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these frailties {for this might be suspected in an enemy),

but 'Theopompus*, a famous historian, who had written the his tory of that prince in 58 books, of which unhappily a few fragments only are extant, gives a still more disadvantageous. character of him. “Philip,' says t,he, "despised modesty

and regularity of life. He lavished his esteem and liberal

ity on men abandoned to debauch and the last excesses of 4 licentiousness. He was pleased to see the companions of « his pleasures excel no less in the abominable arts of injus“ tice and malignity than in the science of debauchery. A. "las! what species of infamy, what sort of crimes did they u pot commit!" &c.

But a circumstance, in my opinion, which reflects the greatest dishonour on Philip, is that very one for which be is chiefly esteemed by many persons; I mean his politics. He iş considered as a prince of the greatest abilities in this art that ever lived : and, indeed, the reader may have abon served, by the history of his actions, that, in the very beginning of his reign, he had laid down a plan, from which he never deviated, and this was to raise himself to the sov. ereignty of Greece. When scarce seated on his throne, and surrounded on every side with powerful enemies, what probability was there that he could form, at least that he could execute, such a project as this ? However, he did not once Lote sight of it. Wars, battles, treaties of peace, alliances, confederacies ; in short, all things terminated there. He was very lavish of his gold and silver, merely to engage creatures in his service. He carried on a private intellia gence with all the cities of Greece ; and by the assistance of pensioners, on whom he had settled very large stipends, he was informed very exactly of all the resolutions taken in them, and generally gave them the turn in his own favour. By this means he deceived the prudence, eluded the efforts and lulled asleep the vigilance of states, which till then had been looked upon as the most active, the wisest, and most pena etrating of all Greece. Iu treading in these steps for 20 years together, we see him proceeding with great order, and advancing regularly towards the mark on which his eye was fixed; but always by wipdings and subterraneous passages the outlets of which only discover the design.

Polyænus shows us evidently, the methods whereby he subjected Thessaly ; which was of great advantage to the completing of his other designs. "He did not," says hey

carry on an open war against the Thessalians; but took

*Diod. Sic, 1, xvi, p, 408.
tThcopom apud Athen, 1, vi, P. 206. *Polyæn. he iv, s, 19,

*advantage of the discord that divided the cities and the of whole country into different factions. He succoured those (+ who sued for his assistance ; and whenever he had con"quered, tie did not entirely ruin the vanquished, he did not u disarm them, nor raze their walls ; on the contrary, he protected the weakest, and endeavoured to weaken and " subject the strongest ; in a word, he rather fomented than

appeased their divisions, having in every place orators in 4.his pay, those Artificers of discord, those firebrands of of commonwealths... And it was by these stratagems, not by "arms, that Philip subdued Thessaly." : * All this is a master-piece, a miracle in point of politics. But what engines does this art play, what methods does it employ to compass its designs ? Deceit, craft, fraud, falsehood, perfidy, and perjury. Are these the weapons of Firtoe? We see in this prince a boundless ambition, conducted by an artful, insinuating, subtle genius ; but we do not find him possessed of the qualities which forin the truly great man. Philip had neither faith nor honour ; every thing that could contrijute to the aggrandizing of his power was in his sense just and lawful. He gave liis word, with a firm resolution to break it ; and inade promises which he would have been very sorry to keep. He thought himself skilful in proportion as he was perfidious, and made his glory consist in deceiving all with whom he treated. He did not blush to say, "that children were amused with play-things, and men with oaths."*

How slameful was it for a prince to be distinguished by being more artful, a greater dissembler, more profound in malice, and more a knave than any other person of his age, and to leave so infamous an idea of himself to all posterity ? What idea should we form to ourselves it the commerce of the world, of a man who should value hitnself for tricking others, and rank insincerity and fraud ainong virtues ? Such a character in private life is detested as tne bang and ruin of society. How then can it become an object of esteem and admiration in princes and ministers of state, persons who are bound by stronger ties than the rest of men, because of the emisence of their stations, and the importance of the employments they fill, to revere sincerity, justice, and, above all, the sanctity of treaties and oaths; to bind which they invoke the name and majesty of a god, the inexorable avenger of perfidy and impiety? A bare promise among private persons ought to be sacred aud inviolable, if they have the least sense of honour ; but how much morë ought it to be so Demofth. Olgath. ü. p. 27.

lian, i, viis,

among princes ! “We are bound,” says a celebrated writer*, : “ to speak truth to our neighbour ; for the use and applica“tion of speech implies a tacit promise of truth; speech “having been given us for no other purpose. It is not a * "compact between one private man with another ; it is a:

common compact of mankind in general, and a kind of *. right of nations, or rather a law of nature. Now, whoever “ tells an untruth, violates this law and common compact." How greatly is the enormity of violating the sanctity of an oath increased, when we call upon the name of God to witness it, as is the custom always in treaties !." #Were sin-. “cerity and truih banished from every other part of the “e.irth,” said John I, king of France, upon his being solici-ted to violate a treaty, “they ought to be found in the hearts and in the mouths of kings."

The circumstance which prompts politicians to act in this manner, is, their being persuaded that it is the only means, to make a negociation " succeed. But though this were the case, yet can it ever be lawful to purchase such success at the expence of probity, honour and religion? “fIf your father“in-law,”. (Ferdinand the catholic,) said Lewis XII, to Philip, archduke of Austria, “has acted perfidiously, I am de«termined not to imitate him ; and I am much more pleas"ed in having lost a kingdom (Naples) which I am able to "recover, than I should have been had I lost my honour, " which can never be recovered.”.

But those politicians who have neither honour nor religion, deceive themselves even in this very particular. I shall not have recourse to the Christian world for princes and minis: ters, whose notions of policy were very different from these. To go no farther than our Greek history, how many great men have we seen perfectly successful in the administration of public affairs, in treaties of peace and war; in a word, in the most important negociations, without once making use of artifice and deceit ? An Aristides, a Cimon, a Phocions and so many more ; some of whom were so very scrupulous in matters relating to truth, as to believe they were not allowed to tell a falsehood, even laughing and in sport. Çyrus, the most famous conpueror of the east, thought nothing was more unworthy of a prince, nor more capable of drawing upon him the contempt and hatred of his subjects, than; lying and deceit. It therefore ought to be looked upon as a truth, that no success, how shining soever, can, or ought to cover the shame and ignominy which arise from breach of faith and perjury.

*M. Nicole, on the epift, of the 19th sunday after Whitfuntide, + Mezcrai,





PLAN. I have already observed, that the history of Alexander,

comprised in the following book, contains the space of twelve years and eight months.


PRECEPTOR.-HE BREAKS BUCEPHALUS. ALEXANDER * came into the world the first year of the

The very day he came into the world the celebrated temple of Diana in Ephesus was burned. The reader knows, without doubt, that it was one of the seven wonders of the world. It had been built in the name, and at the expence of all Asia Minor. A great number of years † were employed in building it. Its length was 425 feet, and its breadth 220.

It was supported by 127 columns, 60 feet high, which so ma. -- my #kings had caused to be wrought at a great expence, and

by the most excellent artists, who endeavoured to excel one another on this occasion. The rest of the temple was equal to the columns in magnificence.

$ Hegesías || of Magnesia, according to Plutarch, says, " that it was no wonder the temple was burned, because " Diana was that day employed at the delivery of Olympus, " to facilitate the birth of Alexander.” A reflection, says our author, so very cold, that it might have extinguished

* A, M, 3648. Aột. 3, C, 356. Plin. l. xxxvi. C, 14.
† Pliny says 220 years, which is not probable.

Anciently most citics.were governed by their particular kíig.
Ś Plutarch in Alex. p. 665.

ỉ He was an historian, and lived in the time of Prolemy, son of Lagus,

9 I don't know whether Plutarch's reflection be not still colder,

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the fire. * Cicero, who ascribes this saying to Timbus, declares it a very smart one, at which I am very much surprised. Possibly the fondness he had for jokes, made him not very delicate in things of this kind.

+ One Herostratus had fired that temple on purpose. Being put to the torture, in order to force him to confess his motive for committing so infamous an action, he confessed that it was the view of making himself known to posterity, and to immortalize his name, by destroying so noble a structure. The states-general of Asta imagined drey should pre. vent the success of his view, by publishing a decree to prokibit the mention of his name. However, their prohibition only excited a greater curiosity; for scarce of one of the his. tovane of that age has omitted to mention so monstrous an extravagance, and at the same time have told us the name of the criminal.

* the passion which prevailed most in Alexander, even from his tender years, was ambition, and an ardent desire of glory; but not for every species of glory. Philip, like a sophist, valued himself upon. kis eloquence and the beauty of his style, and had the vanity to have engraved on his coinsthe several victories he had won at the Olympic games in the chariot-race. But it was not to this his son aspired. His friends asking him one day, whether he would not be present at the games above mentioned, in order to dispute the prize bestowed on that oscasion, (for he was very swift of foot, he answered, "that he would contend in then, provided * kings were to be his antagonists.”

Every time news was brought him that his father had tak. en some city, or gained some great battle, Alexander, so far from sharing in the general joy, used to say, in a plaintive toue of voice, to the young persons that were brought up with him, "friends, my father will possess himself of every thing, « and leave nothing for us to do."

One day some ambassadors from the king of Persia being arrived at court during Philip's absence, Alexander gave them so kind and só polite a receptions and regaled them in so noble and generous a manner, as charmed them all; but that which most sutprised them was, the gôod sense and judgment he discovered in the several conversations they

Concinde, at multa, Timæus; qui, cum in historia dixisset, qaa pocte patus Alexander estct, eadem Dianæ Ephesia templum deftagraviste, adjobxit ; minime id este mitandum, quod Diana, cum iar partu Olympiadis adessc voluisset, abfuittet domo. De Nat. Deors 1. 2, n. 69

Valer. Mar. I, viii. c, 14.
Plat, id vit; Alet. Po 001-608. Id. de forted, Ales. p. 34*

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