as so exact a situation was in all pro- bability purposely pitched upon by those who piled up this huge mass of stones above three thousand years ago, it follows, that during so long a space of time, there has been no alteration in the heavens in that respect, or (which amounts to the same thing) in the poles of the earth or the meridians. This is M. de Fontenelle's re- mark in his eulogium of M. de Chazelles. SECT. III. THE LABYRINTH. What has been said concerning the judgment we ought to form of the pyramids,* may also be applied to the labyrinth, which Herodotus, who saw it, assures us was still more surprising than the pyramids. It was built at the southern extremity of the lake of Moeris, whereof mention will be made presently, near the town of Croco- diles, the same with Arsinoe. It was not so much one single palace, as a magnificent pile composed of twelve palaces, regularly disposed, which had a communication with each other. Fifteen hundred rooms, interspersed with terraces, were ranged round twelve halls, and dis- covered no outlet to such as went to see them. There was the like number of buildings under ground. These subterraneous structures were designed for the burying- place of the kings, and also (who can speak this without confusion, and without deploring the blindness of man !) for keeping the sacred crocodiles, which a nation, so wise in other respects, worshipped as gods. In order to visit the rooms and halls of the labyrinth, it was necessary, as the reader will naturally suppose, for people to take the same precaution as Ariadne made Theseus use, when he was obliged to go and fight the Minotaur in the labyrinth of Crete. Virgil describes it in this manner : Ut quondam Greta ferlur labyrintbns in alta Parielibus textual caecis iter ancipitemque Mille viis babuisse dolum, qua signa sequendi Falleret indeprensus et irremeabilis error.* x Herod. 1. ii. c, 148. Diod. 1. i. p. 42. Plin. I. xxxvi. c. 13. Strab. 1. xvii. p. 811. y ^Eneid, 1. v. ver. 588, &c. 144 DESCRIPTION Hlc labor ille domus, et inextricabilis error. Daedalus, ipse dolos tecti ambagesque resolvit, Caeca regens filo vestigia. 2 And as the Cretan labyrinth of old, With wand'ring ways, and many a winding fold, Involved the weary feet without redress, In a round error, which deny'd recess: Not far from thence he grav'd the wondrous maze; A thousand doors, a thousand winding ways. SECT. IV. THE LAKE OF MCERJS. The noblest and most wonderful of all the structures or works of the kings of Egypt, was the lake of Mceris : a accordingly, Herodotus considers it as vastly superior to the pyramids and labyrinth. As Egypt was more or less fruitful in proportion to the inundations of the Nile; and as in these floods, the too great or too little rise of the waters was equally fatal to the lands, king Mceris, to prevent these two inconveniences, and to correct, as far as lay in his power, the irregularities of the Nile, thought proper to call art to the assistance of nature ; and so caused the lake to be dug, which afterwards went by his name. This lake was in circumference about three thousand six hundred stadia, b that is, about one hundred and eighty French leagues, and three hundred feet deep. Two pyramids, on each of which was placed a colossal statue, seated on a throne, raised their heads to the height of three hundred feet, in the midst of the lake, whilst their foundations took up the same space under the water ; a proof that they were erected before the cavity was filled, and a demonstration that a lake of such vast extent was the work of man's hands, in one prince's reign. This is what several historians have re- lated concerning the lake Mceris, on the testimony of the inhabitants of the country. And M. Bossuet, the bishop of Meaux, in his discourse on universal history, relates the whole as fact. For my part, I will confess that I do not see the least probability in it. Is it possible to conceive, that a lake of a hundred and eighty leagues in circumference, could have been dug in the reign of z jEneid, 1. vi. ver. 27, &c. a Herod. 1. ii. c. 140. Strabo, 1, xvii. p, 787. Diod. 1. i. p. 47. Plin. I. v. c. 9. Pomp. Mela, I. i. b Vide Herod, et Diod. Pliny agrees almost with them. OF EGYPT. 145 one prince ? In what manner, and where, could the earth taken from it be conveyed ? What should prompt the Egyptians to lose the surface of so much land ? By what arts could they fill this vast tract with the superfluous waters of the Nile ? Many other objections might be made. In my opinion, therefore, we ought to follow Pomponius Mela, an ancient geographer ; especially as his account is confirmed by several modern travellers. According to that author, this lake is but twenty thou- sand paces, that is, seven or eight French leagues, in cir- cumference. Moeris, aliquando campus, nunc lacus, vi- ginti millia passuum in circuitu patens." This lake had a communication with the Nile, by a great canal, more than four leagues long/ and fifty feet broad. Great sluices either opened or shut the canal and lake, as there was occasion. The charge of opening or shutting them amounted to fifty talents, that is, fifty thousand French crowns. 6 The fishing of this lake brought the monarch immense sums ; but its chief utility related to the overflowing of the Nile. When it rose too high, and was like to be at- tended with fatal consequences, the sluices were opened, and the waters, having a free passage into the lake, co- vered the lands no longer than was necessary to enrich them. On the contrary, when the inundation was too low, and threatened a famine, a sufficient quantity of water, by the help of drains, was let out of the lake, to water the lands. In this manner the irregularities of the Nile were corrected ; and Strabo remarks, that, in his time, under Petronius, a governor of Egypt, when the inundation of the Nile was twelve cubits, a very great plenty ensued; and even when it rose but to eight cubits, the dearth was scarce felt in the country ; doubt- less because the waters of the lake made up for those of the inundation, by the help of canals and drains. SECT. V. THE INUNDATIONS OF THE NILE. The Nile is the greatest wonder of Egypt. As it seldom rains there, this river, which waters the whole c Mela, I. i d Eighty-five stadia. e 11,250*. sterling. VOL. I. L 146 DESCRIPTION country by its regular inundations, supplies that defect, by bringing, as a yearly tribute, the rains of other coun- tries ; which made a poet say ingeniously, The Egyp- tian pastures, how great soever the drought may be, never implore Jupiter for rain : Te propter imllos lellus tua postulat imbres, Arida nee pluvio supplicat herba Jovi. f To multiply so beneficent a river, Egypt was cut into numberless canals, of a length and breadth proportioned to the different situations and wants of the lands. The Nile brought fertility every where with its salutary streams ; united cities one with another, and the Medi- terranean with the Red Sea ; maintained trade at home and abroad, and fortified the kingdom against the ene- my ; so that it was at once the nourisher and protector of Egypt. The fields were delivered up to it ; but the cities that were raised with immense labour, and stood like islands in the midst of the waters, looked down with joy on the plains which were overflowed, and at the same time en- riched, by the Nile. This is a general idea of the nature and effects of this river, so famous among the ancients. But a wonder so astonishing in itself, and which has been the object of the curiosity and admiration of the learned in all ages, seems to require a more particular description, in which I shall be as concise as possible. ] . The Sources of the Nile. The ancients placed the sources of the Nile in the mountains of the moon (as they are commonly called), in the tenth degree of south latitude. But our modern travellers have discovered that they lie in the twelfth degree of north latitude ; and by that means they cut off about four or five hundred leagues of the course which the ancients gave that river. It rises at the foot of a great mountain in the kingdom of Gojam in Abys- sinia, from two springs, or eyes, to speak in the language f Seneca (Nat. Quccst. I. iv. c. 2.) ascribes these verses to Ovid, but they are Tibullus's. OF EGYPT. 147 of the country, the same word in Arabic signifying eye and fountain. These springs are thirty paces from one another, each as large as one of our wells or a coach- wheeL The Nile is increased with many rivulets which run into it ; and after passing through Ethiopia in a very winding course, flows at last into Egypt. 2. The Cataracts of the Nile. This name is given to some parts of the Nile, where the water falls down from the steep rocks. 5 This river, which at first glided smoothly along the vast deserts of Ethiopia, before it enters Egypt, passes by the cataracts. Then growing on a sudden, contrary to its nature, raging and violent in those places where it is pent up and re- strained ; after having at last broken through all obsta- cles in its way, it precipitates itself from the top of some rocks to the bottom, with so loud a noise, that it is heard three leagues off. The inhabitants of the country, accustomed by long practice to this sport, exhibit here a spectacle to travel- lers that is more terrifying than diverting. Two of them go into a little boat, the one to guide it, the other to throw out the water. After having long sustained the violence of the raging waves by managing their little boat very dexterously, they suffer themselves to be car- ried away with the impetuous torrent as swift as an ar- row. The affrighted spectator imagines they are going to be swallowed up in the precipice down which they fall ; when the Nile, restored to its natural course, dis- * Excipiunt eum (Nilum) cataractae, nobilis insigni spectaculo locus. lllic excitatis primfrm aqu:s, quas sine tumultu leni alveo duxerat, violentus et torrens per tnalignos transitus prosilit, dissimilis sibi tandemque cluctatus obstantia, in vastam altitudinem subito destitutes cadit, cum ingenti circumjacentium regionum strepitu; quern perferre gens ibi & Persis collocata non potuit, obtusis assiduo fragore auribus, et ob hoc sedibus ad quietiora translatis. Inter miracula flimiinis incredi- bilcin mcolarum audaciam accepi. Bini parvula navigia conscendunt, quorum alter navem regit, alter exhaurit. I)einde multum inter rapidam insaniam Nili et reciprocos fluctus volutati, tandem tenuissimos canales teuent, per quos angusta rupium effugiunt : et cum toto lluminc effusi navigium ruens maim temperant, magnoque spectantium metu in caput nixi, cum jam adploraveris, mersosque atque obrutos tanta mole credi- deris, longe ab eo in quern ceciderant loco navigant, tormenti modo missi. Nee mergit cadens unda, sed plants aquis tradit. Senec. Nat. Qucest. 1. iv. c. 2. L 2 148 DESCRIPTION covers them again, at a considerable distance, on its smooth and calm waters. This is Seneca's account, which is confirmed by our modern travellers. 3 . Causes of the Inundations of the Nile. The ancients h have invented many subtile reasons for the Nile's great increase, as may be seen in Herodotus, Diodorus Siculus, and Seneca. But it is now no longer a matter of dispute, it being almost universally allowed, that the inundations of the Nile are owing to the great rains which fall in Ethiopia, from whence this river flows. These rains swell it to such a degree, that Ethiopia first, and then Egypt, are overflowed ; and that which at first was but a large river, rises like a sea, and overspreads the whole country. Strabo observes, 1 that the ancients only guessed that the inundations of the Nile were owing to the rains which fall in great abundance in Ethiopia ; but adds, that se- veral travellers have since been eye-witnesses of it ; Pto- lemy Philadelphus, who was very curious in all things relating to arts and sciences, having sent thither able persons, purposely to examine this matter, and to ascer- tain the cause of so uncommon and remarkable an effect. 4. The Time and Continuance of the Inundations. Herodotus, k and after him Diodorus Siculus, and se- veral other authors, declare, that the Nile begins to swell in Egypt at the summer solstice, that is, about the end of June, and continues to rise till the end of Sep- tember ; and then decreases gradually during the months of October and November ; after which it returns to its channel, and resumes its wonted course. This account agrees very nearly with the relations of all the moderns, and is founded in reality on the natural cause of the in- undation, viz. the rains which fall in Ethiopia. Now, according to the constant testimony of those who have been on the spot, these rains begin to fall in the month b Herod. 1. ii. c. 1927. Diod. 1. i. p. 3539. Senec. Nat. Quaest. 1. iv. c. 1 & 2. 1 Lib. xvii. p. 789. k Herod. 1. ii. c. 19. Diod. 1. i, p. 32. OF EGYPT. 149 of April, and continue, during five months, till the end of August and beginning of September. The Nile's in- crease in Egypt must, consequently, begin three weeks or a month after the rains have begun to fall in Abyssi- nia ; and accordingly travellers observe, that the Nile begins to rise in the month of May, but so slowly at the first, that it probably does not yet overflow its banks. The inundation happens not till about the end of June, and lasts the three following months, according to He- rodotus. I must point out to such as consult the originals, a contradiction in this place between Herodotus and Dio- dorus on one side ; and between Strabo, Pliny, and So- linus, on the other. These last shorten very much the continuance of the inundation ; and suppose the Nile to draw off from the lands in three months or a hundred days. And what adds to the difficulty, is, that Pliny seems to ground his opinion on the testimony of He- rodotus: In totum autem revocatur Nilus intra ripas in Libra, ut tradit Herodotus, centesimo die. I leave to the learned the reconciling of this contradiction. 5. The Height of the Inundations. The just height of the inundation, 1 according to Pliny, is sixteen cubits. When it rises but to twelve or thirteen, a famine is threatened ; and when it exceeds sixteen, there is danger. It must be remembered, that a cubit is a foot and a half. The emperor Julian takes notice, 01 in a letter to Ecdicius, prefect of Egypt, that the height of the Nile's overflowing was fifteen cubits, the 20th of September, in 362. The ancients do not agree entirely with one another, nor with the moderns, with regard to the height of the inundation ; but the difference is not very considerable, and may proceed, 1 . from the dispa- rity between the ancient and modern measures, which it is hard to estimate on a fixed and certain foot ; 2. from 1 Justum incrementum est cubitorum xvi. Minores aquae non omnia rigant : ampliores detinent tarditis recedendo. Hae serendi tempora ab- sumunt solo madente; ilkv non dant sitiente. IJtrumque reputat pro- vincia. In duodecim cubitis famem sentit, in tredecim etiamnum esurit; quatuordecim cubita hilaritatcm efferunt, quindecim securitatem, sexdc- cim delicias. Plin. I. v. c. 9. m Jul. Epist. 50. 150 DESCRIPTION the carelessness of the observers and historians ; 3. from the real difference of the Nile's increase, which was not so great the nearer it approached the sea. As the riches of Egypt depended on the inundation of the Nile/ all the circumstances and different degrees of its increase had been carefully considered ; and by a long series of regular observations, made during many years, the inundation itself discovered what kind of harvest the ensuing year was likely to produce. The kings had placed at Memphis a measure on which these different increases were remarked ; and from thence notice was given to all the rest of Egypt, the inhabitants of which knew, by that means, beforehand, what they might fear or promise themselves from the harvest. Strabo speaks of a well on the banks of the Nile near the town of Syene, made for that purpose. The same custom is observed to this day at Grand Cairo. In the court of a mosque there stands a pillar, on which are marked the degrees of the Nile's increase ; and common criers every day proclaim in all parts of the city, how high it is risen. The tribute paid to the Grand Seignior for the lands, is regulated by the inundation. The day on which it rises to a certain height, is kept as a grand festival, and solemnized with fire- works, feast- ings, and all the demonstrations of public rejoicing ; and in the remotest ages, the overflowing of the Nile was always attended with a universal joy throughout all Egypt, that being the fountain of its happiness. The heathens ascribed the inundation of the Nile to their god Serapis ; p and the pillar on which was marked the increase, was preserved religiously in the temple of that idol. The emperor Constantine having ordered it to be removed into the church of Alexandria, the Egyp- tians spread a report, that the Nile would rise no more by reason of the wrath of Serapis ; but the river over- flowed and increased as usual the following years. Julian the apostate, a zealous protector of idolatry, caused this pillar to be replaced in the same temple, out of which it was again removed by the command of Theodosius. B Diod. I. i. p. 33. Lib. xvii. p. 817. P Socrat. 1. i. c. 18. Sozom. I. v. c. 3. OF EGYPT. 151 6. The Canals of the Nile and Spiral Pumps. Divine Providence, in giving so beneficent a river to Egypt, did not thereby intend that the inhabitants of it should be idle, and enjoy so great a blessing without taking any pains. One may naturally suppose, that as the Nile could not of itself cover the whole country, great labour was to be used to facilitate the overflowing of the lands ; and numberless canals cut, in order to convey the waters to all parts. The villages, which stand very thick on the banks of the Nile on eminences, have each their canals, which are opened at proper times, to let the water into the country. The more distant villages have theirs also, even to the extremities of the kingdom. Thus the waters are successively conveyed to the most remote places. Persons are not permitted to cut the trenches to receive the waters, till the river is at a certain height ; nor to open them all at once ; be- cause otherwise some lands would be too much over- flowed, and others not covered enough. They begin with opening them in Upper, and afterwards in Lower Egypt, according to the rules prescribed in a roll or book, in which all the measures are exactly set down. By this means the water is husbanded with such care, that it spreads itself over all the lands. The countries overflowed by the Nile are so extensive, and lie so low, and the number of canals so great, that of all the waters which flow into Egypt during the months of June, July, and August, it is believed that not a tenth part of them reaches the sea. But as, notwithstanding all these canals, there are still abundance of high lands which cannot receive the benefit of the Nile's overflowing ; this want is supplied by spiral pumps, which are turned by oxen, in order to bring the water into pipes, which convey it to these lands. Diodorus q speaks of a similar engine invented by Archimedes in his travels into Egypt, which is called Cochlea JEgyptia. i Lib. i. p. 30. and lib. v, p. 213. 152 DESCRIPTION 7. The Fertility caused by the Nile. There is no country in the world where the soil is more fruitful than in Egypt ; which is owing entirely to the Nile. r For whereas other rivers, when they overflow lands, wash away and exhaust their vivific moisture ; the Nile, on the contrary, by the excellent slirne it brings along with it, fattens and enriches them in such a manner, as sufficiently compensates for what the foregoing harvest had impaired. The husbandman, in this country, never tires himself with holding the plough, or breaking the clods of earth. As soon as the Nile retires, he has nothing to do but to turn up the earth, and temper it with a little sand, in order to lessen its rankness ; after which he sows it with great ease, and with little or no expense. Two months after it is co- vered with all sorts of corn and pulse. The Egyptians generally sow in October and November, according as the waters draw off; and their harvest is in March and April. The same land bears, in one year, three or four differ- ent kinds of crops. Lettuces and cucumbers are sown first; then corn; and, after harvest, several sorts of pulse which are peculiar to Egypt. As the sun is extremely hot in this country, arid rains fall very seldom in it, it is natural to suppose that the earth would soon be parched, and the corn and pulse burnt up by so scorching a heat, were it not for the canals and reservoirs with which Egypt abounds ; and which, by the drains from thence, amply supply wherewith to water and refresh the fields and gardens. The Nile contributes no less to the nourishment of cattle, which is another source of wealth to Egypt. The Egyptians begin to turn them out to grass in November, and they graze till the end of March. Words could never express how rich their pastures are ; and how fat the flocks and herds (which, by reason of the mildness of the air, are out night and day) grow in a very little time. r Cum caeteri amnes abluant terras et eviscerent; Nilus ,adeo nihil exedit nee abradit, ut contr^, adjiciat vires. Ita juvat agroS duabus ex causis, et quod inundat, et quod oblimat. Senec. Nat. Quasi, 1. iv. c. 2. OF EGYPT. 153 During the inundation of the Nile, they are fed with hay and cut straw, barley and beans, which are their common food. A man cannot, says Corneille de Bruyn in his Travels, 3 help observing the admirable providence of God towards this country, who sends at a fixed season such great quantities of rain in Ethiopia, in order to water Egypt, where a shower of rain scarce ever falls ; and who, by that means, causes the driest and most sandy soil, to become the richest and most fruitful country in the universe. Another thing to be observed here, is that (as the inhabitants say) in the beginning of June and the four following months the north-east winds blow constantly, in order to keep back the waters, which otherwise would draw off too fast ; and to hinder them from discharging themselves into the sea, the entrance to which these winds bar up, as it were, from them. The ancients have not omitted this circumstance. The same Providence, whose ways are wonderful and infinitely various,* displayed itself after a quite differ- ent manner in Palestine, in rendering it exceeding fruit- ful ; not by rains, which fall during the course of the year, as is usual in other places ; nor by a peculiar inun- dation, like that of the Nile in Egypt ; but by sending fixed rains at two seasons, when his people were obe- dient to him, to make them more sensible of their con- tinual dependance upon him. God himself commands them, by his servant Moses,- to make this reflection : The land whither thou goest in to possess it, is not as the land of Egypt, from whence ye came out, where thou sowedst thy seed, and wateredst it with thy foot, as a gar- den of herbs : but the land whither ye go to possess it, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven? After this, God promises to give his people, so long as they shall continue obedient to him, the former and the latter rain : the first in autumn, to bring up the corn ; and the second in the spring and summer, to make it grow and ripen. s Vol. ii. l Multiformis sapientia. Eph. iii. 10. u Deut. xi. 1013. 154 DESCRIPTION 8. The different Prospects exhibited by the Nile. There cannot be a finer sight than Egypt at two seasons of the year. * For if a man ascends some mountain, or one of the largest pyramids of Grand Cairo, in the months of July and August, he beholds a vast sea, in which numberless towns and villages appear, with several causeys leading from place to place ; the whole interspersed with groves and fruit-trees, whose tops only are visible ; all which forms a delightful pros- pect. This view is bounded by mountains and woods, which terminate, at the utmost distance the eye can dis- cover, the most beautiful horizon that can be imagined. On the contrary, in winter, that is to say in the months of January and February, the whole country is like one continued scene of beautiful meadows, whose verdure, enamelled with flowers, charms the eye. The spectator beholds, on every side, flocks and herds dispersed over all the plains, with infinite numbers of husbandmen and gardeners. The air is then perfumed by the great quantity of blossoms on the orange, lemon, and other trees ; and is so pure, that a wholesomer or more agree- able is not found in the world; so that nature, being then dead, as it were, in all other climates, seems to be alive only for so delightful an abode. Q. The Canal formed by the Nile, by which a Com- munication is made between the two Seas. x The canal, by which a communication was made be- tween the Red Sea and the Mediterranean, ought to have a place here, as it was not one of the least ad- vantages which the Nile procured to Egypt. Sesostris, or, according to others, Psammetichus, first projected the design, and began this work. Necho, successor to the last prince, laid out immense sums upon it, and em- ployed a prodigious number of men. It is said, that w Ilia fades pulcherrima est, cum jam se in agros Nilus ingessit. La- tent campi, opertaeque stint valles: oppida insularum modo extant. Nul- lum in- Mediterraneis, nisi per navigia, commercium est: majorque est laetitia in gentibus, quo minus terrarum suarum vident. Senec. Nat. Quatst. I. iv. c. 2. K Herod. 1. ii. c. 158. Strab. 1. xvii. p. 804. Plin. I. vi. c. 29. Diod. 1. i. p. *9. OF EGYPT. above six score thousand Egyptians perished in the un- dertaking. He gave it over, terrified by an oracle, which told him that he would thereby open a door for Barba- rians (for by this name they called all foreigners) to enter Egypt. The work was continued by Darius, the first of that name ; but he also desisted from it, upon his being told, that as the Red Sea lay higher than Egypt, it would drown the whole country. But it was at last finished under the Ptolemies, who, by the help of sluices, opened or shut the canal as there was occasion. It began not far from the Delta, near the town of Bubastus. It was a hundred cubits, that is, twenty-five fathoms broad, so that two vessels might pass with ease; it had depth enough to carry the largest ships ; and was about a thou- sand stadia, that is, above fifty leagues long. This canal was of great service to the trade of Egypt. But it is now almost filled up, and there are scarce any remains of it to be seen. CHAP. III. LOWER EGYPT. I AM now to speak of Lower Egypt. Its shape, which resembles a triangle, or Delta, A, gave occasion to its bearing the latter name, which is that of one of the Greek letters. Lower Egypt forms a kind of island ; it begins at a place where the Nile is divided into two large canals, through which it empties itself into the Medi- terranean : the mouth on the right hand is called the Pelusian, and the other the Canopic, from two cities in their neighbourhood, Pelusium and Canopus, now called Damietta and Rosetta. Between these two large branches, there are five others of less note. This island is the best cultivated, the most fruitful, and the richest part of Egypt. Its chief cities (very anciently) were Heliopolis, Hera- cleopolis, Naucratis, Sais, Tanis, Canopus, Pelusium ; and, in later times, Alexandria, Nicopolis, &c. It was in the country of Tanis that the Israelites dwelt. 15(3 DESCRIPTION z There was at Sais a temple dedicated to Minerva, who is supposed to be the same as Isis, with the follow- ing inscription : / am whatever hath been, and is, and shall be ; and no mortal hath yet pierced through the veil that shrouds me. a Heliopolis, that is, the city of the sun, was so called from a magnificent temple there dedicated to that planet. Herodotus, and other authors after him, relate some par- ticulars concerning the Phoenix and this temple, which, if true, would indeed be very wonderful. Of this kind of birds, if we may believe the ancients, there is never but one at a time in the world. He is brought forth in Arabia, lives five or six hundred years, and is of the size of an eagle. His head is adorned with a shining and most beautiful crest ; the feathers of his neck are of a gold colour, and the rest of a purple ; his tail is white, intermixed with red, and his eyes sparkling like stars. When he is old, and finds his end approaching, he builds a nest with wood and aromatic spices, and then dies. Of his bones and marrow, a worm is produced, out of which another Phoenix is formed. His first care is to solem- nize his parent's obsequies, for which purpose he makes up a ball in the shape of an egg, with abundance of per- fumes of myrrh, as heavy as he can carry, which he often essays beforehand ; then he makes a hole in it, where he deposits his parent's body, and closes it carefully with myrrh and other perfumes. After this he takes up the precious load on his shoulders, and flying to the altar of the sun, in the city of Heliopolis, he there burns it. Herodotus and Tacitus dispute the truth of some of the circumstances of this account, but seem to suppose it true in general. Pliny, on the contrary, in the very beginning of his account of it, insinuates plainly enough, that he looks upon the whole as fabulous ; and this is the opinion of all modern authors. This ancient tradition, though grounded on an evident falsehood, hath yet introduced into almost all languages, the custom of giving the name of phoenix to whatever is z Piutar. de Isid. p. 354. a Strab. 1. xvii. p. 805. Herod. 1. ii. c. 73. Plin. 1. x. c. 2. Tacit. Ann. |. \i. c. 28. OF EGYPT. 157 singular and uncommon in its kind : Kara avis in lerris, says Juvenal, b speaking of the difficulty of finding an ac- complished woman in all respects. And Seneca observes the same of a good rnan. c What is reported of swans, viz. that they never sing but in their expiring moments, and that then they war- ble very melodiously, is likewise grounded merely on a vulgar error : and yet it is used, not only by the poets, but also by the orators, and even the philosophers. mutis quoque piscibus donatura cycni, si libeat, sonum, says Ho- race 11 to Melpomene. Cicero compares the excellent dis- course which Crassus made in the senate, a few days be- fore his death, to the melodious singing of a dying swan : Ilia tanquam cycnea Juit divini kominis vox et oratio. De Orat. 1. iii. n. 6. And Socrates used to say, that good men ought to imitate swans, who, perceiving by a secret instinct, and a sort of divination, what advantage there is in death, die singing and with joy : Providentes quid in morte boni sit, cum cantu^et voluptate moriuntur. Tusc. Qu. 1. i. n. 73. I thought this short digression might be of service to youth ; and return now to my subject. It was in Heliopolis, e that an ox, under the name of Mnevis, was worshipped as a god. Cambyses, king of Persia, exercised his sacrilegious rage on this city ; burn- ing the temples, demolishing the palaces, and destroying the most precious monuments of antiquity in it. There are still to be seen some obelisks which escaped his fury ; and others were brought from thence to Rome, to which city they are an ornament even at this day. Alexandria, built by Alexander the Great, from whom its had its name, vied almost in magnificence with the ancient cities in Egypt. It stands four days' journey from Cairo, and was formerly the chief mart of all the trade of the east. f The merchandises were unloaded at Portus Muris, g a town on the western coast of the Red Sea; from whence they were brought upon camels to b Sat. \i. c Vir bonus tarn cito nee fieri potest, nee Intel ligi tanquam Phoenix, semel anno quingentesimo nascitur. Ep. 40. d Od. iii. 1. iv. e Stral). 1. xvii. p. 805. r Strab. 1. xvi. p. 781. s Or Myos Hormos. DESCRIPTION a town of Thebais, called Cophat, and afterwards con- veyed down the Nile to Alexandria, whither merchants resorted from all parts. It is well known that the trade of the East hath at all times enriched those who carried it on. This was the chief source of the vast treasures that Solomon amassed, and which enabled him to build the magnificent temple of Jerusalem. David, by conquering Idumsea, 11 became master of Elath and Esion-geber, two towns situated on the eastern shore of the Red Sea. From these two ports, Solomon sent fleets to Ophir and Tarshish, 1 which always brought back immense riches. k This traffic, after having been enjoyed some time by the Syrians, who regained Idumaea, passed from them into the hands of the Ty- rians. 1 These got all their merchandise conveyed, by the way of Rhinocolura (a sea-port town lying between the confines of Egypt and Palestine), to Tyre, from whence they distributed them all over the western world. Hereby the Tynans enriched themselves exceedingly, under the Persian empire, by the favour and protection of whose monarchs they had the full possession of this trade. But when the Ptolemies had made themselves masters of Egypt, they soon drew all this trade into their kingdom, by building Berenice and other ports on the western side of the Red Sea, belonging to Egypt ; and fixed their chief mart at Alexandria, which thereby rose to be the city of the greatest trade in the world. There it continued for a great many centuries after ; and all the traffic which the western parts of the world from that time had with Persia, India, Arabia, and the eastern coasts of Africa, was wholly carried on through the Red Sea and the mouth of the Nile, till a way was discovered, a little above two hundred years since, of sailing to those parts by the Cape of Good Hope. After this, the Por- tuguese for some time were masters of this trade ; but now it is in a manner engrossed wholly by the English and Dutch. This short account of the East-India trade, h 2 Sam. viii. 14. j 1 Kings, ix. 26. k He got in one voyage 450 talents of gold, 2 Chron. viii. 18 ; which amounts to three millions two hundred and forty thousand pounds sterling. Prid. Connex. vol. i. ad ann. 740, not. l Strab. I. xvi. p. 481, OF EGYPT. 159 from Solomon's time, to the present age, is extracted from Dr. Prideaux. m II For the convenience of trade, there was built near Alexandria, in an island called Pharos, a tower which bore the same name. At the top of this tower was kept a fire, to light such ships as sailed by night near those dangerous coasts, which were full of sands and shelves, from whence all other towers, designed for the same use, have derived their name, as, Pharo di Messina, &c. The famous architect Sostratus built it by order of Ptolemy Philadelphus, who expended eight hundred talents upon it. It was reckoned one of the seven wonders of the world. Some, through a mistake, have commended that prince, for permitting the architect to put his name in the inscription which was fixed on the tower instead of his own. p It was very short and plain, according to the manner of the ancients. Sostratus Cnidius Dexiphanis F. Diis Servatoribus pro navigantibus : i. e. Sostratus the Cnidian, son of Dexiphanes, to the protecting deities, for the use of sea-faring people. But certainly Ptolemy must have very much undervalued that kind of immor- tality which princes are generally so fond of, to suffer, that his name should not be so much as mentioned in the inscription of an edifice so capable of immortalizing him. What we read in Lucian q concerning this matter, deprives Ptolemy of a modesty, which indeed would be very ill placed here. This author informs us, that Sos- tratus, to engross in after-times the whole glory of that noble structure to himself, caused the inscription with his own name to be carved in the marble, which he after- wards covered with lime, and thereon put the king's name. The lime soon mouldered away ; and by that means, instead of procuring the architect the honour with which he had flattered himself, served only to dis- cover to future ages his mean fraud and ridiculous vanity. Riches failed not to bring into this city, as they usually do in all places, luxury and licentiousness ; so that the III Part I. i. p. 9. n Strab. 1. xvii. p. 791. Plin. I. xxxvi. c. 12 Eight hundred thousand crowns, or 180,000/, sterling. p Magno animo Ptolemsei regis, quod in e permiserit Sostrati Cnidii architect! structures nomen inseribi. Plin. i De scribend. Hist. p. 706- MANNERS AND CUSTOMS Alexandrian voluptuousness became a proverb/ In this city arts and sciences were also industriously cultivated : witness that stately edifice, surnamed the Museum, where the literati used to meet, and were maintained at the pub- lic expense ; and the famous library, which was aug- mented considerably by Ptolemy Philadelphus ; and which, by the magnificence of the kings his successors, at last contained seven hundred thousand volumes. In Cassar's wars with the Alexandrians, 5 part of this library (situate in the * Bruchion), which consisted of four hun- dred thousand volumes, was unhappily consumed by fire. PART II. OF THE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE EGYPTIANS. EGYPT was ever considered, by all the ancients, as the most renowned school for wisdom and politics, and the source from whence most arts and sciences were derived. This kingdom bestowed its noblest labours and finest arts on the improvement of mankind ; and Greece was so sensible of this, that its most illustrious men, as Homer, Pythagoras, Plato ; even its great legislators, Lycurgus and Solon, with many more whom it is needless to men- tion, travelled into Egypt, to complete their studies, and draw from that fountain whatever was most rare and valuable in every kind of learning. God himself has given this kingdom a glorious testimony ; when praising Moses, he says of him, that he was learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians" To give some idea of the manners and customs of Egypt, I shall confine myself principally to these particu- lars : its kings and government ; priests and religion ; soldiers and war ; sciences, arts, and trades. The reader must not be surprised if he sometimes finds, in the customs I take notice of, a kind of contradiction. This circumstance is owing either to the difference of r Ne Alexandrinis quidem permittenda deliciis. QuintiL 8 Pint. in. Caes. p. 731. Seneca dc tranquil, anim. c. ix. 1 A quarter or division of the city of Alexandria. u Acis, vii. 22. OF THE EGYPTIANS. countries and nations, which did not always follow the same usages ; or to the different way of thinking of the historians whom I copy. CHAP. I. CONCERNING THE KINGS AND GOVERNMENT. THE Egyptians were the first people who rightly un- derstood the rules of Government. A nation so grave and serious immediately perceived, that the true end of politics is, to make life easy, and a people happy. The kingdom was hereditary ; but, according to Diodorus,* the Egyptian princes conducted themselves in a different manner from what is usually seen in other monarchies, where the prince acknowledges no other rule of his actions than his own arbitrary will and plea- sure. But here, kings were under greater restraint from the laws than their subjects. They had some particular ones digested by a former monarch, that composed part of what the Egyptians called the sacred books. Thus every thing being settled by ancient custom, they never sought to live in a different way from their ancestors. No slave nor foreigner was admitted into the immediate service of the prince; such a post was too important to be intrusted to any persons, except those who were the most distinguished by their birth, and had received the most excellent education ; to the end, that as they had the liberty of approaching the king's person day and night, he might, from men so qualified, hear nothing which was unbecoming the royal majesty ; nor have any sen- timents instilled into him but such as were of a noble and generous kind. For, adds Diodorus, it is very rarely seen that kings fly out into any vicious excess, unless those who approach them approve their irregularities, or serve as instruments to their passions. The kings of Egypt freely permitted, not only the quality and proportion of what they ate and drank to be prescribed them (a thing customary in Egypt, whose in- * Diod. 1. i. y. 63, &c. VOL, I. M 16*2 MANNERS AND CUSTOMS & habitants were all sober, and whose air inspired frugality)? but even that all their hours, and almost every action, should be under the regulation of the laws. In the morning at day-break, when the head is clear- est, and the thoughts most unperplexed, they read the several letters they received \, to form a more just and dis- tinct idea of the affairs which were to come under their consideration that day. As soon as they were dressed, they went to the daily sacrifice performed in the temple ; where, surrounded with their whole court, and the victims placed before the altar, they assisted at the prayer pronounced aloud by the high- priest, in which he asked of the gods, health and all other blessings for the king, because he governed his people with clemency and justice, and made the laws of his king- dom the rule and standard of his actions. The high- priest entered into a long detail of his royal virtues, ob- serving, that he was religious to the gods, affable to men, moderate, just, magnanimous, sincere ; an enemy to falsehood ; liberal ; master of his passions ; punishing crimes with the utmost lenity, but boundless in reward- ing merit. He next spoke of the faults which kings might be guilty of ; but supposed, at the same time, that they never committed any, except by surprise or igno- rance ; and loaded with imprecations such of their minis- ters as gave them ill counsel, and suppressed or disguised the truth. Such were the methods of conveying instruc- tion to their kings. It was thought that reproaches would only sour their tempers ; and that the most effec- tual method to inspire them with virtue, would be to point out to them their duty in praises conformable to the sense of the laws, and pronounced in a solemn man- ner before the gods. After the prayers and sacrifices were ended, the counsels and actions of great men were read to the king out of the sacred books, in order that he might govern his dominions according to their maxims, and maintain the laws which had made his predecessors and their subjects so happy. I have already observed, that the quantity as well as quality of what he ate or drank were prescribed, by the laws, to the king : his table was covered with nothing THE EGYPTIANS. 163 but the most common food ; because eating in Egypt was designed^ not to tickle the palate, but to satisfy the cravings of nature. One would have concluded (observes the historian), that these rules had been laid down by some able physician, who was attentive only to the health of the prince, rather than by a legislator. The same simplicity was seen in all other things ; and we read in Plutarch" of a temple in Thebes, which had one of its pillars inscribed with imprecations against that king who first introduced profusion and luxury into Egypt. The principal duty of kings, and their most essential function, is the administering justice to their subjects. Accordingly, the kings of Egypt cultivated more imme- diately this duty ; convinced that on this depended not only the ease and comfort of individuals, but the happi- ness of the state ; which would be a herd of robbers rather than a kingdom, should the weak be unprotected, and the powerful enabled by their riches and influence to commit crimes with impunity. Thirty judges were selected out of the principal cities, to form a body for dispensing justice through the whole kingdom. The prince, in filling these vacancies, chose such as were most renowned for their honesty ; and put at their head, him who was most distinguished for his knowledge and love of the laws, and was had in the most universal esteem. They had revenues assigned them, to the end that, being freed from domestic cares, they might devote their whole time to the execution of the laws. Thus honourably maintained by the generosity of the prince, they administered gratuitously to the peo- ple that justice to which they have a natural right, and which ought to be equally open to all ; and, in some sense, to the poor more than the rich, because the latter find a support within themselves ; whereas the very con- dition of the former exposes them more to injuries, and therefore calls louder for the protection of the laws. To guard against surprise, affairs were transacted by writing in the assemblies of these judges. That false eloquence was dreaded, which dazzles the mind, and moves the pas- sions. Truth could not be expressed with too much u De Isid. & Osir. p. 354. M 2 164 MANNERS AND CUSTOMS plainness, as it alone was to have the sway in judgments ; because in that alone the rich and poor, the powerful and weak, the learned and the ignorant, were to find re- lief and security. The president of this senate wore a collar of gold set with precious stones, at which hung a figure represented blind, this being called the emblem of truth. When the president put this collar on, it was un- derstood as a signal to enter upon business. He touched the party with it who was to gain his cause, and this was the form of passing sentence. The most excellent circumstance in the laws of the Egyptians, was, that evecy individual, from his infancy, was nurtured in the strictest observance of them. A new custom in Egypt was a kind of miracle. All things there ran in the old channel; and the exactness with which little matters were adhered to, preserved those of more importance ; and consequently no nation ever re- tained their laws and customs longer than the Egyptians. Wilful murder was punished with death/ whatever might be the condition of the murdered person, whether he was free-born or otherwise. In this the humanity and equity of the Egyptians were superior to that of the Romans, who gave the master an absolute power of life and death over his slave. The emperor Adrian, indeed, abolished this law ; from an opinion, that an abuse of this nature ought to be reformed, let its antiquity or autho- rity be ever so great. Perjury was also punished with death, e because that crime attacks both the gods, whose majesty is trampled upon by invoking their name to a false oath ; and men, by breaking the strongest tie of human society, viz. sin- cerity and veracity. The false accuser was condemned to undergo the punishment which the person accused was to have suf- fered, had the accusation been proved. f He who had neglected or refused to save a man's life when attacked, if it was in his power to assist him, was punished as rigorously as the assassin : g but if the unfor- tunate person could not be succoured, the offender was c Plat, in Tim. p. 656. * Diod. 1. i. p. 70. e Pag. 69. f Ibid. sr Ibid. THE EGYPTIANS. 165 at least to be impeached ; and penalties were decreed for any neglect of this kind. Thus the subjects were a guard and protection to one another ; and the whole body of the community united against the designs of the bad. No man was allowed to be useless to the state ; h but every one was obliged to enter his name and place of abode in a public register, that remained in the hands of the magistrate, and to describe his profession, and his means of support. If he gave a false account of himself, he was immediately put to death. To prevent borrowing of money, the parent of sloth, frauds, and chicane, 1 king Asychismade a very judicious law. The wisest and best-regulated states, as Athens and Rome, ever found insuperable difficulties, in contriving a just medium, to restrain, on one hand, the cruelty of the creditor in the exaction of his loan ; and on the other, the knavery of the debtor, who refused or neglected to pay his debts. Now Egypt took a wise course on this occasion ; and, without doing any injury to the personal liberty of its inhabitants, or ruining their families, pur- sued the debtor with incessant fears of infamy in case Tie were dishonest. No man was permitted to borrow mo- ney without pawning to the creditor the body of his fa- ther, which every Egyptian embalmed with great care, and kept reverentially in his house (as will be observed in the sequel), and therefore might be easily moved from one place to another. Bu*. it was equally impious and infamous not to redeem soon so precious a pledge ; and he who died without having discharged this duty, was deprived of the customary honours paid to the dead. k Diodorus l remarks an error committed by some of the Grecian legislators. They forbid, for instance, the taking away (to satisfy debts) the horses, ploughs, and other im- plements of husbandry employed by peasants ; judging it inhuman to reduce, by this security, these poor men h Diod. 1. i. p. 69. * Herod. 1. ii, c. 136. k This law put the whole sepulchre of the debtor into the power of the creditor, whoremoved to his own house the body of the father : the debtor refusing to discharge his obligation, was to be deprived of burial, either in his father's sepulchre or any other ; and whilst he lived, he was not per- mitted to bury any person descended from him. MrjSt O.VT$ e rrjffavn tlvat raQijs Kvpijaai fifjr' aXXov fjnjSeva rbv tavrov a 0