CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
arV10605 
 
 Cornell University Library 
 
 oiin.an? ^^^4 031 275 260 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31 924031 275260 
 
MATERIALS AND MODEL 
 
 (K»ree6 l^rojse Composition* 
 
New Edition, re-arranged, with fresh Pieces and additional References. 
 Crown 8vo. 6^, dd. 
 
 Materials and Models for Latin 
 Prose Composition. 
 
 Selected and arranged by]. Y. Sargent, M.A., Fellow and Tutor 
 of Hertford College, Oxford; and T. F. Dallin, M.A., Tutor, late 
 Fellow, of Queers College, Oxford. 
 
 Crown 8vo. 5^. 
 
 Latin Version of {66) Selected Pieces 
 from Materials and Models. 
 
 By]. Y. Sargent, M.A. 
 Crown 8vo. 7^. dd. 
 
 Greek Version of Selected Pieces 
 from Materials and Models, 
 
 By J. Y. Sargent, M.A. 
 
 The Greek and Latin Versions may be had by Tutors only, on direct 
 application to the Publisiiers. 
 
 RIVINGTONS : LONDON, OXFORD, AND CAMBRIDGE. 
 
MATERIALS AND MODELS 
 
 FOR 
 
 (BxttJx i^rose Compois^ftton 
 
 SELECTED AND ARRANGED 
 
 BY 
 J.Mr.«^ARGENT, M.A. 
 
 FELLOW AND TUTOR OF HERTFORD COLLEGE, OXFORD 
 
 TrF.'^ALLIN, M.A. 
 
 TUTOR, LATE FELLOW, OF QUEEN's COLLEGE, OXFORD 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 Containing Fresh Pieces and Additional References 
 
 RIVINGTONS 
 WATERLOO PLACE, LONDON 
 
 ffixteb ani Csmbriliije 
 
 MDCCCLXXVIII 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ' I ^HE present work differs from preceding collections of the 
 kind in two respects. First, the passages are arranged 
 according to style and subject-matter for convenience of refer- 
 ence. Secondly, to each English piece, except in the Miscel- 
 laneous part, references are appended to analogous or similar 
 passages in classical authors of approved merit, with the object 
 of furnishing a model to the student in his attempt to render 
 them into Greek or Latin. 
 
 As the selections are mainly taken from standard English 
 authors, and are not translations, the student must not expect 
 to find the same thoughts occurring in the same sequence, or 
 similarly expressed, in the passages to which he is referred ; 
 but in all cases there will be found some analogy, by compari- 
 son or contrast, in the subject, circumstances, or spirit of the 
 parallel passages, sufficient to furnish hints for the treatment 
 of the piece to be turned, and to suggest the style to be 
 adopted in turning it. 
 
 All composition in a dead language must be by imitation of 
 forms already, as it were, stereotyped ; but that is the best 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 which insensibly recalls the tone of a classical author without 
 either travestying his peculiarities or borrowing his phrases. 
 
 It is thought that the following exercises, on the plan of 
 analogous passages, will be an aid towards forming a good 
 style in Greek and Latin Prose, both by directing the student 
 to the best models, and by guarding against the waste of 
 labour experienced in working indiscriminately on ill-assorted 
 or intractable materials. 
 
 PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION. 
 
 A GREAT many fresh passages have been added to the 
 present edition. Some of these have been chosen, as being 
 peculiarly adapted for rendering into Greek, on the ground 
 of their resemblance in tone to the authors referred to in 
 each case. Some are selections from papers set in various 
 scholarship Examinations. Several new pieces of an easier 
 grade have been introduced, in which the sjoitax is simple, and 
 the sentences short, resembling in that respect the narrative 
 style of Xenophon. As the Anabasis is, or ought to be, con- 
 stantly read in Schools, these pieces will be found suited for 
 boys who are not yet familiar with the more complicated 
 periods of Demosthenes and Plato. They will recognise a 
 likeness to something they have read in Greek, and may 
 
 thus be encouraged to try their hands at imitation. 
 
 J. Y. S. 
 T. F. D. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. HISTORICAL 
 
 II. RHETORICAL, . . . . 
 
 III. PHILOSOPHICAL, 
 
 IV. IN THE STYLE OF HERODOTUS, . 
 V. SATIRICAL, 
 
 VI. MISCELLANEOUS, 
 
FOR GREEK PROSE. 
 
 L— HISTORICAL. 
 
 IN the year of our Lord 1348, there happened at Florence, 
 the finest city in all Italy, a most terrible plague ; which, 
 whether owing to the influence of the planets, or that it was 
 sent from God as a just punishment for our sins, had broken 
 out some years before in the Levant ; and after passing from 
 place to place, and making terrible havoc all the way, had 
 now reached the west ; where, spite of all the means that art 
 and human foresight could suggest, as keeping the city clear 
 from filth, and excluding all suspected persons : notwith- 
 standing frequent consultations what else was to be done ; 
 nor omitting prayers to God in frequent processions : in the 
 spring of the foregoing year it began to show itself in a sad 
 and wonderful manner. To the cure of this malady neither 
 medical knowledge nor the power of drugs was of any effect : 
 whether because the disease was in its own nature mortal, or 
 that the physicians (the number of whom, taking quacks and 
 women-pretenders into the account, was very great) could 
 form no just idea of the cause, nor consequently ground a 
 true method of cure : whichever was the reason, few or none 
 escaped. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 47, sjc/. 
 A 
 
For Greek Prose. 
 
 II. 
 
 MEN of the strongest minds were lost in amazement, when 
 they contemplated this scene of woe and desolation : 
 the weak and the credulous became the dupes of their own 
 fears and imaginations. Tales the most improbable, and pre- 
 dictions the most terrific, were circulated : numbers assembled 
 at different cemeteries to behold the ghosts of the dead walk 
 round the pits in which their bodies had been deposited : and 
 crowds believed that they saw in the heavens a sword of 
 flame, stretching from Westminster to the Tower. To add to 
 their terrors came the fanatics, who felt themselves inspired 
 to act the part of prophets. One of these, in a state of nudity, 
 walked through the city, bearing on his head a pan of burning 
 coals, and denouncing the judgments of God on its sinful 
 inhabitants : another assumirig the character of Jonah, pro- 
 claimed aloud as he passed, ' Yet forty days and Londoa 
 shall be destroyed ;' and a third might be met, sometimes by 
 day, sometimes by night, advancing with a hurried step, and 
 exclaiming wth a deep sepulchral voice, ' Oh, the great and 
 dreadful God !' 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 8. 21, 52-54. 
 
 III. 
 
 IN this state of suspense, superstitious terrors possessed 
 men's minds readily. The Capitol was struck with 
 lightning, an unwonted prodigy; and the Sibylline books 
 were consulted in consequence. The books said, ' When 
 the lightning shall strike the Capitol and the temple of 
 Apollo, then must thou, O Roman, beware of the Gauls.' 
 And another prophecy said that a time should come ' when 
 
Historical. 3 
 
 the race of the Greeks and the race of the Gauls should 
 occupy the Forum of Rome.' It is characteristic of super- 
 stition to transfer to 'ts idols that mockery of truth which 
 itself so delights in, and to believe that they care not for 
 wickedness, if it be done to promote their service. A man 
 and woman of the Gaulish race, with a Greek man and woman, 
 were buried alive in the Forum Boarium, that the prophecy 
 might be fulfilled in word, and might, so the Romans hoped, 
 be proved to be in spirit a lie. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 17 ; ii. 54. 
 
 IV, 
 
 HERE he formed the plan of an enterprise, the adventurous 
 character of which it seems difficult to reconcile with 
 his habitual caution. This was a night assault on Rome. He 
 did not communicate his whole purpose to his officers, but 
 simply ordered them to prepare to marcji on the following 
 night, the twenty-sixth of August, against a neighbouring city, 
 the name of which he did not disclose. It was a wealthy 
 place, he said, but he was most anxious that no violence 
 should be offered to the inhabitants in either their persons or 
 property. The soldiers should be forbidden even to enter the 
 dwellings ; but he promised that the loss of booty should be 
 compensated by increase of pay. The men were to go 
 , lightly armed, without baggage, and with their shirts over their 
 mail, affording the best means of recognising one another in 
 the dark. 
 
 The night was obscure, but unfortunately a driving storm of 
 rain set in, which did such damage to the roads as greatly 
 to impede the march, and the dawn was nigh at hand when 
 
4 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the troops reached the place of destination. To their great 
 surprise, they then understood that the object of attack was 
 Rome itself. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab;\. c. iv. II, sqq. Thucydides, iii. 22. 
 
 V. 
 
 TWO young men, Philemenus and Nicon, were the leaders 
 of the enterprise. Philemenus, under pretence of hunt- 
 ing, had persuaded the officer at one of the gates to allow him 
 ' to pass in and out of the town by night without interruption. 
 He was known to be devoted to his sport : he scarcely ever 
 returned without having caught or killed some game or other : 
 and by liberally giving away what he had caught, he won the 
 favour and confidence not only of the officer of the gate, but 
 also of the Roman governor himself, M. Livius Macatus. So 
 little did Livius suspect any danger, that on the very day 
 which the conspirators had fixed for their attempt, and when 
 Hannibal, with 10,000 men, was advancing upon the town, he 
 had invited a large party to meet him at the temple of the 
 Muses, near the market-place, and was engaged from an early 
 hour in festivity. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 67. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THERE was another circumstance which was likely to 
 favour a surprise : for the Tarentines, following the 
 direction of an oracle, as they said, buried their dead within 
 the city walls ; and the street of the tombs was interposed 
 between the gates and the inhabited parts of the town. This 
 the conspirators turned to their own purposes : in this lonely 
 
Historical. 5 
 
 quarter two of their number, Nicon and Tragiscus, were wait- 
 ing iFor Hannibal's arrival without the gates. As soon as they 
 perceived the signal which was to announce his presence, 
 they, with a party of their friends, were to surprise the gates 
 from within, and put the guards to the sword : while others 
 had been left in the city to keep watch near the museum, and 
 prevent any communication from being conveyed to the 
 Roman governor. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 22. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THEY now divided into three parties : one was posted 
 near the governor's house, a second secured the ap- 
 proaches to the market-place, and the third hastened to the 
 quarter of the tombs to watch for Hannibal's signal. They 
 did not watch long in vain : a fire in a particular spot without 
 the walls assured them that Hannibal was at hand. They lit 
 a fire in answer : and presently, as had been agreed upon, the 
 fire without the walls disappeared. Then the conspirators 
 rushed to the gate of the city, surprised it with ease, put the 
 guards to the sword, and began to hew asunder the bar by 
 which the gates were fastened. No sooner was it forced, and 
 the gates opened, than Hannibal's soldiers were seen ready to 
 enter : so exactly had the time of the operation been cal- 
 culated. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 4. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 MEANTIME Philemenus, with a thousand Africans, had 
 been sent to secure another gate by stratagem. The 
 guards were accustomed to let him in at all hours, whenever 
 
6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 he returned from his hunting expeditions j and now, -when 
 they heard his usual whistle, one of them went to the gate to 
 admit him. Philemenus called to the guard from without to 
 open the wicket quickly : for that he and his friends had 
 killed a huge wild boar, and could scarcely bear the weight 
 any longer. The guard, accustomed to have a share in the 
 spoil, opened the wicket ; and Philemenus and three other 
 conspirators, disguised as countrymen, stepped in carrying the 
 boar between them. They instantly killed the poor guard, as 
 he was admiring and feeling their prize ; and then let in about 
 thirty Africans who were following close behind. With this 
 force they mastered the gate-house and towers, killed all the 
 guards, and hewed asunder the bars of the main gates to 
 admit the whole column of Africans, who marched in on this 
 side also in regular order, and advanced towards the market- 
 place. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 3, 4 ; iv. 67. 
 
 IX. 
 
 O' 
 
 ^NE morning in March there came a party of peasants, 
 ' fifteen or twenty in number, laden with sacks of chest- 
 nuts and walnuts, to the northernmost gate of the town. 
 They offered them for sale, as usual, to the soldiers at the 
 guardhouse, and chaffered and jested — as boors and soldiers 
 are wont to do — over their wares. It so happened that in the 
 course of the bargaining one of the bags became untied, and 
 its contents, much to the dissatisfaction of the proprietor were 
 emptied on the ground. There was a scramble for the wal- 
 nuts, and much shouting, kicking, and squabbling ensued, 
 growing almost into a quarrel between the burgher-soldiers 
 and the peasants. As the altercation was at its height, a 
 
Historical. 7 
 
 heavy wagon laden with long planks came towards the gate 
 
 for the use of carpenters within the town. The portcullis was 
 
 drawn up to admit the lumbering vehicle, but in the confusion 
 
 caused by the chance medley going on at the guardhouse, the 
 
 gate dropped again before the wagon had fairly got through 
 
 the passage, and remained testing upon the timber with which 
 
 it was piled. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 67. 
 
 X. 
 
 IT was the i8th of June, a day which, if Greek superstition 
 still retained its influence, would be held sacred to 
 Nemesis, a day on which the two greatest princes of modem 
 times were taught by a terrible experience that neither skill 
 nor valour can fix the inconstancy of fortune. The battle 
 began before noon : and part of the Prussian army maintained 
 the contest till after the midsummer sun had gone down. 
 But at length the king found that his troops, having been 
 repeatedly driven back with frightful carnage, could no longer 
 be led to the charge. He was with difficulty persuaded to 
 quit the field. The officers , of his personal staff were under 
 the necessity of expostulating with him, and one of them took 
 the liberty to say, ' Does your Majesty mean to storm the 
 batteries alone V Thirteen thousand of his followers had 
 perished. Nothing remained for him but to raise the siege, 
 and retreat in good order. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. i. c. viii. 8, sqq. 25. 
 
 XL 
 
 EVERYTHING was ready, and the Gauls on the opposite 
 / side had poured out of their camp, and lined the bank 
 in scattered groups at the most accessible points, thinking that 
 
8 For Greek Prose. 
 
 their task of stopping the enemy's landing would be easily- 
 accomplished. At length Hannibal's eye observed a column 
 of smoke rising on the further shore, above or on the right of 
 the barbarians. This was the concerted signal which assured 
 him of the arrival of his detachment : and he instantly ordered 
 his men to embark, and to push across with all possible speed. 
 They pulled vigorously against the rapid stream, cheering 
 each other to the work : while behind them were their friends, 
 cheering them also from the bank : and before them were the 
 Gauls singing their war-songs, and calling them to come on 
 with tones and gestures of defiance. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. t. vii. 8 ; iv. c. iii. 3. 
 
 XII. 
 
 BUT on a sudden a mass of fire was seen on the rear of the 
 barbarians : the Gauls on the bank looked behind, and 
 began to turn away from the river : and presently the bright 
 arms and white linen coats of the African and Spanish soldiers 
 appeared above the bank, breaking in upon the disorderly 
 line of the Gauls. Hannibal himself, who was with the party 
 crossing the river, leaped on shore amongst the first, and 
 forming his men as fast as they landed, led them instantly to 
 the charge. But the Gauls, confused and bewildered, made 
 little resistance : they fled in utter rout : whilst Hannibal, not 
 losing a moment, sent back his vessels and boats for a fresh 
 detachment of his army : and before night his whole force, 
 with the exception of his elephants, was safely established on 
 the eastern side of the Rhone. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c. iii. 21. 
 
Historical. 9 
 
 XIII. 
 
 IT was necessary to advance men under cover of hurdles 
 and extended skins to fill up the ditch with fascines, and 
 to construct, almost in contact with the walls, huge banks of 
 earth, supported by stones and stakes, till they reached the 
 level of the ramparts. The face of these banks was as nearly 
 as possible perpendicular : they sloped in the rear, to afford' 
 easy ascent to the assailants. They were crowned, moreover, 
 with towers, from which missiles of all kinds might be hurled 
 by the strength of men's arms, or from engines adapted for 
 the purpose. Meanwhile the skill and spirit of the defenders 
 were directed to overthrowing these constructions as fast as 
 they were erected, and the mass of wood necessarily employed 
 in them afforded aHment for fire. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 75, sqq. Arrian, Anal. ii. c. 15. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A SUCCESSFUL sally enabled the Jews to get in the rear 
 of these embankments, to attack the camp of the 
 Romans, and destroy the munitions of war laid up for the 
 service of the siege. The assailants were obliged to resume 
 their operations with the mine and the battering-ram. The 
 chambers they excavated beneath the walls were constantly 
 counter-mined by the defenders ; furious combats were waged 
 in the darkness, and the miners were sometimes confounded 
 by the attack of wild bears, and even of bees let loose in the 
 narrow galleries among them. The attempts to board the 
 city from the banks, and to surprise it from underground, 
 having equally failed, the battering engines were still plied 
 with persevering resolution ; stones and darts, boiUng water 
 
lo For Greek Prose. 
 
 and oil, were in vain poured down upon the covering which 
 protected the assailants : at last the massive wall crumbled in 
 dust before them, and the Romans stood triumphant within 
 the outer line of defences. 
 
 Arrian, Anab. ii. c. I J. Thucydides, ii. 76. 
 
 XV. 
 
 BUT the natural difficulties of the ground on the descent 
 were greater than ever. The snow covered the track, 
 so that the men often lost it, and fell down the steep below : 
 at last they came to a place where an avalanche had carried 
 it away altogether for about 300 yards, leaving the mountain- 
 side a mere wreck of scattered rocks and snow. To go round 
 was impossible : for the depth of the snow on the heights 
 above rendered it hopeless to scale them : nothing therefore 
 was left but to repair the road. A summit of some extent 
 was found, and cleared of the snow : and here the army was 
 obliged to encamp, whilst the work went on. There was no 
 want of hands : and every man was labouring for his life. 
 The road therefore was restored, and supported with solid 
 substructions below ; and in a single day it was made practi- 
 cable for the cavalry and baggage cattle, which were imme- 
 diately sent forward, and reached the lower valley in safety, 
 where they were turned out to pasture. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c iv. 7 ; ii. 10. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE conferences were held between Syracuse and the 
 Roman camp, and a Roman soldier, it is said, was struck 
 with the lowness of the wall in one particular place, and having 
 
Historical. 1 1 
 
 counted the rows of stones, and so computed the whole height, 
 reported to Marcellus that it might be scaled with ladders of 
 ordinary length. Marcellus listened to the suggestion ; but 
 the low point was for that very reason more carefully guarded, 
 because it seemed to invite attack ; he therefore thought the 
 attempt too hazardous, unless occasion should favour it. But 
 the great festival of Diana was at hand, a three days' solemnity 
 celebrated with all honours to the guardian goddess of Syra- 
 cuse. One vast revel prevailed through the city ; Marcellus 
 informed of all this by deserters, got his ladders ready ; and 
 soon after dark, two cohorts were marched in silence and in a 
 long thin column to the foot of the wall, preceded by the sol- 
 diers of one maniple, who carried the ladders, and were to 
 lead the way to the assault. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 20, 21, 22. Herodotus, i. 84. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 IN the midst of all this calamity and confusion, there was, I 
 know not how, an alarm begun that the French and 
 Dutch, with whom we were now in hostility, were not only 
 landed, but even entering the city. There was, in truth, some 
 days before, great suspicion of those two' nations joining; and 
 now that they had been the occasion of firing the town. This 
 report did so terrify, that on a sudden there was such an up- 
 roar and tumult that they ran from their goods, and, taking 
 what weapons they could come at, they could not be stopped 
 from falling on some of those nations whom they casually met, 
 without sense or reason. The clamour and peril grew so ex- 
 cessive, that it made the whole court amazed, and they did, 
 with infinite pains and great difficulty, reduce and appease the 
 people, sending troops of soldiers and guards, to cause them 
 
1 2 For Greek Prose. 
 
 to retire into the fields again, where they were watched all 
 this night I left them pretty quiet, and came home suffi- 
 ciently weary and broken. Their spirits thus a little calmed, 
 and the affright abated, they now began to repair into the 
 suburbs about the city, where such as had friends, or oppor- 
 tunity, got shelter for the present ; to which his Majesty's pro- 
 clamation also invited them. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 14, 17; viii. i. Xenophon, Anab. i. c. ii. 17. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 MARCELLUS brought up his ships against the sea-wall of 
 Achradina, and endeavoured by a constant discharge 
 of stones and arrows to clear the walls of their defenders ; so 
 that his men might apply their ladders and mount to the 
 assault. These ladders rested on two ships lashed together 
 broadside to broadside, and worked as one by their outside 
 oars ; and when the two ships were brought close up under 
 the wall, one end of the ladder was raised by ropes passing 
 through blocks affixed to the two mast-heads of the two ves- 
 sels, and was then let go till it rested on the top of the wall. 
 But Archimedes had supplied the ramparts with an artillery so 
 powerful, that it overwhelmed the Romans before they could 
 get within the range which their missiles could reach, and 
 when they came closer, they found that all the lower part of 
 the wall was loop-holed ; and their men were struck down with 
 fatal aim by an enemy whom they could not see, and who shot 
 his arrows in perfect security. 
 
 Arrian, Anab. ii. c xv. 6-24. 
 
Historical. 1 3 
 
 XIX. 
 
 IF they still persevered, and attempted to fix their ladders, 
 on a sudden they saw long poles thrust out from the top 
 of the wall, like the arms of a giant ; and enormous stones, or 
 huge masses of lead, were dropped from these upon them, by 
 which their ladders were crushed to pieces, and their ships 
 were almost sunk. At other times, machines like cranes were 
 thrust out over the wall : and the end of the lever, with an 
 iron grapple affixed to it, was lowered upon the Roman ships. 
 As soon as the grapple had taken hold, the other end of the 
 lever was lowered by heavy weights, and the ship raised out of 
 the water, till it was made almost to stand upon its stern : then 
 the grapple was suddenly let go, and the ship dropped into 
 the sea with a violence which either upset it, or filled it with 
 water. 
 
 Arrian, Anab. ii. c. xv. 6-24. 
 
 XX. 
 
 THUS the battle raged along the water and on the land. 
 The whole circuit of the Great Port was studded with 
 fire. A din of hideous noises rose in the air ; the roar of 
 cannon, the rattle of musketry, the hissing of fiery missiles, the 
 crash of falling masonry, the shrieks of the dying, and, high- 
 above all, the fierce cries 'of those who struggled for the mas- 
 tery ! To add to the tumult, in the heat of the fight, a spark 
 falling into the magazine of combustibles in the fortress, it 
 blew up with a tremendous explosion, drowning every other 
 noise, and stiUing the combat. A cloud of smoke and vapour, 
 rising into the air, settled heavily, like a dark canopy, above 
 the town. It seemed as if a volcano had suddenly burst from 
 
14 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the peaceful waters of the Mediterranean, belching out volumes 
 of fire and smoke, and shaking the island to its centre ! 
 
 The fight had lasted for some hours ; and still the little band 
 of Christian warriors made good their stand against the over- 
 whelming odds of numbers. The sun had now risen high in 
 the heavens, and as its rays beat fiercely on the heads of the 
 assailants, their impetuosity began to slacken. At length, faint 
 with heat and excessive toil, and many staggering under 
 wounds, it was with difficulty that the janizaries could be 
 brought back to the attack ; and the general saw with chagrin 
 that the town was not to be won that day. Soon after noon, 
 he gave the signal to retreat ; and the Moslem host, drawing 
 off under a galling fire from the garrison, fell back in sullen 
 silence into their trenches, as the tiger, baffled in his expected 
 prey, takes refuge from the spear of the hunter in his jungle. 
 Thucydides, vii. 70, 71- 
 
 XXI. 
 
 IN this action neither fleet suffered any considerable loss ; 
 but during the night one of the largest galleons was set 
 on fire by the resentment of a Flemish gunner, who had been 
 reproached by his captain with cowardice or treachery; a 
 second, which had lost a mast by accident, fell astern and was 
 captured, after a sharp engagement ; and a third, which had 
 separated from the fleet in the dark, met with a similar fate 
 near the coast of France. These disasters proved lessons of 
 caution to the Spanish admiral. His progress became more 
 slow and laborious ; the enemy was daring, and the weather 
 capricious ; some of his ships were disabled by successive 
 engagements ; others were occasionally entangled among the 
 shoals of an unknown coast ; and the necessity of protecting 
 
Historical. 1 5 
 
 both from the incessant pursuit of the English, so retarded his 
 course, that six days elapsed before he could reach his desti- 
 nation and cast anchor in" the vicinity of Calais. 
 - . Thucydides, ii. 84, 92. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THIS visitation broke both the power and the spirit of the 
 -J , v . Carthaginians. Dionysius now made a sally, and 
 attacked them both by sea and land. He carried their post 
 at the temple of Olympian Jupiter, and that at Dascon, at the 
 very bottom of the harbour, on the right of the Anapus, where 
 the Athenians first effected their landing. Here he found 
 their ships drawn up on the beach, and he instantly set fire to 
 them. Meanwhile the Syracusan fleet advanced right across 
 the harbour, and surprised the enemy's ships before they 
 could be manned and worked out from the shore to offer 
 battle. Thus taking them at a disadvantage, the Greeks sunk 
 or shattered them without resistance, or surrounded them and 
 carried them by boarding. And now the flames began to 
 spread from the ships on the beach to those which lay afloat 
 moored close to the shore. These were mostly merchant- 
 ships, worked by sails like ours, and consequently even while 
 at anchor they had their masts up and their standing rigging. 
 As the .flames caught these and blazed up into the air, the 
 spectacle afforded to the Syracusans on their walls was most 
 magnificent. The crews of the burning ships leaped over- 
 board, and left them to their fate : their cables were burnt, 
 and the blazing masses began to drift about the harbour, and 
 to run foul of one another, while the crackling of the flames 
 and the-crashing of the falling masts and of the sides of the 
 ships in their mutual shocks, heard amidst volumes of smoke 
 
1 6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and sheets of fire, reminded the Syracusans of the destruction 
 of the giants by the thunder of Jove when they had assayed 
 in their pride to storm Olympus. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 70. Diodorus, xiv. 73. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 FROM thence he made sail for the shores of Gaul, sending 
 forward one bark from his squadron to convey to the 
 besieged the news of his arrival, and to exhort them to sally 
 forth with their whole naval force, and join him off Tauro- 
 entum, a port and fortress at a little distance on the coast. 
 The Massilians, since their recent defeat, had devoted them- 
 selves with unwearied energy to repairing their galleys, and 
 arming the merchant vessels and fishing boats with which 
 their harbour swarmed. They were not disposed to shrink 
 from making a second experiment of their prowess, while the 
 acclamations of the unarmed multitude, of their women and 
 old men, encouraged them to strain every nerve in a contest 
 in which their pride was so deeply interested. Nor did the 
 assailants, who had multiplied the numerical strength of their 
 armament since the last engagement, and were prepared to 
 decide the contest on the broad decks of their rude but 
 massive fabrics, decline the proffered meeting. 
 Thucydides, iii. 25 ; vii. 21. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 IN numbers, however, the fleet of the Massilians still pre- 
 ponderated : the praetorian galley of Brutus was attacked 
 at the same moment from opposite quarters by two powerful 
 
Historical. 1 7 
 
 triremes, which dashed towards it with all the velocity their 
 oars could impart. By a skilful turn of the rudder, the 
 Csesarian steersman extricated his vessel from both the assail- 
 ants at the instant when they were about to strike her on 
 either side, and the opposing beaks impinged violently against 
 each other. Thus entangled and mutually disabled, they 
 were speedily attacked, boarded, and destroyed. The Massi- 
 lians and their allies, the Albici, are admitted to have fought 
 admirably, but Nasidius gave them a very lukewarm support. 
 As soon as the fortune of the day seemed to incline towards 
 the Csesarians, he quietly withdrew, without the loss of a 
 single vessel, while of his allies thus treacherously deserted, 
 five galleys were sunk .and four captured. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 91. Herodotus, viii. 87. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 A SIMILAR armament, for ages, had not rode the 
 Adriatic : it was composed of 120 flat-bottomed vessels 
 for the horses ; 240 transports filled with men and arms ; 70 
 store-ships laden with" provisions ; and 50 stout galleys, well 
 prepared for the encounter of an enemy. While the wind 
 was favourable, the sky serene, and the water smooth, every 
 eye was fixed with wonder and delight on the scene of mili- 
 tary and naval pomp which overspread the sea. The shields 
 of the knights and squires, at once an ornament and a defence, 
 were arranged on either side of the ships : the banners of the 
 nations and families were displayed from the stem : our 
 modern artillery was supplied by three hundred engines for 
 casting stones and darts : the fatigues of the way were cheered 
 with the sound of music ; and the spirits of the adventurers 
 were raised by the mutual assurance that 40,000 Christian 
 heroes were equal to the conquest of the world. 
 Thucydides, vi. 31, 32. 
 B 
 
1 8 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 WHEN the whole fleet was reassembled under the head- 
 land of Hermes, they stood to the southward along 
 the coast, and disembarked the troops near the place called 
 Aspis : a fortress built by Agathocles about fifty years before, 
 and deriving its name from its walls forming a circle upon the 
 top of a conical hill. They immediately drew their ships up 
 on the beach, and secured them with a ditch and rampart : 
 and having taken Aspis, and despatched messengers to Rome 
 with the news of their success, and to ask for further instruc- 
 tions, they began to march into the country : and the ravages 
 of forty thousand men were spread far and wide over that 
 district, which, from its richness and flourishing condition, 
 was unmatched probably in the world. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 7 ; vi. 44. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 EVERYWHERE were to be seen single houses standing 
 in the midst of vineyards, and olive grounds and pas- 
 tures ; for every drop of rain was carefully preserved in tanks 
 on the high grounds, and a plentiful irrigation spread life and 
 freshness on every side, even under the burning sun of Africa. 
 On such a land the hungry soldiers of the Roman army were 
 now let loose without restraint. Villas were ransacked and 
 burnt, cattle and horses were driven off in vast numbers, and 
 20,000 persons, many of them doubtless of the highest con- 
 dition, and bred up in all the enjoyments of domestic peace 
 and affluence, were carried away as slaves. This havoc con- 
 tinued for several weeks, till the messengers sent from Rome 
 returned with the Senate's orders. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 29. Xenophon, Anab. ii. c. iii. 13. 
 
Historical. 19 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 HASDRUBAL having laid waste the open country, ad- 
 vanced towards Panormus, and drew out his army in 
 order of battle, as if in defiance. Then Metellus, keeping his 
 regular infantry within one of the gates on the left of the enemy, 
 so that by a timely sally he could attack them in flank, scattered 
 his light troops in great numbers over the ground immediately 
 in front of them, with orders if hard pressed to leap down into 
 the ditch for refuge. Meantime all the idle hands in the town 
 were employed in throwing down fresh supplies of missile 
 weapons at the foot of the wall within the ditch, that the light 
 troops might not exhaust their weapons. The elephants of 
 Hasdrubal charged, drove the enemy before them, and 
 advanced to the outer side of the ditch. Here they were 
 overwhelmed with missiles of all sizes. Some fell into the 
 ditch, and were despatched by thrusts of pikes, the rest turned 
 about, and becoming ungovernable, broke into the ranks of 
 their own army, which was advancing behind them, and threw 
 it into confusion. 
 
 Thucydides, vi. lOO. Arrian, Anah. v. 9, sqq. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 BUT the principal harbour looked towards Africa, and its 
 entrance was very narrow, because at a little distance 
 from the shore there extends a line of shoals nearly rising in 
 some places to the water's edge, and running parallel to the 
 coast, and the passages through these shoals or round their 
 extremity were exceedingly narrow and intricate. The land 
 side was fortified by a wall with towers at intervals, and 
 covered by a ditch ninety feet wide and sixty deep. The garri- 
 son consisted at first of 10,000 regular soldiers besides the 
 inhabitants, and the governor. Himilcon was an able and 
 active officer equal to the need. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 4 ; ii. 102. 
 
20 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 ST. QUENTIN stands on a gentle eminence, protected on 
 one side by marshes, or rather a morass of great extent, 
 through which flows the river Somme, or a branch of it. On 
 the same side of the river with St Quentin lay the»army of the 
 besiegers, with their glittering lines extending to the very verge 
 of the morass. Abroad ditch defended the outer wall. But this 
 ditch was commanded by the houses of the suburbs, which had 
 already been taken possession of by the besiegers. There was, 
 moreover, a thick plantation of trees close to the town, which 
 would afford an effectual screen for the approach of an enemy. 
 One of the admiral's first acts was to cause a sortie to be 
 made. The ditch was crossed, and some of the houses were 
 burned to the ground. The trees on the banks were then 
 levelled, and the approach to the town was laid open. Every 
 preparation was made for a protracted defence. The exact 
 quantity of provision was ascertained, and the rations were 
 assigned for each man's daily consumption. As the supplies 
 were inadequate to support the increased population for any 
 length of time, Coligni ordered that all except those actively 
 engaged in the defence of the place should leave it without 
 delay. Many, under one pretext or another, contrived to 
 remain, and share the fortunes of the garrison. But by this 
 regulation he got rid of seven hundred useless persons, who, if 
 they had stayed, must have been the victims of famine ; and 
 ' their dead bodies,' the admiral coolly remarked, ' would have 
 ■ bred a pestilence among the soldiers.' 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 102, sqq. ; ii. 75, sqq. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE condition of the besieged, in the meantime, was for- 
 lorn in the extreme ; not so much from want of food, 
 though their supplies were scanty, as from excessive toil and 
 
Historical. 2 1 
 
 exposure. Then it was that Coligni displayed all the strength 
 
 of his character. He felt the importance of holding out as 
 
 long as possible, that the nation might have time to breathe, 
 
 as it were, and recover from the late disaster. He endeavoured 
 
 to infuse his own spirit into the hearts of his soldiers, toiling 
 
 with the meanest of them, and sharing all their privations. 
 
 He cheered the desponding, by assuring them of speedy rehef 
 
 from their countrymen. Some he complimented for their 
 
 bravery ; others he flattered by asking their advice. He talked 
 
 loudly of the resources at his command. If any should hear 
 
 him so much as a hint at a surrender, he gave them leave to 
 
 tie him hand and foot, and throw him into the moat. If he 
 
 should hear one of them talk of it, the admiral promised to do 
 
 as much by him. 
 Thucydides, iv. 26 ; vii. 69, 48. Xenophon, Anab. ii. u. iii. 1 1. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 AFTER ten days' incessant labour, the ground was levelled, 
 the ditch filled, the approaches of the besiegers were 
 regularly made, and two hundred and fifty engines of assault 
 exercised their various powers to clear the rampart, to batter 
 the walls, and to sap the foundations. On the first appear- 
 ance of a breach, the scaling ladders were apphed : the num- 
 bers that defended the vantage-ground repulsed and oppressed 
 the adventurous Latins : but they admired the resolution of 
 fifteen knights and Serjeants, who had gained the ascent, and 
 maintained their perilous station till they were precipitated or 
 made prisoners by the imperial guards. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 43, 44. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE progress of famine reduced the miserable inhabitants 
 to feed on the bodies of their fellow-creatures ; and even 
 wild beasts, who multiplied without control in the desert, were 
 
2 2 For Greek Prose. 
 
 exasperated by the taste of blood and the impatience of hunger 
 to attack and devour their human prey. Pestilence soon 
 appeared, the inseparable companion of famine ; a large pro- 
 portion of the people was swept away, and the groans of the 
 dying excited only the envy of their surviving friends. At 
 length the Barbarians, satiated with carnage and rapine, and 
 afflicted by the contagious evils which they themselves had 
 introduced, fixed their permanent seats in the depopulated 
 country. The lands were again cultivated, and the towns and 
 villages again occupied by a captive people. The greatest 
 part of the Spaniards was even disposed to prefer this new 
 condition of poverty and barbarism to the severe oppressions 
 of the Roman government; yet there were many who still 
 asserted their native freedom, and who refused, more especially 
 in the mountains of Gallicia, to submit to the barbarian yoke. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 70, 50, sqq. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 MEANWHILE, with the advance of spring, the green crops 
 began to ripen, and the enthusiasm of the Csesarians 
 in their general's cause warmed still more at the prospect of 
 greater plenty and a more familiar diet. They declared they 
 would gnaw the bark from the trees before they would suffer 
 Pompeius to escape out of their hands. Nor was the condition 
 of the besieged much better. Though supplied with provisions 
 by means of the fleet, they were in great want of water, for 
 Caesar had dammed up or turned the water-courses which 
 ran from the surrounding heights into the space enclosed by 
 his lines, and the Pompeians were obliged to have recourse to 
 the wells which they sank in the sands and marshes of the 
 sea-shore. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 26. 
 
Historical. 23 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 IT was midwinter, and the wide pebbly bed of the Trebia, 
 , which the summer traveller may almost pass dryshod, wa:s 
 now filled with a rapid stream running breast-high. In the 
 night it had rained heavily : and the morning was raw and 
 chilly, threatening sleet or snow. Yet Sempronius led his 
 soldiers through the river, before they had eaten anything : 
 and wet, cold, and hungry as they were, he formed them in 
 order of battle on the plain. Meanwhile Hannibal's men 
 had eaten their breakfast in their tents, and had oiled their 
 bodies, and put on their armour around their fires. Then, 
 when the enemy had crossed the Trebia, and were advancing 
 on the open plain, the Carthaginians marched out to meet 
 them : and about a mile in front of their camp they formed 
 in order of battle. 
 
 Arrian, Anab. v. u 9-20, §§ 1-4 ; ii c. 6-12. 
 Tliucydides, ii, 5 ; iii. 21, sqq. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 IN this situation the armies remained for some days, during 
 which Graham and Picton went to England in bad 
 health. No other events worth recording occurred. The 
 weather was fine, the country rich, the troops received their 
 rations regularly, the wine was so plentiful it was hard to keep 
 the soldiers sober : the caves of Rueda, natural or cut in the 
 rock below the surface of the earth, were so immense, and 
 held so much wine, that the drunkards of two armies failed to 
 make any very sensible diminution in the quantity, and many 
 men perished in that labyrinth. The soldiers of each army 
 also, passing the Duero in groups, l^eld amicable intercourse, 
 conversing of battles that were yet to be fought, and the 
 
24 For Greek Prose. 
 
 camps on the banks of the Duero seemed at times to belong 
 to one general, so difficult is it to make brave men hate 
 each other. 
 
 To the officers of the allies all looked prosperous, they were 
 impatient for the signal of battle, and many complained that 
 the French had been permitted to retreat ; had Wellington 
 been finally forced back to Portugal, his reputation would 
 have been grievously assailed by his own people. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 29 ; vi. 103 ; vii. 24. 
 
 xxxvir. 
 
 HANNIBAL allowed forty-eight hours to pass from the 
 time when the detachment left his camp : and then, on 
 the morning of the fifth day after his arrival on the Rhone, he 
 made his preparations for the passage of his main army. The 
 mighty stream of the river, fed by the snows of the high Alps, 
 is swelled rather than diminished by the heats of summer ; so 
 that although the season was that when the southern rivers 
 are generally at their lowest, it was rolling the vast mass of its 
 waters along with a startling fulness and rapidity. The 
 heaviest vessels were therefore placed on the left, highest up 
 the stream, to form something of a breakwater for the smaller 
 craft crossing below ; the small boats held the flower of the 
 light-armed foot, while the cavalry were in the larger vessels : 
 most of the horses being towed astern swimming, and a single 
 soldier holding three or four together by their bridles. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c. iii. 3. Arrian, Aiiab. v. 9. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 FINDING that the Gauls were assembled on the eastern 
 bank to oppose his passage, he sent off a detachment of 
 his army by night with native guides to ascend the right bank 
 
Historical. 25 
 
 for about twenty-two miles, and there to cross as they could, 
 where there was no enemy to stop them. The woods which 
 then lined the river supplied this detachment with the means 
 of constructing barks and rafts enough for the passage. They 
 took advantage of one of the many islands in this part of the 
 Rhone, to cross where the stream was divided : and thus they 
 all reached the left bank in safety. There they took up a 
 strong position, probably one of those strange masses of rock 
 which rise here and there, with steep cliffy sides, like islands 
 out of the vast plain, and rested for twenty-four hours after 
 their exertions in the march and the passage of the river. 
 
 Xenophon, Anai. iv. c. ii. 13. Arrian, Anab. v. 9. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 IN the plain which he had now reached, he halted for a 
 whole day, and then resuming his march, proceeded for 
 three days up the valley of the Isfere, on the right bank, with- 
 out encountering any difficulty. Then the natives met him 
 with branches of trees in their hands, and wreaths on their 
 heads, in token of peace : they spoke fairly, offered hostages, 
 and wished, they said, neither to do the Carthaginians any 
 injury, nor to receive any from them. Hannibal mistrusted 
 them, yet did not wish to offend them : he accepted their 
 terms, received their hostages, and obtained large supplies of 
 cattle ; and their whole behaviour seemed so trustworthy, that 
 at last he accepted their guidance, it is said, through a difficult 
 part of the country, which he was now approaching. 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c. viii. 4, sqq. 
 
 XL. 
 
 THE majority, peering forward with misty political vision, 
 overlooked the difficulties close at hand. But their 
 general was fretted with care and mortification, for all cross 
 
26 Foi' Greek Prose. 
 
 and evil circumstances seemed to combine against him. The 
 Spanish co-operation had failed in every quarter : the enemy 
 in front was growing stronger : Soult was seriously menacing 
 Cadiz, and the king was said to have been joined by Drouet. 
 The Portuguese troops were deserting in great numbers from 
 misery ; the English Government had absurdly and perni- 
 ciously interfered with the supply of the military chest ; there 
 was no money, and the personal resources of Wellington alone 
 kept the army in its forward position. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 48, 49, 69. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 A REIGN of terror began — of terror heightened by mystery : 
 for even that which was endured was less horrible than 
 that which was anticipated. No man knew what was next to 
 be expected from this strange tribunal. It came from beyond 
 the black water, as the people of India, with mysterious horror, 
 call the sea. It consisted of judges, not one of whom was 
 familiar with the usages of the millions over whom they claimed 
 boundless authority. Its records were kept in unknown 
 characters : its sentences were pronounced in unknown sounds. 
 It had already collected around itself an army of the worst part 
 of the native population, informers and false witnesses, and 
 common barrators, and agents of chicane, and above all a 
 banditti of bailiffs' followers, compared with whom, the re- 
 tainers of the worst English sponging-houses, in the worst 
 times, might be considered as upright and tender-hearted. 
 Many natives, highly considered among their countrymen, 
 were seized, hurried up to Calcutta, flung into the common 
 gaol, not for any crime even imputed, not for any debt that 
 had been proved, but merely as a precaution till their cause 
 should come to trial. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 81, sqq. ; viii. 66. 
 
Historical. 27 
 
 XLII. 
 
 THE feeling of patriotism was almost wholly extinguished. 
 All the old maxims of foreign policy were changed 
 Physical boundaries were superseded by moral boundaries. 
 The conflict was not, as in ordinary times, between state and 
 state, btit between two omnipresent factions, each of which was 
 in some places dominant, and in other places oppressed, but 
 which openly or covertly carried on their strife in the bosom 
 of every society. No man asked whether another belonged to 
 the same country with himself, but whether he belonged to the 
 same sect. Party spirit seemed to justify and consecrate acts 
 which in any other times would have been considered as the 
 foulest of treasons. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 82. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THEN he turned to the Italian allies : they were not his 
 enemies, he said ; on the contrary, he had invaded Italy 
 to aid them in casting off the yoke of Rome : he should still 
 deal with them as he had treated his Italian prisoners taken at 
 the Trebia. They were free from that moment, and without 
 ransom. This being done, he halted for a short time to rest his 
 ^rmy, and buried, with great solemnity, thirty of the most dis- 
 tinguished of those who had fallen on his own side in the 
 battle. His whole loss had amounted only to 1500 men, 
 of whom the greater part were Gauls. It is sard also that he 
 caused careful search, but in vain, to be made for the body of 
 the consul Flaminius, being anxious to give him honourable 
 burial. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. 85, 114. 
 
28 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 LENITY and indulgence towards rebels were not only in 
 themselves injurious to such a power, but would now 
 afford an example of levity, which would destroy all the sta- 
 bility of the laws, and would stimulate the vanity of clever and 
 ambitious men, to seek reputation by continually overthrowing 
 what had been maturely resolved on the proposal of another. 
 His own opinion remained unchanged : and he could not con- 
 ceive how any one, who was not either seduced by the de- 
 sire of displaying a perverse ingenuity, or swayed by mercenary 
 motives, could question the justice and expediency of the 
 decree. Mitylene had been guilty not simply of revolt, but 
 of a mahgnant, wanton conspiracy, against an ally who had 
 distinguished her among all her confederates by peculiar 
 honours and privileges. As the offence was aggravated, the 
 punishment ought to be severe. Nor was there any ground 
 for making a distinction — which would only encourage offen- 
 ders by supplying them with pretexts easily fabricated — between 
 the class which had been active in the rebellion, and that 
 which, by its acquiescence, had shown itself willing to share 
 the risk of the enterprise, and had in fact co-operated with its 
 authors. If such aggressors were allowed to hope for impunity, 
 there would be no end to the labours, the dangers, and the 
 losses of the commonwealth, which would be involved in a 
 series of contests, in which victory would be unprofitable, de- 
 feat calamitous. A signal example was necessary to convince 
 those who might be tempted to similar misdeeds, that no arts, 
 either of eloquence or of corruption, would avail to screen them 
 from vengeance. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 37-40. 
 
Historical. 29 
 
 XLV. 
 
 THESE arguments, which had much logic in them, were 
 strongly urged by Zapena, a veteran marshal of the 
 camp who had seen much service, and whose counsels were 
 usually received with deference. But on this occasion com- 
 manders and soldiers were hot for following up their victory. 
 They cared nothing for the numbers of the enemy ; they cried. 
 The more infidels the greater glory in destroying them. 
 Delay might after all cause the loss of the prize. The arch- 
 duke ought to pray that the sun might stand still for him 
 that morning, as for Joshua in the vale of Ajalon. The foe 
 seeing himself entrapped, with destruction awaiting him, was 
 now skulking towards his ships, which still offered him the 
 means of escape. Should they give him time he would profit 
 by their negligence, and next morning, when they reached 
 Nieuport, the birds would be flown. Especially the leaders 
 of the mutineers were hoarse with indignation at the proposed 
 delay. They had not left their brethren, they shouted, nor 
 rallied to the archduke's banner in order to sit down and dig 
 in the sand like ploughmen. There was triumph for the 
 Holy Church, there was the utter overthrow of the heretic 
 army, there was rich booty to be gathered, all these things 
 were within their reach if they now advanced and smote the 
 rebels while, confused and panic-stricken, they were endeavour- 
 ing to embark in their ships. 
 
 Thucydides, viii. 83, 84 ; vii. 73 ; iv. 27. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 HE therefore reminds them, 'that no punishments ever 
 devised had been able to put a stop to crimes ; since 
 the rigour of the laws, to whatever degree it might be stretched, 
 
30 For Greek Prose. 
 
 could never extinguish the hope of impunity, by which men 
 were buoyed up in their criminal enterprises. The cravings 
 of passion, with the encouragement afforded by the capricious- 
 ness of fortune, would always lead them to face the most 
 terrible dangers. It was with states as with individuals. 
 None ever embarked in a war without what seemed to it a 
 reasonable prospect of success ; and none would ever be re- 
 strained from such undertakings by their knowledge of the 
 evils which they; would incur from a defeat. But the treat- 
 ment which they had to expect from their enemies would 
 have great weight in determining the duration of the contest. 
 Men who might soon be reduced to submission upon mode- 
 rate terms, if they despaired of mercy would hold out to 
 the last.' 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 45. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 GENTLEMEN,' said he, ' my own misfortunes are not so 
 nigh my heart as yours. It grieve? me beyond what I 
 can express, to see so many brave and worthy gentlemen, who 
 had once the prospect of being the chief officers in my army, 
 reduced to the stations of private sentinels. Nothing but 
 your loyalty, and that of a few of my subjects in Britain, who 
 are forced from their allegiance by the Prince of Orange, and 
 who, I know, will be ready on all occasions to serve me and 
 my distressed family, could make me willing to live. The 
 sense of what all of you have done and undergone for your 
 loyalty, hath made so deep an impression upon my heart, 
 that, if it ever please God to restore me, it is impossible I can 
 be forgetful of your services and sufferings. Neither can 
 there be any posts in the armies of my dominions, but what 
 you have just pretensions to. As for my son, your Prince, he 
 
Historical. 3 1 
 
 is of your own blood, a child capable of any impression, and, 
 as his education will be from you, it is not supposable that he 
 can forget your merits. At your own desires, you are now 
 going a long march far distant from me. Fear God and love 
 one another. Write your wants particularly to me, and depend 
 upon it always to find me your parent and king.' The com- 
 pany listened to his words with deep emotion, gathered round 
 him, as if half repentant of their own desire to go ; and so 
 parted, for ever on this earth, the dethroned monarch and his 
 exiled subjects. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. i. c. iii. 3. Arrian, Anab. vii. 8^11. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 HE looked on the army, the greater part of which he had 
 quartered in the neighbourhood of the metropohs, as 
 his chief — his only support against his enemies ; and while the 
 soldiers were comfortably clothed and fed, he might with con- 
 fidence rely on their attachment : but now that their pay was 
 in arrear, he had reason to apprehend that discontent might 
 induce them to listen to the suggestions of those officers who 
 sought to subvert his power. On former occasions, indeed, 
 he had relieved himself from similar embarrassments by the 
 imposition of taxes by his own authority ; but this practice 
 was so strongly reprobated in the petition and advice, and he 
 had recently abjured it with so much solemnity, that he dared 
 not repeat the experiment. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. i. c. iv. 12, sqq. Thucydides, viii. 57. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 IN the commonwealths of Greece the interests of every 
 individual were inseparably bound up with those of the 
 state. An invasion destroyed his corn-fields and vineyards, 
 
32 For Greek Prose. 
 
 drove him from his home, and compelled him to encounter all 
 the hardships of a military life. A treaty of peace restored 
 him to security and comfort. A victory doubled the number 
 of his slaves. A defeat perhaps made him a slave himself 
 When Pericles, in the Peloponnesian war, told the Athenians 
 that if their country triumphed, their private losses would 
 speedily be repaired, but that if their arms failed of success, 
 every individual amongst them would probably be ruined, he 
 spoke no more than the truth. 
 
 Xenophon, Resp, Ath. I. Thucydides, ii. 60. 
 
 L. 
 
 WHEN a war of annihilation is surely, though in point of 
 time indefinitely, impending over a weaker state, the 
 wiser, more resolute, and more devoted men — who would im- 
 mediately prepare for the unavoidable struggle — would accept 
 it at a favourable moment, and thus cover their defensive 
 policy by offensive tactics — always find themselves hampered 
 by an indolent and cowardly multitude of money-worshippers, 
 of the aged and feeble, and of the thoughtless who wish merely 
 to gain time, to live and die in peace, and to postpone at any 
 price the final struggle. Thus there was in Carthage a party 
 of peace and a party of war, both, as it was natural, associating 
 themselves with the political distinction that already existed 
 between the conservatives and the reformers. The former 
 found its support in the governing boards, the council of the 
 Ancients and that of the Hundred, led by Hanno the Great, 
 as he was called : the latter found its support in the leaders of 
 the multitude, particularly the much respected Hasdrubal, and 
 in the officers of the Sicilian army, whose great successes under 
 the leadership of Hamilcar, although they had been othenvise 
 
Historical. 33 
 
 fruitless, had at least shown to the patriots a method which 
 appeared to promise deliverance from the great danger that 
 beset them. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philipp. iii. 75 [ix. 127] ; Chersones. 53, sqq. [viii. 102] ; 
 Olynth. iii. 30, sqq. [iii. 35]. Thucydides, ii. 64, 65. 
 
 LI. 
 
 LET us pause for a moment over the conflict which ex- 
 tended the dominion of Rome beyond the circling sea 
 that encloses the peninsula. It was one of the longest and 
 most severe which the Romans ever waged. Many of the 
 soldiers who fought in the decisive battle were unborn when 
 the contest began. Nevertheless, despite the incomparably 
 noble incidents which it now and again presented, we can 
 scarcely name any war which the Romans managed so 
 wretchedly and with such vacillation, both in a military and in 
 a political point of view. It could hardly be otherwise. The 
 contest occurred amidst a transition in their political system, 
 — the transition from an Italian policy, which no longer sufficed 
 to the policy of a great state which was not yet matured. The 
 Roman senate and the Roman military system were excellently 
 organized for a purely Italian policy. The wars which such a 
 policy provoked were purely continental wars, and always 
 rested on the capital, situated in the middle of the peninsula, 
 as the primary basis of operations, and on the chain of Roman 
 fortresses as a secondary basis. The problems to be solved 
 were mainly tactical, not strategical ; marches and operations 
 occupied but a subordinate place ; battles held the first place ; 
 siege warfare was in its infancy ; the sea and naval war hardly 
 for a moment crossed men's thoughts. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 1, 3, 7, 10, 97. 
 C 
 
34 ^or Greek Prose. 
 
 LII. 
 
 WE can easily understand, if we bear in mind that in the 
 battles of that period it was really the hand-to-hand 
 encounter that proved decisive, how a deliberative assembly 
 might direct such operations, and how any one who was mayor 
 of the city might command the troops. All this was changed 
 in a moment. The field of battle stretched away to an incal- 
 culable distance, to the unknown regions of another continent, 
 and beyond broadly spreading seas : every wave might prove 
 a pathway for the enemy, every harbour might send forth an 
 invading fleet. The siege of strong places, particularly mari- 
 time fortresses, in which the first tacticians of Greece had 
 failed, had now for the first time to be attempted by the 
 Romans. A land army and the system of a civic militia no 
 longer sufficed. It was necessary to create a fleet, and what 
 was more difficult, to employ it : it was necessary to find out 
 the true points of attack and defence, to combine and to direct 
 masses, to calculate and mutually adjust expeditions extending 
 over long periods and great distances : if these things were 
 not attended to, even an enemy far weaker in the tactics of the 
 field might easily vanquish a stronger opponent. Is there any 
 wonder that the reins of government in such an exigency 
 slipped from the hands of a deliberative assembly and of com- 
 manding burgomasters ? 
 
 Thucydides, i. I, 3, 7, 10, 97. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 THE spirit of ancient Rome had thus completely disap- 
 peared from all the relations of life ; the moral strength 
 of the people was broken ; the freedom of their fathers was 
 gone. Rome had become unable to govern herself, and 
 
Historical. 35 
 
 wanted the powerful hand of an absolute ruler : like an ex- 
 hausted mother, she had lost the power of producing truly 
 great and good men. She was incapable of enjoying political 
 freedom, which prospers only when it is supported by the 
 manly virtues and the moral character of a nation. Thou- 
 sands must have looked with disgust upon the perpetual 
 struggles which had of late torn the republic to pieces, and 
 must have felt that a tranquil enjoyment of life, which was 
 with many the highest object of existence, was incompatible 
 with the continuance of the republic. 
 
 Isocrates, de Pace, 41, sqq. [or viii. pp. 166-174]. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 WE find but few historians, of all ages, who have been 
 diligent enough in their search for truth ; it is their 
 common method to take on trust what they distribute to the 
 public; by which means a falsehood once received from a 
 famed writer becomes traditional to posterity. But Polybius 
 weighed the authors from whom he was forced to borrow the 
 history of the times immediately preceding his, and oftentimes 
 corrected them, either by comparing them each with other, or 
 by the lights which he had received from ancient men of 
 known integrity amongst the Romans, who had been conver- 
 sant in those aifairs which were then managed, and were yet 
 living to instruct him. He also learned the Roman tongue, 
 and attained to that knowledge of their laws, their rights, their 
 customs, and antiquities, that few of their own citizens under- 
 stood them better ; having gained permission from the senate 
 to search the Capitol, he made himself familiar with their 
 records, and afterwards translated them into his mother 
 tongue. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 20, sqq., 138. 
 
36 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LV. 
 
 I AM well aware of the great difficulty of giving liveliness to 
 a narrative which necessarily gets all its facts second- 
 hand. And a writer who has never been engaged in any 
 public transactions either of peace or war, must feel this 
 especially. One who is himself a statesman and orator, may 
 relate the political contests even of remote ages with some- 
 thing of the spirit of a contemporary ; for his own experience 
 realizes to him in great measure the scenes and the characters 
 which he is describing. And in like manner, a soldier or a 
 seaman can enter fully into the great deeds of ancient war- 
 fare ; for although in outward form ancient battles and sieges 
 may differ from those of modern times, yet the genius of the 
 general, and the courage of the soldier, the call for so many 
 of the highest qualities of our nature, which constitutes the 
 enduring moral interest of war, are common alike to all 
 times ; and he who has fought under Wellington has been in 
 spirit an eyewitness of the campaigns of Hannibal. But a 
 writer whose whole experience has been confined to private 
 life and to peace, has no link to connect him with the actors 
 and great deeds of ancient history, except the feelings of our 
 common humanity. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 21, 22. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 AND though I had a desire to have deduced this history 
 from the beginning of our first kings, as they are de- 
 livered in their catalogue ; yet finding their actions uncertainly 
 delivered, and the beginning of all eminent States to be as 
 uncertain as the heads of great rivers ; and that idle antiquity, 
 discovering no apparent way beyond their times, have ever 
 
Historical. 3 7 
 
 delighted to point men out into imaginary tracts of fictions 
 and monstrous originals ; I did put off that desire with this 
 consideration, that it is but mere curiosity to look further 
 back into^the times past than we can well discern, and whereof 
 we can neither have proof nor profit. Besides, it seemeth 
 that God in His Providence hath bounded our searches within 
 the compass of a few ages, as if the same were sufficient both 
 for example and instruction in the government of men ; for 
 had we the particular occurrence of all nations and all ages, it 
 might more stuff, but not better, our understanding. We shall 
 find the same correspondences to hold in the actions of men ; 
 virtues and vices the same ; though rising and falling accord- 
 ing to the worth or weakness of governors ; the causes of the 
 ruins and changes of commonwealths to be alike, and the 
 train of affairs carried by the precedent in a course of succes- 
 sion under like figures. 
 
 Thucydides, i. I, 20, 22. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 HIS understanding was keen, sceptical, inexhaustibly fer- 
 tile in distinctions and objections ; his taste refined ; 
 his sense of the ludicrous exquisite ; his temper, placid and 
 forgiving, but fastidious, and by no means prone either to 
 malevolence or to enthusiastic admiration. Such a man could 
 not long be constant to any band of political allies. He must 
 not, however, be confounded with the vulgar crowd of rene- 
 gades. For, though, like them, he passed from side to side, 
 his transition was always in the direction opposite to theirs. 
 He had nothing in common with those who fly from extreme 
 to extreme, and who regard the party which they have de- 
 serted with an animosity far exceeding that of consistent 
 enemies. His place was between the hostile divisions of the 
 
38 For Greek Prose. 
 
 community, and he never wandered far beyond the frontiers of 
 either. The party to which he at any moment belonged was 
 the party which at that moment he hked least, because it was 
 the party of which at that moment he had the nearest view. 
 He was therefore always severe upon his violent associates, 
 and was always in»friendly relations with his moderate oppo- 
 nents. Every faction in the day of its insolent and vindictive 
 triumph incurred his censure ; and every faction, when van- 
 quished amd persecuted, found in him a protector. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 82; vi. ij ; viii. 68. Arrian, Anab. vii. 26-30. — 
 
 Character of Alexander. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 CROMWELL was emphatically a man. He possessed, in 
 an eminent degree, that masculine and full-grown robust- 
 ness of mind, that equally diffused intellectual health, which, 
 if our national partiality does not mislead us, has peculiarly 
 characterized the great men of England. Never was any ruler 
 so conspicuously born for sovereignty. The cup which has 
 intoxicated almost all others sobered him. His spirit, restless 
 from its own buoyancy in a lower sphere, reposed in majestic 
 placidity as soon as it had reached the level congenial to it. 
 He had nothing in common with that large class of men who 
 distinguish themselves in subordinate posts, and whose inca- 
 pacity becomes obvious as soon as the public voice summons 
 them to take the lead. Rapidly as his fortunes grew, his mind 
 expanded more rapidly still. Insignificant as a private citizen, 
 he was a great general : he was a still greater prince. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 138 ; viii. 68. Arrian, Anab. vii. 26-30. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 NO doubt, in him, as in all men, and most of all in kings, 
 his fortune wrought upon his nature, and his nature 
 upon his fortune. He attained to the crown, not only from a 
 
Historical. 39 
 
 private fortune, which might endow him with moderation, but 
 also from the fortune of an exiled man, which had quickened 
 in him all seeds of observation and industry. And his times 
 being rather prosperous than calm, had raised his confidence 
 by success, but almost marred his nature by troubles. His 
 wisdom, by often evading from perils, was turned rather into a 
 dexterity to deliver himself from dangers, when they pressed 
 him, than into a providence to prevent and remove them afar 
 off. And even in nature, the sight of his mind was like some 
 sights of eyes — rather strong at hand, than to carry afar off. 
 For his wit increased upon the occasion ; and so much the 
 more, if the occasion were sharpened by danger. Again, 
 whether it were the shortness of his foresight, or the strength 
 of his will, or the dazzling of his suspicions, or what it was, 
 certain it is, that the perpetual troubles of his fortunes, there 
 being no more matter out of which they grew, could not have 
 been without some great defects and main errors in his nature, 
 customs, and proceedings, which he had enough to do to save 
 and help with a thousand little industries and watches. But 
 those do best appear in the story itself. He was a comely 
 personage, a little above just stature, well and straight limbed, 
 but slender. His countenance was reverend, and a little like 
 a churchman ; and as it was not strange, or dark, so neither 
 was it winning or pleasing, but as the face of one well disposed. 
 But it was to the disadvantage of the painter, for it was best 
 when he spake. 
 ThuC3'dides, i. 130, 138. Isocrates, Evagoras, 41. sec. [or ix. p. 196.] 
 
 LX. 
 
 BUT the temper of Hastings was equal to almost any trial. 
 It was not sweet, but it was calm. Quick and vigorous 
 as his intellect was, the patience with which he endured the 
 
40 For Greek Prose. 
 
 most cruel vexations, till a remedy could be found, resembled 
 the patience of stupidity. He seems to have been capable of 
 resentment, bitter and long-enduring ; yet his resentment so 
 seldom hurried him into any blunder, that it may be doubted 
 whether what appeared to be revenge was anything but policy. 
 The effect of this singular equanimity was, that he always had 
 the full command of all the resources of one of the most fertile 
 minds that ever existed. Accordingly, no complication of 
 perils and embarrassments could perplex him. For every diffi- 
 culty he had a contrivance ready ; and whatever may be 
 thought of the justice and humanity of some of his con- 
 trivances, it is certain that they seldom failed to serve the 
 purpose for which they were designed. Together with this 
 extraordinary talent for devising expedients, he possessed 
 another talent scarcely less necessary to a man in his situation : 
 we mean the talent for conducting political controversy. 
 Thucydides, viii. 68. Arrian, Anal. vii. 26-3Q. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 HANNIBAL was still a young man — bom in 505, and 
 now, therefore, in his twenty-ninth year ; but his life 
 had already been fraught with varied experience. His first 
 recollections pictured to him his father fighting in a distant 
 land and conquering on Ercte ; he shared that unconquered 
 father's fortunes, and sympathized with his feeUngs, on the 
 peace of Catulus, on the bitter return home, and throughout 
 the horrors of the Libyan war. While still a boy, he had fol- 
 lowed his father to the camp, and he soon distinguished him- 
 self. His light and firmly-built frame made him an excellent 
 runner and boxer, and a fearless rider ; the privation of sleep 
 did not affect him, and he knew like a soldier how to enjoy 
 or to want his food. Although his youth had been spent in 
 
Historical. 4 1 
 
 the camp, he possessed such culture as was bestowed on the 
 noble Phoenicians of the time ; in Greek, apparently after he 
 had become a general, he made such progress, under the 
 guidance of his intimate friend Sosilus of Sparta, as to be able 
 to compose state-papers in that language. As he grew up, he 
 entered the army of his father, to perform his first feats of 
 arms under the paternal eye, and to see him fall in battle by 
 his side. 
 
 Isocrates, Evagoras, 22, sqq.\QiX ix. p^ 192, sqq.'\ 
 
 LXII. 
 
 T~'HE greatness of Pericles is unquestioned : his honesty 
 cannot, we think, be reasonably questioned. The 
 charge of having governed by a system of corruption, through 
 the distribution of the public money in fees to the citizens, 
 is fully though indirectly refuted by the emphatic eulogy of 
 Thucydides. It is to be observed, however, on the other 
 hand, that though the noblest and best of demagogues, he 
 was still a demagogue, not exempt from the necessities of the 
 class : and that if he was able to restrain his countrymen 
 from the wild career of distant conquest into which they 
 launched after his death, it was only by identifying himself 
 thoroughly with their selfish and unscrupulous system of 
 aggrandizement in the .^Egean. To prepare the way for his 
 personal dictatorship, he overthrew the last conservative 
 institution of Athens. He left nothing but himself above or 
 beside that fierce democracy which he could wield, but to 
 which his feebler successors were compelled to pander. And 
 it may well be doubted whether the ruin which followed his 
 decease was not a condemnation of his general policy, while 
 it was an attestation of his personal probity and genius. Had 
 
42 For Greek Prose. 
 
 he never lived, the development of Athens would have been 
 slower and healthier, and in all probability her hfe would 
 have been prolonged : but the life thus prolonged would 
 have been less intense, and less fruitful in works of intellect : 
 and posterity owes too much to the Periclean era to scruti- 
 nize too narrowly the acts of Pericles. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 65 ; viii. 89. Isocrates, de Pace, 126 [or viii. p. 180]. 
 
II.— RHETORICAL. 
 
 I. 
 
 I AM not surprised that the fertile genius I see opposite me 
 has hit upon this scheme ; there is nothing new in it ; it 
 has ever beeil a part of the tactics of an oligarchy to ally itself 
 to the lower sections of a democracy. It was so in the course 
 of the French Revolution, and it is recorded over and over 
 again in the annals of other countries. I say I am not the 
 least surprised at this ; but what I am surprised at, is that you, 
 the gentlemen of England, you, with all you have at stake, 
 you, with your ancestry behind you and your posterity before 
 you, with your great estates, with your titles, with your honour, 
 with the amount of imperial prosperity, happiness, and dignity, 
 such as never before fell to the lot of any class in the world, 
 — that you will fling away all this without, as far as I can see, 
 the shadow of an equivalent of any kind. Do you look for an 
 equivalent in any personal good 1 Your interests are diame- 
 trically opposed to the course you are pursuing. Is it for the 
 good of the country ? Have you so totally unlearned the 
 simplest lessons as to believe that it is by going into the depths 
 of poverty and ignorance that we are to find wisdom to 
 manage the delicate affairs of this great empire ! I believe 
 you have, and by so doing you have branded yourselves with 
 a stigma that your party can never escape from. 
 
 . .^schines, in Ctes. 158 [iii. 76] ; 208 [iii. 83] ; 235 [iii. 87]. 
 
44 For Greek Prose. 
 
 II. 
 
 BEFORE men are put forward into the great trusts of the 
 State, they ought by their conduct to have obtained such 
 a degree of estimation in their country, as may be some sort 
 of pledge and security to the public that they will not abuse 
 those trusts. It is no mean security for a proper use of 
 power, that a man has shown, by the general tenor of his 
 actions, that the affection, the good opinion, the confidence of 
 his fellow-citizens have been among the principal objects of his 
 life ; and that he has owed none of the degradations of his 
 power or fortune to a settled contempt for, or occasional for- 
 feiture of, their esteem. 
 
 That man who, before he comes into power, has no friends, 
 or who coming into power is obliged to desert his friends, or 
 who losing it has no friends to sympathize with him, he who 
 has no sway among any part of the landed or commercial 
 interest, but whose whole importance has begun with his office, 
 and is sure to end with it — is a person who ought never to be 
 suffered by a controlling parliament to continue in any of those 
 situations which confer the lead and direction of all our public 
 affairs, because such a man has no connexion with the interest 
 of the people. 
 
 Those knots or cabals of men who have got together, 
 avowedly without any public principle, in order to sell their 
 conjunct iniquity at a higher rate, and are therefore universally 
 odious, ought never to be suffered to domineer in the State, 
 because they have no connexion with the sentiments and 
 opinions of the people. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 340 [xviii. 317] ; 393 [xviii. 331]. 
 .(Eschines, in Ctes. 168 [iii. 77] ; 248 [iii. 89]. 
 
Rhetorical. 45 
 
 III. 
 
 I BELIEVE, sir, it will not be denied for a moment, that the 
 general voice is for peace, immediate peace, if possible ; 
 the necessity of peace is felt throughout the country, both in 
 this House and out of it. But I am sorry to say that there is 
 a degree of careless indolence and supineness that pervades 
 all ranks of the people, which to my mind is the worst symp- 
 tom of the declining liberty of a country. Look to the uni- 
 versal sentiment the victories of Bonaparte have produced in' 
 the city : the people are elated ; they receive the news with 
 satisfaction, and feel that it is to the defeat of our allies alone 
 that they can look forward for an alleviation of their calamities. 
 If the people have suffered by the continuance of the war, it 
 is to themselves they must look as the cause of their suffer- 
 ings. They feel the distresses of the war : they will not say, 
 ' We will have peace,' but are content to receive it as a boon 
 from the enemy, through the disgrace of our allies. I know 
 the 'people have only to meet in a constitutional way, and 
 express their determination to have peace in order to obtain 
 it : but no, they wait till they receive it by the defeat and loss 
 of honour of those with whom we are allied in the prosecution 
 of the war. It is this supineness that I consider as a symptom 
 of the decay of the spirit which once; characterized the 
 country. There never was a period when there appeared so 
 little public virtue, so little independence of mind as at pre- 
 sent : it is to rescue it from such apathy that I make this 
 
 motion. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philipp. i. 9 [iv. 42] ; i. 46 [iv. 51]. 
 Isocrates, de Pace, 20 [viii. 162]. 
 
 IV. 
 "T^HE right honourable gentleman pleads in excuse for his 
 conduct that he never promised us success. He says, 
 ' We are good ministers, we have taken the most likely steps 
 
46 For Greek Prose. 
 
 to promote the welfare of the country : but we have been dis- 
 appointed, and things have turned out differently from what 
 there was reason to expect.' When I have shown that every 
 ground on which he has built has failed, and all his reasonings 
 and predictions were erroneous, what kind of language is it for 
 a minister to talk of his promises ? When he, whom he lately 
 boasted of as being a magnanimous and affectionate ally, has 
 abandoned our cause, and is on the brink of hostilities with 
 us : when those troops, which, he said, would do more than 
 supply the place of the Russians, are almost all cut to pieces, 
 and the dominions of their prince in the power of the enemy ; 
 when the French armies, which he represented as completely 
 disorganized and incapable of being recruited, are triumphing 
 in every direction, and presenting a most formidable aspect to 
 the whole of Europe ; when the Austrians, whose triumphs 
 were so highly extolled, who were affirmed to be in a state to 
 continue their victorious career, and who were said to be un- 
 animous with ourselves, have lost the whole of Italy, tremble 
 for their capital, refuse to enter into a treaty with us, and are 
 probably at this moment treating with the French ; when that 
 character which was abused and vilified, and loaded with 
 every epithet of reproach, has shone forth with unexampled 
 splendour, and given proofs of almost every excellence : the 
 right honourable gentleman comes down with a puny, sorry, 
 childish, pitiful excuse, and says he made no promises. 
 What ! is he not to be blamed for having been deficient of in- 
 telligence : for having despised advice ; for having acted 
 without deliberation and foresight ; for having persisted in a 
 system unjustifiable, impolitic, and ruinous, because he did not 
 promise us success ? He stands convicted of complete in- 
 ability or gross misrepresentation. If he really believed what 
 he said, he is destitute of that penetration, sagacity, and sound- 
 ness of judgment which are indispensably necessary to a mini- 
 
Rhetorical. 47 
 
 ster. If he was conscious of the real state of affairs, and 
 foresaw the events which were likely to happen, and yet talked 
 with confidence of victory, and obstinately persisted in the 
 contest, no epithet of reproach and condemnation is too strong 
 to be applied to him. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 314 [xviii. 311] ; 378 [xviii. 327]. 
 iEschines, in Ctes. 49 [iii. 60] ; 99 [iii. 67] ; 137 [iii. 73]. 
 
 V. 
 
 BUT, it is said, we have preserved our constitution. How 
 have we preserved it ? So careful have ministers been 
 of its preservation, that they are afraid to give us the use of 
 it. They have considered it as some choice thing, which 
 ought to be put out of sight and carefully locked up. I hope, 
 sir, the constitution is only suspended, and that we shall yet 
 see it in all its splendour : but till that time comes, I can give 
 no one any credit for his attentions to it. Sir, peace must be 
 concluded, or it must be proved that the period of fraud, pre- 
 varication, and insincerity is over, and that a new system of 
 things is about to commence. If I am asked whether I ex- 
 pect that ministers will ever make peace with sincerity, I 
 answer, No ! In some circumstances I can conceive that 
 they may conclude a peace which might be preferable to this 
 destructive war ; and I believe that they will ere long be com- 
 pelled to conclude one of some kind or other. But that they 
 will ever be authors of a peace which will heal the wounds the 
 war has inflicted, which will soothe national animosity, which 
 will justify a reduction of our forces, which will render it 
 possible to lighten the oppressive load of taxes, that they will 
 make a peace of conciliation, I confess that I have no hope. 
 I do not say that there is but one man in the kingdom capable 
 of making a solid peace. God forbid ! I believe that there 
 
48 For Greek Prose. 
 
 are many. But I do not scruple to say that a solid peace can 
 be concluded only upon the principles of that one man. Who 
 that man is, it is needless for me to mention, and his prin- 
 ciples are equally well known. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Pace, 24 [v. 63]. 
 
 Isocrates, de Pace, 32 [viii. 164] ; 64 [viii. 169]. 
 
 VI. 
 
 BUT I think an important lesson is to be learnt from the 
 arrogance of Bonaparte. He says he is an instrument 
 in the hands of Providence, an envoy of God. He says he 
 is an instrument in the hands of Providence to restore Switzer- 
 land to happiness, and to elevate Italy to splendour and im- 
 portance. Sir, I think he is an instrument in the hands of 
 Providence to .make the English love their constitution the 
 better ; to cling to it with more fondness ; to hang round it 
 with truer tenderness. Every man feels when he returns from 
 France that he is coming from a dungeon to enjoy the light 
 and life of British independence. Sir, whatever abuses exist, 
 we shall still look with pride and pleasure upon the substan- 
 tial blessings we still enjoy. I believe too, sir, that he is an 
 instrument in the hand of Providence to make us more liberal 
 in our political dififerences, and to render us determined with 
 one hand and heart to oppose any aggressions that may be 
 made upon us. If that aggression be made, my honourable friend 
 will, I am sure, agree with me, that we ought to meet it with 
 a spirit worthy of these islands : that \ve ought to meet it with 
 a conviction of the truth of this assertion, that the country 
 which has achieved such greatness, has no retreat in littleness : 
 that if we could be content to abandon everything, we should 
 find no safety in poverty, no security in abject submission. 
 Finally, sir, that we ought to meet it with a fixed determina- 
 
Rhetorical. 49 
 
 tion to perish in the same grave with the honour and inde- 
 pendence of the country. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philip, i. 48, sqij. [iv. 52]; De Corona, 119 [xviii. 258] ; 
 
 261, sqq. [xviii. 297]. 
 Thucydides, i. 140. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I KNOW that it has been asserted by the advocates of the 
 right honourable gentleman out of doors that that reply 
 was complete : but sure I am that no man in this house who 
 heard it ever thought it so, and least of all was it so thought by 
 my right honourable friend himself, who delivered it. I admire 
 the talents of my right honourable friend as much as any man, 
 yet, upon the occasion alluded to, I could not help observing 
 the difficulty he had to struggle with : the embarrassed and 
 staggering course he made ; I was conscious that my right 
 honourable friend felt that he had very little to say to the pur- 
 pose : that he was sailing against wind and tide : that although 
 the puff of a cheer from his friends sometimes produced a slight 
 swell in his sails, he could make but little progress : that he 
 raised his voice aloud, but produced no impression : that he 
 dropped argument and produced a noise : that, in fact, he 
 made a fine catamaran speech, plenty of noise, but little mis- 
 chief to his adversary at least. What mischief he may have 
 done to the system he would support, I cannot pretend to say. 
 
 jEschines, in Ctes. 17 [iii. 56] ; 99, sqq- [iii. 67] ; 230 [iii. 86]; 
 De Falsa Legatione, 37, sqq, [ii. 32, subfinetn\. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 NEW-COMERS among the nations, you desire, like the 
 rest, to have a history. You seek it in Indian annals, 
 you seek it in Northern sagas. You fondly surround an old 
 windmill with the pomp of Scandinavian antiquity in your 
 
 D 
 
50 For Greek Prose. 
 
 anxiety to fill up the void of your unpeopled past. But you 
 have a real and glorious history if you will not reject it, — 
 monuments genuine and majestic, if you will acknowledge 
 them as your own. Yours are the palaces of the Plantagenets, 
 — the cathedrals which enshrined our old religion, — the illus- 
 trious hall in which the long line of our great judges reared by 
 their decisions the fabric of our law, — the grey colleges in 
 which our intellect and science found their earliest home, — 
 the graves where our heroes and sages and poets sleep. It 
 would as ill become you to cultivate narrow national memories 
 in regard to the past as it would to cultivate narrow national 
 prejudices at present. You have come out, as from other 
 relics of barbarism which still oppress Europe, so from the 
 barbarism of a jealous nationality. You are heirs to all the 
 wealths of the Old World, and must owe gratitude for a part 
 of your heritage to Germany, France, and Spain, as well as to 
 England. Still, it is from England that you are sprung : from 
 her you brought the power of self-government, which was the 
 talisman of colonization and the pledge of your empire here. 
 She it was, that, having advanced by centuries of effort to the 
 front of the Old World, became worthy to give birth to the 
 New. 
 
 Isocrates, Philip. 34 [Orat. v. 88]. 
 
 IX. 
 
 PLACET igitur mihi, patres conscripti, legionis Martiae 
 militibus et eis qui una pugnantes occiderunt monumen- 
 tum fieri quam amplissimum. Magna atque incredibilia sunt 
 in rempublicam hujus merita legionis. Hsc se prima latro- 
 cinio abrupit Antonii, h^c tenuit Albam, haec se ad Caesarem 
 contulit, hanc imitata Quarta legio parem virtutis gloriam con- 
 secuta est. Quarta victrix desiderat neminem : ex Martia 
 nonnuUi in ipsa victoria conciderunt. O fortunata mors, quae 
 
Rhetorical. 5 1 
 
 naturae debita pro patria est potissimum reddita ! Vos vero 
 patriae natos judico, .quorum etiam nomen a Marte est, ut idem 
 deus urbem banc gentibus, vos huic urbi genuisse videatur. 
 In fuga foeda mors est, in victoria gloriosa : etenim Mars ipse 
 ex acie fortissimum quemque pignerari solet. Illi igitur impii 
 quos cecidistis etiam ad inferos poenas parrieidii luent : vos 
 vero qui extremum spiritum in victoria effudistis, piorum estis 
 sedem et locum consecuti. Brevis a natura nobis vita data 
 est, at memoria bene redditae vitae sempiterna. Quae si non 
 esset longior quam haec vita, quis esset tarn' amens qui maxi- 
 mis laboribus et periculis ad summam laudem gloriamque 
 contenderet % Actum igitur praeclare vobiscum, fortissimi 
 dura vixistis, nunc vero etiam sanctissimi milites, quod 
 vestra virtus neque oblivione eorum qui nunc sunt, nee 
 reticentia posterorum insepulta esse poterit, quum vobis im- 
 mortale monumentum suis pcene manibus senatus populusque 
 Romanus exstruxerit. Multi ssepe exercitus Punicis, Gallicis, 
 Italicis bellis clari et magni fuerunt ; nee tamen uUis tale 
 genus honoris tributum est. Atque utinam majora possemus, 
 quandoquidem a vobis maxima accepimus ! Vos ab urbe 
 furentem Antonium avertistis : vos redire molientem repulistis. 
 Erit igitur exstructa moles opere magnifico incisaeque literae, 
 divinae virtu tis testes 'sempiternae : nunquam de vobis eorum 
 qui aut videbunt vestrum monumentum aut audient gratissimus 
 sermo conticescet. Ita pro mortali conditione vitae immortali- 
 tatem estis consecuti. 
 
 Plato, Menexenus. Thucydides, ii. 43. 
 
 Demosthenes, Epitaph. 34 [Or. Ix. 1397] [1399]. 
 Lysias, Epitaph. 77 [ii, 198]. 
 
 X. 
 
 WE have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a 
 final resting-place for those who here gave their lives 
 that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper 
 
52 For Greek Prose. 
 
 that we should do this. But in a larger sense we cannot dedi- 
 cate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. 
 The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have con- 
 secrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The 
 world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, 
 but it can never forget, what they did here. It is for us, 
 the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished 
 work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly 
 advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great 
 task remaining before us — that from these honoured dead we 
 take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the 
 last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that 
 these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under 
 God, shall have a new birth of freedom ; and that government 
 of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish 
 from the earth. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 42, sqq. Plato, Menexenus, viii. ix. xviii. 
 
 Demosthenes, Epitaph. 20, sqq. [ix. 1393]. 
 
 XI. 
 
 WHILE you have everything to fear from the success of 
 the enemy, you have every means of preventing that 
 success, so that it is next to impossible for victory not to 
 crown your exertions. The extent of your resources, under 
 God, is equal to the justice of your cause. But should Provi- 
 dence determine otherwise, should you fall in this struggle, 
 should the nation fall, you will have the satisfaction (the 
 purest allotted to man) of having performed your part ; your 
 names will be enrolled with the most illustrious dead, while 
 posterity to the end of time, as often as they revolve the events 
 of this period (and they will incessantly revolve them) will 
 turn to you a reverential eye, while they mourn over the free- 
 
Rhetorical. 5 3 
 
 dom which is entombed in your sepulchre. I cannot but 
 imagine the virtuous heroes, legislators, and patriots of every 
 age and country, are bending from their elevated seats to wit- 
 ness this contest, as if they were incapable, till it be brought to 
 a favourable issue, of enjoying their eternal repose. Enjoy that 
 repose, illustrious immortals ! Your mantle fell when you 
 ascended : and thousands inflamed with your spirit, and im- 
 patient to tread in your steps, are ready to swear by Him that 
 sitteth on the throne, and liveth for ever and ever, that they 
 will protect freedom in her last asylum, and never desert that 
 cause, which you sustained by your labours, and cemented 
 with your blood. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 41-46. Demosthenes, Epitaph. 20, sqq. [Ix. 1394]. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THERE is only one cure for the evils which newly-acquired 
 freedom produces ; and that cure is freedom. When a* 
 prisoner first leaves his cell, he cannot bear the light of day ; 
 he is unable to discriminate colours or recognise faces. But 
 the remedy is not to remand him into his dungeon, but to 
 accustom him to the rays of the sun. The blaze of truth and 
 liberty may at first dazzle and bewilder nations which have 
 become half blind in the house of bondage. But let them 
 gaze on, and they will soon be able to bear it. In a few 
 years men learn to reason. The extreme violence of opinion 
 subsides. Hostile theories correct each other. The scattered 
 elements of truth cease to contend, and begin to coalesce : 
 and at length a system of justice and order is educed out of 
 chaos. 
 
 Many politicians of our time are in the habit' ot laying it 
 down as a self-evident proposition, that no people ought to 
 be free till they are fit to use their freedom. The maxim is 
 
54 For Greek Prose. 
 
 worthy of the fool in the old story who resolved not to go 
 into the water till he had learnt to swim. If men are to wait 
 for liberty till they become wise and good in slavery, they 
 may indeed wait for ever. 
 
 IsocrateSj.-fawf^. 175, sqq. [iv. 72]. 
 Demosthenes, de Rhod. Libert. 15, sqq. [xv. 195]. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 IT does, sir, often happen that a case may be so clear, and 
 so notorious, so open to every man's observation, that a 
 public statement of the grounds upon which it is required to 
 adopt strong measures, may be both futile and unnecessary. 
 Such a case is the present : and yet gentlemen come here and 
 tell us that we require of them to pass an act of this great 
 importance without any reason assigned for it ! What, sir, 
 are the reasons, the strong reasons, that exist at this moment ? 
 We are engaged in a war with a powerful and active enemy, 
 whose object professedly is to destroy the constitution, and 
 overturn the liberties of the British Empire. His attention is 
 in the first instance directed towards Ireland, where his emis- 
 saries are perpetually at work, by means of correspoiidence 
 and otherwise, to sow disloyalty and sedition. His object is 
 the invasion and destruction of this country, and to attain it 
 his preparations have been carried on with unremitted vigour, 
 and at this moment are not abandoned. Our fleets are now 
 employed in blockading in their harbours the vessels of our 
 enemy, which, if it were not for their care and vigilance, 
 would sail with an army to attempt to carry his threats into 
 instant execution. To assist him in this plan, those who have 
 fled from their own country, perhaps for crimes of different 
 sorts, have been embodied and formed into a kind of regi- 
 ment. They are the instruments which he employs to pre- 
 
Rhetorical. ' 5 5 
 
 pare the way for the execution of his purposes. They maintain 
 a correspondence with the disaffected in their own country, 
 and employ every means to spread the flame of rebeUion 
 over their unfortunate country : unfortunate for having been 
 the birth-place of persons who seem so little to understand or 
 consult her true and permanent interests. They have given 
 occasion to the melancholy insurrections which our times 
 have witnessed in that kingdom. To say that these are not 
 reasons for the measure now proposed to be adopted, is tanta- 
 mount to saying that no facts of any kind can be a reason 
 for it. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philip, iii. 64, sqq. [ix. 124] ; Chersones. 38, sqq. [viii. 99] ; 
 62 [viii. 104] ; De Corona, 363, sqq. [xviii. 323.] 
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE honourable gentleman seldom condescends to favour 
 us with a display of his extraordinary powers of imagi- 
 nation and of fancy ; but when he does come forward, we are 
 prepared for a grand performance. No subject comes amiss 
 to him, however remote from the question before the house. 
 All that his fancy suggests at the moment, or that he has col- 
 lected from others, — all that he can utter in the ebullition of 
 the moment, — all that he has slept on and matured, are com- 
 bined and produced for our entertainment. All his hoarded 
 repartees — all his matured jests — the full contents of his 
 common-place book — all his severe invectives — all his bold, 
 hardy assertions — all that he has been treasuring up for days, 
 for weeks, and months, he collects into one mass, which he 
 kindles into a blaze of eloquence, and out it conies all 
 together — whether it has any relation to the subject in debate 
 or not. Thus it is with his usual fehcity that the honourable 
 gentleman finds a new argument for the repeal of the present 
 
56 For Greek Prose. 
 
 bill ; because the house and the country have less confidence 
 in the present than ewn in the late ministers. Whether I 
 possess that confidence or not, certainly this is not the mode 
 of determining it. But, sir, it is rather whimsical, that at the 
 very moment the honourable gentleman is saying that I do 
 not now possess the confidence of Parliament and the country, 
 he is paying me an involuntary compliment by owning that 
 at least I formerly enjoyed that confidence. It is, however, 
 rather unfortunate, that there is not a single opprobrious 
 epithet that the honourable gentleman has now employed 
 against me, which on almost every disputed point he did not 
 lavish on me at that very period when he allows I possessed 
 the confidence of Parliament and the country. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 14, sqq. [xviii. 229] ; 286, sqq. [xviii. 303] ; 
 302 [xviii. 307] ; 381 [xviii. 328.] 
 
 XV. 
 
 UNDER this impression we thought it our duty to attempt 
 negotiation, not from the sanguine hope, even at that 
 time, that its result could afford us complete security, but 
 from the persuasion that the danger arising from peace under 
 such circumstances was less than that of continuing the war 
 with precarious and inadequate means. The result of those 
 negotiations proved that the enemy would be satisfied with 
 nothing less than the sacrifice of the honour and independence 
 of the country. From this conviction, a spirit and enthusiasm 
 was excited in the nation, which produced the efforts to which 
 we are indebted for the subsequent change in our situation. 
 Having witnessed that happy change, having observed the 
 increasing prosperity and security of the country from t^at 
 period, seeing how much more satisfactory our prospects now 
 are than any which we could then have derived from the 
 
Rhetorical. 5 7 
 
 successful result of negotiation, I have not scrupled to declare 
 that I consider the rupture of the negotiation, on the part of 
 the enemy, as a fortunate circumstance for the country. But 
 because these are my sentiments at this time, after reviewing 
 what has since passed, does it follow that we were, at that 
 time, insincere in endeavouring to obtain peace ? The learned 
 gentleman, indeed, assumes that we were ; and he even makes 
 a concession, of which I desire not to claim the benefit ; he 
 is willing to admit that, on our principles, and our view of the 
 subject, insincerity would have been justifiable. I know, sir, 
 no plea that would justify those who are intrusted with the 
 conduct of public affairs, in holding out to Parliament and 
 to the nation one object, while they were, in fact, pursuing 
 another. I did, in fact, believe, at the moment, the conclu- 
 sion of peace (if it could have been obtained) to be preferable 
 to the continuance of the war under its increasing risks and 
 difficulties. I therefore wished for peace ; I sincerely laboured 
 for peace. Our endeavours were frustrated by the act of the 
 enemy. If, then, the circumstances are since changed, if 
 what passed at that period has afforded a proof that the 
 object we aimed at was unattainable, and if all that has passed 
 since has proved that, if peace had been then made, it could 
 not have been durable, are we bound to repeat the same 
 experiment, when every reason against it is strengthened by 
 subsequent experience, and when the inducements which led 
 to it at that time have ceased to exist ? 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 26 [xviii. 232] ; III [xviii. 255] ; 305 [xviii. 308]. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 AFTER the truce was concluded, say they, after the meet- 
 ing of the Princes; yea, and afore that, the King's 
 majesty was left out of the packing indeed : whereof I sent 
 
58 For Greek Prose. 
 
 him the copy of the conclusions and chapters of the peace, 
 wherein he was not mentioned, contrary to the Emperor's 
 promise and to, the French King's letters. Since we knew all 
 three the same; it is likely that after this I would use the 
 future tense in that was past, and ' shall,' ye ' shall see,' and 
 then, ' if he be so, by God's blood he is well served,' and then, 
 ' I would he were so.' It is more like I should say, that ' he 
 is left out of the cart's tail, and by God's blood, he is well 
 served, and I am glad of it.' By this you may perceive that 
 either they lie in the time and the place, or else in the report- 
 ing the thing. 
 
 But because I am wont sometimes to rap out an oath in an 
 earnest talk, look how craftily they have put in an oath to the 
 matter, to make the matter seem mine : and because they 
 have guarded a naughty garment of theirs with one of my 
 naughty guards, they will swear and face me down, that that 
 was my garment. But bring me my garment as it was. If I 
 said a like thing, rehearse my tale as I said it. No man can 
 believe you that I meant it as you construe it ; or that I speak 
 it as you allege it ; or that I understand English so evil to 
 speak so out of purpose. Therefore the time, the place, and 
 other men's saying upon the same matter bewray your craft 
 and your falsehood. It well appeareth that you have a 
 toward will to lie, but that you lacked in the matter practice 
 or wit : for, they say, ' He that will lie well must have a good 
 remembrance, that he agree in all points with himself, lest he 
 be spied.' 
 
 Demosthenes, de Falsa Legal. 50, sqq. [xix. 355] ; 117, sqq^. [xix. 373]. 
 XVII. 
 
 IN that great war carried on for near eighteen years. Govern- 
 ment spared no pains to satisfy the nation that, though 
 they were animated by a desire of glory, glory was not their 
 
Rhetorical. 59 
 
 ultimate object : but that everything dear to them in religion, 
 in law, in liberty, everything which, as freemen, as English- 
 men, and as citizens, they had at heart, was then at stake. 
 This was to know the true art of gaining the affections and 
 confidence of an high-minded people. This was to under- 
 stand human nature. A danger to avert a danger — a present 
 inconvenience and suffering to prevent a foreseen future and a 
 worse calamity — these are the motives that belong to an 
 animal, who, in his constitution, is at once adventurous and 
 provident, circumspect and daring : whom his Creator has 
 made, as the poet says, ' of large discourse, looking before and 
 after.' But never can a vehement and sustained spirit of for- 
 titude be kindled in a people by a war of calculation. It has 
 nothing that can keep the mind erect under the gusts of 
 adversity. Even where men are willing, as sometimes they 
 are, to barter their blood for lucre, to hazard their safety for 
 the gratification of their avarice, the passion which animates 
 . them to that sort of conflict, like all the short-sighted passions, 
 must see its objects distinct and near at hand. 
 
 Isocrates, Paneg. 84, jjj. [Orat. iv. 56] ; 108, jjg'. [iv. 60]. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 ALL around us the world is convulsed by the agonies of 
 great nations. Governments which lately seemed likely 
 to stand during ages have been on a sudden shaken and over- 
 thrown. The proudest Capitals of Western Europe have 
 streamed with civil blood. All evil passions, the thirst of gain 
 and the thirst of vengeance, the antipathy of class to class, the 
 antipathy of race to race, have broken loose from the control 
 of divine and human laws. Fear and anxiety have clouded 
 the faces and depressed the hearts of millions. Trade has 
 been suspended, and industry paralysed. The rich have 
 
6o For Greek Prose. 
 
 become poor ; and the poor have become poorer. Doctrines 
 hostile to all sciences, to all arts, to all industry, to all 
 domestic charities, doctrines which, if carried into effect, 
 would, in thirty years, undo all that thirty centuries have done 
 for mankind, and would make the fairest provinces of France 
 and Germany as savage as Congo or Patagonia, have been 
 avowed from the tribune and defended by the sword. Europe 
 has been threatened with subjugation by barbarians, compared 
 with whom the barbarians who marched under Attila and 
 Alboin were enlightened and humane. The truest friends of 
 the people have with deep sorrow owned that interests more 
 precious than any political privileges were in jeopardy, and 
 that it might be necessary to sacrifice even liberty in order to 
 save civilisation. Meanwhile in our island the regular course 
 of government has never been for a day interrupted. 
 
 ^schines, in Ctes. 132 [iii. 72]. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 BUT the question for us all — the question for every educated 
 man who is not anxious to shirk his social and civic 
 duties — is, 'Who is responsible ?' We answer that the intelli- 
 gent middle-classes of this great city are themselves to blame ; 
 that on them lie the shame and the guilt of all the brutality 
 committed by their inferiors. Shame and guilt are hard words, 
 no doubt, to cast at the respectable British householders who 
 read these lines by the fireside, and consider themselves pat- 
 terns of propriety ; but, hard as they are, we dare not retract 
 them. The time has come for the stern truth to be told ; the 
 time has come when epicurean indifference must be branded 
 as a crime. If we read, day after day, of miserable outcasts 
 dying in the streets — if we read, day after day, of long 
 agonies of destitution and exposure to the elements — 
 be it recollected that it is not the legislation of England 
 
Rhetorical. 6 1 
 
 which is at fault, but the method of its administration. 
 The sin is personal, not national. Until the guardians 
 are selected from a more liberal and a better-educated class, 
 the enormities which now seem like a cynical satire upon our 
 vaunted civilisation will continue. ' But is the refined British 
 householder to mix in parish politics, to attend the meetings 
 of the vestry, to take a seat upon the local board, and to dis- 
 pute with his butcher or his cheesemonger about the details of 
 parochial management V Exactly so ; that is precisely what 
 he has to do. ' But he will meet with abuse, misconstruction, 
 and slander for his pains ; he will be libelled, nicknamed, 
 vilified, and insulted ! ' Undoubtedly ; that is precisely the 
 treatment he will receive ; and what of it % This ; that an 
 educated English gentleman ought to be able to hold his own 
 in any companionship whatever ; that in a matter of duty it is 
 mean to count the cost, and that it is a matter of duty to pro- 
 tect the poor. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. iii. 38 [iii. 37] ; Philipp. i. 9 [iv. 42] ; i. 44 [iv. 51] ; 
 Chersones. 32 [viii. 97]. 
 
 XX. 
 
 THAT such a retrospect may, in most cases, be wise and 
 salutary, is a proposition which will hardly be denied. 
 It is evident that our appeal to experience is the best guard to 
 future conduct, and that it may be necessary to probe the 
 nature of the misfortune, in order to apply a suitable remedy. 
 But in a question so momentous and interesting to the country, 
 as undoubtedly the present question must be, if it can be 
 deemed expedient to run out into a long retrospective view of 
 past calamities, surely it must be far more so to point out the 
 mode by which their fatal effects may be averted, and by 
 proving the origin of the evils complained of, to judge of the 
 nature and efficacy of the remedies to be applied. Whatever, 
 
62 For Greek Prose. 
 
 therefore, our present situation may be, it certainly cannot be 
 wise to fix our attention solely on what is past, but rather to 
 look to what still can, and remains to be done. This is more 
 naturally the subject that should be proposed to the discus- 
 sion of a deliberative assembly. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olyntk. iii. i6 seq. [iii. 32]. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 PROFESSIONS of patriotism are become stale and ridicu- 
 lous. For my own part, I claim no merit from endea- 
 vouring to do a service to my fellow-subjects. I have done it 
 to the best of my understanding ; and without looking for the 
 approbation of other men, my conscience is satisfied. What 
 remains to be done concerns the collective body of the people. 
 They are now to determine for themselves, whether they will 
 firmly and constitutionally assert their rights, or make an 
 humble, slavish surrender of them at the feet of the ministry. 
 To a generous mind there cannot be a doubt. We owe it to 
 our ancestors to preserve entire these rights which they have 
 delivered to our care : we owe it to our posterity not to suffer 
 their dearest inheritance to be destroyed. But if it were pos- 
 sible for us to be insensible of these sacred claims, there is yet 
 an obligation binding upon ourselves, from which nothing can 
 acquit us — a personal interest, which we cannot surrender. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 259 [xviii. 296]. 
 
 XXIL 
 
 BUT youth, sir, is not my only crime. I have been 
 accused of acting a theatrical part A theatrical part 
 may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimula- 
 tion of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions 
 
Rhetorical. 63 
 
 and language of another man. In the first sense, sir, the 
 charge is too trifling to be repeated, and deserves only to be 
 mentioned that 'it may be despised. I am at liberty, like 
 every other man, to use my own language ; and though per- 
 haps I may have more ambition to please this gentleman, I 
 shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously 
 copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age or 
 modelled by experience. But if any man shall, by charging 
 me with theatrical behaviour, imply that I utter any senti- 
 ments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a 
 villain ; nor shall any protection shield him from the treat- 
 ment he deserves. I shall on such an occasion, without 
 scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and 
 dignity intrench themselves ; nor shall anything but age 
 restrain my resentment : age, which always brings one privi- 
 lege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punish- 
 ment. 
 
 Demostlienes, de Corona, 14 [xviii. 229] ; 161 [xviii. 269]; 
 291 [xviii. 305}. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 REHEARSE the law : declare, my Lords, I beseech you, 
 the meaning thereof. Am I a traitor because I spake 
 with the king's traitor? No, not for that ; for I may bid him 
 ' Avaunt, traitor !' or 'Defy him, traitor.' No man will take 
 this for treason. But where he is holpen, counselled, adver- 
 tised by my word, there lieth the treason, there lieth the 
 treason. In writing it is like : in message it is like : for I 
 may send him both letter and message of challenge or defiance. 
 But in any of these the sUspect is dangerous : therefore who- 
 soever would do any of these things, I would advise him that 
 it appear well. And yet neither God's law, nor man's law, 
 
64 For Greek Prose. 
 
 nor no equity condemneth a man for suspects : but for such a 
 suspect, such a word or writing, that may be so apparent by 
 conjectures, or success of things afterwards, by vehement 
 likelihoods, by conferring of things, and such like, that it may 
 be a grievous matter. 
 
 But whereto do I declare this point ? it is far out of my 
 case. For if I ever spake word to him beyond the sea, and 
 yet to my remembrance but once on this side : or if ever I 
 wrote to him, or if I ever sent him word or message, I con- 
 fess the action : let it be imputed to me for treason. 
 
 Antiphon, Herod. 57 [Orat. v. 136]. 
 Andocides, de Myster. 29, sqq. [Orat. i. 5]. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 As if war was a matter of experiment ! As if you could 
 take it up or lay it down as an idle frolic ! As if the 
 dire goddess that presides over it, with her murderous spear 
 in hand, and her gorgon at her breast, was a coquette to be 
 flirted with ! We ought with reverence to approach that 
 tremendous divinity, that loves courage, but commands 
 counsel. War never leaves where it found a nation. It is 
 never to be entered into without mature deliberation ; not a 
 deliberation lengthened out into a perplexing indecision, but 
 a deliberation leading to a sure and fixed judgment. When 
 so taken up, it is not to be abandoned without reason as 
 valid, as fully, and as extensively considered. Peace may 
 be made as unadvisedly as war. Nothing is so rash as fear ; 
 and the councils of pusillanimity very rarely put off, whilst 
 they are always sure to aggravate, the evils from which they 
 would fly. 
 
 Thucydides iv. 62 ; i. 80, ij^. 
 
Rhetorical. 65 
 
 XXV. 
 
 OUR hold of the colonies is in the close affection which 
 grows from common names, from kindred blood, from 
 similar privileges, and equal protection. These are ties which, 
 though light as air, are as strong as links of iron. Let the colo- 
 nies always keep the idea of their civil rights associated with your 
 government, they will cling and grapple to you, and no force 
 under heaven will be of force to tear them from your allegiance. 
 But let it be once understood that your government may be 
 one thing, and their privileges another, that these two things 
 may exist without any mutual relation ; the cement is gone ; 
 the cohesion is loosened ; and everytlimg hastens to decay 
 and dissolution. As long as you have the wisdom to keep the 
 sovereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of liberty, 
 the sacred temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever 
 the chosen race and sons of England worship freedom, they 
 will turn their faces towards you. The more they multiply, the 
 more friends you will have : the more ardently they love 
 liberty, the more perfect will be their obedience. Slavery they 
 can have anywhere. It is a weed that grows in every soil. 
 They may have it from Spain, they may have it from Prussia. 
 But until you become lost to all feeling of your true interest, 
 freedom they can have from none but you. 
 Thucydides, i. 34 ; iii. 46, 47. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 THAT he has an interest in making peace is at best but 
 a doubtful proposition, and that he has an interest in 
 preserving it is still more uncertain. That it is his interest to 
 negotiate I do not indeed deny : it is his interest above all to 
 engage this country in separate negotiation, in order to loosen 
 
 E 
 
66 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and dissolve the whole system of the confederacy on the Con- 
 tinent, to palsy at once the arms of Russia or of Austria, or of 
 any other country that might look to you for support : and 
 then either to break off his separate treaty, or if he should have 
 concluded it, to apply the lesson which is taught in his school 
 of policy in Egypt : and to revive at his pleasure those claims of 
 indemnificatipn which may have been reserved to some happier 
 period. This is precisely the interest which he has in nego- 
 tiation : but on what grounds are we to be convinced that he 
 has an interest in concluding and observing a solid and perma- 
 nent pacification ? Under all the circumstances of his per- 
 sonal character, and his newly acquired power, what other 
 security has he for retaining that power but the sword ? His 
 hold upon France is the sword, and he has no other. Is he 
 connected with the soil, or with the habits, the affections, or 
 the prejudices of the country ? He is a stranger, a foreigner, 
 and an usurper : he unites in his own person everything that 
 a pure Republican must detest, everything that a sincere 
 Royalist must feel as an insult. If he is opposed at any time 
 in his career, what is his appeal ? ' He appeals to his for- 
 tune ;' in other words, to his army and his sword. Placing, 
 then, his whole reliance upon military support, can he afford 
 to let his warlike renown pass away, to let his laurels wither, 
 to let the memory of his achievements sink in obscurity ? 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. i. 13, jjg'. [i. 12] ; ii. J-g [ii. 19] ; ii. 14,^22. ["■ ^3]' 
 Philipp. i. passim ; de Corona, 82, sqq. [xviii. 247]. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 MY LORDS, if it were here the law, as hath been in 
 some commonwealths, that in all accusations the de- 
 fendant should have double the time to say and defend that 
 the accusers have in making their accusements, and that the 
 
Rhetorical. 67 
 
 defendant might detain unto him counsel, then might I well 
 spare some of my leisure to move your lordships' hearts to be 
 favourable unto me ; then might I by counsel help my truth, 
 which, by mine own wit, I am not able against such a prepared 
 thing. But inasmuch as that time, that your lordships will 
 favourably give me without interruption, I must spend to in- 
 struct without help of counsel their consciences that must pro- 
 nounce upon me ; I beseech you only, at the reverence of God, 
 whose place in judgment you occupy, and whom you ought to 
 have where you are before your eyes, that you be not both my 
 judges and my accusers : that is to say, that you aggravate not 
 my cause unto the quest, but that alone unto their requests or 
 unto mine, which I suppose to be both ignorant in the law, ye 
 interpret the law sincerely. For although it be these men that 
 must pronounce upon me ; yet I know right well what a small 
 word may, of any of your mouths that sit in your place, avail 
 to these men that seeketh light at your hands. This done, 
 with your lordships' leaves, I shall convert my tale unto those 
 men. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona l, sqq., [xviii. 226]. 
 Andocides, de Myst. 8, sqq. [Orat. i. 2]. 
 
 XXVIIL 
 
 OF the points that I am accused of, to my perceiving, 
 these be thetwo marks whereunto mine accusers direct 
 all their shot of eloquence : a deed, and a saying. After this 
 sort, in effect, is thfe deed alleged with so long words, ' Wyatt 
 in so great trust with the King's Majesty that he made him 
 his embassador, and for whom his Majesty hath done so much, 
 being embassador hath had intelligence with the King's rebel 
 and traitor, Pole.' Touching the saying amounteth to this 
 much :— 'That same Wyatt, being also embassador, maliciously, 
 falsely, and traitorously said, " That he feared that the King 
 
68 For Greek Prose. 
 
 should be cast out of a cart's tail, and that by God's blood, if 
 it were so, he were well served, and he would it were so." ' 
 The sole apparel of the rest of all this process pertaineth to 
 the proofs of the one or other of these two points. But if 
 these two points appear unto you to be more than false, mali- 
 ciously invented, craftily disguised, and worse set forth, I doubt 
 not but the rest of their proof will be but reproofs in every 
 honest man's judgment. But let us come to the matter. And 
 here I beseech you, if any of you have brought with you 
 already my judgment by reason of such tales as ye have heard 
 of me abroad, that ye will leave all such determination aside, 
 and only weigh the matter as it shall be here apparent unto 
 you. And besides that, think, I beseech you, that if it be 
 sufficient for the condemnation of any man, to be accused only, 
 that then there is no man guiltless. But if for condemnation 
 is requisite proof and declaration, then take me as not yet 
 condemned, till thoroughly advisedly and substantially ye have 
 heard and marked my tale. 
 
 Andocides, de Myst. I, sqq. [Orat. i. 1.2]. 
 ^schines, in Ctes. 59, sq. pii. 62]. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 I SAY unto you, my good masters and Christian brethren, 
 that if I might have had such . help as I spake of to my 
 lords before, counsel and time, I doubt not but I should fully 
 have satisfied your conscience and have persuaded you. But 
 that may not be. Therefore I must answer directly to the 
 accusation, which will be hard for me to remember. The ac- 
 cusation comprehendeth the indictment, and all these worship- 
 ful men's tales annexed thereunto. The length whereof, the 
 cunning whereof, made by learned men, weaved in and out to 
 persuade you, and trouble me here and there, to seek to 
 answer that is in the one afore, and in the other behind, may 
 
Rhetorical. 69 
 
 both deceive you and amaze me, if God put not in your heads 
 honest wisdom to weigh these things as much as it ought to be. 
 So to avoid the danger of your forgetting, and my trouble in 
 the declaration, it is necessary to gather the whole process into 
 these chief points, and unto them to answer directly, whereby 
 ye shall perceive what be the principals, and what be the 
 effects which these men craftily and wittingly have weaved. to- 
 gether, that a simple man might hardly try the one from the 
 other. Surely but that I understand mine own matter, I should 
 be too much to seek and accumbered in it. But, masters, 
 this is more of law than of equity, of living than of uprightness, 
 with such intricate appearances to blind men's consciences : 
 specially in case of man's life, where' always the naked truth is 
 the goodliest persuasion. But to purpose. 
 
 Demosthenes, (& C»ro«a, lo, jgj. [xviii. 228]. Antiphon, Tetralog. B. /S. i' 
 [Orat. iii. 121]. Demosthenes, Procem. 5. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THESE men think it enough to accuse ; and all these as 
 slanderers use for a general rule, ' Whom thou lovest 
 not, accuse : for though he heal the wound, the scar shall 
 remain.' 
 
 But you will say unto me, ' What is it to thy declaration, 
 whether these men have offended or no? Thou confessest, 
 that thou consentedst to his going to the King's traitor : how 
 avoidest thou that ? What didst thou mean by that, or what 
 authority hadst thoii so to do ? ' 
 
 This is it that I would ye should know, good masters, as 
 well as God knoweth : and it shall be clear enough anon, 
 without suspect unto you. 
 
 But first if that suspect should have been well and lawfully 
 grounded before it had come as far as accusation : there should 
 have been proved between Pole and me kin, acquaintance, 
 
70 For Greek Prose. 
 
 familiarity, or else accord of opinions, whereby it might appear 
 that my consent to Mason's going to him should be for 
 naughty purpose : or else there should have been brought 
 forth some success since, some letters, if none of mine, at the 
 least of some others, some confession of some of his adherents 
 that have been examined or suffered. 
 
 Antiphon, vipX toO \op. 8 (Orat. vi. 142. 8). 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 BUT now to the other part of my accusation, touching my 
 saying. For the love of our Lord weigh it substan- 
 tially, and yet withall remember the naughty handling of my 
 accusers in the other point : and in this you shall see no less 
 maliciousness, and a great deal more falsehood. 
 
 And first let us handle the matter aS though I had so said, 
 except only that same ' falsely, maliciously, and traitorously ' 
 withall. Were it so, I had said the words : yet it remaineth 
 unproved (but take it not that I grant them, for I mean not 
 so), but only that I had so said. Rehearse here the law 
 of words : declare, my lords, I beseech you, the meaning 
 thereof. This includeth that words maliciously spoken, or 
 traitorously against the King's person, should be taken for 
 treason. It is not meant, masters, of words which despise the 
 King lightly, or which are not all the most reverently spoken 
 of him, as a man should judge a chace against him at the tennis, 
 wherewith he were not all the best contented : but such words 
 as bear open malice, or such words as persuade commotions, 
 or seditions, or such things. And what say my accusers in 
 these words? Do they sware I spake them traitorously or 
 maliciously ? I dare say they be shameless enough : yet have 
 they not so deposed against me. Read their depositions : 
 they say not so. Confer their depositions, if they agree word 
 
Rhetorical. 7 1 
 
 for word. That is hard, if they were examined apart, unless 
 they had conspired more than became faithful accusers. If 
 they misagree in words and not in substance, let us hear the 
 words they vary in ; for in some little thing may appear the 
 truth, which, I dare say, you seek for conscience' sake. 
 Lysias, Orat. viii. p. H2. Demosthenes, de Cor. ii. sqq^. [xviii. 228]. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 WHENEVER the supreme authority is vested in a body 
 so composed, it must evidently produce the conse- 
 quences of supreme authority placed in the hands of men not 
 taught habitually to respect themselves ; who had no previous 
 fortune in character at stake ; who could not be expected to 
 bear with moderation, or to conduct with discretion, a power, 
 which they themselves, more than any others, must be sur- 
 prised to find in their hands. Who could flatter himself that 
 these men, suddenly, and, as it were, by enchantment, snatched 
 from the humblest rank of subordination, would not be intoxi- 
 cated with their unprepared greatness ? Who could conceive 
 that men, who are habitually meddling, daring, subtle, active, 
 of litigious dispositions and unquiet minds, would easily fall 
 back into their old condition of obscure contention, and labori- 
 ous, low, and unprofitable chicane? Who could doubt but 
 that, at any expense to the State, of which they understood 
 nothing, they must pursue their private interests which they 
 understood but too well ? It was an event depending on 
 chance or contingency. It was inevitable ; it was necessary ; 
 it was planted in the nature of things. They must join (if 
 their capacity did not permit them to lead) in any project 
 which could procure to them a Utigious constitution ; which 
 could lay open to them those innumerable lucrative jobs, which 
 follow in the train of all great convulsions and revolutions in the 
 
7 2 For Greek Prose. 
 
 State, and particularly in all great and violent permutations of 
 property. Was it to be expected that they would attend to 
 the stability of property, whose existence had always depended 
 upon whatever rendered property questionable, ambiguous, 
 and insecure? Their objects would be enlarged with their 
 elevation, but their disposition and habits, and mode of ac- 
 complishing their designs, must remain the same. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. ii. 17 [ii. 23] ; iii. 33 [iii. 36.] 
 Plato, Thmi. 172, C. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 DIFFERENT stations of command may call for different 
 modifications of this fortitude, but the character ought 
 to be the same in all. And never, in the most palmy state of 
 our martial renown, did it shine with brighter lustre than in 
 the present sanguinary and ferocious hostilities, wherever the 
 British arms have been carried. But in this most arduous and 
 momentous conflict, which from its nature should have roused 
 us to new and unexampled efforts, I know not how it has been 
 that we have never put forth half the strength which we have 
 exerted in ordinary wars. In the fatal battles which have 
 drenched the Continent with blood, and shaken the system of 
 Europe to pieces, we have never had any army of a magnitude 
 to be compared to the least of those by which in former times 
 we so gloriously asserted our place as protectors, not oppres- 
 sors, at the head of the great commonwealth of Europe. We 
 have never manfully met the danger in front : and when the 
 enemy, resigning to us our natural dominion of the ocean, and 
 abandoning the defence of his distant possessions to the infer- 
 nal energy of the destroying principles, which he had planted 
 there for the subversion of the neighbouring colonies, drove 
 forth by one sweeping law of unprecedented despotism, his 
 armed multitudes on every side, to overwhelm the countries 
 
Rhetorical. 73 
 
 and states which had for centuries stood the firm barriers 
 against the ambition of France : we drew back the arm of our 
 military force, which had never been more than half raised to 
 oppose him. From that time we have been combating only 
 with the other arm of our naval power : the right arm of Eng- 
 land, I admit ; but which struck almost unresisted, with blows 
 that could never reach the heart of the hostile mischief. 
 Demosthenes, Philipp. i. 44, sqq. [iv. 51]. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 IF wealth is the obedient and laborious slave of virtue and 
 of public honour, then wealth is in its place and has its 
 use : but if this order is changed, and honour is to be sacri- 
 ficed to the conservation of riches — riches which have neither 
 eyes nor hands, nor anything truly vital_in them, cannot long 
 survive the being of their vivifying powers, their legitimate 
 masters and potent protectors. If we command our wealth 
 we shall be rich and free, if our wealth command us we are 
 poor indeed. We are bought by the enemy with the treasure 
 from our own coffers. Too great a sense of the value of a 
 subordinate interest may be the very source of its danger, 
 as well as the certain ruin of interests of a superior order. 
 Often has a man lost his all because he would not submit to 
 hazard all in defending it. A display of our wealth before 
 robbers is not the way to restrain their boldness or to lessen 
 their rapacity. This display is made, I know, to persuade 
 the people of England that thereby we shall awe the enemy, 
 and improve the terms of our capitulation, it is made not 
 that we should fight with more animation, but that we 
 should supplicate with better hopes. We are mistaken. We 
 have an enemy to deal with who never regarded our con- 
 test as a weighing and measuring of purses. He is the 
 
74 For Greek Prose. 
 
 Gaul who puts his sword into the scale. He is more tempted 
 with our wealth as booty, than terrified with it as power. But 
 let us be rich or poor, let us be either in what proportion we 
 may, nature is false, or this is true, that where the essential 
 public force, of which money is but a part, is in any degree 
 upon a par in a conflict between nations, that state which is 
 resolved to hazard its existence rather than abandon its ob- 
 jects, must have an infinite advantage over that which is 
 resolved to yield rather than to carry its resistance beyond a 
 certain point. Humanly speaking, that people which bounds 
 its efforts only with its being, must give the law to that nation 
 which will not push its opposition beyond its convenience. 
 Demosthenes, Symmoria, 29 [xiv. 184] ; Chersones. 53, sqq. [viii. 102]. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 IN the spirit of that benevolence we sent a gentleman to 
 beseech the Directory of regicide not to be quite so 
 prodigal as their republic had been of judicial murder. We 
 solicited them to spare the lives of some unhappy persons of 
 the first distinction, whose safety at other times could not have 
 been an object of solicitation. They had quitted France on 
 the faith of the declaration of the rights of citizens. They 
 never had been in the service of the regicides, nor at their 
 hands had received any stipend. The very system and consti- 
 tution of government that now prevails was settled subse- 
 quently to their emigration. They were under the protection 
 of Great Britain, and in his Majesty's pay and service. Not an 
 hostile invasion, but the disasters of the sea, had thrown them 
 upon a shore more barbarous and inhospitable than the incle- 
 ment ocean under the most pitiless of its storms. Here was 
 an opportunity to express a feeling for the miseries of war ; 
 and to open some sort of conversation, which (after our public 
 
Rhetorical. 7 5 
 
 overtures had glutted their pride), at a cautious and jealous 
 distance, might lead to something like an accommodation. 
 What was the event ? A strange uncouth thing, a theatrical 
 figure of the opera, his head shaded with three-coloured 
 plumesj his body fantastically habited, strutted from the back 
 scenes, and, after a short speech, in the mock heroic falsetto 
 of stupid tragedy, delivered the gentleman who came to make 
 the representation into the custody of a guard,' with directions 
 not to lose sight of him for a moment ; and then ordered him 
 to be sent from Paris in two hours. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, i6i [xviii. 269] ; 302, jg^- [xviii. 307]. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 THE observation with which the right honourable gentle- 
 man concluded his speech, appears to me one of the 
 strangest I ever heard advanced, and first challenges my atten- 
 tion. He defies me to state, in one sentence, what is the 
 object of the war. I know not whether I can do it in one 
 sentence, but in one word I can tell him that it is security,— 
 security against a danger the greatest that ever threatened the 
 world. It is security against a danger which never existed in 
 any past period of society. It is security against a danger 
 which in degree and extent was never equalled ; against a 
 danger which threatened all the nations of the earth ; against 
 a danger which has been resisted by all the nations of Europe, 
 and- resisted by none with so much success as by this nation, 
 because by none has it been resisted so uniformly, and with 
 so much energy. This country alone of all the nations of 
 Europe, presented barriers the best fitted to resist its progress. 
 We alone recognised the necessity of open war, as well with 
 the principles as the practice of the French revolution. We 
 saw that it was to be resisted no less by arms abroad, than by 
 
76 For Greek Prose. 
 
 precaution at home : that we were to look for protection no 
 less to the courage of our forces than to the wisdom of 
 our councils, no less to military effort than to legislative 
 enactment. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 73 [xviii. 245] ; 80 [xviii. 247] ; 360 [xviii. 322]. 
 XXXVII. 
 
 I SHALL now endeavour to follow the honourable gentle 
 man through his argument, as far as I can recollect it, 
 upon the important question of the Northern confederacy. 
 In following the order which he took, I must begin with his 
 doubts and end with his certainties : and I cannot avoid 
 observing that the honourable gentleman was singularly un- 
 fortunate upon this subject, for he entertained doubts where 
 there was not the slightest ground for hesitation : and he con- 
 trives to make up his mind to absolute certainty, upon points 
 in which both argument and fact are decidedly against him. 
 That part of the question upon which the honourable gentle- 
 man appears to be involved in doubt, is with respect to the 
 justice of our claim in regard to neutral vessels. In comment- 
 ing upon this part of the subject, the honourable gentleman 
 gave us a lesson in politics, which is more remarkable for its 
 soundness than its novelty, viz., that a nation ought not to 
 enforce a claim that is not founded injustice, and that nothing 
 would be found to be consistent with true policy that was not 
 conformable to strict justice. There is, sir, in general a degree 
 of modesty in doubting that conciliates very much, and a man 
 is seldom inclined to bear hard upon an antagonist whose 
 attack does not exceed the limits of a doubt. But, sir, when 
 a gentleman doubts that which has been indisputably estab- 
 lished for more than a century — when he doubts that which 
 has been an acknowledged principle of law in all the tribunals 
 
Rhetorical. 7 7 
 
 of the kingdom, which are alone competent to decide upon 
 the subject, and which Parliament has constantly known them 
 to act upon — ^when he doubts principles which the ablest and 
 wisest statesmen have uniformly adopted — I say, sir, the doubt 
 that calls in question principles so established without offering 
 the slightest ground for so doing, shows a great deal of that 
 pert presumption which, as often as modesty, leads to scep- 
 ticism. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 69 [xviii. 244] ; 117 [xviii. 257] ; 
 156, jjg. [xviii. 268] ; 161 [xviii. 269]. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 I SHALL not expatiate on the formidable power of Philip 
 as an argument to urge you to the performance of your 
 public duty. That would be too much both of compliment to 
 him and of disparagement to you. I should, indeed, myself 
 have thought him truly formidable,, if he had achieved his 
 present eminence by means consistent with justice. But he 
 has aggrandized himself, partly through your negligence and 
 improvidence, partly by treacherous means — by taking into 
 pay corrupt partisans at Athens, and by cheating successively 
 Olynthians, Thessalians, and all his other allies. These allies, 
 having now detected his treachery, are deserting him ; without 
 them, his power will crumble away. Moreover, the Mace- 
 donians themselves have no sympathy with his personal ambi- 
 tion ; they are fatigued with the labour imposed upon them 
 by his endless military movements, and impoverished by the 
 closing of their ports through the war. His vaunted officers 
 are men of worthless and dissolute habits ; his personal com- 
 panions are thieves, vile ministers of amusement, outcasts 
 from our cities. His past good fortune imparts to all this 
 real weakness a fallacious air of strength ; and doubtless his 
 good fortune has been very great. But the fortune of Athens, 
 
78 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and her title to the benevolent aid of the gods, is still greater 
 — if only you, Athenians, will do your duty. Vet here you 
 are, sitting still, doing nothing. The sluggard cannot even 
 command his friends to work for him — much less the gods. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. ii. 3, sqq. [ii. 18]. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 I DO not wonder that Philip, always in the field, always in 
 movement, doing everything for himself, never letting 
 slip an opportunity — prevails over you, who merely talk, 
 inquire, and vote, without action. Nay — the contrary would 
 be wonderful — if, under such circumstances, he had not been 
 the conqueror. But what I do wonder at is, that you Athe- 
 nians — who in former days contended for Pan-hellenic fi-eedom 
 against the Lacedaemonians — who, scorning unjust aggrandise- 
 ment for yourselves, fought in person and lavished your sub- 
 stance to protect the rights of other Greeks — that you now 
 shrink from personal service and payment of money for the 
 defence of your own possessions. You, who have so often 
 rescued others, can now sit still, after having lost so much of 
 your own ! I wonder you do not look back to that conduct 
 of yours which has brought your affairs into this state of ruin, 
 and ask yourselves how they can ever mend, while such con- 
 duct remains unchanged. It was much easier at first to pre- 
 serve what we once had, than to recover it now that it is lost ; 
 we have nothing now left to lose — we have everything to 
 recover. This must be done by ourselves, and at once ; we 
 must furnish money, we must serve in person by turns ; we 
 must give our generals means to do their work well, and then 
 exact from them a severe account afterwards — which we cannot 
 do, so long as we ourselves will neither pay nor serve. 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. ii. 23, j-j. [ii. 24]. 
 
Rhetorical. 79 
 
 XL. 
 
 A CONSCIENTIOUS man would be cautious how he 
 dealt in blood. He would feel some apprehension at 
 being called to a tremendous account for engaging in so deep 
 a play without any sort of knowledge of the game. It is no 
 excuse for presumptuous ignorance that it is directed by inso- 
 lent passion. The poorest being that crawls on earth, con- 
 tending to save itself from injustice and oppression, is an 
 object respectable in the eyes of God and man. But I cannot 
 conceive any existence under heaven (which in the depths ot 
 its wisdom tolerates all sorts of things) that is more truly 
 odious and disgusting than an impotent helpless creature 
 without civil wisdom or military skill, without a consciousness 
 of any other qualification for power but his servility to it, 
 bloated with pride and arrogance, calling for battles which he 
 is not to fight, contending for a violent dominion which he 
 can never exercise, and satisfied to be himself mean and 
 miserable in order to render others contemptible and wretched. 
 
 .(Eschines, in Ctes. 209, sqq. [iii. 83, 84] ; 99, jgj. [iii. 67]. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 LOOK, gentlemen, to the whole tenour of your member's 
 conduct. Try whether his ambition or his avarice 
 have jostled him out of the straight line of his duty; or 
 whether that grand foe of the offices of active life, that master 
 vice in men of business, a degenerate and inglorious sloth — 
 has made him flag and languish in his course. This is the 
 object of our inquiry. If our member's conduct can bear this 
 touch, mark it for sterling. He may have fallen into errors ; 
 he must have faults ; but our error is greater, and our fault is 
 radically ruinous to ourselves, ii we do not bear with, if we do 
 
»o tor brreek Frose. 
 
 not even applaud, the whole compound and mixed mass of such 
 a character. Not to act thus is folly : I had almost said, it is 
 impiety. He censures God who quarrels with the imperfec- 
 tions of men. Gentlemen, we must not be peevish with those 
 who serve the people. For none will serve us whilst there is 
 a court to serve, but those who are of a nice and jealous 
 honour. They who think everything, in comparison of that 
 honour, to be dust and ashes, will not bear to have it soiled 
 and impaired by those for whose sake they make a thousand 
 sacrifices to preserve it immaculate and whole. We shall 
 either drive such men from the public stage, or we shall send 
 them to the court for protection ; where, if they must sacrifice 
 their reputation, they will at least secure their interest. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 305, sqq. [xviii. 308J ; 341, sqq. [xviii. 3l8J. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 AFTER such an elaborate display had been made of the 
 injustice and insolence of an enemy, who seems to 
 have been irritated by every one of the means which had been 
 commonly used with effect to soothe the rage of intemperate 
 power, the natural result would be, that the scabbard in which 
 we in vain attempted to plunge our sword, should have been 
 thrown away with scorn. It would have been natural that, 
 rising in the fulness of their might, insulted majesty,. despised 
 dignity, violated justice, rejected supplication, patience goaded 
 to fury, would have poured out all the length of the reins upon 
 all the wrath which they had so long restrained. It might 
 have been expected that, emulous of the glory of the youthful 
 hero in alliance with him, touched by the example of what 
 one man, well formed and well placed, may do in the most 
 desperate state of affairs, convinced there is a courage of the 
 cabinet full as powerful, and far less vulgar than that of the 
 
Rhetorical. 8 1 
 
 field, our minister would have changed the whole line of 
 that useless prudence, which had hitherto produced all the 
 effects of the blindest temerity. If he found his situation 
 full of danger (and I do not deny that it is perilous in the 
 extreme), he must feel that it is also full of glory, and that he 
 is placed on a stage, than which no muse of fire that had 
 ascended the highest heaven of invention, could imagine any- 
 thing more awful and august. It was hoped that, in this 
 swelling scene in which he moved, with some of the first 
 potentates of Europe for his fellow-actors, and with so many 
 of the rest for the anxious spectators of a part, which, as he 
 plays it, determines for ever their destiny and his own, like 
 Ulysses in the unravelling point of the epic story, he would 
 have thrown off his patience and his rags together ; and 
 stripped of unworthy disguises, he would have stood forth in 
 the form and in the attitude of a hero. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 372, sqq. [xviii. 326] ; De Falsa Legat. 360, sqq. 
 [xix. 442]. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 ON that day it was thought he would have assumed the 
 port of Mars ; that he would bid to be brought forth 
 from their hideous kennel (where his scrupulous tenderness 
 had too long immured them), those impatient dogs of war, 
 whose fierce regards affright even the minister of vengeance 
 who feeds them ; that he would let them loose in famine, 
 fever, plagues, and death upon a guilty race, to whose frame, 
 and to whose habit, all order, peace, religion, and virtue are 
 alien and abhorrent. It was expected that he would at last 
 have thought of actual and effective war ; that he would no 
 longer amuse the British lion in the chase of mice and rats : 
 that he would no longer employ the whole naval power of 
 Great Britain, once the terror of the world, to prey upon the 
 
82 For Greek Prose. 
 
 miserable remains of a peddling commerce, which the enemy 
 did not regard, and from which none could profit. It was 
 expected that he would have reasserted the justice of his 
 cause ; that he would have re-animated whatever remained to 
 him of his allies, and endeavoured to recover those whom 
 their fears had led astray ; that he would have rekindled the 
 martial ardour of his citizens : that he would have held out to 
 them the example of their ancestry, the assertor of Europe, 
 and the scourge of French ambition ; that he would have re- 
 minded them of a posterity, which, if this nefarious robbery, 
 under the fraudulent name and false colour of a government, 
 should in full power be seated in the heart of Europe, must 
 for ever be consigned to vice, impiety, barbarism, and the 
 most ignominious slavery of body and mind. In so holy a 
 cause, it was presumed that he would (as in the beginning of 
 the war he did) have opened all the temples ; and with prayer, 
 with fasting, and with supplication (better directed than to the 
 grim Moloch of regicide in France), have called upon us to 
 raise that united cry which has so often stormed heaven, and 
 with a pious violence forced down blessings upon a repentant 
 people. It was hoped that when he had invoked upon his 
 endeavours the favourable regard of the Protector of the 
 human race, it would be seen that his menaces to the enemy, 
 and his prayers to the Almighty, were not followed, but 
 accompanied, by correspondent action. It was hoped that his 
 shrilling trumpet should be heard not to announce a show, 
 but to sound a charge. 
 
 ^scliines, in Ctes. 210, sqq. [iii. 84]. Demosthenes, de Falsa Legal. 183, jjy. 
 [xix. 393] ; 330, jg^. [xix. 433] ; 389, sqc^. [xix. 449]. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 FOR what have I entered into all this detail % To what 
 purpose have I recalled your view to the end of the 
 last century % It has been done to show that the British nation 
 
Rhetorical. 83 
 
 was then a great people — to point out how and by what means 
 they came to be exalted above the vulgar level, and to take 
 that lead which they assumed among mankind. To qualify 
 us for that pre-eminence, we had then a high mind, and a con- 
 stancy unconquerable ; we were then inspired by no flashy 
 passions, but such as were durable as well as warm, such as 
 corresponded to the great interests we had at stake. This 
 force of character was inspired, as all such spirit must ever be, 
 from above. Government gave the impulse. As well may we 
 fancy, that of itself the sea will swell, and that without winds 
 the billows will insult the adverse shore, as that the gross mass 
 of the people will be moved and elevated, and continue by a 
 steady and permanent direction to bear upon one point, 
 without the influence of superior authority or superior mind. 
 This impulse ought, in my opinion, to have been given in this 
 war, and it ought to have been continued to it at every instant. 
 It is made, if ever war was made, to touch all the great springs 
 of action in the human breast. It ought not to have been a 
 war of apology. The minister had in this conflict where- 
 withal to glory in success ; to be consoled in adversity, to hold 
 high his principle in all fortunes. If it were not given him to 
 support the falling edifice, he ought to bury himself under the 
 ruins of the civilized world. All the art of Greece, and all the 
 pride and power of Eastern monarchs, never heaped upon 
 their ashes so grand, a monument. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, i8l [xviii. 275] ; 254, sqq. [xviii. 294, sqq?^ ; 
 Philipp. iii. 46 [ix. 120]. Isocrates, Panaihen. 148, j-gj. [xii. 261]. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 HOW comes it that in all the state prosecutions of magni- 
 tude from the Revolution to within these two or three 
 years, the crown has scarcely ever retired disgraced and de- 
 feated from its courts ? Whence this alarming change ? By 
 
84 For Greek Prose. 
 
 a connection easy to be felt, and not impossible to be traced, 
 all the parts of the state have their correspondence and con- 
 sent. They who bow to the enemy abroad will not be of 
 power to subdue the conspirator at home. It is impossible not 
 to observe that, in proportion as we approximate to the 
 poisonous jaws of anarchy the fascination grows irresistible. 
 In proportion as we are attracted to the focus of illegality, 
 irreligion, and desperate enterprise, all the venomous and 
 blighting insects of the state are awakened into life. The 
 promise of the year is blasted and shrivelled and burned up 
 before them. Our most salutary and most beautiful institu- 
 tions yield nothing but dust and smut ; the harvest of our law 
 is no more than stubble. It is in the nature of these eruptive 
 diseases in the state to sink in by fits and reappear. But the 
 fuel of the maiady remains, and in my opinion is not in the 
 smallest degree mitigated in its malignity, though it waits the 
 favourable moment of a freer communication with the source 
 of regicide to exert and to increase its force. 
 
 ^schines, in Ctes. 3 [iii. 54] ; 191, sqj. [hi. 81]. 
 
 Demosthenes, Chersones. 62 [viii. 104] ; Philipp. iii. 37 [ix. 118]. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 IS it that the people are changed, that the commonwealth 
 cannot be protected by its laws ! I hardly think it. On 
 the contraty, I conceive that these things happen beoause men 
 are not changed, but remain always what they always were : 
 they remain, what the bulk of us ever must be, when abandoned 
 to our vulgar propensities, without guide, leader, or control ; 
 that is, made to be full of a blind elevation in prosperity ; to 
 despise untried dangers ; to be overpowered with unexpected 
 reverses; to find no Clew in a labyrinth of difficulty; to get out 
 of a present inconvenience with any risk of future ruin ; to 
 follow and to bow to fortune; to admire successful though 
 
Rhetorical. 85 
 
 wicked enterprise, and to imitate what we admire ; to contemn 
 the government which announces danger from sacrilege and 
 regicide whilst they are only in their infancy and struggle, but 
 which finds nothing that can alarm in their adult state, and in 
 the power and triumph of those destructive principles. In a 
 mass we cannot be left to ourselves, we must have leaders. If 
 none will undertake to lead us right, we shall find guides who 
 will contrive to conduct us to shame and ruin. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philipp. iii. 75 [ix. 127] ; iv. 7, sqq, [x. 132] ; 
 iv. 23, sqq. [x. 136]. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 NO theatric audience at Athens would bear what has been 
 borne in the midst of the real tragedy of this triumphal 
 day : a principal actor weighing, as it were hung in a shop of 
 horrors, so much actual crime against so much contingent 
 advantage, and after putting in and out weights declaring that 
 the balance was on the side of the advantages. They would 
 not bear to see the crimes of new democracy posted as in a 
 ledger against the crimes of old despotism, and the book- 
 keepers of politics finding democracy still in debt, but by no 
 means unable or unwilling to pay the balance. In the theatre 
 the first intuitive glance without any elaborate process of reason- 
 ing will show that this method of political calculation would 
 justify every extent of crime. They would see that on these 
 principles, even where the very worst acts were not perpetrated, 
 it was owing rather to the fortune of the conspirators than to 
 their parsimony in the expenditure of treachery and blood. 
 They would soon see that criminal means, once tolerated, are 
 soon preferred. They present a shorter cut to the object 
 than through the highway of the moral virtues. Justifying 
 perfidy and murder for public benefit, public benefit would 
 soon become the pretext, and perfidy and murder the end, 
 
86 For Greek Prose. 
 
 until rapacity, malice, revenge, and fear more dreadful than 
 revenge could satiate their insatiable appetites, such must be 
 the consequence of losing, in the splendour of these triumphs 
 of the rights of men, all natural sense of wrong and right. 
 
 ^schines, in Ctes. 153 [iii. 75]. Demosthenes, de Corona, 288 [xviii. 304]. 
 Isocrates, Panathen. 129 [xii. 257]. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 AMONG the heaviest prices to be paid for freedom of 
 speech is the rein we must give to a knot of profes- 
 sional agitators. No one hears of these men when things are 
 quiet ; they have neither the intellect nor the culture to make 
 themselves felt by virtue of personal superiority. But let us 
 have a season of excitement, and out they come from obscurity 
 to ride on the wave of popular tumult. Is the church sup- 
 posed to be in danger? Does the Government forbid the 
 public parks to be turned into a debating society for the diffu- 
 sion of political nonsense ? is somebody in power to be de- 
 nounced ? or does any one dare to take the part of a white 
 man against a black? then these pigmy rhetoricians, with 
 more lung than brain, and more impudence than wit, are the 
 people to mount the rostrum. Tell them to be calm, and they 
 will call you hard-hearted : hint that depravity does not of 
 necessity go hand in hand with office, and they will brand 
 you as the corrupt underhng of a faction. Maintain that a 
 British governor should not any more than a prisoner in the 
 old Bailey be condemned unheard, and the reply is that your 
 plea is the sum of political wickedness. That is the kind of 
 man, bigoted, fanatical, one-idea'd, and nothing if not vitupe- 
 rative — with whom the portion of the public which loves jus- 
 tice more than creeds, and fair-play more than prejudices, has 
 to contend when it claims a hearing for the Governor and his 
 associates. If he is guilty let him be condemned, but do not 
 
Rhetorical. 8 7 
 
 hold him guilty until you prove it, until you ascertain what he 
 has to say for himself. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 252 [xviii. 294] ; 378, s(iq. [xviii. 327] ; 
 Chersories. 74 [viii. 107] ; Philipp. iii. i [ix. no], 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 I' CAN more readily admire the liberal spirit and integrity 
 than the sound judgment of any man who prefers a 
 republican form of government in this or any other empire of 
 equal extent, to a monarchy so qualified and limited as ours. 
 1 am convinced that neither is it in theory the wisest system 
 of government, nor practicable in this country. Yet, though I 
 hope the English constitution will for ever preserve its original 
 monarchical form, I would have the manners of the people 
 purely and strictly republican. I do not mean the licentious 
 spirit of anarchy and riot. I mean a general attachment to the 
 common weal, distinct from any particular attachment to per- 
 sons or families ; an implicit submission to the law only, and 
 an aifection to the magistrate proportioned to the integrity and 
 wisdom with which he distributes justice to his people, and 
 administers their affairs. The present habit of our political 
 body appears to me the very reverse of what it ought to be. 
 The form of the constitution leans rather more than enough 
 to the popular branch, while in effect the manners of the 
 people (of those at least who are likely to take a lead in the 
 country) incline too generally to a dependence upon the 
 Crown. 
 
 Lysias, Orat. xxxiv. Isocrates, Tanathen. 143, jjg. [xii. 260, 261]. 
 
 L. 
 
 YOU had not been forty-eight hours in India — your feet 
 were scarcely dry from the surf of Madras — before you 
 thought fit to declare, that if you had your own way, in two 
 
88 For Greek Prose. 
 
 years' time not a court of English law should exist in India. 
 We heard this, and from that hour took the measure of your 
 mind, of your legislative capacity, of your political impartiality, 
 of your wisdom and moderation : we knew you for our enemy, 
 for the enemy of every institution that stood in the path of 
 your own power ; we saw that you came hither to follow out 
 your own interests, to conciliate perchance the Company you 
 had offended, a pledged partisan to do an appointed work. 
 We waited for you, we heard of the extravagant indiscretion of 
 your conversation, and we foresaw that with such a plenary 
 power as you possessed of being ridiculous, you would without 
 fail make yourself in your laws a public laughing-stock. Thus 
 it has been and thus it will be again, till the termination of 
 your political career may leave you more leisure to turn his- 
 tory into ephemeral party pamphlets, and to polish essays 
 which posterity will have no occasion to forget. 
 
 .iEschines, in Ctes. 219, sqq. [iii. 85] ; 225 [iii. 86] ; 145 [iii. 74]. 
 
 LI. 
 
 BURKE has described in striking language the change in 
 public feeling of which we speak. ' It suggests melan- 
 choly reflections,' says he, ' in consequence of the strange 
 course we have long held, that we are now no longer quarrel- 
 ling about the character, or about the conduct of men, or the 
 tenor of measures ; but we are grown out of humour with the 
 English constitution itself; this is become the object of the 
 animosity of Englishmen. This constitution in former days 
 used to be the envy of the world : it was the pattern for politi- 
 cians : the theme of the eloquent, the meditation of the philo- 
 sopher in every part of the world. As to Englishmen, it was 
 their pride, their consolation. By it they lived, and for it they 
 were ready to die. Its defects, if it had any, were partly 
 
Rhetorical. 89 
 
 covered by partiality, and partly borne by prudence. Now all 
 its excellencies are forgot, its faults are forcibly dragged into 
 day, exaggerated by every artifice of misrepresentation. It is 
 despised and rejected of men : and every device and invention 
 of ingenuity or idleness is set up in opposition, or in preference 
 to it.' 
 
 Isocrates, Areopag. 66 [vii. 151 J; 81, sqq. [vii. 155]. 
 
 LII. 
 
 A NATION, once the foremost among the nations, pre- 
 eminent in knowledge, pre-eminent in military glory, 
 the cradle of philosophy, of eloquence, and of the fine arts, 
 had been for ages bowed down under a cruel yoke.| All the 
 vices which oppression generates, the abject vices which it 
 generates in those who submit to it, the ferocious vices which 
 it generates in those who struggle against it, had deformed 
 the character of that miserable race. The valour which had 
 won the great battle of human civilisation, which had saved 
 Europe, which had subjugated Asia, lingered only among 
 pirates and robbers. The ingenuity, once so conspicuously 
 displayed in every department of physical and moral science, 
 had been depraved into a timid and servile cunning. On a 
 sudden, this degraded people had risen on their oppressors. 
 Discountenanced or betrayed by the surrounding potentates, 
 they had found in themselves sorpething of that which might 
 well supply the place of all foreign assistance, something of 
 the energy of their forefathers. 
 
 Isocrates, Panegyric. 40 [iv. 48] ; 50, sqq. [iv. 49] ; 152, sqq. [iv. 68]. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 A PEOPLE whose education and habits are such, that, in 
 every quarter of the world, they rise above the mass of 
 those with whom they mix, as surely as oil rises to the top of 
 
go For Greek Prose. 
 
 water ; a people of such temper and self-government, that the 
 wildest popular excesses recorded in their history partake of 
 the gravity of judicial proceedings, and of the solemnity of 
 religious ■ rites ; a people whose national pride and mutual 
 attachment have passed into a proverb ; a people whose high 
 and fierce spirit, so forcibly described in the haughty motto 
 which encircles their thistle, preserved their independence, 
 during a struggle of centuries, from the encroachments of 
 wealthier and more powerful neighbours, — such a people cannot 
 be long oppressed. Any government, however constituted, 
 must respect their wishes, and tremble at their discontents. 
 It is indeed most desirable that such a people should exercise 
 a direct influence on the conduct of affairs, and should make 
 their wishes known through constitutional organs. But some 
 iniluence, direct or indirect, they will assuredly possess. 
 Some organ, constitutional or unconstitutional, they will 
 assuredly find. They will be better governed under a good 
 constitution than under a bad constitution. But they will be 
 better governed under the worst constitution than some other 
 nations under the best. 
 
 Isocrates, Panegyric. lOO, sqq. ; 103, sqq. [iv. 59, 60]. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 THUS sprang into existence and into note a reptile species 
 of politicians never before and never since known in 
 our country. These men disclaimed all political ties, except 
 those which bound them to the throne. They were willing to 
 coalesce with any party, to abandon any party, to undermine 
 any party at a moment's notice. They regarded the several 
 leaders without one sentiment either of predilection or of 
 aversion. They were the King's friends. It is to be observed 
 that this friendship implied no personal intimacy. They never 
 
Rhetorical. g i 
 
 hunted with him in the morning, or played cards with him in 
 the evening; never shared his mutton, or walked with him 
 among his turnips. Only one or two of them ever saw his 
 face, except on public days. The whole band, however, 
 always had early and accurate information as to his personal 
 inclinations. These people were never high in the administra- 
 tion. They were generally to be found in places of much 
 emolument, little labour, and no responsibility; and these 
 places they continued to occupy securely while the cabinet 
 was six or seven times reconstructed. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 57, sqq. [xviii. 241] ; Olynth. ii. 17 [ii. 23] ; 
 De Falsa Legat. 293 [xix. 424]. 
 
 LV. 
 
 WE are dealing not merely with the administration, not 
 merely with a party — no, not even with the consti- 
 tution of the kingdom. To our hands at this moment is 
 intrusted tlie noble and sacred future of free and self-deter- 
 mined government all over the world. We are about to sur- 
 render certain good for more than doubtful change ; we are 
 about to barter maxims and traditions that have never failed 
 for theories and doctrines that never have succeeded. Demo- 
 cracy you may have at any time. Night and day the gate is 
 open that leads to that bare and level plain, where every ant's 
 nest is a mountain, and every thistle a forest tree. But a 
 government such as England has, a government the work of 
 no human hand, but which has grown up the imperceptible 
 aggregation of centuries — this is a thing which we only can 
 enjoy, which we cannot impart to others, and which once lost 
 we cannot recover for ourselves. Because you have con- 
 trived to be at once dilatory and hasty heretofore, that is no 
 reason for pressing forward rashly and improvidently now. 
 
92 For Greek Prose. 
 
 We are not agreed upon details, we have not come to any 
 accord upon principles. To precipitate a decision in the case 
 of a single human life would be cruel. It is more than cruel 
 — it is parricide in the case of the constitution, which is the 
 life and soul of this great nation. If it is to perish, as all 
 human things must perish, give it at any rate time to gather 
 its robe about it, and to fall with decency and deliberation. 
 
 Isocrates, Archidamus, 103, sqq. [vi. 134, sqq.'X 
 
 LVI. 
 
 I HAVE now traced, sir, as well as I can, what I believe 
 will be the natural results of a measure which, it seems 
 to my poor imagination, is calculated, if it should pass into 
 law, to destroy one after another those institutions which have 
 secured for England an amount of happiness and prosperity 
 which no other country has ever reached, or is ever hkely to 
 attain. Surely the heroic work of so many centuries, the 
 matchless achievements of so many wise heads and strong 
 hands, deserve a nobler consummation than to be sacrificed at 
 the shrine of revolutionary passion, or the maudlin enthusiasm 
 of humanity. But if we do fall, we shall fall deservedly. 
 Uncoerced by any external force, not borne down by any 
 internal calamity, but in the full plethora of our wealth, and 
 the surfeit of our too exuberant prosperity ; with our own rash 
 and inconsiderate hands, we are about to pluck down on our 
 own heads the venerable temple of our liberty and our glory. 
 History may tell of other acts as signally disastrous, but of 
 none more wanton, none more disgraceful. 
 
 "Tliucydides, ii. 37, 43. Lysias, Orat. xxxiv. Isocrates, Pan. 163 [xii. 264]. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 I NEVER doubted that democracy was a terrible warlike 
 power. It is not the educated and reflective who are 
 influenced by mere ideas, but the half educated, and the un- 
 
Rhetorical. 93 
 
 reflective ; and if you show the ignorant, and poor, and half- 
 educated wrong, injustice, and wickedness anywhere, their 
 generous instincts rise within them, and nothing is easier than 
 to get up a cry for the redress of those grievances. We feel 
 the injustice too; but we look not merely at the injustice 
 itself, we look before and after, we look at the collateral cir- 
 cumstances, at what must happen to trade, revenue, and our 
 position in the world, and we look also at what must happen- 
 to those very poor persons themselves before we commit our- 
 selves to a decided course. Persons also who have something 
 to lose are less anxious to lose it, than those who have little 
 at stake often, even though these last may be by the loss 
 reduced to absolute poverty. Wherever cruelty or injustice 
 exists, the feelings of the humbler class of Englishmen, to 
 their honour be it spoken, revolt against it : and not possess- 
 ing the quality of circumspection, their impulse is to go 
 straight at the wrong and redress it, without regard to ulterior 
 consequences. Therefore to suggest that in making the 
 institutions of the country more democratic, we have any 
 security from war — that we do not greatly increase the risk of 
 war, seems to me supremely ridiculous. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 37. Isocrates, Panathen. 140, sqq. [xii. 260]. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 DEMAGOGUES are the commonplace of history. They 
 are to be found wherever popular commotion has pre- 
 vailed, and they all bear to one another a strong family like- 
 ness. Their names float lightly on the stream of time ; they 
 are in some way handed down to us, but then they are as little 
 regarded as is the foam which rides on the crest of the stormy 
 wave, and bespatters the rock which it cannot shake. Such 
 men, sir, I do not fear; but I have, I confess, some misgivings 
 
94 Por Greek Prose. 
 
 when I see a number of gentlemen of rank, of character, of 
 property, and intelligence, carried away without being con- 
 vinced or even over-persuaded, in the support of a policy 
 which many of them in their inmost hearts detest and abhor. 
 Monarchies exist by loyalty, aristocracies by honour, popular 
 assemblies by political virtue and patriotism, and it is in the 
 loss of those things, and not in comets and eclipses that we 
 are to loot for the portents that herald the fall of states. 
 
 Isocrates, de Pace, 147 [viii. 183] ; 155 [viii. 185]. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 IS it the result of our experience, looking at America and at 
 the democratic institutions there, whatever merits they 
 may have, that the people are jealous of the moral character of 
 their representatives % Did you ever hear of a man who was 
 ostracised from public life in America in consequence of his 
 having committed a murder, a forgery, a perjury, or anything 
 of that kind ? Things which would not be tolerated for an 
 instant in England, are passed by without notice in America. 
 For, however impetuous and impatient democratic constitu- 
 encies may be of the acts of their members in matters where 
 their prejudices are affected, they are singularly loose in their 
 requirements in other respects. 
 
 Isocrates, de Permut. xv. 295, sqq. jEscliines, in Ctes. 168, sqq. [iii. 78]. 
 Demosthenes, Philipp. iii. 49 [ix. 121]. 
 
 LX. 
 
 IT is for the House to decide whether in supporting this 
 measure we have judged on good grounds. If any man 
 thinks he sees the means of bringing the contest to an earlier 
 termination than by vigorous effort and military operations, he 
 is justified in opposing the measures which are necessary to 
 
Rhetorical. 95 
 
 carry it on with energy. Those who consider the war to be 
 expedient, cannot with consistency refuse their assent to mea- 
 sures calculated to bring it to a successful issue. Even those 
 who may disapprove of the contest, which they cannot prevent 
 by their votes, cannot honestly pursue that conduct which 
 could tend only to render its termination favourable to the 
 enemy. God forbid I should question the freedom of thought, 
 or the liberty of speech ! but I cannot see how gentlemen can 
 justify a language. and a conduct which can have no tendency 
 but to disarm our exertions and to defeat our hopes in the 
 prosecution of the contest. They ought to limit themselves 
 to those arguments which could influence the House against 
 the war altogether, not dwell upon topics which tend only to 
 weaken our efforts and betray our cause. Above all, nothing 
 can be more unfair in reasoning than to ally the present 
 scarcity with the ;war, or to insinuate that its prosecution will 
 interfere with those supplies which we may require. 
 
 Demosthenes, Philifp. iii. ad fin. [ix. 130] ; iv. 28, sqq. [x. 137]. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 IN proposing to the House the permanent establishment of 
 the army of reserve, though certainly on a very modified 
 system, I am sensible that objections may be readily started 
 against the proposition. But, sir, let it be remembered that 
 the times in which we live are not ordinary times. When we 
 are called to encounter extraordinary and unprecedented 
 dangers, we must lay our account to submitting to extraordi- 
 nary and unprecedented diflSculties. If we are called on to 
 undergo great sacrifices, we must bear in mind the ihteresting 
 objects which these sacrifices may enable us to defend and to 
 secure. I need not remind the House that we are come to a 
 new era in the history of nations, that we are called to struggle 
 
96 For Greek Prose. 
 
 for the destiny, not of this country alone, but of the civilized 
 world. We must remember that it is not for ourselves alone 
 that we submit to unexampled privations. We have for our- 
 selves the great duty of self-preservation to perform ; but the 
 duty of the people of England now is of a nobler and higher 
 order. We are in the first place to provide for our safety 
 against a foe whose malignity to this country knows no bounds : 
 but this is iTot to close our views or our efforts in so sacred a 
 cause. Amid the wreck and the misery of nations it is our 
 just boast that we have continued superior to all that ambition 
 or despotism could effect, and our still higher boast ought to 
 be, that we provide not only for our own safety, but hold out 
 a prospect to nations now bending under the iron yoke of 
 tyranny, of what the exertions of a free people can effect, and 
 that at least in this corner of the world the name of liberty is 
 still cherished and sanctified. 
 
 ^schines, in Ctes. 132, sqq. [iii. 72]. Demosthenes, de Corona, 119, sqq, 
 [xviii. 258] ; 257, jjj. [xviii. 296] ; Philipp. iv. 69 [x. 147]. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 IF we had seen all the subordinate instruments of Jacobin 
 power subsisting in their full force, and had then ob- 
 served this single change in the conduct of their affairs, that 
 there was now one man, with no rival to thwart his measures, 
 no colleague to divide his powers, no council to control his 
 operations, no expression of public opinion to check or in- 
 fluence his conduct, under such circumstances should we be 
 wrong to pause and wait for the evidence of facts and expe- 
 rience before we consented to trust our safety to the forbear- 
 ance of a single man, in such a situation, and to relinquish 
 those means of defence which have hitherto carried us safe 
 through all the storms of the Revolution ! if we were to ask 
 
Rhetorical. 97 
 
 what are the principles and character of this stranger to whom 
 France has suddenly committed the concerns of a great and 
 powerful nation % 
 
 But is this the actual state of the present question? Are 
 we talking of a stranger of whom we have heard nothing? 
 No, sir, we have heard of him : we and Europe and the world 
 have heard both of him and of the satellites by whom he is 
 surrounded : and it is impossible to discuss fairly the pro- 
 priety of any answer which could be returned to his overtures 
 of negotiation without considering the inferences to be drawn 
 from his personal character and conduct. I know it is the 
 fashion with some gentlemen to represent any reference to 
 topics of this nature as invidious and irritating, but the truth 
 is, they rise unavoidably out of the nature of the question. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olyn. ii. 3, sqq. [ii. 19, 20, 21] ; Phil. i. 12, sqq. [iv. 42, sqq^; 
 ii. 7, sqq. [vi. 67] ; iii. 20 [ix. 114] ; iii. 57 [ix. 123] ; O^er. 38 [viii. 99]. 
 
III.— PHILOSOPHICAL. 
 
 ' "O UT a question further,' said he — ' Can the husbandman 
 -U work, think you, without his tools 1 Must he not have 
 his plough, his harrow, his reap-hook, and the like?'' 'He 
 must.' ' And must not those other artists too be furnished in 
 the same manner?' 'They must.' 'And whence must they 
 be furnished ? From their own arts ? Or are not the making 
 tools and the using them two different occupations?' ' I be- 
 lieve,' said I, ' they are.' ' You may be convinced,' said he, 
 ' by small recollection. Does Agriculture make its own plough, 
 its own harrow, or does it not apply to other arts for all neces- 
 saries of this kind V ' It does.' ' Again, does the baker build 
 his own oven, or the miller frame his own mill?' 'It ap- 
 pears,' said I, 'no part of their business.' 'What a tribe of 
 mechanics then,' said he, ' are advancing upon us — smiths, 
 carpenters, masons, mill-wrights, and all these to provide the 
 single necessary. Bread. No less than seven or eight arts, 
 we find, are wanting at the fewest.' 'It appears so.' 'And 
 what if to the providing a comfortable cottage, and raiment 
 suitable to an industrious hind, we allow a dozen arts more V 
 ' It would be easy, by the same reasoning, to prove the number 
 double. I admit the number,' said I, ' mentioned.' 
 
 Piato, Sophist. 219, zzo ; Ion, 537, c. sqq. 
 
Philosophical. 99 
 
 II. 
 
 MEN fear death as children fear to go in the dark ; and 
 as that natural fear in children is increased with 
 tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, 
 as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and 
 religious ; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto Nature, is 
 weak. By him that spake only as a philosopher, and natural 
 man, it was well said, ' Pompa mortis magis terret quam mors 
 ipsa.' Groans and convulsions, and a discoloured face, and 
 friends weeping, and the like, show death terrible. It is 
 worthy the observing that there is no passion in the mind of 
 man so weak, but it mates and masters the fear of death ; 
 and therefore death is no such terrible enemy when a man 
 hath so many attendants about him that can win the combat 
 of him. 
 
 Plato, Phcedo. 77, 8i ; Apolog. 40. 
 
 III. 
 
 ' T ET us therefore at length cease to dispute and learn to 
 J — « live : throw away the incumbrance of precepts which 
 they who utter them with so much pride and pomp do not 
 understand, and carry with us this simple and intelligible 
 maxim. That deviatipn from nature is deviation from happi- 
 ness.' 
 
 When he had thus spoken, he looked round him with a 
 placid air, and enjoyed the consciousness of his own benefi- 
 cence. ' Sir,' said the Prince, with great modesty, ' as I, like 
 all the rest of mankind, am desirous of felicity, my closest 
 attention has been fixed upon your discourse. I doubt not 
 the truth of a position which a man so learned has so con- 
 fidently advanced. Let me only know what it is to live 
 according to nature.' 
 
lOO For Greek Prose. 
 
 ' When I find young men so humble and so docile, said 
 the philosopher, ' I can deny them no information which my 
 studies have enabled me to afford. To live according to 
 nature is to act always with a due regard to the fitness arising 
 fi-om the relations and qualities of causes and effects : to con- 
 cur with the great and unchangeable scheme of universal 
 felicity : to co-operate with the general disposition and ten- 
 dency of the present system of things.' 
 
 The Prince soon found that this was one of the sages whom 
 he should understand less as he heard him longer. He there- 
 fore bowed and was silent ; and the philosopher, supposing 
 him satisfied and the rest vanquished, rose up and departed 
 with the air of a man that had co-operated with the present 
 system. 
 
 Plato, Protag. 334, 335. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ' "\7'0U see, then,' said he, ' how well our hypothesis, being 
 A once admitted, tallies with our original pre-conceptions 
 of the sovereign good.' I replied, it indeed appeared so, and 
 could not be denied. ' But who, think you, ever dreamt of a 
 happiness like this ? A happiness dependent, not on the suc- 
 cess, but on the aim T ' Even common and ordinary life,' re- 
 plied he, ' can furnish us with examples. Ask of the sportsman 
 where lies his enjoyment? Ask, whether it be in ^e possession 
 of a slaughtered hare, or fox ? He would reject, with con- 
 tempt, the very supposition. He would tell you, as well as 
 he was able, that the joy was in the pursuit, in the difficulties 
 which are obviated, in the faults which are retrieved, in the 
 conduct and direction of the chace through all its parts ; that 
 the completion of their endeavours was so far from giving them 
 joy, that instantly at that period all their joy was at an end.' 
 
Philosophical. lOi 
 
 ' For sportsmen,' replied I, ' this may be no bad reasoning.' ' It 
 is not the sentiment,' said he, ' of sportsmen alone. To them 
 we may add the tribe of builders and projectors. Or has not 
 your own experience informed you of numbers who, in the 
 building and laying-out, have expressed the highest delight, but 
 shown the utmost indifference to the result of their labours, to 
 the mansion or gardens, when once finished and complete?' 
 
 Plato, Gorgias, 499, sqq. ; 503, sqq. Aristotle, Ethic. Nicom. i. I. 
 
 J 
 
 V. 
 
 UST as sleep is the renovator of corporeal vigour, so I 
 would believe death to be of the mind's : that the 
 body to which it is attached, from habitude rather than from 
 reason, is little else than a disease to our immortal spirit : 
 and that like the remora of which mariners tell marvels, it 
 contracts, as it were, both oar and sail, in the most strenuous 
 advances we can make towards felicity. Shall we lament to 
 feel this reptile drop off? Or shall we not, on the contrary, 
 leap with alacrity on shore, and offer up in gratitude to the 
 gods whatever is left about us uncorroded and unshattered ? 
 A broken and abject mind is the thing least worthy of their 
 acceptance. 
 
 Q, Brother, you talk as if there were a plurality of gods. 
 
 M. I know not and care not how many there may be of 
 
 them. Philosophy points to unity : but while we are here we 
 
 speak as those do who are around us, and employ in these 
 
 matters the language of the country. Italy is not so fertile in 
 
 hemlock as Greece : yet a wise man will dissemble half his 
 
 wisdom on such a topic : and I, as you remember, adopting 
 
 the means of dialogue, have often delivered my opinions in 
 
 the voice of others, and speak now as custom, not as reason 
 
 leads me. 
 
 Plato, Pkado. 66 j Legg. 885. 
 
1 02 For Greek Prose. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE opinions of children and parents, of the young and 
 the old, are naturally opposite, by the contrary effects 
 of hope and despondence, of expectation and experience, 
 without crime or folly on either side. The colours of life in 
 youth and age appear different, as the face of nature in spring 
 and winter. And how can children credit the assertion of 
 parents, which their own eyes show them to be false ? 
 
 Few parents act in such a manner as to enforce their 
 maxims by the credit of their lives. The old man trusts 
 only to slow contrivance and gradual progression : the youth 
 expects to force his way by genius, vigour, and precipitance. 
 The old man pays regard to riches, and the youth reverences 
 virtue. The old man deifies prudence : the youth commits 
 himself to magnanimity and chance. The young man who 
 intends no ill, believes that none is intended, and therefore 
 acts with openness and candour ; but his father, having suf- 
 fered the injuries of fraud, is impelled to suspect, and too 
 often allured to practise it. Age looks with anger on the 
 temerity of youth, and youth with contempt on the scrupu- 
 losity of age. Thus parents and children, for the greatest 
 part, live on to love less and less ; and if those whom nature 
 has thus closely united are the torment of each other, where 
 shall we look for tenderness and consolation 1 
 
 Plato, Republic, 329, sqq. 
 
 VII. 
 
 BUT the hopes and fears of man are not limited to this 
 short life, and to this visible world. He finds himself 
 surrounded by the signs of a power and wisdom higher than 
 his own ; and in all ages and nations, men of all orders of 
 
Philosopkical. 1 03 
 
 intellect have believed in the existence of some superior mind. 
 Thus far the voice of mankind is almost unanimous. But 
 whether there be one God, or many ; what may be God's 
 natural, and what His moral attributes ; in what relation His 
 creatures'stand to Him ; whether He have ever disclosed Him- 
 self to us by any other revelation than that which is written in 
 all parts of the glorious and well-ordered world which He has 
 made ; whether His revelation be contained in any permanent 
 record, how that record should be interpreted, and whether it 
 have pleased Him to appoint any unerring interpreter on earth ; 
 — these are questions respecting which there exists the widest 
 diversity of opinion, and respecting some of which a large 
 part of our race has, ever since the dawn of regular history, 
 been deplorably in error. 
 
 Plato, Legg. 885, sqq. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 NOW here are two great objects : one is the protection of 
 the persons and estates of citizens from injury ; the 
 other is the propagation of religious truth. No two objects 
 more entirely distinct can well be imagined. The former be- 
 longs wholly to the visible and tangible world in which we 
 live : the latter belongs to that higher world which is beyond 
 the reach of our senses. The former belongs to this life ; the 
 latter to that which is to come. Men who are perfectly agreed 
 as to the importance of the former object, and as to the way 
 of obtaining it, differ as widely as possible respecting the latter 
 object. We must, therefore, pause before we admit that the 
 persons, be they who they may, who are intrusted with power 
 for the promotion of the former object, ought always, to use 
 that power for the promotion of the latter object. 
 Plato, Legg. 890. 
 
104 For Greek Prose. 
 
 IX. 
 
 AS man is by nature a social animal, good humour seems 
 an ingredient highly necessary to his character. It is 
 the salt which seasons the feast of life, and which, if wanting, 
 surely renders the feast incomplete. Many causes combine 
 to impair this charming quality : none perhaps more than bad 
 opinions of mankind. These naturally lead us to mfsanthropy. 
 If they go further and are applied to the universe, they lead to 
 something worse, for they lead to Atheism. The melancholy 
 and morose character being thus insensibly formed, morals and 
 piety decline : for what equals have we to love or what superiors 
 to revere, when we have no other objects left than those of 
 hatred or terror ? It should seem then expedient, if we value 
 our better principles, nay our own happiness, to withstand such 
 dreary sentiments. 
 
 Aristotle, Politic, i. 2 ; iii. 4 ; Ethic, iv. 6. Plato, Phcedo. 89 D. 
 
 X. 
 
 ACCORDING to this short and imperfect sketch of 
 human life, the happiest disposition of mind is the 
 virtuous; or, in other words, that which leads to action and 
 employment, renders us sensible to the social passions, steels 
 the heart against the assaults of fortune, reduces the affections 
 to a just moderation, makes our own thoughts an entertain- 
 ment to us, and inclines us rather to the pleasures of society 
 and conversation, than to those of the senses. And indeed, 
 all the difference between the conditions of life depends upon 
 the mind ; nor is there any one situation of affairs, in itself, 
 preferable to another. Good and ill, both natural and moral, 
 are entirely relative to human sentiment and affection. No 
 
Philosophical. 105 
 
 man would ever be unhappy, could he alter his feelings. Pro- 
 teus-like, he would elude all attacks, by the continual altera- 
 tions of his shape and form. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic, x. 6, 7, sgq. Plato, Legg. 734. 
 
 XL 
 
 A GREAT sign of vulgarity is also, when traced to its 
 root, another phase of insensibiUty, viz., the undue 
 regard to appearances and manners, as in the households of 
 vulgar persons of all stations, and the assumption of behaviour, 
 language, or dress unsuited to them, by persons in inferior 
 stations of life. I say ' undue' regard to appearances, because 
 in the undueness consists of course the vulgarity. It is due 
 and wise in some sort to care for appearances, in another sort 
 undue and unwise. 
 
 It will be found on further thought that a vulgar regard for 
 appearances is primarily a selfish one, resulting not out of a 
 wish to give pleasure (as a wife's wish to make herself beautiful 
 for her husband), but out of an endeavour to mortify others, 
 or attract for pride's sake : the common ' keeping-up appear- 
 ances' of society being a mere selfish struggle of the vain with 
 the vain. But the deepest stain of the vulgarity depends on 
 this being done, not selfishly only, but stupidly, without under- 
 standing the impression which is really produced, nor the re- 
 lations of importance between one's-self and others, so as to 
 suppose that their attention is fixed upon us, when we are in 
 reality ciphers in their eyes, all which comes of insensibility. 
 Hence pride simple is not vulgar (the looking down upon 
 others because of their true inferiority to us), nor vanity simple 
 (the desire of praise), but conceit simple (the attribution to 
 ourselves of qualities we have not) is always so. 
 Aristotle, Ethic, iv. 2-4. ' 
 
io6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 xir. 
 
 A TRUER sign of breeding than mere kindness is, there- 
 fore, sympathy. A vulgar man may often be kind in a 
 hard way, on principle, or because he thinks he ought to be : 
 whereas a highly bred man, even when cruel, will be cruel in 
 a softer way, understanding and feeling what he inflicts, and 
 pitying his victim. Only we must carefully remember that the 
 quantity of sympathy a gentleman feels can never be judged 
 of by its outward expression, for another of his chief charac- 
 teristics is apparent reserve. I say apparent reserve : for the 
 sympathy is real, but the reserve not ; a perfect gentleman is 
 never reserved, but sweetly and entirely open, so far as it is 
 good for others, or posssible that he should be. In a great 
 many respects it is impossible that he should be open except 
 to men of his own kind. To them he can open himself by a 
 word, or syllable, or a glance ; but to men not of his kind he 
 cannot open himself, though he tried it through an eternity of 
 clear grammatical speech. By the very acuteness of his sym- 
 pathy he knows how much of himself he can give to anybody : 
 and he gives that much frankly, — would always be glad to give 
 more if he could, but is obliged, nevertheless, in his general 
 intercourse with the world, to be a somewhat silent person : 
 silence is to most people, he finds, less reserve than speech. 
 Aristotle, Ethic, iv. 3. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN'S first characteristic is that fineness of 
 structure in the body which renders it capable of the 
 most delicate sensation ; and of structure in the mind which 
 renders it capable of the most delicate sympathies : one may 
 say simply ' fineness of nature.' This is of course compatible 
 
Philosophical. 107 
 
 with heroic bodily strength and mental firmness : in fact 
 heroic strength is not conceivable without such delicacy. 
 Elephantine strength' may drive its way through a forest and 
 feel no touch of the boughs ; but the white skin of Homer's 
 Atrides would have felt a bent rose-leaf, yet subdue its feeling 
 in glow of battle, and behave itself like iron. I do not mean 
 to call an elephant a vulgar animal ; but if you think about 
 him carefully, you will find that his non-vulgarity consists in 
 such gentleness as is possible to elephantine nature — not in 
 his insensitive hide, nor in his clumsy foot, but in the way he 
 will lift his foot if a child lies in his way ; and in his sensitive 
 trunk, and still more sensitive mind, and capability of pique 
 on points of honour. 
 
 And though rightness of moral conduct is ultimately the 
 great purifier of race, the sign of nobleness is not in this right- 
 ness of moral conduct, but in sensitiveness. When the make 
 of the creature is fine, its temptations are strong, as well as 
 its perceptions : it is liable to all kinds of impressions from 
 without in their most violent form, liable therefore to be 
 abused and hurt by all kinds of rough things which would do 
 a coarser nature little harm, and thus to fall into frightful 
 wrong if its fate will have it so. 
 
 Aristotle, Eudem. Ethic, vii, 15 ; Nicom. Ethic, iv. 3. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 ' "T) UT how then,' continued he, ' if all art be cause, is it 
 -D also true that all cause is art V At this again I could 
 not help hesitating. ' You have heard,' said he, ' without doubt, 
 of that painter famed in story, who having to paint the foam of 
 a horse, and not succeeding to his mind, threw at the picture, 
 in resentment, a sponge bedaubed with colours, and produced 
 
1 08 For Greek Prose. 
 
 a foam the most natural imaginable. Now what say you to 
 this fact 1 Shall we pronounce art to have been the cause V 
 
 ' By no means,' said I. ' What,' said he, ' if.instead of chance 
 his hand had been guided by mere compulsion, himself dis- 
 senting and averse to the violence V ' Even here,' repUed I, 
 ' nothing could have been referred to the art.' ' But what,' con- 
 tinued he, ' if instead of a casual throw or involuntary compul- 
 sion, he had willingly and designedly directed his pencil, and 
 so produced the foam, which the story says he failed in — would 
 not art here have been the cause V I replied, ' In this case I 
 thought it would.' ' It should seem then,' said he, ' that art 
 implies not only cause, but the additional requisite of inten- 
 tion, reason, volition, and consciousness ; so that not every 
 cause is art, but only voluntary or intentional cause.' ' So, 
 said I, ' it appears.' 
 Aristotle, SA^. i. i, lo ; Eiitc. iii. i ; vi. 4. Plato, Euthydem. 280, jjj. 
 
 XV. 
 
 ALTHOUGH we are not of opinion, therefore, as some 
 are, that nature in working hath before her certain 
 exemplary draughts or patterns, which subsisting in the bosom 
 of the Highest, and being thence discovered, she fixeth her 
 eye upon them, as travellers by sea upon the pole-star of the 
 world, and that according thereunto she guideth her hand to 
 work by imitation : although we rather embrace the oracle of 
 Hippocrates, that ' each thing, both in small and in great, ful- 
 fiUeth the task which destiny hath set down ;' and concerning 
 the manner of executing and fulfilling the same, ' what they 
 do they know not, yet is it in show and appearance as though 
 they did know what they do ; and the truth is they do not 
 discern the things which they look on :' nevertheless, for- 
 asmuch as the works of nature are no less exact, than if she 
 
Philosophicai. 1 09 
 
 did both behold and study how to express some absolute 
 shape or mirror always present before her; yea, such her 
 dexterity and skill appeareth, that no intellectual creature in 
 the world were able by capacity to do that which nature doth 
 without capacity and knowledge ; it cannot be but nature 
 hath some director of infinite knowledge to guide her in all 
 her ways. 
 
 Plato, Timceus, 37 D. 48, sqq.; Parmenides, 132, 133. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE pleasures of sight and hearing are given as gifts. 
 They answer not any purposes of mere existence, for 
 the distinction of all that is dangerous or useful to us might 
 be made, and often is made, by the eye, without its receiving 
 the slightest pleasure of sight. We might have learnt to dis- 
 tinguish fruits and grain from flowers, withput having any 
 superior pleasure in the aspect of the latter. And the ear- 
 might have learned to distinguish the sounds that communi- 
 cate ideas, or to recognise intimations of elemental danger 
 without -perceiving either music in the voice, or majesty in the 
 thunder. And as these pleasures have no function to per- 
 form, so there is no limit to their continuance in the accom- 
 plishment of their end, for they are an end in themselves, and 
 so may be perpetual with all of us, being in no way destruc- 
 tive, but rather increasing in exquisiteness by repetition. 
 
 Herein, then, we find very sufficient ground for the higher 
 estimation of these delights, first, in their being eternal and 
 inexhaustible, and, secondly, in their being evidently no means 
 or instrument of life, but an object of life. Now, in whatever 
 is an object of life, in whatever maybe infinitely and for itself 
 desired, we may be sure there is something of divine ; for God 
 will not make anything an object of life to his creatures which 
 
1 1 o For Greek Prose. 
 
 does not point to or partake of Himself. And so, though we 
 were to regard the pleasures of sight merely as the highest of 
 sensual pleasures, and though they were of rare occurrence, 
 and, when occurring, isolated and imperfect, there would still 
 be a supernatural character about them, owing to their per- 
 manence and self-sufficiency, where no other sensual pleasures 
 are permanent or self-sufficient. But when, instead of being 
 scattered, interrupted, or distributed by chance, they are 
 gathered together, and so arranged to enhance each other, as 
 by chance they could not be, there is caused by them not 
 only a feeling of strong affection towards the object by which 
 they are called forth, but a perception of purpose and adapta- 
 tion of it to our desires; a perception, therefore, of the 
 immediate operation of the Intelligence which so formed us, 
 and so feeds us. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic, iii. lo. Plato, Repub. 580 D. 584 ; Philehus, 51, jyj.; 
 Hippias major, 297 E. sqq. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE mere animal consciousness of pleasantness I call 
 aesthesis : but the exulting, grateful, and reverent per- 
 ception of it I call theoria. For this, and this only, is the full 
 comprehension and contemplation of the beautiful as a gift of 
 God : a gift not necessary to our being, but added to and ele- 
 vating it. And that this joyfulness and reverence are a neces- 
 sary part of theoretic pleasure, is very evident, when we 
 consider that by the presence of these feelings even the lower 
 and more sensual pleasures may be rendered theoretic. Thus 
 Aristotle has subtly noted that ' we call not men intemperate 
 so much with respect to the scents of roses or herb-perfumes, 
 as of ointments and of condiments,' though the reason that he 
 gives for this be futile enough. For the fact is, that of scents 
 artificially prepared the extreme desire is intemperance ; but 
 
Philosophicfil. 1 1 1 
 
 of natural and God-given scents, which take their part in the 
 harmony and pleasantness of creation, there can hardly be 
 intemperance : not that there is any absolute difference be- 
 tween the two kinds, but that these are likely to be received 
 with gratitude and joyfulness rather than those, so that we 
 despise the seeking of essences and unguents, but not the 
 sowing of violets along our garden banks. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic. Eudem. iii. 2, 8. Plato, Philebus, 51, sqq. ; 
 Hifpias major, 299 E. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 AND first for its noblest faculty, the understanding : it was 
 then sublime,-- clear, and aspiring, and, as it were, the 
 soul's upper region, lofty and serene, free from the vapours 
 and disturbances of the inferior affections. It was the leading,' 
 controlling faculty ; all the passions wore the colours of 
 reason ; it did not so much persuade as command ; it was 
 not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then almost as 
 quick as intuition ; it was nimble in proposing, firm in con- 
 cluding : it could sooner determine than now it can dispute. 
 Like the sun, it had both light and agility ; it knew no rest 
 but in motion ; no quiet but in activity. It did not so 
 properly apprehend as irradiate the object; not so much find, 
 as make things intelligible. It did arbitrate upon the several 
 reports of sense, and all the varieties of imagination ; not like 
 a drowsy judge, only hearing, but also directing their verdict. 
 In some it was vegete, quick, and lively ; open as the day, 
 untainted as the morning, full of the innocence and sprightli- 
 ness of youth ; it gave the soul a bright and a full view into 
 all things, and was not only a window, but itself the prospect, 
 
 Plato, Repub. 508, sq. ; Phcedrus, 247 C. sqq. ; Timaus, 34, 
 
112 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ' T F such be the general effect of maniage,' said the Prince, 
 -L ' I shall for the future think it dangerous to connect 
 my interest with that of another, lest I should be unhappy by 
 my partner's fault.' 
 
 ' I have met,' said the trincess, ' with many who live single 
 for that reason, but I never found that their prudence ought 
 to raise envy. They dream away their time without friend- 
 ship, without fondness, and are driven to rid themselves of the 
 day, for which they have no use, by childish amusements or 
 vicious delights. They act as beings under the constant sense 
 of some known inferiority that fills their minds with rancour 
 and their tongues with censure. They are peevish at home 
 and malevolent abroad ; and as the outlaws of human nature, 
 make it their business and their pleasure to disturb that 
 society which debars them from its privileges. To live without 
 feeling or exciting sympathy, to be fortunate without adding 
 to the felicity of others, or afflicted without tasting the balm 
 of pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude ; it is not retreat, 
 but exclusion from mankind. Marriage has many pains, but 
 celibacy has no pleasures.' 
 
 ' What, then, is to be done V said Rasselas ; ' the more we 
 inquire the less we can resolve. Surely he is most like to 
 please himself that has no other inclination to regard.' 
 
 Plato, Phadrus, 231, 241. 
 
 XX. 
 
 ' O URELY,' said the Prince, 'you must have been unfortu- 
 »^ nate in your choice of acquaintance. I am unwilling 
 to believe that the most tender of all relations is thus impeded 
 in its effort by natural necessity.' 
 
Philosophical. 1 1 3 
 
 'Domestic discord,' answered she, 'is not inevitably and 
 fatally necessary ; but yet it is not easily avoided. We seldom 
 see that a whole family is virtuous : the good and evil cannot 
 well agree ; and the evil can yet less agree with one another : 
 even the virtuous fall sometimes to variance, when their 
 virtues are of different kinds, and tending to extremes. In 
 general those parents have most reverence who most deserve 
 it, for he that lives well cannot be despised. Many other 
 evils infest private life. Some are the slaves of servants whom 
 they have trusted with their affairs. Some are kept in con- 
 tinual anxiety by the caprice of rich relations, whom they 
 cannot please, and dare not offend. Some husbands are im- 
 perious, and some wives perverse ; and as it is always more 
 easy to do evil than good, though the wisdom or virtue of one 
 can very rarely make many happy, the folly or vice of one 
 may often make many miserable.' 
 
 Plato, Republic, 329, 462. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 IT will be found that precision and exquisiteness of arrange- 
 ment are always noble, but become vulgar only when 
 they arise from an insensibility of temperament, which is in- 
 capable of fine passion, and is set ignobly, and with a dullard 
 mechanism, on accuracy in vile things. 
 
 All the different impressions connected with negligence or 
 foulness depend in like manner on the degree of insensibility 
 implied. Disorder in a drawing-room is vulgar, in an anti- 
 quary's study, not : the black battle-stain on a soldier's face is 
 not vulgar, but the dirty face of a housemaid is. 
 
 And lastly, courage, so far as it is a sign of race, is pecu- 
 liarly the mark of a gentleman or a lady ; but it becomes 
 vulgar if rude or insensitive ; while timidity is not vulgar, if 
 
 H 
 
1 1 4 For Greek Prose. 
 
 it, be a characteristic of race or fineness of make. A fawn is 
 not vulgar in being timid, nor a crocodile 'gentle' because 
 courageous. 
 
 Without following the inquiry further into detail, we may 
 conclude that vulgarity consists in a deadness of the heart 
 and body, resulting from prolonged and especially from in- 
 herited conditions of ' degeneracy,' or literally ' unracing :' — 
 gentlemanliness being another word for an intense humanity. 
 And vulgarity shows itself primarily in dulness of heart ; not 
 in rage or cruelty, but in inability to feel or conceive noble 
 character or emotion. This is its essential, pure, and most 
 fatal form. Dulness of bodily sense and general stupidity, 
 with such forms of crime as peculiarly issue from stupidity, 
 are its material manifestation. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic, iv. 2; iii. 8; Rhetoric, ii. 15. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 ' T T is hardly probable,' said he, ' that music, painting, medi- 
 A cine, poetry, agriculture, and so many more should be all 
 called by one common name, if there was not something in 
 each which was common to all.' ' It should seem so,' replied 
 I. ' What then,' said he, ' shall we pronounce this to be V At 
 this, I remember, I was under some sort of hesitation, ' Have 
 courage,' cried my friend, ' perhaps the case is not so despe- 
 rate. Let me ask you — Is medicine the cause of anything ! ' 
 ' Yes, surely,' said I, ' of health.' ' And agriculture — of what f 
 ' Of the plentiful growth of grain.' ' And poetry — of what !' 
 ' Of plays and epics, and odes and the like.' ' And is not 
 the same true,' said he, ' of music, of statuary, of architecture, 
 and in short of every art whatever V 'I confess,' said I, ' it 
 seems so.' ' Suppose, then,' said he, ' we should say, " It 
 was common to every art to be a cause," — should we err?' I 
 
Philosophical. 115 
 
 replied, ' I thought not.' ' Let this, then,' said he, ' be remem- 
 bered, that all art is cause.' I promised him it should. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic. Nicom. vi. 4. Plato, Politic. 293 ; Sophist. 265 ; 
 Symposium, 205 B. ; Gorgias, 449 D. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 ' T F, then, neither the lucrative life, nor the political,' said he, 
 
 -L 'procure that good which we desire, shall we seek it 
 
 from the pleasurable ? Shall we make pleasure our goddess ? 
 
 " Pleasure, 
 Whom love attends, and soft desire, and words 
 Alluring, apt the steadiest heart to bend." 
 
 So says the poet, and plausible his doctrine.' ' Plausible,' said 
 I, 'indeed.' 'Let it, then,' continued he, 'be a pleasurable 
 world : a race of harmless, loving animals : an Elysian tem- 
 perature of sunshine and shade. Let the earth in every 
 quarter resemble our own dear country : where never was a 
 frost, never a fog, never a day but was delicious and serene.' 
 I was a little embarrassed at this unexpected flight, till, recol- 
 lecting myself, I told him (but still with some surprise) that, in 
 no degree to disparage either my country or my countrymen, 
 I had never found either so exquisite as he now supposed them. 
 ' There are, then, it seems,' said he, ' in the natural world, and 
 even in our own beloved country, such things as storms and 
 tempests, as pinching colds and scorching heats. I replied 
 ' there were.' ' And consequent to these disease and famine, 
 and infinite calamities.' ' There are.' 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic. Eudem. i. 4. Homer, H. xiv. 214. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 581 c. sqij. ; Euthydem. 275 D. 
 
 XXIV. 
 ' "\ TOTHING,' replied the artist, 'will ever be attempted, 
 1 ^ if all possible objections must be first overcome. If 
 you will favour my project, I will try the first flight at my own 
 
1 1 6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 hazard. I have considered the structure of all volant animals, 
 and find the folding continuity of the bat's wings most easily 
 accommodated to the human form. Upon this model I shall 
 begin my task to-morrow, and in a year expect to tower into 
 the air beyond the maUce and pursuit of man. But I will 
 work only on this condition, that the art shall not be divulged, 
 and that you shall not require me to make wings for any but 
 yourselves.' 
 
 ' Why,' said Rasselas, ' should you envy others so great an 
 advantage ? All skill ought to be exerted for universal good : 
 every man has owed much to others, and ought to repay the 
 kindness that he has received.' 
 
 ' If men were all virtuous,' returned the artist, ' I should, 
 with great alacrity, teach them all to fly. But what would be 
 the security of the good, if the bad could at pleasure invade 
 thein from the sky? Against an army sailing through tHe 
 clouds, neither walls, nor mountains, nor seas could afford any 
 security. A flight of northern savages might hover in the wind, 
 and light at once with irresistible violence upon the capital of 
 a fruitful region that was rolling under them. Even this valley, 
 the retreat of princes, the abode of happiness, might be violated 
 by the sudden descent of some of the naked nations that 
 swarm on the coast of the southern sea ! ' 
 
 Plato, Euthyphron, ii c, sqq. Aristophanes, Aves, WJOfSqq. 
 Lucian, Vera Histor. i. 9, sq^. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE wild powers and mysteries of nature are in the 
 Homeric mind among the enemies of man : so that all 
 the labours of Ulysses are an expression of the contest of man- 
 hood, not only with its own passions, or with the folly of 
 others, but with the merciless and mysterious powers of the 
 natural world. 
 
Philosophical. 1 1 7 
 
 Now, observe, that in their dealing with all these subjects, 
 the Greeks never shrink from horror : down to its uttermost 
 depth, to its most appalling physical detail, they strive to sound 
 the secrets of sorrow. For them there is no passing by on 
 the other side, no turning away the eyes to vanity from pain. 
 Whether there be consolation for them or not, neither apathy 
 nor blindnfess shall be their saviour ; if for them thus knowing 
 the facts of the grief of earth, any hope, relief, or triumph may 
 hereafter seem possible, — ^well : but if not, still hopeless, 
 reliefless, eternal, the sorrow shall be met face to face. This 
 Hector, so righteous, so merciful, so brave, has nevertheless to 
 look upon his dearest brother in miserablest death. His own 
 soul passes away in hopeless sobs through the throat-wound 
 of the Grecian spear. That is one aspect of things in this 
 world, a fair world truly, but having among its other aspects, 
 this one, highly ambiguous. 
 
 Meeting it boldly as they may, gazing right, into the skeleton 
 face of it, the ambiguity remains : nay, in some sort gains upon 
 them. We trusted in the gods ; we thought that wisdom and 
 courage would save us. Our wisdom and courage themselves 
 deceive us to our death. Athena had the aspect of Duphobus, 
 — terror of the enemy. She has not terrified him, but left us 
 in our mortal need. 
 
 Plato, Republic, 386, sqq. ; Apolog. 28 B. sqq. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 A ND beyond that mortality what hope have we ? Nothing 
 Jr\. is clear to us on that horizon, nor comforting. Funeral 
 honours : perhaps also rest ; perhaps a shadowy.life, — artless, 
 joyless, loveless. No devices in that darkness of the grave, 
 nor daring, nor delight. Neither marrying, nor giving in mar- 
 riage; nor casting of spears, nor rolling of chariots j nor voice 
 
1 1 8 For Greek Prose. 
 
 of fame lapped in pale Elysian mist, chilling the forgetful 
 heart and feeble frame, shall we waste on for ever ? Can the 
 dust of earth claim more of immortality than this ? Or shall 
 we have even so much as rest ? May we indeed be down 
 again in the dust, or have our sins not hidden from us even 
 the things that belong to that peace ? May not chance and 
 the whirl of passion govern us there ? When there shall be no 
 thought, nor work, nor wisdom, nor breathing of the soul 1 
 
 Be it so. With no better reward, no brighter hope, we will 
 be men while we may : men just and strong and fearless, and 
 up to our power, perfect. 
 
 Plato, Gorgias, 523, sqq. ; Rep. 386, sqq. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 POETRY is, as was said more than two thousand years 
 ago, imitation. It is an art analogous in many respects 
 to the art of painting, sculpture, and acting. The imitations 
 of the painter, the sculptor, and the actor are indeed, within 
 certain limits, more perfect than those of the poet. The 
 machinery which the poet employs consists merely of words : 
 and words cannot, even when employed by such an artist as 
 Homer, present to the mind images of visible objects quite so 
 lively and exact as those which we cany away from looking 
 on the works of the brush and the chisel. But, on the other 
 hand, the range of poetry is infinitely wider than that of any 
 other imitative art, or than that of all the other imitative arts 
 together. The sculptor can imitate only form ; the painter only 
 form and colour ; the actor, until the poet supplies him with 
 words, only form, colour, and motion. Poetry holds the outer 
 world in common with the other arts. The heart of man is 
 the province of poetry, and of poetry alone. The painter, 
 the sculptor, and the actor, can exhibit no more of human 
 
Philosophical. 119 
 
 passion and character than that small portion which overflows 
 into the gesture and the face — always an imperfect, often a 
 deceitful, sign of that which is within. The deeper and more 
 complex parts of human nature can be exhibited by means of 
 words alone. Thus the objects of the imitation of poetry are 
 the whole external and the whole internal universe, the face 
 of nature, the vicissitudes of fortune, man as he is in himself, 
 man as he appears in society, — all things which really exist, 
 all things of which we can form an image in our minds by 
 combining together parts of things which really exist. The 
 domain of this imperial art is commensurate with the imagi- 
 native faculty. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 394, ggj.; Ion, 533 D. jj^- Aristotle, Poet. i. sqq. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 THE poet who, as we have before taken notice, speaks as 
 little as possible in his own person, and, after the 
 example of Homer, fills every part of his work with manners 
 and characters, introduces a soliloquy of this infernal , agent, 
 who was thus restless in the destruction of man. He is then 
 described as gliding through the garden under the resemblance 
 of a mist, in order to find out that creature in which he de- 
 signed to tempt our first parents. This description has some- 
 thing in it very poetical and surprising : — 
 
 ' So saying, through each thicket, dank or dry, 
 Like a black mist, low creeping, he held on 
 His midnight search, where soonest he might find 
 The serpent : him fast sleeping soon he found 
 In labyrinth of many a round self-rolled, 
 His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles.' 
 
 The author afterwards gives us a description of the Morn- 
 ing, which is wonderfully suitable to a divine poem, and peculiar 
 to that first season of nature ; he represents the earth before 
 
I20 For Greek Prose. 
 
 it was curst as a great altar breathing out its incense from all 
 parts, and sending up a pleasant savour to the nostrils of its 
 Creator; to which he adds a noble idea of Adam and Eve, as 
 offering their morning worship, and filling up the universal 
 concert of praise and adoration : — 
 
 ' Now when as sacred light began to dawn 
 In Eden on the humid flowers, that breathed 
 Their morning incense, when all things that breathe 
 From th' earth's great altar send up silent praise 
 To the Creator, and his nostrils fill 
 With gratefiil smell ; forth came the human pair, 
 And join their vocal"worship to the choir 
 Of creatures wanting voice. ' 
 
 Plato, Repuh: iii. 386, tqq. 392 ; Ion, 538 E. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE sentiments in an Epic Poem are the thoughts and 
 behaviour which the author ascribes to the persons 
 whom he introduces, and are just when they are conformable 
 to the characters of the several persons. The sentiments have 
 likewise a relation to things as well as persons, and are then 
 perfect when they are such as are adapted to the subject. If 
 in either of these cases the poet argues or explains, magnifies 
 or diminishes, raises love or hatred, pity or terror, or any 
 other passion, we ought to consider whether the sentiments 
 he makes use of are proper for these ends. Homer is cen- 
 sured by the critics for his defect as to this particular in 
 several parts of the Iliad and Odyssey, though at the same time 
 those who have treated this great poet with candour have 
 attributed this defect to the times in which he lived. It was 
 the fault of the age and not of Homer, if there wants that 
 delicacy in some of his sentiments which appears in the works 
 of men of a much inferior genius. Besides, if there are 
 
Philosophical. 121 
 
 blemishes in any particular thoughts, there is an infinite 
 beauty in the greatest part of them. In short, if there are 
 many poets who would not have fallen into the meanness of 
 some of his sentiments, there are none who could have risen 
 up to the greatness of others. 
 
 Aristotle, Poet, xxiii. xxiv. j Plato, Repub. 392, 393. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 ACHILLES is everywhere distinguished by an abhorrence 
 of oppression, by a liberal and elevated mind, by a 
 passion for glory, and by a love of truth, freedom, and sin- 
 cerity. Though no admirer of the cause in which his evil 
 destiny compels him to engage, he is warmly attached to his 
 native land ; and, ardent as he is in vengeance, he is equally 
 so in love to his aged father Peleus, and to his friend Pa- 
 troclus. He is not luxurious like Paris, nor clownish like 
 Ajax ; his accomplishments are princely, and his amusements 
 worthy of a hero. Add to this, as an apology for the vehe- 
 mence of his anger, that the aifront he had received was 
 (according to the manners of that age) of the most atrocious 
 nature ; and not only unprovoked, but such as, on the part of 
 Agamemnon, betrayed a brutal insensibility to merit, as well 
 as a proud, selfish, ungrateful, and tyrannical disposition. 
 And though he is often inexcusably furious; yet it is but 
 justice to remark that he was not naturally cruel ; and that 
 his wildest outrages were such as in those rude times might be 
 expected from a violent man of invincible strength and valour, 
 when exasperated by injury and frantic with sorrow. Our 
 hero's claim to the admiration of mankind is indisputable. 
 Every part of his character is sublime and astonishing. In 
 his person he is the strongest, the swiftest, and most beautiful 
 
1 22 For Greek Prose. 
 
 of men ; this last circumstance, however, occurs not to his own 
 observation, being too trivial to attract the notice of so great 
 a mind. 
 
 Plato, Hifpias Minor, 369, sqq. ; Repub, iii. 39 1. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 As to some of the ends of civil government, all people are 
 agreed. That it is designed to protect our persons 
 and our property : that it is designed to compel us to satisfy 
 our wants, not by rapine, but by industry : that it is designed 
 to compel us to decide our differences, not by the strong 
 hand, but by arbitration : that it is designed to direct our 
 whole force, as that of one man, against any other society 
 which may offer us injury; these are propositions that will 
 hardly be disputed. Now, these are matters in which man, 
 without any reference to any higher being, or to any future 
 state, is very deeply interested. Every human being natu- 
 rally loves life, shrinks from pain, desires comforts which can 
 be enjoyed only in communities where property is secure. To 
 be murdered, to be tortured, to be robbed, to be sold into 
 slavery, — these are evidently evils from which men of every 
 religion, and men of no religion, wish to be protected ; and 
 therefore it will hardly be disputed, that men of every religion, 
 and of no religion, have thus far a common interest in being 
 well governed. 
 
 Aristotle, Polit. iii. 7. Plato, Repub. 369. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 SHOULD a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to 
 human nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and 
 take a survey of its inhabitants, what would his notion of us 
 
, Philosophical. 123 
 
 be % Would not he think, that we were a species of beings 
 made for quite different ends and purposes than what we 
 really are % Must not he imagine, that we were placed in this 
 world to get riches and honours ? Would not he think, that 
 it was our duty to toil after wealth and station and title ? 
 Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden poverty by 
 threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue bur 
 pleasures under pain of damnation ? He would certainly 
 imagine, that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite 
 opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us. And 
 truly, according to such an imagination, he must conclude 
 that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in the 
 universe ; that we are constant to our duty ; and that we keep 
 a steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither. 
 Plato, Apl. 29, 30. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 BUT first we may ask what should we predicate of slavery, 
 if we knew nothing minutely about it ? Should we not 
 say, that when once man was subject to man, as an animal is 
 subject, he would shrink away into mere animal nature ? 
 Should we not expect to hear of chains and stripes, of physical 
 brutality of all kinds ? Without any history of slavery, should 
 we not divine, from the conduct of free men to each other, 
 thaf no man was fitted for absolute power ? And, if we turned 
 from political to domestic life, should we not say, that the 
 smaller the sphere in which absolute power prevailed, the 
 greater would be the danger of its being abused ? If we then 
 considered that in a system of slavery, absolute power would 
 be delegated not only to men, but to women and children, 
 should we think it less of an evil on that account ? Again, if 
 we heard that in this imaginary state the slaves outnumbered 
 
124 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the freemen, could we doubt that cruel precautions would 
 often be taken to avert the dangers of insurrection ? And, in 
 fine, if we were told that the slaves differed in race and colour 
 from their owners, should we not conjecture that this circum- 
 stance would add disgust to cruelty, and darken injustice with 
 loathing ? 
 
 Aristotle, Polit. i. 2 [iii. sqq. ] / (Economic, v. ' 
 
 Plato, Legg. 777 ; Rep. 566, sqq. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 FOR my own part, I am of opinion compassion does not 
 only refine and civilize human nature, but has some- 
 thing in it more pleasing and agreeable than what can be met 
 with in such an indolent happiness, such an indifference to 
 mankind, as that in which the Stoics placed their wisdom. 
 As love is the most delightful passion, pity is nothing else but 
 love softened by a degree of sorrow : in short, it is a kind of 
 pleasing anguish, as well as generous sympathy, that knits 
 mankind together, and blends them in the same common lot. 
 
 Those who have laid down rules for rhetoric or poetry, 
 advise the writer to work himself up, if possible, to the pitch 
 of sorrow which he endeavours to produce in others. There 
 are none, therefore, who stir up pity so much as those who 
 indite their own sufferings. Grief has a natural eloquence 
 belonging to it, and breaks out in more moving sentiments 
 than can be supplied by the finest imagination. Nature , on 
 this occasion dictates a thousand passionate things which 
 cannot be supplied by art. 
 
 It is for this reason that the short speeches or sentences 
 which we often meet with in histories, make a deeper impres- 
 sion on the mind of the reader, than the most laboured 
 strokes in a well-written tragedy. 
 
 Aristotle, Rhetoric, ii. 8 ; Poetic, xiv. 
 
Philosophical. 125 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 WE are liable to make constant mistakes about the nature 
 of practical wisdom, until we come to perceive that 
 it consists not in any one predominant faculty or disposition, 
 but rather in a certain harmony amongst all the faculties and 
 affections of the man. Where this harmony exists, there are 
 likely to be well-chosen ends, and means judiciously adapted. 
 But, as it is, we see numerous instances of men who, with great 
 abihties, accomplish nothing, and we are apt to vary our views 
 of practical wisdom according to the particular failings of 
 these men. Sometimes we think it consists in having a defi- 
 nite purpose, and being constant to it. But take the case of a 
 deeply selfish person : he will be constant enough to his pur- 
 pose, and it will be a definite one. Very likely, too, it may 
 not be founded upon unreasonable expectations. The object 
 which he has in view may be a small thing ; but being as close 
 to his eyes as to his heart, there will be times when he tan see 
 nothing above it, or beyond it, or beside it. And so he may 
 fail in practical wisdom. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic. Nicom. vi. $, 7, 8, 10, ii. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 IT is not the reasoning power which of itself is noble, but 
 the reasoning power occupied with its proper objects. 
 Half of the mistakes of metaphysicians have arisen from their 
 not observing this, namely, that the intellect, going through 
 the same processes, is yet mean or noble according to the 
 matter it deals with, and wastes itself away in mere rotatory 
 motion, if it be set to grind straws or dust. If we reason only 
 respecting words or lines or any trifling or finite things, the 
 reason becomes a contemptible faculty ; but reason employed 
 
126 For Greek Prose. 
 
 on holy and infinite things, becomes herself holy and infinite. 
 So that by the work of the soul, I mean the work of the entire 
 immortal creature proceeding from a quick, perceptive, and 
 eager heart, perfected by the intellect, and finally dealt with 
 by the hands under the direct guidance of these higher 
 powers. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic. Nicom. x. 9. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 BEAUTY has been appointed by the Deity to be one of 
 those elements by which the human soul is continually 
 sustained : it is therefore to be found more or less in all 
 natural objects, but in order that we may not satiate ourselves 
 with it, and weary of it, it is rarely granted to us in its utmost ' 
 degrees. When we see it in those utmost degrees, we are 
 attracted to it strongly, and remember it long, as in the case 
 of singularly beautiful scenery, or a beautiful countenance. On 
 the other hand, absolute ugliness is admitted as rarely as 
 perfect beauty ; but degrees of it more or less distinct, are as- 
 sociated with whatever has the nature of death and sin, just as 
 beauty is associated with what has the nature of virtue and life. 
 This being so, you see that when the relative beauty of any 
 particular forms has to be examined, we may reason from the 
 forms of nature around us in this manner : what nature does 
 generally, is sure to be more or less beautiful ; what she does 
 rarely will either be very beautiful, or absolutely ugly ; and we 
 may again easily determine, if we are not willing in such a case 
 to trust to our feelings, which of these is indeed the case, by 
 this simple rule, that if the rare occurrence is the result of the 
 complete fulfilment of a natural law, it will be beautiful : if of 
 the violation of a natural law, it will be ugly. 
 
 Plato, Hippias Major, 294, sqq. 
 
Philosophical. 127 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 FOR thus the sun is the eye of the world : and he is in- 
 different to the negro, or the cold Russian, to them that 
 dwell under the line, and them that stand near the tropics, the 
 scalded Indian, or the poor boy that shakes at the foot of the 
 Riphsean hills. But the fluxures of the heaven and the earth, 
 the conveniency of abode, and the approaches to the north 
 or south respectively, change the emanations of his beams, not 
 that they do not always pass from him, but that they are not 
 equally received below, but by periods and changes, by little 
 inlets and reflexions they receive what they can. And some 
 have only a dark day and a long night from him, snows and 
 white cattle, a miserable life, and a perpetual harvest of 
 catarrhs and consumptions, apoplexies and dead palsies. 
 But some have splendid fires and aromatic spices, rich wines 
 and well digested fruits, great wit, and great courage ; because 
 they dwell in his eye and look in his face, and are the courtiers 
 of the sun, and wait upon him in his chambers of the east. 
 
 Just so it is in friendships : some are worthy and some are 
 necessary : some dwell hard by, and are fitted for converse ; 
 nature joins some to us, and religion combines us with others ; 
 society and accidents, parity of fortune, and equal dispositions 
 do actuate our 'friendships, which of themselves and in their 
 prime dispositions are prepared for all mankind, according as 
 any one can receive them. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 508 ; Lysis, 214. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 C'^ RADUALLY thinking on from point to point, we shall 
 J come to perceive that all true happiness and noble- 
 ness are near us, and yet neglected by us : and that till we 
 
128 For Greek Prose. 
 
 have learned how to be happy and noble, we have not much 
 to tell even to red Indians. The delights of horse-racing 
 and hunting, of assemblies in the night instead of the 
 day, of costly and wearisome music, of costly and burden- 
 some dress, of chagrined contention for place or power 
 or wealth, or the eyes of the multitude ; and all the end- 
 less occupation without purpose, and idleness without rest, 
 of our vulgar world, are not, it seems to me, enjoyments 
 we need be ambitious to communicate. And all real and 
 wholesome enjoyments possible to man have been just as 
 possible to him since first he was made of the earth as 
 they are now : and they are possible to him chiefly in peace. 
 To watch the corn grow and the blossoms set ; to draw hard 
 breath over ploughshare or spade ; to read, to think, to love, 
 to hope, to pray : these are the things that make men happy : 
 they have always had the power of doing these, they never 
 will have power to do more. The world's prosperity or 
 adversity depends upon our knowing and teaching these few 
 things, but upon iron or glass or electricity in no wise. And 
 I am Utopian and enthusiastic enough to believe that the time 
 will come when the world will discover this. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethic, x. 6, sqq. Plato, Gorgias, 507 ; Phcedrus, 230. 
 
 Lucian, Hermotimus, 24. 
 
 XL. 
 
 WE are all of us condemned to die, and that, as we well 
 know by an irrevocable sentence, of which the exe- 
 cution cannot be many years deferred, and may be to-morrow 
 — and yet how little do we think of this, not only when youth 
 and health seem to place between us and the dark valley 
 beyond a hill which we have yet to ascend, but when de- 
 clining age and failing health have brought us to the strait 
 and sloping road, out of which there is no turning, and of 
 
Philosophical. 129 
 
 which though we cannot see the exact end, we know very 
 well where to look for it. We are even willing, for the most 
 futile causes, to multiply the chances of death which each day 
 brings with it ; we do it for the sake of gain, we do it for the 
 sake of pleasure, we do it even sometimes for the want of 
 something else to do. 
 
 Remembering this, and considering it as we should do, we 
 may well wonder that lawgivers should have trusted so much 
 to the threat of death, that is, to an increased probability of 
 dying in a particular way, as a sort of specific against crime. 
 But, in truth, this was not, I think, the original reason of 
 capital punishment. The slaying of the homicide was at first 
 meant as an act of vengeance against him, rather than as a 
 warning ta others ; it was rather given to the family of the 
 sufferer as a consolation, than exacted by society for its pro- 
 tection ; and this primitive notion of the vindictive character 
 of punishment is still, in cases of murder at least, the one 
 which prevails beyond all other notions in the popular mind, 
 and the chief reason with the bulk of mankind, as it is perhaps 
 also the best reason in itself, for maintaining in this instance 
 the penalty of death. 
 
 Plato, Apolog. 28, B. sgg'. ; Rep. 330, D. ; Legg. 862, c.-E. 868, 933, E. ; 
 Gorgias, 525, B. sgq.; Protag. 324. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 THE present is a fleeting moment, the past is no more ; 
 and our prospect of futurity is dark and doubtful. 
 This day may possibly be my last ; but the laws of proba- 
 bility, so true in general, so fallacious in particular, still allow 
 about fifteen years. I shall soon enter into the period which, 
 as the most agreeable of his long life, was selected by the 
 judgment and experience of the sage Fontenelle. His choice 
 is approved by the eloquent historian of nature, who fixes our 
 
 I 
 
1 30 For Greek Prose. 
 
 moral happiness to the mature season in which our passions 
 are supposed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambition 
 satisfied, our fame and fortune established on a solid basis. 
 In private conversation, that great and amiable man added 
 the weight of his own experience ; and this autumnal felicity 
 might be exemplified in the lives of many other men of letters. 
 I am far more inclined to embrace than to dispute this com- 
 fortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay of 
 the mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe that two 
 causes, the abbreviation of time and the failure of hope, will 
 always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 329-331. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 THE sure sign of the general decline of an art is the fre- 
 quent occurrence, not of deformity, but of misplaced 
 beauty. In general, tragedy is corrupted by eloquence, and 
 comedy by wit. The real object of the drama is the exhibi- 
 tion of human character. This, we conceive, is no arbitrary 
 canon, originating in local and temporary associations, like 
 those canons which regulate the number of acts in a play, or 
 of syllables in a line. To this fundamental law every other 
 regulation is subordinate. The situations which most sig- 
 nally develop character form the best plot. The mother 
 tongue of the passions is the best style. This principle, 
 rightly understood, does not debar the poet from any grace of 
 composition. There is no style in which some man may not, 
 under some circumstances, express himself. There is there- 
 fore no style which the drama rejects, none which it does not 
 occasionally require. It is in the discernment of place, of 
 time, and of person, that the inferior artists fail. 
 
 Ainstotle, Poet, vi. sqq. 
 
Philosophical. 131 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 FOR lives, I do find it strange that these times Ijave so 
 little esteemed the virtues of the times, as that the 
 writing of lives should be no more frequent. For although 
 there be not many sovereign princes or absolute commanders, 
 and that states are most collected into monarchies, yet are 
 there many worthy personages that deserve better than dis- 
 persed report or barren eulogies. For herein the invention of 
 one of the late poets is proper, and doth well enrich the 
 ancient fiction : for he feigneth that at the end of the thread 
 or web of every man's' life there was a little medal containing 
 the person's name, and that Time waited upon the shears ; 
 and, as soon as the thread was cut, caught the medals, and 
 carried them to the river of Lethe ; and about the bank there 
 were many birds flying up and down, that would get the 
 medals and carry them in their beak a little while, and then 
 let them fall into the river : only there were a few swans, 
 which, if they got a name, would carry it to a temple, where it 
 was consecrated. 
 
 Plato, Menex. 236, sqq. ; Theat. 197, igS. 
 Isocrates, Pmugyr. i [Orat. iv. 41]. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 AS our bodies, to be in health, must be generally exercised, 
 so our minds, to be in health, must be generally culti- 
 vated. You would not call a man healthy who had strong 
 arms, but was paralytic in his feet : nor one who could walk 
 well, but had no use of his hands : nor one who could see 
 well, if he could not hear. You would not voluntarily reduce 
 your bodies to any such partially developed state. Much 
 inore, then, you would not, if you could help it, reduce your 
 minds to it. Now, your minds are endowed with a vast 
 
1 3 2 For Greek Prose. 
 
 number of gifts of totally different uses — limbs of mind, as it 
 were, which if you don't exercise, you cripple. One is 
 curiosity ; that is a gift, a capacity of ple'asure in knowing, 
 which if you destroy, you make yourselves cold and dull. 
 Another is sympathy : the power of sharing in the feelings of 
 living creatures ; which if you destroy, you make yourselves 
 hard and cruel. Another of your limbs of mind is admiration : 
 the power of enjoying beauty or ingenuity ; which if you 
 destroy, you make yourselves base and irreverent. Another 
 is wit, or the power of playing with the lights on the many 
 sides of truth ; which if you destroy, you make 'yourselves 
 gloomy, and less useful and cheering to others than you 
 might be. So that in choosing your way of work, it should be 
 your aim, as far as possible, to bring out all these faculties, as 
 far as they exist in you ; not one merely, nor another, but all 
 of them. And the way to bring them out is simply to concern 
 yourselves attentively with the subjects of each faculty. To 
 cultivate sympathy, you must be among living creatures, and 
 thinking about them ; and to cultivate admiration, you must 
 be among beautiful things, and looking at them. 
 
 Plato, Timims, 87, C. ; Crito, 47-48 ; Repub. 585, 591. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 THERE is not a man whom it would so ill become to 
 boast of memory as myself : for I own I have scarce 
 any, and do not think that in the world there is another so 
 defective as mine. My other faculties are mean and common ; 
 but in this respect I think myself so singular and rare, as to 
 deserve a more than ordinary character. Besides the incon- 
 venience I naturally suffer from this defect of memory (for, in 
 truth, the necessary use of it considered, Plato might well call 
 it a great and powerful goddess), in my country, when they 
 
Philosophical. 133 
 
 would signify that a man is void of sense, they say that he has 
 no memory; and when I complain of the defect of mine, 
 they reprove me, and do not think I am in earnest by accusing 
 myself for a fool ; for they do not discern the difference be- 
 twixt memory and understanding, in which they make me 
 worse than I really am : for, on the contrary, we rather find 
 by experience that a strong memory is liable to be accom- 
 panied with a weak judgment : and as I acquit myself in 
 nothing so well as the friend, they do me another wrong in 
 this respect, that by the same words wherewith they accuse 
 my infirmity, they represent me as ungrateful. They bring my 
 affection into question upon account of my memory, and turn 
 a natural imperfection into a bad conscience. It is enough 
 that I suffer the misfortune, without being branded with a sort 
 of malice, a vice so contrary to my nature. 
 
 Plato, Protag. 334, n. ; Afolog. 21, B. 23, D. sqq. { 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 AS he was one day walking in the street, he saw a spacious 
 building, which all were, by the open doors, invited to 
 enter : he followed the stream of people, and found it a hall 
 or school of declamation, in which professors read lectures to 
 their auditory. He fixed his eye upon a sage raised above 
 the rest, who discoursed with great energy on the government- 
 of the passions. His look was venerable, his action graceful, 
 his pronunciation clear, and his diction elegant. He showed, 
 with great strength of sentiment, and variety of illustration, 
 that human nature is degraded and debased when the lower 
 faculties predominate over the higher ; that when fancy, the 
 parent of passion, usurps the dominion of the mind, nothing 
 ensues but the natural effect of unlawful government, pertur- 
 bation, and confusion ; that she betrays the fortresses of the 
 
134 ^"^ir Greek Prose. 
 
 intellect to rebels, and excites her children to sedition against 
 reason, their lawful sovereign. He compared reason to the 
 sun, of which the light is constant, uniform, and lasting ; and 
 fancy to a meteor, of bright but transitory lustre, irregular in 
 its motion, and delusive in its direction. 
 
 Plato, Erast. adinitium; Euthydem. 273 ; Protag. 313. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 C*YRIL speaks of certain people that chose to worship the 
 ' sun because he was a day-god ; for, believing that he 
 was quenched every night in the sea, or that he had no in- 
 fluence upon them that light up candles, and lived by the 
 light of the fire, they were confident they might be atheists 
 all night, and live as they list. Men who divide their little 
 time between religion and pleasures, between God and God's 
 enemy, think that God is to rule but in His certain period of 
 time, and that our life is the stage for passion and folly, and 
 the day of death for the work of our life. But as to God both 
 the day and the night are alike, so are the first and last of our 
 days ; all are His due, and He will account severely with us 
 for the follies of the first and the evil of the last. The evils 
 and the pains are great which are reserved for those who 
 defer their restitution to God's favour till their death. There- 
 fore Antisthenes said well, ' It is not the happy death, but the 
 happy life, that makes man happy.' 
 
 Plato, Repub. 514-516; Gorgias, 523, sqq.; Cratyl. 413, B. 
 
 XLvni. 
 
 THEY say that Prometheus, when he grew to man's 
 estate, found mankind, though they were like him in 
 form, utterly brutish and ignorant, being led, like the animals, 
 
Philosophical. 135 
 
 only by their private judgments of things as they seemed to 
 each man, and wholly ignorant of facts as they are. But 
 Prometheus, taking pity on them, determined in his mind to 
 free them from that slavery, and to teach them to rise above 
 the beasts, by seeing things as they are. He therefore made 
 them acquainted with the secrets of nature, and taught them 
 all arts and sciences. But yet, as the isyth relates, they be- 
 came only a more cunning sort of animals, not being wholly 
 freed from their original slavery, but each man seeking by 
 means of those arts and sciences to please and help himself 
 alone. Fearing therefore lest their increased strength and 
 cunning should only enable them to prey ijpon each other all 
 the more fiercely, he stole fire from heaven, and gave to each 
 man a share thereof for his hearth, and to each community 
 for their common altar. And by the light of this celestial 
 fire they learnt to see those celestial and eternal bonds be- 
 tween man and man, as of husband to wife, of father to child, 
 of citizen to his country, and of master to servant. And since 
 that time, whatsoever household or nation has allowed these 
 fires to become extinguished, has sunk down again to the 
 level of the brutes ; while those who have passed them down 
 to their children burning bright and strong, become partakers 
 of the bliss of the heroes in the happy islands. 
 Plato, Protag. 320. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 THE poets say that Proteus was Neptune's herdsman, a 
 grave sire, and so excellent a prophet that he might 
 well be termed thrice excellent ; for he knew not only things 
 to come, but even things past as well as present; so that 
 besides his skill in divination, he was the messenger and 
 interpreter of all antiquities and hidden mysteries. The 
 
136 For Greek Prose. 
 
 place of his abode was a hiige vast cave, where his custom 
 was every day at noon to count his flock of sea-calves, and 
 then to go to sleep. Moreover, he that desired his advice 
 in anything, could by no other means obtain it but by catch- 
 ing him in manacles, and holding him fast therewith; who 
 nevertheless, to be at liberty, would turn himself into all man- 
 ner of forms and wonders of nature ; sometimes into fire, 
 sometimes into water, sometimes into the shape of beasts, and 
 the like ; till at length he were restored to his own form again. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 380-381, 611, D. ; Cratyl. 406, c. s^j. 
 
 L. 
 
 THE legend of St. Christopher is no history, but a fiction 
 composed by the Greeks, a wise, learned, and imagi- 
 native people, in order to show what life that of a true 
 Christian should be. They figure him a very great, tall, and 
 strong man, who bears the child Jesus upon his shoulders, as 
 the name Christopher indicates ; but the child was heavy, so 
 that he who carries him is constrained to bend under the 
 burden. He traverses a raging and boisterous sea, 'the world, 
 whose waves beat upon him, namely, tyrants and factions and 
 the devil, who would fain bereave him of soul and life ; but 
 he supports himself by a great tree, as upon a staff, that is, 
 God's Word. On the other side of the sea stands an old 
 man, with a lantern, in which burns a candle ; this means 
 the writings of the prophets. Christopher directs his steps 
 thither, and arrives safely on shore, that is, at everlasting life. 
 Plato, Cratyl. 402, E. sg"j. Lucian, Philop. sub finem. 
 
 LI. 
 
 ' ' I ^HEY say,' it ran, ' that there is a young lady very dear 
 
 X to that Great Being who made the world, and that at 
 
 certain seasons He, in some way or other invisible, comes to 
 
Philosophical. 137 
 
 her, and fills her mind with such exceeding delight that she 
 hardly cares 'to meditate on anything but Him. Therefore if 
 you present all the world to her, she disregards it ; and you 
 could not persuade her to do anything wrong or sinful for all 
 the treasures it contains. She lives in a wonderful sphere of 
 peace and calmness, especially after this Great Being has mani- 
 fested Himself to her mind. She goes from place to place 
 singing sweetly, and seems to be always full of joy and plea- 
 sure ; and no one knows for what. She loves especially to be 
 alone, walking in fields and groves, where she always seems to 
 have Him conversing with her.' 
 
 Plato, Cratyl. 404, c. Lucian, Hermot, 22. 
 
 LII. 
 
 THERE is a tradition among the Indians that one of 
 their countrymen descended in a vision to the great 
 repository of souls, and that upon his return he gave his 
 friends a distinct account of everything he saw among the 
 regions of the dead. His story was in substance as follows : — 
 ^ After having travelled for a long space under a hollow moun- 
 tain, he arrived at length on the confines of the world of 
 spirits, but could not enter it by reason of a thick forest made 
 up of bushes, brambles and pointed thorns, so perplexed and 
 interwoven that it was impossible so find a passage through it. 
 Whilst he was looking about for some track or pathway that 
 might be worn in any part of it, he saw a huge lion couched 
 under the side of it, who kept his eye upon him in the same 
 posture as when he watches for his prey. 
 
 Plato, Repui. a, 614. sjj. 
 
138 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 THE Indian immediately started back, whilst tne iion rose 
 with a spring and leaped towards him. Being wholly 
 destitute of weapons he stooped down to take a stone in his 
 hand ; but to his surprise grasped nothing, and found the sup- 
 posed stone to be only the apparition of one. If he was dis- 
 appointed on this side, he was as much pleased on the other, 
 when he found the lion, which had seized on his left shoulder, 
 had no power to hurt him, and was only the ghost of that raven- 
 ous creature which it appeared to be. He no sooner got rid 
 of his impotent enemy, but he marched up to the wood, and 
 after having surveyed it for some time, endeavoured to press 
 into one part of it that was a little thinner than the rest : when 
 again, to his great surprise, he found the bushes made no re- 
 sistance, but that he walked through briars and brambles with 
 the same ease as through the open air. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 614. Lucian, Fhilop. adjinem. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 THERE were two families which from the beginning of the 
 world were as opposite to each other as light and 
 darkness. The one of them lived in heaven, and the other in 
 hell. The youngest descendant of the first family was Plea- 
 sure, who was the daughter of Happiness, who was the child 
 of Virtue, who was the offspring of the gods. These, as I 
 said before, had their habitation in heaven. The youngest of 
 the opposite family was Pain, who was the son of Misery, who_ 
 was the child of Vice, who was the offspring of the Furies. 
 The habitation of this race of beings was in hell. The middle 
 station of nature between these two opposite extremes was the 
 earth, which was inhabited by creatures of a middle kind, 
 
Philosophical. 139 
 
 neither so virtuous as the one, nor so vicious as the other, but 
 
 partaking, of the good and bad qualities of these two famiUes. 
 
 Xenophon, Mem. ii. i. 21. 
 
 LV. 
 
 THEY had to dig fifty fathoms before they reached the 
 chamber of the dead. Into this Gest descended by a 
 rope, holding a sword in one hand, and a taper in the other. 
 He saw below a great dragon-ship, in which sat five hundred 
 men, champions of the old king, who were buried with him. 
 They did not stir, but gazed with blank eyes at the taper 
 flame, and snorted vapour from their nostrils. Gest despoiled 
 the old king of all his gold and armour, and was about to rob 
 him of his sword when the taper expired. Then at once the 
 five hundred rose from the dragon-ship, and the daemon king 
 rushed at him ; they grappled and fought. In his need, Gest 
 invoked St. Olaf, who appeared with light streaming from his 
 body, and illumining the interior of the cairn. Before this 
 light the power of the dead men failed, and Gest completed 
 his work in the vault. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 359, D. sqq^. ; 514, sg'g'. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 IT may be laid down as an almost universal rule that good 
 poets are bad critics. Their minds are under the tyranny 
 of ten thousand associations imperceptible to others. The 
 worst writer may easily happen to touch a spring which is con- 
 nected in their minds with a long succession of beautiful 
 images. They are like the gigantic slaves of Aladdin, gifted 
 with matchless power, but bound by spells so mighty, that 
 when a child, whom they could have crushed, touched a talis- 
 
140 For Greek Prose. 
 
 man, of whose secret he was ignorant, they immediately be- 
 came his vassals. It has more than once happened to me to 
 see minds, graceful and majestic as Titania, bewitched by the 
 charms of an ass's head, bestowing on it the fondest caresses, 
 and crowning it with the sweetest flowers. I need only men- 
 tion the poems attributed to Ossian. They are utterly worth- 
 less, except as an edifying instance of the success of a story 
 without evidence, and of a book without merit. They are a 
 chaos of words which present no image, of images which have 
 no archetype : they are without form and void : and darkness 
 is upon the face of them. Yet how many men of genius have 
 panegyrized and imitated them ! 
 
 Plato, Ion. 533, D., 534, sqq. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 STEPHEN had to all appearance died in Constantinople, 
 but, as the embalmer could not be found, he was left 
 unburied the whole night. During that time he went down 
 into hell, where he saw many things which he had not before 
 believed. But when he came before the Judge, the Judge 
 said, ' I did not send for this man, but for Stephen the smith.' 
 Stephen was too happy to get back, and on his return found 
 his neighbour Stephen the smith dead. But Stephen learned 
 not wisdom from his escape. He died of the plague in 
 Rome, and with him appeared to die a soldier, who returned 
 to reveal more of these fearful secrets of the other world, and 
 the fate of Stephen. The soldier passed a bridge, beneath it 
 flowed a river, from which rose vapours, dark, dismal, and 
 noisome. Beyond the bridge spread beautiful, flowery, and 
 fragrant meadows, peopled by spirits clothed in white. In 
 these were many mansions, vast and full of light. Above all 
 rose a palace of golden bricks ; to whom it belonged he could 
 
Philosophical. 141 
 
 not read. On the bridge he recognised Stephen, whose foot 
 slipped as he endeavoured to pass. His lower limbs were 
 immediately seized by frightful forms, who strove to drag him 
 to the foetid dwellings below. But white and beautiful beings 
 caught his arms, and there was a long struggle between the 
 conflicting po\yers. The soldier did not see the issue of the 
 conflict. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 614-621 ; Gorgias, 523. 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 BUT the Divine Revenge overtooke not long after those 
 proud Enterprises. For within lesse than the space of 
 one Hundred Yeares the great Atlantes was utterly lost and 
 destroyed : not by a great Earthquake, as your man saith ; 
 (for that whole tract is. little subject to Earthquakes ;) but by 
 a particular Deluge or Inundation • those Countries having 
 at this day far greater Rivers and far higher Mountaines, to 
 poure dpwne Waters than any part of the Old World. But it 
 is true that the same Inundation was not deepe : Not past 
 fortie feet, in most places, from the Ground ; so that although 
 it destroyed Man and Beast generally, yet some few wild in- 
 habitants of the Wood escaped. Birds also were saved by 
 flying to the high Trees and Woods. For as for men, al- 
 though they had buildings in many places higher than the 
 Depth of the Water; yet that Inundation, though it were 
 shallow, had a long Continuance ; whereby they of the Vale 
 that were not drowned perished for want of Food, and other 
 things necessary. 
 
 Plato, TimtEus, 25. 
 
IV.— IN THE STYLE OF HERODOTUS. 
 
 I. 
 
 AFTRE that, is another Yle, where that Women maken 
 gret Sorwe, whan hire Children ben y born : and whan 
 thei dyen, thei maken gret Fefle and gret Joye and Revelle, 
 and thanne thei callen hem into a gret Fuyr brennynge. And 
 tho that loven wel hire Husbondes, gif hire Husbondes ben 
 dede, thei caflen hem alfo in the Fuyr, with hire Children and 
 brennen hem. And thei feyn, that the Fuyr fchalle clenfen 
 hem of alle filthes and of alle Vices, and thei schuUe gon 
 pured and clene in to another World, to hire Husbondes, and 
 thei fchuUe leden hire Children with hem. And the caufe 
 whi that they wepen, when hire Children ben born, is this. 
 For whan thei comen into this World, thei comen to labour, 
 forwe, and hevyneffe : And whi thei maken ioye and gladnefle 
 at hire dyenge, is be caufe that, as thei feyn, thanne thei gon 
 to Paradys, where the Ryveres rennen Mylk and Hony, where 
 that men feen hem in ioye and in habundance of Codes, with 
 outen sorwe and labour. 
 
 Herodotus, v. 4-6 ; i. 216 ; iii. 99. 
 II. 
 
 IN the isle of Roha grow the trees that yield camphor. 
 This tree is so large, and its branches so thick that a 
 hundred men may easily sit under its shade. The juice, of 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 143 
 
 which the camphor is made, runs out from a hole bored in the 
 upper part of the tree, is received in a vessel where it grows to 
 a consistency, and becomes what we call camphor ; and, the 
 juice thus drawn out, the tree withers and dies. 
 
 There is in this island the rhinoceros, a creature less than 
 the elephant, but greater than the buffalo. They have a horn 
 upon their nose about a cubit long ; this horn is solid, and 
 cleft in the middle from one end to the other, and there is 
 upon it white lines representing the figure of a man. The 
 rhinoceros fights with the elephant, runs his horn into his 
 belly, and carries him off upon his head ; but the blood and 
 the fat of the elephant running into his eyes, and making him 
 blind, he falls to the ground ; and then, strange to relate, the 
 roc comes and carries them both away in her clawS to be food 
 for her young ones. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 202 ; iii. 106, sq., iii ; ii. 68, 71, 92 ; vii. 125. 
 
 III. 
 
 IN this island Minos reigned, who had a man of brass given 
 to him (as some of the fablers say) by Vulcan. This 
 man had one vein in his body, reaching from the neck to the 
 heel, the end whereof was closed up with a brasen nail ; his 
 name was Talus ; his custom was to run thrice about the 
 island for the defence of it. When he saw the ship Argo pass 
 by, he threw stones at it ; but Medea, with her magic, destroyed 
 him. Some say that she slew him by potions, which made 
 him mad ; others, that, promising to make him immortal, she 
 drew out the nail that stopped his vein, by which means all 
 his blood ran out, and he died ; others there are that say he 
 was slain by Paean, who wounded him with an arrow in the 
 heel. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. 130; iv. 187, 
 
144 For Greek Prose. 
 
 IV. 
 ' ' I ^HEY understood, by the way, that their cholopey, or 
 -L bond-slaves, whom they left at home, had in their 
 absence possessed their towns, l^nds, houses, wives, and all. 
 At which news, being somewhat amazed, and yet disdaining 
 the villany of their servants, they made the more speed home ; 
 and so, not far from Novograd, met them in warlike manner 
 marching against them. Whereupon, advising what was best 
 to be done, they agreed all to set upon them with no other 
 show of weapon but with their horse-whips (which, as their 
 manner is, every man rideth withal), to put them in remem- 
 brance of their servile condition, thereby to terrify them and 
 abate their courage. And so marching on and lashing all 
 together with their whips in their hands, they gave the onset ; 
 which seemed so terrible in the ears of their villains, and struck 
 such a sense into them of the smart of the whip, which they 
 had felt before, that they fled all together like sheep before the 
 drivers. In memory of this victory, the Novogradians ever 
 since stamped their coin (which they call a dingoe Novogrodskoy, 
 current through all Russia) with the figure of a horseman 
 shaking a whip aloft in his hand.' It may seem that all the 
 women of that country have fared the worse ever since, in 
 regard of this universal fault ; for such a pudkey, or whip, as 
 terrified those slaves, curiously wrought by herself, is the first 
 present that the Muscovian wife, even in time of wooing, 
 sends to him that shall be her husband, in token of subjection ; 
 being well assured to feel it often on her own loins. 
 Herodotus, iv. 1-4, 
 
 V. 
 
 IF, then, more rain fell in the Campagna formerly than is 
 the case now ; if the streams were fuller of water, and 
 their course more rapid ; above all, if, owing to the uncleared 
 
hi the Style of Herodotus. 145 
 
 state of Central Europe, and the greater abundance of wood 
 in Italy itself, the summer heats set in later, and were less 
 intense, and more often relieved by violent storms of rain, 
 there is every reason to believe that the Campagna must have 
 been far healthier than at present ; and that precisely in pro- 
 portion to the clearing and cultivation of Central Europe, to 
 the felling of the woods in Italy jtself, the consequent decrease 
 in the quantity of rain, the shrinking of the streams, and the 
 disappearance of the water from the surface, has been the 
 increased unhealthiness of the country, _and the more extended 
 range of the malaria. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. 19-25. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WE came to a great forest of trees, extremely straight 
 and tall, and their trunks so smooth that it was not 
 possible for any nian to climb up to the branches that bore 
 the fruit. All the trees were cocoa-trees, and when we entered 
 the forest we saw a great number of apes of several sizes, that 
 fled as soon as they perceived us, and climbed up to the top 
 of the trees with surprising swiftness. The merchants with 
 whom I was gathered stones, and threw them at the apes on 
 the top of the trees. I did the same, and the apes, out of 
 revenge, threw cocoa-nuts at us as fast, and with such gestures 
 as sufficiently testified their anger and ' resentment. We 
 gathered up the cocoa-nuts, and from time to time threw 
 stones to provoke the apes ; so that by this stratagem we filled 
 our bags with cocoa-nuts, which it had been impossible for us 
 to have done otherwise. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 193 ; iii. 102, 110-112. 
 
146 For Greek Prose. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE Prefles of that Temple han alle here Wrytynges, 
 undre the Date of the Foul that is clept Fenix : and 
 there is non but on in alle the World. And he comethe to 
 brenne him felf upon the Awtere of the Temple, at the ende 
 of 5 Hundred Zeer : for fo longe he lyvethe. And at the 500 
 Zeres ende, the Prefles arrayen here Awtere honeflly, and 
 putten there upon Spices and Sulphur vif and other thinges, 
 that wolen brenne lightly. And than the BridTenix comethe, 
 and brennethe him felf to Aflces. And the firfl Day next aftre, 
 Men fynden in the Aflces a Worm : and the fecunde Day next 
 aftre, Men funden a Brid quyk and perfyt : and the thridde 
 Day next aftre, he fleethe his wey. And fo there is no mo 
 Briddes of that kjmde in all the World, but it allone. And 
 treuly that is a gret Myracle of God. And Men may well 
 lykne that Bryd unto God : becaufe that there nys no God but 
 on : and alfo, that oure Lord aroos frS Dethe to Lyve, the 
 thridde Day. This Bryd Men feen often tyme, fleen in tho 
 Contrees : And he is not mecheles more than an Egle. And he 
 hathe a Crefl of Fedres upon his Hed, more gret than the 
 Poocok hathe ; and his Nekke is zalowe, aftre colour of an 
 Orielle, that is a Hon well fchynynge ; And his Bek is coloured 
 blew, as Ynde; And his Wenges ben of Purpre Colour, and 
 the Taylle is zelow and red, caflynge his Taylle azen in travers. 
 And he is a fuUe fair Brid to loken upon, azenfl the Sonne : 
 for he fchynethe fully glorioufly and nobely. 
 Herodotus, ii. 73. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 OF the great acts and virtues of king Sesostris I have 
 spoken already in the story of the Egyptian princes : 
 only in this he was reproved, that he caused four of his captive 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 147 
 
 kings to draw his caroche, when he was disposed to be seen, 
 and to ride in triumph : one of which four, at such time as 
 Sesostris was carried out to take the air, cast his head con- 
 tinually back upon the two foremost wheels next him ; which 
 Sesostris perceiving, asked him what he found worthy the 
 admiration in that motion : to whom the captive king answered, 
 that in those he beheld the instability of all worldly things ; for 
 that both the lowest part of the wheel was suddenly carried 
 about, and became the highest, and the uppermost part was as 
 suddenly turned downward and under all : which, when Sesos- 
 tris had judiciously weighed, he dismissed those princes, and 
 all others, from the like servitude in the future. , 
 Herodotus, i. 30-34, 207 ; iii. 40 ; vii. 46. 
 
 IX. 
 
 IN the Yle alfo of this Taprobane, ben grete Hilles of Gold, 
 that PifTemyres kepen fulle diligently. And thei fynen 
 the pured Gold, and caflen away the unpured. And theife 
 Piffemyres ben grete as Houndes : fo that no man dar come to 
 tho Hilles : for the Piffemyres wolde affaylen hem and devouren 
 hem anon : fo that no man may gete of that Gold, but be gret 
 fleighte. And therfore whan it is gret hete, the Piffemyres 
 reften hem in the Erthe, from pryme of the Day in to Noon : 
 and than the folk of the Contree taken Camayles, Drome- 
 daries, and Hors and other Belles, and gon thidre, and char- 
 gen hem in alle hafte that thei may. And aftre that thei 
 fleen awey, in alle halle that the Belles may go, or the Piffe- 
 myres comen out of the Erthe. And in other tymes, whan it 
 is not fo bote, and that the Piffemyres ne reften hem not in 
 the Erthe, than thei getten Gold be this Sotyltee ; Thei taken 
 Mares, that han zonge Coltes or Foles, and leyn upon the 
 Mares voyde Veffelles made therfore ; and thei ben alle open 
 
148 For Greek Prose. 
 
 aboven, and hangynge lowe to the Erthe : and thanne thei fende 
 forth tho Mares, for to pafluren aboute tho Hilles, and with 
 holden the Poles with hem at home. And whan the Piffe- 
 mjfres fen tho VefTelles, thei lepen in anon and thei han this 
 Kynde, that thei lete no thing ben empty among hem, but 
 anon thei fillen it, be it what maner of thing that it be : and fo 
 thei fillen tho Veffelles with Gold. And whan that the folk 
 fuppofen, that the Veffelle ben fulle, thei putten forthe anon 
 the zonge Foles, and maken hem to nyzen aftre hire Dames ; 
 and than anon the Mares retornen towardes hire Foles, with 
 hire charges of Gold : and than men difchargen hem, and geten 
 Gold y now be this fotyltee. For the Piffemyres wole fuffren 
 Befles to gon and pafluren amonges hem ; but no man in no 
 wyfe. 
 
 Herodotus, iii. 102-105. 
 
 X. 
 
 THE prince's battalion at one period was very hard pressed, 
 and they with the prince sent a messenger to the king, 
 who was on a little windmill hill, saying, — ' Sir, the knights and 
 others such as be about the prince your son are fiercely fought 
 withal, and are sore handled, wherefore they desire you, that 
 you and your battle will come and aid them, for if the French- 
 men increase, as they doubt they will, your son and they will 
 have much ado.' Then the king said, — ' Is my son dead, or 
 hurt, or to the earth felled?' 'No, sir,' quoth the knight, 
 ' but he is hardly matched, wherefore he hath need of your 
 aid.' ' Well,' said the king, ' return to him and to them that 
 sent you hither, and say to them, that they send no more to me 
 for any adventure that falleth, as long as my son is alive ; and 
 also say to them that they suffer him this day to win his spurs, 
 for, if God be pleased, I will this journey be his, and the 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 1 49 
 
 honour thereof, and to them that be about him.' Then the 
 knight returned again to them, and showed the king's words. 
 The which greatly encouraged him, and they repined in that 
 they had sent to the king as they did. 
 
 Herodotus, ix. 21, 60, 61 ; i. 37-39. 
 
 XI. 
 
 IT was said to the king, when the matter could no longer be 
 hid, — ' Sir, advise you well ; ye have need of good 
 counsel shortly, for the Londoners and other cometh against 
 you with great puissance, and hath made your cousin their 
 chief captain.' When the king heard that, he was sore 
 abashed, and wist not what to say, for all his spirits trembled ; 
 for then he saw well the matters were likely to go evil against 
 him, without he could get puissance to resist them. Then the 
 king said, — ' Sirs, make all our men ready, and send through- 
 out my realm for aid, for I will not fly before my subjects.' 
 ' Sir,' quoth they, ' the matter goeth evil, for your men do 
 leave you and fly away : ye have lost the one half, and all the 
 rest are sore abashed, and loseth countenance.' 'Why?' 
 quoth the king, ' what will ye that I shall do ? ' ' Sir, leave 
 the field, for ye are not able to keep it, and get you into some 
 strong castle till your brother come, who is advertised of all 
 this matter : and when he is come he shall find some remedy, 
 eithe;- by force of arms, or else by treaty, at least to bring you 
 into some better case than ye be in at this present time, for if 
 ye keep the field peradventure some will forsake you and go to 
 him.' To this counsel the king agreed. 
 
 Herodotus, vii. 14-18, 234, sqi^. ; viii. 68, 100-103. 
 
150 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THIS old man and his slaves landed immediately, and 
 advanced towards, the subterranean dwelling with a 
 countenance that showed some hope ; but when they saw the 
 earth had been newly removed, they changed colour, particu- 
 larly the old man. They lifted up the stone and went down ; 
 they called the young man by his name, but he not answering, 
 their fears increased ; they went down to seek him, and at 
 length found him lying upon the bed, with the knife in his 
 heart ; for I had not power to take it out. At this sight they 
 cried out lamentably, which increased my sorrow : the old 
 man fell down in a swoon. The slaves, to give him air, 
 brought him up in their arms, and laid him at the foot of the 
 tree where I was ; but notwithstanding all the pains they took 
 to recover him, the unfortunate father continued a long while 
 in that condition, and made them oftener than once despair 
 of his life ; but at last he came to himself. Then the slaves 
 brought up his son's corpse, dressed in his best apparel, and 
 when they had made a grave they put him into it. The old 
 man, supported by two slaves, and his face covered with tears, 
 threw the first earth upon him ; after which the slaves filled 
 up the grave. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 34, sqfi. , 44, 45. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 IN his sleep, so he said, he fancied that the supreme god 
 of his fathers had called him into the presence of all the 
 gods of Carthage, who were sitting on their thrones in council. 
 There he received a solemn charge to invade Italy, and one 
 of the heavenly council went with him and with his army to 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 151 
 
 guide him on his way. He went on, and his guide com- 
 manded him, ' See that thou look not behind thee.' But after 
 a while, impatient of the restraint, he turned to look back, and 
 there he beheld a huge and monstrous form, thick-set all over 
 with serpents : wherever it moved, orchards and woods and 
 houses fell crashing before it. He asked his guide, in wonder, 
 what that monstrous form was. The god answered, ' Thou 
 seest the desolation of Italy : go on thy way straight forward, 
 and cast no look behind.' 
 
 Herodotus, vi. 82 ; vii. 12-18. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 TO the westward of this city is a spacious forest, formerly 
 the abode of a boar, who from his amazing size and 
 supposed ferocity, was the terror of the whole neighbourhood. 
 In the same forest lived a herdsman, who tended a large herd 
 of cattle : but as they usually pastured in the open parts of 
 the wood, he never approached the haunts of this terrible 
 animal. But it happened one day that a part of his herd had 
 strayed to some distance, and it became necessary that he 
 should follow them. In the course of his search he discovered 
 a hawthorn tree, the fruit of which was then ripe, and seeing 
 great quantities of it on the ground could not refrain from 
 stopping to fill his pockets. He did so, and was going to 
 depart when he discovered the boar, who came straight up to 
 the same tree, under which he had for many preceding days 
 found a plentiful repast. The poor herdsman was half dead 
 with fear : but to fly was hopeless, and his only resource was 
 to climb up into the tree, where he hoped to remain un- 
 discovered. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 36, 1 10, sqq. 
 
1 5 2 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XV. 
 
 UNLUCKILY the boar, after devouring the scanty glean- 
 ings which had been left under the tree, happened to 
 scent the ample stores contained in the man's pockets, and 
 being disappointed in his attempts to reach the precious 
 magazine, became furious with rage, foamed at the mouth, 
 and, whetting his tusks against the roots of the tree, shook it 
 with such violence that the poor herdsman considered his 
 destruction as inevitable. In this extremity he fortunately 
 bethought himself of emptying his pockets, and at the same 
 time gathering all the haws within his reach, showered them 
 down so profusely that the boar was satisfied, and after a 
 plentiful dinner appeared disposed to take his rest. The art- 
 ful herdsman now lowered himself so far as to reach with his 
 fingers the back of the animal, which he began to scratch 
 with such dexterity that the boar, who was hitherto unaccus- 
 tomed to such luxury, closed his eyes and abandoned himself 
 to the most delicious slumber, at which instant the herdsman 
 drawing a long knife with which he was provided,' suddenly 
 pierced him to the heart. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 36, 1 10. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 AND gee fchulle undirflonde, that no man that is mortelle, 
 ne may not approchen to that Paradys. For be Londe 
 no man may go for wylde befles, that ben in the Defertes, 
 and for the highe Mountaynes and gret huge Roches, that no 
 man may paffe by, for the derke places that ben there, and 
 that manye : And be the Ryveres may no man go ; for the 
 water rennethe fo rudely and fo fcharply, becaufe that it 
 comethe doun fo outrageoufly from the highe places aboven, 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 153 
 
 that it rennethe in fo grete Wawes, that no Schipp may not 
 rowe ne feyle azenes it : and the Watre rorethe fo, and 
 makethe fo huge noyfe, and fo gret tempeft, that no man may 
 here other in the Schipp, thoughe he cryede with alle the craft 
 that he cowde, in the hyefle voys that he myghte. Many 
 grete Lordes hau affayed with gret wille many tymes for to 
 paffen be the Ryveres toward Paradys, with fuUe grete Com- 
 panyes : but thei myghte not fpeden in hire Viage ; and 
 manye dyeden for weryneife of rowynge agenfl tho llronge 
 Wawes ; and many of hem becamen blynde, and many deve, 
 for the noyfe of the Water : and sume weren periffcht and 
 lofle, with inne the Wawes : So that no mortelle man may 
 approche to that place; with outen fpecyalle grace of God : fo 
 that of that place I can feye zou no more. And therfore I 
 fchalle holde me flille, and retornen to that that I have feen. 
 Herodotus, ii. 28-34. 
 
 xvir. 
 
 WHILE everything was a preparing, the King and Earl 
 communed together in the court ; and, as it was in- 
 formed me, King Richard had a greyhound called Mathe, who 
 always waited upon the King, and would know no man else : 
 for whensoever the King did ride, he that kept the greyhound 
 did let him loose, and he would straight run to the King and 
 fawn upon him, and leap with his forefeet upon the King's 
 shoulders ; and as the King and the Earl talked together in 
 the court, the greyhound, who was wont to leap upon the 
 King, left the King and came to the Earl, and made to him 
 the same friendly countenance and cheer as he was wont to do 
 to the King. The Earl, who knew not the greyhound, de- 
 manded of the King what the greyhound would do. ' Cousin,' 
 quoth the King, ' it is a great good token to you, and an evil 
 
154 P'^'*' Greek Prose. 
 
 sign to me.' ' Sir, how know you that J ' quoth the Earl. 'I 
 know it well,' quoth the King ; ' the greyhound maketh you 
 cheer this day as King of England, as ye shall be, and I shall 
 be deposed ; the greyhound hath this knowledge naturally ; 
 therefore take him to you, he will follow you, and forsake me.' 
 The other understood well those words, and cherished the 
 greyhound, who would never after follow King Richard, but 
 followed the Earl. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 120. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THEY came again at the appointed time to visit their 
 retreat in the forest ; but how great was their surprise 
 to find Cassim's body taken away, and some of their bags of 
 gold. ' We are certainly discovered,' said the captain, ' and 
 shall be undone if we do not take care, and speedily apply 
 some remedy : otherwise we shall insensibly lose all the riches 
 which our ancestors have been so many years amassing to- 
 gether with so much pains and danger. All that we can think 
 of this loss which we have sustained is, that the thief whom we 
 have surprised had the secret of opening the door, and we 
 came luckily as he was coming out ; but his body being re- 
 moved, and with it some of our money, plainly shows that he 
 has an accomplice ; and as it is likely that there were but two 
 who had got this secret, and one has been caught, we must 
 look narrowly after the other. What say you to it, my lads % ' 
 
 All the robbers thought the captain's proposal so reasonable 
 that they unanimously approved of it, and agreed that they 
 must lay all other enterprises aside, to follow this closely, and 
 not to give it up till they had succeeded. 
 
 ' I expected no less,' said the captain, ' from your courage 
 and bravery ; but first of all, one of you who is bold, artful, 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 155 
 
 and enterprising, must go into the town, dressed like a traveller 
 and stranger, and exert all his contrivance to try if he can hear 
 any talk of the death of the man whom we have killed, as he 
 deserved, and to endeavour to find out who he was, and where 
 he lived. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. I2I ; iv. 14. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 WHEN Sir Walter presented these burgesses to the 
 King, they kneeled down, and held up their hands 
 and said, ' Gentle King, behold here we six, who were bur- 
 gesses of Calais, and great merchants ; we have brought the 
 keys of the town and of the castle, and we submit ourselves 
 clearly into your will and pleasure, to save the residue of the 
 people of Calais, who have suffered great pain. Sir, we be- 
 seech your grace to have mercy and pity on us, through your 
 high noblesse.' Then all the earls and barons, and others 
 that were there, wept for pity. The King looked felly on them, 
 for greatly he hated the people of Calais for the great damage 
 and displeasures they had done him on the sea before. Then 
 he commanded their heads to be stricken off. Then every 
 man required the King for mercy, but he would hear no man 
 on that behalf. Then Sir Walter Manny said, ' Ah, noble 
 King, for God's sake refrain your courage ; ye have the name 
 of sovereign noblesse, therefore now do not a thing that should 
 blemish your renown, nor to give a cause to some to speak of 
 you villainously ; every man will say it is a great cruelty to 
 put to death such honest persons, who by their own wills put 
 themselves into your grace to save their company.' Then the 
 King wryed away from him, and commanded to send for the 
 hangman, and said, ' They of Calais have caused many of my 
 men to be slaine, wherefore these shall die in likewise.' Then 
 
156 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the Queen, being great with child, kneeled down, and sore 
 weeping, said, ' Ah, gentle Sir, sith I passed the sea in great 
 peril, I have desired nothing of you, therefore now I humbly 
 require you, in the honour of the son of the Virgin Mary, and 
 for the love of me, that ye will take mercy of these six bur- 
 gesses.' The King beheld the Queen, and stood still in study 
 a space, and then said, 'Ah, dame, I would ye had been as 
 now in some other place, ye make such request to me that I 
 cannot deny you, wherefore I give them to you to do your 
 pleasure with them.' Then the Queen caused them to be 
 brought into her chamber, and made the halters to be taken 
 from their necks, and caused them to be new clothed, and 
 gave them their dinner at their leisure, and then she gave each 
 of them six nobles, and made them to be brought out of the 
 host in safeguard, and set at their liberty. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 45; iii. 14; vii. 27-29, 38, 39. 
 
 XX. 
 
 NOW King Ine once made him a feast to his lords and 
 great men in one of his royal houses ; and the house 
 was hung with goodly curtains, and the table was spread with 
 vessels of gold and silver, and there were meats and drinks 
 brought from all parts of the world, and Ine and his lords ate 
 and drank and were merry. Now on the next day Ine set 
 forth from that house to go into another that he had, and 
 .^thelburh his Queen went with him. So men took down the 
 curtains and carried off the goodly vessels, and left the house 
 bare and empty. Moreover .^Ethelburh the Queen spake unto 
 the steward who had the care of that house, saying, ' When the 
 King is gone, fill the house with rubbish and with the dung of 
 cattle, and lay in the bed where the King slept a sow with her 
 litter of pigs.' So the steward did as the Queen commanded. 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 1 5 7 
 
 So when Ine and the Queen had gone forth about a mile from 
 the house, the Queen said unto Ine, ' Turn back, my lord, to 
 the house whence we have come, for it will be greatly for thy 
 good so to do.' So Ine hearkened to the voice of his wife, 
 and turned back unto the house. So he found all the curtains 
 and the goodly vessels gone, and the house full of rubbish and 
 made foul with the dung of cattle, and a sow and her pigs 
 lying in the bed where Ine and .^Ethelburh his Queen had 
 slept. So .^thelburh spake unto Ine her husband, saying, 
 ' Seest thou, O King, how the pomp of this world passeth 
 away ? Where are now all the goodly things, the curtains and 
 the vessels, and the meats and drinks brought from all parts of 
 the earth, wherewith thou and thy lords held your feast yester- 
 ^ day ? How foul is now the house which but yesterday was 
 goodly and fit for a King ! How foul a beast lieth in the bed 
 where a King and Queen slept only the last night ! Are not 
 all the things of this life a breath, yea smoke, and a wind that 
 passeth away ? Are they not a river that runneth by, and no 
 man seeth the water any more V 
 
 Herodotus, i. 30, sqq., 207 ; ii. 133 ; iii. 40; ix. 82. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 AND alfo Machomete loved wel a gode Heremyte, that 
 duelled in the Defertes, a Myle fro Mount Synay, in 
 the Weye that men gon fro Arabye toward Caldee, and toward 
 Ynde, o day journey fro the See, where the Marchauntes of 
 Venyfe comen often for Marchandife. And fo often wente Ma- 
 chomete to this Heremyte, that alle his men weren wrothe ; for 
 he wolde gladly here this Heremyte preche, and make his men 
 wake alle nyghte : and therefore his men thoughten to putte 
 the Heremyte to Dethe : and fo it befelle upon a nyght, that 
 Machomete was drbnken of gode Wyn, and he felle on flepe ; 
 
158 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and his men toke Machometes Swerd out of his Schethe, whils 
 he flepte, and there with thei flowghe this Heremyte; and 
 putten his Swerd alle blody in his Schethe azen. And at 
 morwe, whan he fond the Heremyte ded, he was fulle fory and 
 wrothe, and wolde have don his men to Dethe : but thei alle 
 with on accord feyd, that he him felf had flayn him, when he 
 was dronken, and fchewed him his Swerd alle blody : and he 
 trowed, that thei hadden feyd fothe. And than he curfed the 
 Wyn, and alle tho that drynken it. And therefore Sarra- 
 zines, that be devout, drynken nevere no Wyn : but sume 
 drynken it prevyly. For zif thei dronken it openly, thei fcholde 
 ben repreved. But thei drynken gode Beverage and fwete and 
 noiyfliynge, that is made of Galamelle : and that is that men 
 maken Sugar of, that is of ryghte gode favour : and it is gode 
 for the Breefl. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. 173 ; iii. 29, sqg. 36 ; vi. 84. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE city was very strong and well victualled, so as there 
 appeared not, when the second year came, any greater 
 likelihood of taking it, than in the first year's siege. In the 
 end, one Lagoras, a Cretan, found means how to enter the 
 town. The castle itself was upon a verj' high rock, and in a 
 manner impregnable : as also the town-wall adjoining to the 
 castle, in that part which was called the Sawe, was in like 
 manner situated upon steep rocks, and hardly accessible, that 
 hung over a deep bottom, whereinto the dead carcasses of 
 horses and other beasts, yea and sometimes of men, used to be 
 thrown. Now it was observed by Lagoras, that the ravens and 
 other birds of prey, which haunted that place by reason of their 
 food, which was there never wanting, used to fly up unto the 
 top of the rocks, and to pitch upon the walls, where they 
 
In the Style of Herodottis. 159 
 
 rested without any disturbance. Observing this often, he 
 reasoned with himself, and concluded, that those parts of the 
 wall were left unguarded, as being thought unapproachable. 
 Hereof he informed the king, who approved his judgment, 
 and gave unto him the leading of such men as he desired for 
 the accomplishing of the enterprise. The success was agree- 
 able to that which Lagoras had afore conceived ; and though 
 with much labour, yet without resistance, he scaled those 
 rocks, and (whilst a general assault was made) entered the town 
 in that part which was, at other times unguarded, then un- 
 thought upon. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 84. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 ONE day I heard something walking and blowing or 
 panting as it walked. I advanced towards that side 
 from whence I heard the noise, and upon my approach, the 
 thing puffed and blew harder, as if it had been running away 
 from me. I followed the noise, and the thing seemed to stop 
 sometimes, but always fled and blew as I approached. I fol- 
 lowed it so long and so far till at last I perceived a light re- 
 sembling a star, I went on towards that light, and sometimes 
 lost sight of it, but always found it again, and at last discovered 
 that it came through a hole in the rock, large enough for a 
 man to get out at. 
 
 Upon this I stopped some time to rest myself, being much 
 fatigued with pursuing this discovery so fast. Afterwards com- 
 ing up to the hole, I went out at it, and found myself upon the 
 bank of the sea. I leave you to guess the excess of my joy ; 
 it was such that I could scarce persuade myself of its being 
 real. Presently I recovered my composure, and found the 
 thing which I had followed and heard puff and blow, to be a 
 
i6o For Greek Prose. 
 
 creature which came out of the sea, and was accustomed to 
 enter at that hole to feed upon the dead carcasses. 
 Pausanias, iv. i8, 4. 
 
 T 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 HIS tyrant was a cruel oppressor, a greedy extortioner 
 upon those that lived under him, and one that in his 
 natural condition smelt rankly of the hangman. In these 
 qualities his wife Apega was very fitly matched with him ; since 
 his dexterity was no greater in spoiling the men, than hers in 
 fleecing their wives, whom she would never suffer to be at 
 quiet, till they had presented her with all their jewels and 
 apparel. Her husband was so delighted with her property, 
 that he caused an image to be made lively representing her, 
 and appareled it with such costly garments as she used to 
 wear. But it was indeed an engine serving to torment men. 
 Hereof he made use when he meant to try the virtue of his 
 rhetoric. For calling unto him some rich man, of whose 
 money he was desirous, he would bring him into the room 
 where this counterfeit Apega stood, and there use all his art of 
 persuasion to get what he desired, as it were by goodwill. If 
 he could not so speed, but was answered with excuses, then 
 took he the refractory denier by the hand, and told him, that 
 perhaps his wife Apega (who sat by in a chair) could persuade 
 more effectually. So he led him to the image, that rose up, 
 and opened the arms, as it were, for embracement Those 
 arms were full of sharp iron nails, the like whereof were also 
 sticking in the breasts, though hidden with her clothes ; and 
 herewith she griped the poor wretch to the pleasure of the 
 tyrant, that laughed at his cruel death. Such, and worse, was 
 Nabis in his government. 
 
 Polybius, xiii. 7. 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 1 6 1 
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE confederates might still have retreated without any 
 disparagement to their honour ; but after a short consul- 
 tation, they resolved to devote themselves for the good of their 
 country, and fall together. They fought ten hours without in- 
 termission : till at length, exhausted but not conquered, they 
 all (twelve only excepted) lay lifeless on the field of action. 
 Each had four or five enemies around him, whom he had des- 
 patched before his fall. Bernard Monk, the faithless guide of 
 the invaders, riding in the evening over the field of slaughter, 
 exclaimed triumphantly, — ' This is indeed a bath of roses ! ' 
 An expiring Swiss heard him, raised himself on his knees, 
 snatched a large stone, and hurled, it at the head of the vaunt- 
 ing traitor, who died three days after of the contusion. The 
 twelve who, when no hopes remained, retired from the carnage, 
 with difficulty escaped the hands of the executioner, to which 
 the law of Sempach doomed all who turned away from an 
 enemy. 
 
 Herodotus, vii. 223, sqq., 229, sqri. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 IN that Kingdom of Abcaz is a gret Marvaylle. For a Pro- 
 vynce of the Contree, that hathe'wel in circuyt 3 iorneyes, 
 that men clepen Hanyfon, is all covered with Derkneffe, with- 
 outen ony brightneffe or light ; fo that no man may fee ne 
 here, ne no man dar entren in to hem. And natheles, thei of 
 the Contree feyn, that fom tyme men heren voys of folk, and 
 Hors nygenge, and Cokkes crowynge. And men witen wel, 
 that men dwellen there : but thei knowe not what men. And 
 thei feyn, that the* Derkneffe befelle be Myracle of God. For 
 a curfed Emperour of Persie, that highte Saures, purfuede alle 
 Criftene men, to deflroye hem, and to compelle hem to make 
 
 L 
 
1 62 For Greek Prose. 
 
 Sacrifife to his Ydoles ; and rood with grete Hod, in alle that 
 ever he myghte, for to confounde the Criflene men. And 
 thanne in that Contree, dwelleden manye gode Criftene men, 
 the whiche that laften hire Codes, and wolde han fled in to 
 Grece: and whan they weren in a playn, that highte Megon, 
 anon this curfed Emperour mett with hem, with his Hoofl, for 
 to have flayn hem, and hewen hem to peces. And anon the 
 Criflene men kneleden to the grounde, and made hire preyeres 
 to God, to fokoure hem. And anon a gret thikke Clowde 
 cam, and covered the Emperour and alle his Hoofl : and lb 
 thei enduren in that manere, that thei ne mowe not gon out, 
 on no fyde : and fo fchulle thei ever more abyden in Derk- 
 nefle, tille the day of Dome, be the Myracle of Cod. And 
 thanne the Crillene men wenten, where hem lykede bell, at 
 hire own plefance, with outen lettynge of ony Creature ; and 
 hire enemyes enclofed and confounded in Derkneffe, with 
 outen any flrok. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. 141 ; iii. 25, 26; iv. 7, 31. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 AMONC the Britons the two greatest tribes are the Cale- 
 donians and the Maeatae ; for even the names of the 
 others, as may be said, have merged in these. The Mseatse 
 dwell close to the wall which divides the island into two 
 parts — the Caledonians beyond them. Each oi these people 
 inhabit mountains wild and waterless, and plains desert and 
 marshy, having neither wall, nor cities, nor tilth, but living by 
 pasturage, by the chace, and on certain berries : for of their 
 fish, though inexhaustible, they never taste. They live in 
 tents, naked and barefooted, having wives in common, and 
 rearing the whole of their progeny. Their state is chiefly 
 democratical, and they are above all things delighted by 
 
In the Style of Herodotus. 163 
 
 pillage ; they fight from chariots having small swift horses : 
 they fight also on foot, are very fleet when running, and most 
 resolute when compelled to stand. Their arms consist of a 
 shield and a short spear, having a brazen knob at the ex- 
 tremity of the shaft, that when shaken it may terrify the 
 enemy by the noise. They are capable of enduring hunger 
 and thirst, and hardships of every kind, for when plunged in 
 the marshes they abide there many days, with their heads 
 only out of water, and in the woods they subsist on bark and 
 roots. They prepare for all emergencies a certain kind of 
 food, of which, if they eat only so much as the size of a bean, 
 they neither hunger nor thirst. Such then is the island of 
 Britannia ; for it is an island, and so at that time was clearly 
 ascertained to be. Its length is 7132 stadia: its greatest 
 breadth, 2310, its least, 300. 
 
 Herodotus, i. 203, S22- >' v. 6-16 ; vii. 64; iv. 177. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 THERE ben alfo in that Contree a kynde of Snayles, 
 that ben fo grete, that many perfones may loggen hem 
 in here Schelles, as men wolde done in a litylle Hous. And 
 other Snayles there ben, that ben fuUe grete, but not fo huge 
 as the other. And of theife Snayles,' and of gret white 
 Wormes, that han blake Hedes, that ben als grete as a 
 mannes thighe, and some leffe, as grete Wormes that men 
 fynden there in Wodes, men maken Vyaunde RiallS, for the 
 Kyng and for other grete Lordes. And gif a man, that is 
 maryed, dye in that Contree, men buryeij his Wif with him 
 alle quyk. For men feyn there, that it is refoun, that fche 
 make him conipanye in that other World, as fche did in this. 
 
 Herodotus, v. 5 ; iv. 183. 
 
1 64 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 HAVING thus spoken, she let loose a hare from her 
 bosom, using it as a kind of omen ; and when it ran 
 propitiously for them, the whole multitude, rejoicing, gave a 
 shout. And Bunduica, extending her hand towards heaven, 
 exclaimed : — ' I give thee thanks, Adraste : and I, a female, 
 invoke thee, a female also ; neither ruling over the burthen- 
 bearing Egyptians, like Nitocris, nor over the Syrian merchants, 
 like Semiramis, for such things we have already learnt from the 
 Romans, nor indeed over the Romans themselves, as did first 
 Messalina, then Agrippina, and at present Nero, who has in- 
 deed the name of a man, but is in act a woman, a proof of 
 which is, that he sings and plays on the harp and beautifies his 
 person ; but ruling over British men, unskilled indeed in hus- 
 bandry or handicraft, but having thoroughly learned to fight : 
 who deem all other things common, and even children and 
 wives common also, so that these in consequence display 
 equal courage with their husbands. Reigning therefore over 
 such men and such women, I pray and entreat thee for victory 
 and security and liberty in their behalf, against men who are 
 revilers, unjust, insatiable, impious, if forsooth we must give 
 the title of men to such as bathe in tepid water, live on dressed 
 meats, drink undiluted wine, anoint themselves with spikenard, 
 repose luxuriously, making favourites of boys and those no 
 longer youthful, and are charmed by the strains of an harper, 
 and he a wretched one. Let not then a Neronia or a Domitia 
 tyrannize over me or you : but let such a songstress rule the 
 Romans, for they desire to be enslaved to that woman, whose 
 tyranny they have so long put up with : but mayst thou, 
 Queen, alone have dominion over us for ever.' 
 Herodotus, i. 71, 155 ; iv. 114; v. 49. 
 
In the Style of HerodotiLS. 165 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE first care of the robbers after this was to go into the 
 cave. They found all the -bags which Cassim had 
 brought to the door, to be more ready to load his mules with, 
 and carried them all back again to their placeSj without per- 
 ceiving what AH Baba had taken away before. Then holding 
 a council and deliberating upon the matter, they guessed that 
 Cassim when he was in could not get out again ; but they 
 could not imagine how he got in. It came into their heads 
 that he might have got down by the top of the cave ; but the 
 opening by which it received light was so high, and the top of 
 the rock so inaccessible without, besides that nothing showed 
 that he had done so, that they believed it impracticable for 
 them to find out. That he came in at the door they could not 
 satisfy themselves, unless he had the secret of making it open. 
 In short none of them could imagine which way he entered ; 
 for they were all persuaded that nobody knew their secret, little 
 imagining that Ali Baba had watched them. But, however it 
 happened, it was a matter of the greatest importance to them 
 to secure their riches. They agreed therefore to cut Cassim's 
 body into four quarters, and to hang two on one side and two 
 on the other, within the door of the cave, to terrify any person 
 that should attempt the same thing, determining not to return 
 to the cave till the stench of the body was completely exhaled. 
 So having closed the place of their retreat, they mounted their 
 horses, and went to beat the roads again, and to attack the 
 caravans they shoiild meet. 
 
 Herodotus, ii. I2I. 
 
1 66 For Greek Pi'ose. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 THE Watre of that See is fulle bytter and Salt : and giff 
 the Erthe were mayd moyfl and weet with that Watre, 
 it wolde nevere bere Fruyt. And the Erthe and the Lond 
 chaungeth often his colour. And it caftethe out of the Watre, 
 a thing that men clepen Afpalt : alfo gret peces, as the gret- 
 neffe of an Hors, every day, and on alle fydes. And fro 
 Terusalem to that See, is 200 Furlonges. That See is in lenfthe 
 580 Furlonges, and in brede 150 Furlonges : and it is clept 
 the dede See, for it rennethe nought, but is evere unmevable. 
 And nouther manne, befl, ne no thing that berethe lif in him, 
 ne may not dyen in that See : and that hatha ben preved 
 manye t)rmes, be men that han dififerved to ben dede, that han 
 ben cafl there inne, and left there inne, 3 dayes or 4, and thei 
 ne myghte never dye ther inne : for it refceyvethe no thing 
 with inne him, that berethe lif. And no man may drynken of 
 the Watre, for bytterneffe. And gif a man cafle Iren there in, 
 it wole flete aboven. And gif men cafle a Fedre there in, it 
 wole fynke to the botme ; and theife ben thinges agenft kynde. 
 And alfo the Cytees there weren lofl., be caufe of Synne. And 
 there befyden growen trees, that beren fulle faire Apples, and 
 faire of colour to beholde : but whofo brekethe hem or cuttethe 
 hem in two, he fchalle fynde with in hem Coles and Cyndres ; 
 in tokene that, be Wratthe of God, the Cytees and the Lond 
 weren brente and fonken in to Helle. 
 
 Herodotus, iii. 23 ; iv. 181 j vi. 119. 
 
V.-SATIRICAL. 
 
 NOW it is notorious that the savages in America knew 
 nothing of agriculture when first discovered by the 
 Europeans, but lived a most vagabond, disorderly, unrighteous 
 life, — rambling from place to place, prodigally resting upon the 
 spontaneous luxuries of nature, without tasking her generosity 
 to yield them anything more ; whereas it has been most un- 
 questionably shown, that Heaven intended the earth should 
 be ploughed, and sown, and measured, and laid out into cities 
 and towns and farms, and country seats, and pleasure grounds, 
 and public gardens, all which the Indians knew nothing about, 
 therefore they did not improve the talents Providence had be- 
 stowed on them, therefore they were careless stewards, there- 
 fore they had no right to the soil, therefore they deserved to 
 be exterminated. 
 
 It is true the savages might plead that they drew all the 
 benefits from the land which their simple wants required ; 
 they found plenty of game to hunt, which, together with the 
 roots and uncultivated fruits of the earth, furnished a sufficient 
 variety for their frugal repasts ; and that as heaven merely de- 
 signed the earth to form the abode and satisfy the wants of 
 man ; so long as those purposes were answered, the will of 
 Heaven was accomplished. But this only proves how unde- 
 serving they were of the blessings around them j they were so 
 much the more savages for not having more wants : for know- 
 ledge is in some degree an increase of desires, and it is this 
 superiority both in the number and magnitude of his desires. 
 
1 68 For Greek Prose. 
 
 that distinguishes the man from the beast. Therefore, the 
 Indians in not having more wants were very unreasonable ani- 
 mals : and it was but just that they should make way for the 
 Europeans, who had a thousand wants to their one : and 
 therefore would turn the earth to more account, and by culti- 
 vating it, more truly fulfil the will of Heaven. 
 
 Plato, Protag. 321 ; Reptib. 372; Crii. 114, sqq. 
 
 II. 
 
 BUT a more irresistible right than either that I have, men- 
 tioned, and the one which will be the most readily 
 admitted by my reader, provided he be blessed with bowels of 
 charity and philanthropy, is the right acquired by civilisation. 
 All the world knows the lamentable state in which these poor 
 savages were found. Not only deficient in the comforts of life, 
 but what is still worse, most piteously and unfortunately blind 
 to the miseries of their situation. But no sooner did the bene- 
 volent inhabitants of Europe behold their sad condition, than 
 they immediately went to work to ameliorate and improve it. 
 They introduced among them rum, gin, and brandy, and the 
 other comforts of life, and it is astonishing to read how soon 
 the poor savages learnt to estimate these blessings : they like- 
 wise made known to them a thousand remedies by which the 
 most inveterate diseases are alleviated and healed ; and that 
 they might comprehend the benefits and enjoy the comforts of 
 these medicines, they previously introduced among them the 
 diseases which they were calculated to cure. By these and a 
 variety of other methods was the condition of the poor savage 
 wonderfully improved ; they acquired a thousand wants of 
 which they had before been ignorant, and as he has most 
 sources of happiness who has most wants to be gratified, they 
 were doubtless rendered a much happier race of beings. 
 
 Plato, Legg. 678; Repub. 373. 
 
Satirical. 1 69 
 
 III. 
 
 LET us suppose that certain aerial voyagers, finding this 
 planet to be nothing but a howling wilderness, inhabited 
 by us poor savages and wild beasts, shall take formal posses- 
 sion of it, in the name of his most gracious and philosophic 
 excellency, the man in the moon. Finding, however, that 
 their numbers are incompetent to hold it in complete subjec- 
 tion, on account of the ferocious barbarity of its inhabitants, 
 they shall take five of our kings as hostages, and returning to 
 their native planet, shall carry them to court as the Indian 
 chiefs were led about as spectacles in the courts of Europe. 
 Then making such obeisance as the etiquette of the Court 
 requires, they shall address the puissant man in the moon in 
 the following terms : — ' Most serene and mighty Potentate, 
 whose dominions extend as far as eye can reach, who ridest on 
 the Great Bear, usest the Sun for a looking-glass, and main- 
 tainest unrivalled control over tides, madmen, and sea-crabs : 
 we, thy liege subjects, have just returned from a voyage of dis- 
 covery, in the course of which we have landed and taken pos- 
 session of that obscure little dirty planet which thou beholdest 
 rolling at a distance. The five uncouth monsters, which we 
 have brought into this august presence, were once very im- 
 portant chiefs among their fellow-savages, who are a race of 
 beings totally destitute of the common attributes of humanity ; 
 and differing in everything from the inhabitants of the moon, 
 inasmuch as they carry their heads upon their shoulders, in- 
 stead of under their arms, have two eyes instead of one, are 
 utterly destitute of tails, and of a variety of unseemly com- 
 plexions, particularly of a horrible whiteness instead of 
 pea-green. 
 
 Lucian, Vera Hisior. i, 9. Plato, Timesus, 22 B. sqq. 
 
170 For Greek Prose. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WE have moreover found these miserable savages sunk 
 into a state of the utmost ignorance and depravity, 
 every man shamelessly living with his own wife and rearing his 
 own children, instead of indulging in that community of wives 
 enjoined by the law of nature as expounded by the philoso- 
 phers of the moon. In a word, they have scarcely a gleam of 
 true philosophy among them, but are in fact utter heretics, 
 ignoramuses, and barbarians. Taking compassion, therefore, 
 on the sad condition of these sublunary wretches, we have 
 endeavoured, while we remained on their planet, to introduce 
 among them the light of reason, and the comforts of the moon. 
 We have treated them to mouthfuls of moonshine, and draughts 
 of nitrous oxyde, which they swallowed with incredible voracity, 
 particularly the females, and we have likewise endeavoured to 
 instil into them the precepts of lunar philosophy. We have 
 insisted upon their renouncing the contemptible shackles of 
 religion and common sense, and adoring the profound omnipo- 
 tent and all-perfect energy, and the ecstatic, immovable, im- 
 mutable perfection. But such was the unparalleled obstinacy 
 of these wretched savages, that they persisted in cleaving to 
 their wives, and adhering to their religion, and absolutely set at 
 nought the sublime doctrines of the moon ; nay, among other 
 abominable heresies, they even went so far as blasphemously 
 to declare, that this ineffable planet was made of nothing more 
 nor less than green cheese ! 
 
 Lucian, Verce Histor. ii. 3. Plato, Euthydem. 303 B. sqq. 
 
 NOTHING so soon awakens the malevolent passions as 
 the facility of gratification. The courts of law would 
 never be so constantly crowded with petty, vexatious, and 
 
Satirical. 171 
 
 disgraceful suits, were it not for the herds of pettifogging 
 lawyers that infest them. These tamper with the passions of 
 the lower and more ignorant classes : who, as if poverty were 
 not a sufficient misery in itself, are always ready to heighten it 
 by the bitterness of litigation. They are in law what quacks 
 are in medicine — exciting the malady for the purpose of pro- 
 fiting by the cure ; and retarding the cure for the purpose of 
 augmenting the fees. Where one destroys the constitution, 
 the other impoverishes the purse : and it may likewise be 
 observed that a patient who has once been under the hands of 
 a quack is ever after dabbling in drugs, and poisoning himself 
 with infallible remedies : and an ignorant man who has once 
 meddled with the law under the auspices of one of these 
 empirics is for ever after embroiling himself with his neighbours, 
 and impoverishing himself with successful lawsuits. My 
 readers will excuse this digression into which I have been 
 unwarily betrayed : but I could not avoid giving a cool, un- 
 prejudiced account of an abomination too prevalent in this 
 excellent city, and with the effects of which I am acquainted 
 to my cost, having been nearly ruined by a lawsuit which was 
 unjustly decided against me, and my ruin having been com- 
 pleted by another which was decided in my favour. 
 
 Plato, Theceta. 172. 
 
 VI. 
 
 IN the sage assemblies I have noticed, the philosophic 
 reader will at once perceive the faint germs of those 
 sapient convocations, called popular meetings, prevalent in 
 our day. Thither resort all those idlers and ' squires of low 
 degree,' who like rags hang loose upon the back of society, and 
 are ready to' be blown about by every wind of doctrine. 
 Cobblers abandoned their stalls, and hastened thither to give 
 
172 For Greek Prose. 
 
 lessons on political economy ; blacksmiths left their handicraft, 
 and sufifered their fires to go out, while they blew the bellows 
 and stirred up the fire of faction ; and even tailors, though 
 but shreds and patches, the ninth parts of humanity, neglected 
 their own measures to attend to the measures of government. 
 
 I should not forget to mention that these popular meetings 
 were always held at a noted tavern, for houses of that descrip- 
 tion have always been found the most congenial nurseries 
 of politics : abounding with those genial strearns which give 
 strength and sustenance to faction. We are told that the 
 ancient Germans had an admirable mode of treating any 
 question of importance : they first deliberated upon it when 
 drunk, and afterwards reconsidered it when sober. The 
 shrewder mobs of America dislike having two minds upon a 
 subject, but determine and act upon it drunk : by which 
 means a world of cold and tedious speculations is dispensed 
 with, and as it is universally allowed that when a man is 
 drunk he sees double : it follows most conclusively that he 
 sees twice as well as his sober neighbours. 
 
 Aristophanes, Vespa. 86, sqq. ; iioo, sqq. Plato, Euthydem. 303 B. 
 
 . NO longer know my own house. It 's turned 
 Hard. ' 
 
 VII. 
 
 i- all topsy-turvy. His servants have got drunk 
 already. I '11 bear it no longer ; and yet, from my respect for 
 his father, I'll be calm. (To him.) Mr. Mario w, your servant. 
 I 'm your very humble servant. {Bowing low.) 
 
 Marl. Sir, your humble servant. {Aside.) What's to be 
 the wonder now 1 
 
 Hard. I believe, Sir, you must be sensible. Sir, that no 
 man alive ought to be more welcome than your father's son, 
 Sir. I hope you think so % 
 
 Marl. I do from my soul, Sir. I don't want much en- 
 
Satirical. i 
 
 /o 
 
 treaty. I generally make my father's son welcome wherever 
 he goes. 
 
 Hard. I believe you do, from my soul, Sir. But though I 
 say nothing to your own conduct, that of your servants is 
 insufferable. Their manner of drinking is setting a very bad 
 example in this house, I assure you. 
 
 Marl. I protest, my very good Sir, that is no fault of mine. 
 If they don't drink as they ought, they are to blame. I ordered 
 them not to spare the cellar. I did, I assure you. {To the 
 side-scene^ Here, let one of my servants come up. (To him.) 
 My positive directions were, that, as I did not drink myself, 
 they should make up for my deficiencies below. 
 
 Hard. Then they had your orders for what they do ? I ^m 
 satisfied ! 
 
 Marl. They had, I assure you. You shall hear from one 
 of themselves. 
 
 Aristophanes, Equites, 8g,' sqfj. , 728, sqq. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 MOST thinking people, I have heard you much abused. 
 There is not a compound in the language but is 
 strung fifty in a rope like onions by .the Morning Post, and 
 hurled in your teeth. You are called the mob, and when 
 they have made you out to be the mob, you are called the 
 scum of the people and the dregs of the people. I should 
 like to know how you can be both. Take a basin of broth — 
 not cheap soup, Mr. Wilberforce — not soup for the poor, at a 
 penny a quart, as your mixture of horses' legs, brick-dust, and 
 old shoes was denominated — but plain, wholesome patriotic 
 beef or mutton-broth : take this, examine it, and you will find 
 — mind I don't vouch for the fact, but I am told you will 
 find— the dregs at the bottom and the scum at the top. I 
 will endeavour to explain this to you. England is a large 
 
174 P^or Greek Prose. 
 
 earthenware pipkin; John Bull is the beef thrown into it; 
 taxes are the hot water he boils in ; rotten boroughs are the 
 fuel that blaze under the same pipkin ; Parliament is the ladle 
 that stirs the hodge-podge, and sometimes — but hold, I don't 
 wish to pay Newgate a second visit. I leave you better off 
 than you have been this many a day. You have a good house 
 over your head, you have beat the French in Spain, the har- 
 vest has turned out well, the comet keeps its distance, and 
 red slippers are hawked about in Constantinople for next to 
 nothing : and for all this again and again I tell you you are 
 indebted to Mr. Whitbread. 
 
 Aristophanes, Acharn. 497, sqq. 
 
 IX. 
 
 MY brother made as if he took the glass, and looked to 
 see if the colour was good, and put it to his nose, to 
 see if it had a good flavour : then he made a low bow to the 
 Barmecide to signify that he took the liberty to drink his 
 health ; and lastly, he appeared to drink with all the signs of 
 a man that drinks with pleasure. ' My Lord,' said he, ' this 
 is very excellent wine, but I think it is not strong enough.' 
 ' If you would have stronger,' said the Barmecide, ' you need 
 only speak, for I have several sorts in my cellar. Try how 
 you like this.' Upon which he made as if he poured out 
 another glass to himself, and then to my brother ; and did 
 this so often that Schacabac, feigning to be intoxicated with 
 the wine, and acting a drunken man, lifted up his hand, and 
 gave the Barmecide such a box on the ear as made him fall 
 down. He was going to give him another blow, but the Bar- 
 mecide, holding up his hand to ward it off, cried out, ' Are 
 you mad ? ' Then my brother, making as if he had come to 
 his senses again, said, ' My Lord, you have been so good as 
 to admit your slave into your house, and give him a great 
 
Satirical. 175 
 
 treat, you should have been satisfied with making me eat, and 
 
 not have obhged me to drink wine, for I told you beforehand, 
 
 that it might occasion me to fail in my respect to you. I am 
 
 very sorry for it, and beg you a thousand pardons.' Scarce 
 
 had he finished these words, when the Barmecide, instead of 
 
 being in a passion, fell a laughing with all his might. ' It is a 
 
 long time,' said he, ' that I have been seeking a man of your 
 
 character.' 
 
 Aristoph. Vesp. 1218. Plato, Repiib. 611 E ; Pkcsdrus, 247 E ; Symposium. 
 Lucian, Symposium. Xenophon, Symposium. 
 
 X. 
 
 ENGLISHMEN, it must be owned, are bunglers in the 
 matter of education. ' I consider a human soul,' says 
 Addison, ' without education, like marble in the quarry, which 
 shows none of its inherent beauties till the skill of the polisher 
 fetches out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers 
 every ornament, cloud, spot, and vein that runs through the 
 body of it.' Now it is not to be denied that as far as studios, 
 workshops, sculptors, polishers, and indefatigable industry are 
 concerned, no nation in the world evinces a heartier desire to 
 furbish up the human soul than the people of our own well- 
 meaning island. We will not allow that we are not from one 
 end of the country to the other as busy as bees, grinding away 
 at the surface oi the rising generation, searching for the orna- 
 ments, exhibiting the clouds, and fixing the spots and veins 
 that run through the body of that living marble, from which it 
 is the joy of the artist ' to clear away superfluous matter,' and 
 ' to remove rubbish,' in order that the great, the wise, and the 
 good, may be simply ' disinterred and brought to light.' The 
 machinery at command is immense, the disposition to turn 
 out a creditable article undoubted, the expense incurred 
 frightful. But with all our solemn labour and our good inten- 
 
1 76 For Greek Prose. 
 
 tions, and our evident conceit, we don't get on. Our most 
 elegant marbles we send for extra polish to Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge, and for the most part blocks they go in and blocks 
 they come out. Exceptional specimens no doubt there are, 
 worthy to be cherished, and certain of eternal regard, statues 
 that will find niches in every land, and honour in every age. 
 But the bulk of the stone does not adequately represent either 
 the money, the time, or the supposed labour spent in improv- 
 ing its quality. 
 
 Plato, Protag. 325, 326. Lucian, Somnium, 6, sqq. 
 
 XI. 
 
 BUT the worst of the matter was, that just about this time, 
 the mob, since called the sovereign people, like 
 Balaam's ass, began to grow more enlightened than its rider, 
 and exhibited a strange desire of governing itself. This was 
 another effect of the ' universal acquirements ' of William the 
 Testy. In some of his pestilent researches among the rubbish 
 of antiquity, he was struck with admiration at the institution 
 of public tables among the Lacedaemonians, where they dis- 
 cussed topics of a general and interesting nature — at the 
 schools of the philosophers, where they engaged in profound 
 disputes upon politics and morals, where greybeards were 
 taught the rudiments of wisdom, and youths learned to become 
 little men before they were boys. ' There is nothing,' said the 
 ingenious Kieft, shutting up the book — ' there is nothing more 
 essential to the well management of a country than education 
 among the people : the basis of a good government should be 
 laid in the public mind.' Now this was true enough, but it 
 was ever the wayward fate of William the Testy that when he 
 thought right he was sure to go to work wrong. In the present 
 instance he could scarcely eat or sleep until he had set on foot 
 
Satirical. 177 
 
 brawling debating societies among the simple citizens of new 
 Amsterdam. This was the one thing wanting to complete his 
 confusion. The honest Dutch burghers, though in truth but 
 little given to argument or wordy altercation, yet by dint of 
 often meeting together, fuddling themselves with strong drink, 
 and listening td the harangues of some half-a-dozen oracles, 
 soon became exceedingly wise, and, as is always the case when 
 the mob is politically enlightened, exceedingly discontented. 
 
 Plato, Critias, 120 D. sqq. ; Legg. 766 D. jjg. ; 780 D. 
 
 XII. 
 
 I REMEMBER very well in a discourse one day with the 
 King, when I happened to say, 'there were several thou- 
 sand books among us written upon the art of government,' it 
 gave him (directly contrary to my intention) a very mean 
 opinion of our understandings. He professed both to abomi- 
 nate and despise all mystery, refinement, and intrigue, either 
 in a prince or a minister. He confined the knowledge of 
 governing within very narrow bounds, to common sense and 
 reason, to justice and lenity, to the speedy determination of 
 civil and criminal causes, with some other obvious topics 
 which are not worth considering. 'And he gave it for his 
 opinion, that whoever could make two ears of com, or two 
 blades of grass, to grow upon a spot of ground where only one 
 grew before, would deserve better of mankind, and do more 
 essential service to his country, than the whole race of poli- 
 ticians put together.' 
 
 Plato, Politic. 302, 303, sqq. 
 
 XIII. 
 ' TV yT Y little friend Grildrig,' said the King, ' you have 
 IVX made a most admirable panegyric upon your 
 country; you 'have clearly proved that ignorance, idleness, 
 
 M 
 
1 78 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and vice are the proper ingredients for qualifying a legislator ; 
 that laws are best explained, interpreted, and applied by those 
 whose interest and abilities lie in perverting, confounding, and 
 eluding them. It does not appear, from all you have said, 
 how any one perfection is required towards the procurement 
 of any one station among you ; much less that men are en- 
 nobled on account of their virtue ; that priests are advanced 
 for their piety or learning ; soldiers for their conduct or valour; 
 judges for their integrity; senators for the love of their 
 country ; or councillors for their wisdom. ' As for yourself,' 
 continued the King, ' who have spent the greatest part of your 
 life in travelling, I am disposed to hope you may hitherto have 
 escaped many vices of your country. But by what I have 
 gathered from your own relation, and the answers I have with 
 much pains wringed from you, I cannot but conclude the bulk 
 of your natives to be the most pernicious race of little odious 
 vermin that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the surface of 
 the earth.' 
 
 Plato, Timaus, 22, sqq. ; Repnb. 490 C. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I SAID, there was a society of men among us, bred up from 
 their youth in the art of proving, by words multiplied 
 for the purpose, that white is black, and black is white, accord- 
 ing as they are paid. To this society all the rest of the people 
 are slaves. For example, if a neighbour has a mind to my 
 cow, he has a lawyer to prove that he ought to have my cow 
 from me. I must then hire another to defend my right, it 
 being against all rules of law that any man should be allowed 
 to speak for himself Now, in this case, I, who am the right 
 owner, lie under two great disadvantages : first, my lawyer, 
 being practised almost from his cradle in defending falsehood, 
 is quite out of his element when he would be an advocate for 
 
Satirical. 1 79 
 
 justice, which is an unnatural office he always attempts with 
 great awkwardness, if not with ill-will. The second disadvan- 
 tage is, that my lawyer must proceed with great caution, or else 
 he will be reprimanded by the judges, and abhorred by his 
 brethren, as one that would lessen the practice of the law. 
 
 Afistophanes, Nuhes, 91, sgq. Plato, Protag. 311 B. ; Gorg. 456. 
 Lucian, Rhetorum proueptor. 
 
 XV. 
 
 WE crossed a walk to the other part of the academy, 
 where, as I have already said, the projectors in specu- 
 lative learning resided. 
 
 The first professor I saw was in a very large room, with 
 forty pupils about him. After salutation, observing me to 
 look earnestly upon a frame, which took up the greatest 
 part of both the length and breadth of the room, he said, — 
 ' Perhaps I might wonder to see him employed in a project for 
 improving speculative knowledge by practical mechanical 
 operations. But the world would soon be sensible of its use- 
 fulness ; and he flattered himself that a more noble, exalted 
 thought never sprang in any other man's head. Every one 
 knew how laborious the usual method is of attaining to arts 
 and sciences ; whereas, by his contrivance, the most ignorant 
 person, at a reasonable charge, and with little bodily labour, 
 might write books on philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathe- 
 matics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius 
 or study.' 
 
 Plato, Amal. 132 ; Protag. 315, 316. Lucian, Rhdorum proeceptor. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 DICE-PLAY and such other foolish and pernicious games 
 they know not : but they use two games not much un- 
 like the chess. The one is the battle of numbers, wherein one 
 
i8o For Greek Prose. 
 
 number stealeth away another. The other is when vices fight 
 with virtues, as it were in battle-array on a set field. In the 
 which game is very properly showed both the strife and dis- 
 cord that the vices have among themselves, and again their 
 unity and concord against virtues. And also what vices be 
 repugnant to what virtues : with what power and strength they 
 assail them openly : by what wiles and subtilty they assault 
 them secretly : with what help and aid the virtues resist and 
 overcome the puissance of the vices : by what craft they frus- 
 trate their purposes : and finally, by what sleight or means the 
 one getteth the victory. But here, lest you be deceived, one 
 thing you must look more narrowly upon. For seeing they 
 bestow but six hours in work, perchance you may think that 
 the lack of some necessary things thereof may ensue. But 
 this is nothing so ; for that small time is not only enough, but 
 also too much for the store and abundance of all things that 
 be requisite, either for the necessity or the commodity of life. 
 The which thing you also shall 'perceive, if you weigh and con- 
 sider with yourselves how great a part of the people in other 
 countries liveth idle. First, almost all women, which be the 
 half of the whole number ; or else, if the women be somewhere 
 occupied, there most commonly in their stead the men be idle. 
 Besides this, how great and how idle a company is there of 
 priests and religious men, as they call them ; put thereto all 
 rich men, specially all landed men, which commonly be called 
 gentlemen and noblemen — take into this number also their 
 servants : I mean all that flock of stout bragging rushbucklers. 
 Join to them also sturdy and valiant beggars, cloaking their 
 idle life under the colpur of some disease or sickness. And 
 truly you shall find them much fewer than you thought, by 
 whose labour all these things are wrought, that in men's affairs 
 are now daily used and frequented. 
 
 Lucian, Hcrmot. 40. Plato, Repub. 416, 423 ; Polilic. 289-290. 
 
Satirical. 1 8 1 
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE other was a scheme for entirely abolishing all words 
 whatsoever ; and this was urged as a great advantage 
 in point of health' as well as brevity. For it is plain, that every 
 word we speak is in some degree a diminution of our lungs by 
 corrosion, and consequently contributes to the shortening of 
 our lives. An expedient was therefore offered, that since 
 words are only names for things, it would be more convenierit 
 for all men to carry about them such things as were necessary 
 to express the particular business they are to discourse on. 
 And this invention would certainly have taken place, to the 
 great ease as well as health of the subject, if the women, in 
 conjunction with the illiterate, had not threatened to raise a 
 rebellion, unless they might be allowed the liberty to speak 
 with their tongues, after the manner of their ancestors : such 
 constant irreconcilable enemies to science are the common 
 people ! However, many of the most learned and wise adhere 
 to the new scheme of expressing themselves by things ; which 
 hath only this inconvenience attending it, that if a man's busi- 
 ness be very great, and of various kinds, he must be obliged 
 in proportion to carry a great bundle of things on his back, 
 unless he can afford one or two strong servants to attend him. 
 I have often beheld two of those sages almost sinking under 
 the weight of their packs, like pedlars amongst us : who, when 
 they met in the streets, would lay down their loads, open 
 their sacks, and hold conversation for an hour together ; then 
 put up their implements, help each other to resume their bur- 
 dens, and take their leave. 
 
 Plato, Hipp. Minor, 368 B. 369 ; Protag. 314. 
 
i82 For Greek Prose. 
 
 » 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 * I ."'OR my part,' says she, ' I never knew a play take that 
 -I- was written up to your rules, as you call them.' ' How, 
 madam,' says he, ' is that your opinion ? I am sure you have 
 a better taste.' ' It is a pretty kind of magic,' says she ; ' the 
 poets have to transport an audience from place to place with- 
 out the help of a coach and horses. I could travel round the 
 world at such a rate. 'Tis such an entertainment as an 
 enchantress finds when she fancies herself in a wood or on a 
 mountain at a feast or a solemnity, though at the same time 
 she has never stirred out of her cottage.' 'Your simile, 
 madam,' says Sir Timothy, ' is by no means just.' ' Pray,' 
 says she, ' let my similes pass without a criticism. I must 
 confess,' continued she (for I found she was resolved to 
 exasperate him), ' I laughed very heartily at the new comedy 
 which you found so much fault with.' ' But, madam,' says 
 he, ' you ought not to have laughed, and I defy any one to 
 show me a single rule that you could laugh by.' 
 
 Plato, Ion, 532 c. Lucian, ad diceiUem Prometheus es, 6. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 IT is a maxim among these lawyers that whatever has been 
 done before may legally be done again : and therefore 
 they take especial care to record all the decisions formerly 
 made against common justice and the general reason of man- 
 kind. These, under the name of precedents, they produce as 
 authorities to justify the most iniquitous opinions : and the 
 judges never fail of directing accordingly. 
 
 In pleading they studiously avoid entering into the merits 
 of the cause, but are loud, violent, and tedious, in dwelling 
 upon all circumstances which are not to the purpose. For 
 
Satirical. 183 
 
 instance, in the case already mentioned, they never desire to 
 know what claim or title my adversary has to my cow : but 
 whether the said cow were red or black, her horns long or 
 short ; whether the field I graze her in be round or square ; 
 whether she was milked at home or abroad ; what diseases 
 she is subject to, or the like : after which they consult prece- 
 dents, adjourn the cause from time to time, and in ten or 
 twenty years come to an issue. 
 
 Plato, TAecetet. 175, 201. 
 
 XX. 
 
 As to boys I cannot speak upon experience : I had vanity 
 enough while a school-boy ; as soon as I could read 
 currently, having gotten some books of chivalry, I determined 
 upon making the conquest of the world; but being of a 
 weakly constitution, and continually bumped about by other 
 boys, I found this scheme impracticable, so at thirteen resolved 
 to write a poem finer than Homer or Virgil. Before I went 
 to the University, being taught that the solid sciences were 
 more noble than poetry, I purposed, as soon as I should have 
 made myself perfect master of logic, to elucidate all useful 
 truths, and banish error from among mankind. What benefit 
 these ambitious projects may have done me I know not : per- 
 haps my present labours might be owing to some remains of 
 them, for I well remember that while the design of these dis- 
 sertations lay in embryo in my head, they promised a much 
 more shining appearance, than I find them make now I can 
 review them upon paper. 
 
 Lucian, Somnium. Plato, P/uedo, 96, sqq. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 AT last, some free and facetious spirits, wearied with 
 eternal disputation, and the labour of patching and 
 propping weak systems, began to complain of the subtilty of 
 
184 For Greek Prose. 
 
 nature ; of the infinite changes that bodies undergo in figure, 
 colour, and magnitude ; and of the difiBculty of accounting for 
 these appearances : making this a pretence for giving up all 
 inquiries into the causes of things as vain and fruitless. 
 
 These wits had ample matter of mirth and ridicule in the 
 systems of philosophers ; and, finding it an easier task to pull 
 down than to build or support, and that every sect furnished 
 them with arms and auxiliaries to destroy another, they began 
 to spread mightily, and went on with great success. Thus 
 philosophy gave way to scepticism and irony, and those sys- 
 tems which had been the work of ages, and the admiration 
 of the learned, became the jest of the vulgar : for even the 
 vulgar readily took part in the triumph over a kind of learning 
 which they had long suspected, because it produced nothing 
 but wrangling and altercation. The wits, having now acquired 
 great reputation, and being flushed with success, began to 
 think their triumph incomplete, until every pretence to know- 
 ledge was overturned ; and accordingly began their attacks 
 upon arithmetic, geometry, and even upon the common no- 
 tions of untaught Idomenians. 'So difficult it hath always 
 been,' says our author, ' for great conquerors to know where 
 to 5top.' 
 
 Plato, Repub. 452, 495, sq<i. 
 
VI.-MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 CASSIOPE having boasted herself to be fairer than Hera, 
 Poseidon sent a flood and a sea-monster to ravage the 
 country belonging to her husband, Cepheus. The oracle of 
 Ammon having been consulted, it was ascertained that nothing 
 would stop the resentment of the gods except the exposure of 
 the King's daughter, Andromeda, on a rock, to be devoured 
 by the monster. At the moment that the dragon approached 
 the maiden, Perseus appeared, and learning her peril, engaged 
 the monster and slew him. 
 
 II. 
 
 THREE of these people were at the city when the late 
 King was there. The monarch himself talked to them 
 a good while, and they were made to see our fashions, our 
 pomp, and the form of a fine city; after which somebody 
 asked their opinion, and wanted to know of them what things 
 they most admired of all they had seen. To which they made 
 answer, three things, of which I am sorry I have forgot the 
 third, but two I yet remember. They said, in the first place, 
 they thought it very strange that so many tall men, wearing 
 great beards, strong and well armed about the King's person 
 (by whom it is like they meant his Swiss guards), should sub- 
 mit to obey a child, and did not rather choose out one among 
 themselves to command ; secondly, that they had taken notice 
 
1 86 For Greek Prose. 
 
 of men amongst us who were fat and crammed with all manner 
 of good things, whilst their halves were begging at the gates, 
 lean and half starved with hunger and poverty. 
 
 III. 
 
 THEN he went down towards lolcos, and as he walked 
 he found that he had lost one of his sandals in the 
 flood. And as he went through the streets, the people came 
 out to look at him, so tall and fair was he ; but some of the 
 elders whispered together ; and at last one of them stopped 
 Jason, and called to him, ' Fair lad, who are you, and whence 
 come you, and what is your errand in the town V ' My name, 
 good father, is Jason, and I come from Pelion, up yonder; 
 and my errand is to Pelias, your King ; tell me, then, where 
 his palace is.' But the old man started, and grew pale, and 
 said, ' Do you not know the oracle, my son, that you go so 
 boldly through the town with but one sandal on !' ' I am a 
 stranger here, and know of no oracle : but what of my one 
 sandal ? ' I lost the other in Anauros while • I was struggling 
 with the flood.' Then the old man looked back to his com- 
 panions ; and one sighed and another smiled ; at last he said, 
 ' I will tell you, lest you rush upon your ruin unawares. The 
 oracle in Delphi has said that a man wearing one sandal 
 should take the kingdom from Pelias, and keep it for himself. 
 Therefore beware how you go up to his palace, for he is the 
 fiercest and most cunning of all kings.' 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE lions once were lazy : and some of them whose 
 teeth were not so white as they had been, but who 
 roared as bravely as ever, said to the others, ' Why, brother 
 lions, do we lead this wretched toilsome life — up early, to lair 
 
Miscellaneotis. 187 
 
 late ; hunting alone over the sandy plains from morning till 
 night, and earning but a scanty living or too much ; now 
 starved, now gorged ; and at all times some of us starving, 
 while others are gorging ? Let us no more be unsociable, but 
 let all the great beasts of the forest hunt together in packs ; 
 so shall our cares be divided equally, and our prey the same.' 
 The other lions roared assent. The tigers also hstened favour- 
 ably to this counsel, and all the young ones much approved 
 it ; for though they loved blood, they were fond of play too. 
 
 AS the bear is a heavy, clumsy creature, and does not 
 gallop as the wolf does, which is swift and light, so he 
 has two particular qualities, which generally are the rule of his 
 actions ; first, as to men, who are not his proper prey, he does 
 not usually attempt them, except they first attack him, unless 
 he be excessively hungry, , which it is probable might now 
 be the case, the ground being covered with snow; if you 
 do not meddle with him, he will not meddle with you ; but 
 then you must take care to be very civil to him, and give him 
 the road, for he is a very nice gentleman ; he will not go a 
 step out of his way for a prince ; nay, if you are really afraid, 
 your best way is to look another way and keep going on ; for 
 sometimes if you stop, and stand still, and look steadfastly at 
 him, he takes it for an affront ; but if you throw or toss any- 
 thing at him, and it hits him, though it were but a bit of stick 
 as big as your finger, he takes it for an affront, and sets all 
 other business aside to pursue his revenge, and will have 
 satisfaction in point of honour — that is his first quality : the 
 next is, that if he be once affronted, he will never leave you, 
 night or day, till he has had his revenge, but follow at a good 
 round rate till he overtakes you. 
 
i88 For Greek Prose. 
 
 VI. 
 
 AS he and tHfe king were walking by a river in Thrace, 
 they saw a frog, when the pike lay very sleepily and 
 quiet by the shore side, leap upon his head, and the frog having 
 expressed malice or anger by his swollen cheeks and staring 
 eyes, did stretch out his legs and embraced the pike's head, 
 and presently reached them to his eyes, tearing with them and 
 his teeth those tender parts : the pike, moved with anguish, 
 moves up and down the water, and rubs himself against weeds, 
 and whatever he thought might quit him of his enemy ; but all 
 in vain, for the frog did continue to ride triumphantly, and to 
 bite and torment the pike till his strength failed, and then the 
 frog sunk with the pike to the bottom of the water ; then pre- 
 sently the frog appeared again at the top, and croaked and 
 seemed to rejoice like a conqueror, after which he presently 
 retired to his secret hole. The king, who had beheld the battle, 
 called his fishermen to fetch his nets, and by all means to 
 get the pike, that they might declare what had happened ; and 
 the pike was drawn forth, with both his eyes eateii out ; at 
 which they began to wonder : the fishermen wished them to 
 forbear, and assured them they were certain that pikes were 
 often so served. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THEN he falls upon them, and beats them fearfully, in 
 such sort, that they were not able to help themselves, 
 or to turn them upon the floor. This done, he withdraws and 
 leaves them, there to condole their misery, and to mourn 
 under their distress : so all that day they spent the time in 
 nothing but sighs and bitter lamentations. The next night, 
 she talking with her husband about them further, and under- 
 
Miscellaneous. 189 
 
 standing that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel 
 them to make away themselves. So when morning was come, 
 he goes to them in a surly manner as before, and perceiving 
 them to be very sore with the stripes that he had given them 
 the day before, he told them, that since they were never like 
 to come out of that place, their only way would be forthwith 
 to make an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or 
 poison ; ' For why,' said he, ' should you choose life, seeing it 
 is attended with so much bitterness ? ' But they desired him to 
 let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, and rush- 
 ing to them had doubtless made an end of them himself, but 
 that he fell into one of his fits (for he sometimes in sunshine 
 weather fell into fits), and lost for a time the use of his hand ; 
 wherefore he withdrew, and left them as before, to consider 
 what to do. Then did the prisoners consult between them- 
 selves whether it was best to take his counsel or no. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 AND whan this paflynge riche man is at Table, 50 fair 
 Damyfeles bryngen him hys Mete at every tyme, 5 and 
 5 to gedre. And in bryngynge hire Servyfe, thei syngen a 
 Song. And aftre that, thei kutten his Mete, and putten it in 
 his Mouthe : for he touchethe no thing ne handlethe nought, 
 but holdethe evere more his Hondes before him, upon the 
 Table. For he hathe fo longe Nayles, that he may take 
 no thing, ne handle no thing. For the Nobleffe of that 
 Contree is to have longe Nayles, and to make hem growen alle 
 weys to ben as longe as men may. And there ben manye in 
 that Contree, that han hire Nayles fo longe, that thei envyronne 
 alle the Hond : and that is a gret Nobleffe. And the Nobleffe 
 of the Women, is for to haven fmale Feet and litille : and ther- 
 fore anon as thei ben born, they leet bynde hire Feet fo llreyte. 
 
I go For Greek Prose. 
 
 that thei may not growen half as nature wolde : And ahe weys 
 theife Damyfeles, that I fpak of beforn, fyngen alle the tyme 
 that this riche man etethe : and whan he etethe no more of his 
 firfle Cours, thanne other 5 and 5 of faire Damyfeles bryngen 
 him his feconde Cours, alle weys fyngynge, as thei dide beforn. 
 And fo thei don contynuelly every day, to the ende of his 
 Mete. And in this manere he ledethe his Lif. And fo dide 
 thei before him, that weren his Aunceflres : and fo fchulle thei 
 that comen aftre him, with outen doynge of ony Dedes of 
 Armas : but lyven evere more thus in efe, as a Swyn, that is 
 fedde in Sty, for to ben made fatte. 
 
 IX. 
 
 BUT about ten of the clock in the morning, a small occa- 
 sion brought to pass that which whereto neither of the 
 generals had ever earnest desire. A horse brake loose at 
 watering, which two or three of the Roman soldiers followed 
 into the river, wading after him up to the knees. The King's 
 men lay on the further bank ; whence a couple of Thracians 
 ran into the water, to draw this horse over to their own side. 
 These fell to blows, as in a private quarrel, and one of the 
 Thracians was slain. His countrymen seeing this, hasted to 
 revenge their fellow's death, and followed those that had slain 
 him over the river. Hereupon company came in, to help on 
 each part, until the number grew such as made it past a fray, 
 and caused both the armies to be careful of the event. In 
 fine, each of the generals placed his men in order of battle, 
 accordingly as the manner of his country, and the arms where- 
 with they served, did require. The ground was a flat level, 
 save that on the sides a few hillocks were raised here and 
 there, whereof each part might take what advantage it could. 
 
Miscellaneous. 1 9 r 
 
 X. 
 
 A PRIVATE citizen, after the fray was over, when the 
 death of Hermocrates was deeply felt, even by many 
 of his political adversaries, called out to Diodes, in allusion to 
 his having appeared in arms in the market-place, ' Ah, Diodes, 
 thou art making void thine own laws !' ' Nay, rather,' was his 
 reply, ' I will ratify them thus ;' and he instantly stabbed him- 
 self to the heart. Such a spirit, so sincere, and so self-devoted, 
 might well have been the founder of freedom for his country, 
 and saved her, had his life been prolonged, from the selfish 
 ambition of Dionysius. 
 
 XI. 
 
 LIKE his ancestor, Philip was haunted by a strange 
 curiosity to pry into the secrets of that grave to which 
 he was hastening. In the cemetery which he had formed 
 beneath the pavement of the church, reposed three generations 
 of Castilian princes. Into these dark vaults the unhappy 
 monarch descended by torchlight, and penetrated to that 
 superb and gloomy chamber where, round the great black 
 crucifix, were ranged the coffins of the kings and queens of 
 Spain. There he commanded his attendants to open the 
 massy chests of bronze in which the relics of his predecessors 
 decayed. He looked on the ghastly spectacle with little 
 emotion, till the coffin of his first wife was unclosed, and she 
 appeared before him — such was the skill of the embalmer — in 
 all her well-remembered beauty. He cast one glance on those 
 beloved features, unseen for eighteen years, those features 
 over which corruption seemed to have no power, and rushed 
 from the vault, exclaiming, ' She is with God, and I shall soon 
 be with her.' The awful sight completed the ruin of his body 
 and mind. 
 
192 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XII. 
 
 THE bridge of boats is so narrow that two carriages cannot 
 pass abreast ; and as there is a good deal of competi- 
 tion between vehicles on the opposite sides as to which shall 
 get on the roadway first, the rush down the bank to the bridge 
 is violent enough. The muddy yellow stream flows with vio- 
 lence under the boats, and keeps the cables well stretched. 
 It bears on its creaming surface all sorts of nastiness ; but the 
 Hindoos have it that nothing can pollute the holy waters of 
 Gunga. By the margin, close to the bridge, there is a man 
 washing clothes, and, within two or three yards of him, there 
 is Ipng the bloated corpse of a native woman, on which are 
 seated crows and a vulture. Higher up the stream, in cleaner 
 water, elephants are enjoying their morning bath. They roll 
 away, like so many porpoises, right under the flood, and leave 
 the drivers shouting, and groping below for them with their 
 feet. 
 
 A 
 
 XIII. 
 S we advance, the valley becomes deeper and deeper. 
 The shade of the precipices on both sides falls blacker 
 and blacker. The clouds gather overhead. Doleful voices, 
 the clanking of chains, and the rushing of many feet to and 
 fro, are heard through the darkness. The way, hardly dis- 
 cernible in gloom, runs close by the mouth of the burning 
 pit, which sends forth its flames, its noisome smoke, and its 
 hideous shapes, to terrify the adventurer. Thence he goes on 
 amidst the snares and pitfalls, .with the mangled bodies of 
 those who have perished lying in the ditch by his side. At 
 the end of the long dark valley, he passes the dens in which 
 the old giants dwelt, amidst the bones of those whom they 
 had slain. Then the road passes straight on through a waste 
 
Miscellaneous. 193 
 
 moor, till at length the towers of a distant city appear before 
 the traveller, and soon fie is in the midst of the innumerable 
 multitudes of Vanity Fair. 
 
 Lucian, Necyomant, 14. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 WHEN Livia was first married to Augustus, an eagle let 
 fall into her arms a white hen, holding a laurel- 
 branch in her mouth. Livia caused this hen to be carefully 
 nourished, and the laurel-branch to be planted : of the hen 
 came a fair increase of white poultry, and from the little 
 branch there sprang up in time a grove of laurel; so that 
 afterwards, in all triumphs, the conquerors did use to carry in 
 their hands a branch of bays taken out of this grove; and, 
 after the triumphs ended, to set it again in the same ground : 
 which branches were observed, when they happened to wither, 
 to foreshow the death of those persons who carried them in 
 triumph. And in the last year of Nero all the broods of the 
 white hens died, and the whole grove oif bays withered at 
 once. Moreover, the heads of all the Caesars' statues, and 
 the sceptre placed in Augustus' hand, were stricken down 
 with lightning. That the Jews did not think such strange 
 signs to be unworthy of regard, it appears by their calling 
 upon God and praying that these tokens might turn to good. 
 
 XV. 
 
 THEN I demanded of him of the manner of the hole that 
 is in Ireland, called St. Patrick's Purgatory, and if it 
 were true that is said of it or not ? Then he said that of a surety 
 such a hole there was, and that he himself and another knight 
 of England had been there, and said how they entered into 
 the- hole and were closed in at the sun going down, and abode 
 
 N 
 
1 94 For Greek Prose. 
 
 there all night, and the next morning issued out again at the 
 sun-rising. Then I demanded if he had any such strange 
 sights or visions as were spoken of. Then he said how that 
 when he and his fellow were entered and past the gate that 
 was called the Purgatory of St. Patrick, and that they were 
 descended and gone down three or four paces, descending 
 down as into a cellar, a certain hot vapour rose against them 
 and strake so into their heads that they were fain to sit down 
 on the stairs, which are of stone : and after they had sat there a 
 season they had great desire to sleep, and so fell asleep, and 
 slept there all night, Then I demanded that if in their sleep 
 they knew where they were, or what visions they had ? He 
 answered me, that in sleeping they entered into great imagi- 
 nations and in marvellous dreams, otherwise than they were 
 wont to have in their chambers : and in the morning they 
 issued out, and within a short season clean forgot their dreams 
 and visions, wherefore he said he thought all that matter was 
 but a fantasy. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ACCORDINGLY, being filled with these aspiring thoughts, 
 and eager to learn if possible tlie whole secret of the 
 lamp, he repaired with it to the abode of a magician, who was 
 famous for all kinds of recondite knowledge. The old man, 
 when he beheld the lamp, perceived at a glance its surprising 
 virtues, and his eyes sparkled at the sight. But when again 
 he turned to the young man, his looks became suddenly over- 
 cast, and he thus cautioned him in the words of long-expe- 
 rienced wisdom. ' Be contented with thy lot, my son,' said 
 he, ' and with the good thou now enjoyest The ordinary 
 favours of the lamp enable thee to live in comfort and to dis- 
 charge correctly all the duties of thy station. What more 
 
Miscellaneous. 195 
 
 wouldst thou have ] Take it therefore home with thee again, 
 and employ it as heretofore. But seek not to call forth or 
 pry into its more extraordinary properties, lest some evil be- 
 fall thee, and the attempt be for ever fatal to thy peace.' 
 
 XVII. 
 
 DURING the celebration of the mysteries, two young 
 men of Acarnania, who were not initiated, unapprised 
 of its being an offence against religion, entered the temple of 
 Ceres along with the rest of the crowd : their discourse readily 
 betrayed them by their asking some absurd questions : where- 
 upon being carried before the presidents of the temple, al- 
 though it was evident that they went in through mistake, yet 
 they were put to death as if for a heinous crime. The Acar- 
 nanian nation made complaint to Philip of this barbarous and 
 hostile act, and prevailed on him to grant them some aid, and 
 to allow them to make war on the Athenians. So after 
 ravaging the lands of Attica with fire and sword, they went 
 back to Acarnania with booty of all kinds. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 BUT straightwayes we saw divers of the People, with 
 Bastons in their hands (as it were), forbidding us to 
 land ; yet without any cries or fierceness, but onely as warn- 
 ing us off by Signes that they made. Whereupon, being not 
 a little discomforted, wee were advising with ourselves, what 
 we should do. During which time there made forth to us a 
 small Boat, with about eight Persons in it, whereof One of 
 them had in his Hand a Tipstafife of a yellow Cane, tipped at 
 both ends with Blew, who came aboord our Shipp, without 
 any shew of Distrust at all. And when he saw one of our 
 
1 96 For Greek Prose. 
 
 Number present hiraselfe somewhat afore the rest, hee drew 
 forth a little Scroule of Parchment (somewhat yellower than 
 our Parchment, and shining like the Leaves of Writing Tables, 
 but otherwise soft and flexible), and delivered it to our fore- 
 most Man. In which Scroule were written these words: 
 Land yee not none of you : And provide to be gone, from this 
 Coast, within sixteene Dayes, except you have further time 
 given you. Meanewhile, if you want fresh Water, or Victuall, 
 or help for your Sick, or that your Shipp needeth repaire, 
 write downe your wants, and you shall have that which be- 
 longeth to Mercie. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 SO they limped ashore all stiff and weary, with long ragged 
 beards and sunburnt cheeks, and garments torn and 
 weather-stained, and weapons rusted with the spray, while the 
 sailors laughed at them (for they were rough-tongued, though 
 their hearts were frank and kind). And one said, 'These 
 fellows are but raw sailors ; they look as if they had been 
 sea-sick all the day.' And another, ' Their legs have grown 
 crooked with much rowing, till they waddle in their walk like 
 ducks.' At that Idas the rash would have struck them ; but 
 Jason held him back, till one of the merchant kings spoke to 
 them — a tall and stately man. ' Do not be angry, strangers : 
 the sailor boys must have tlieir jest. But we will treat you 
 justly and kindly, for strangers and poor men come from God : 
 and you seem no common sailors by your strength and height 
 and weapons. Come with me to the palace of Alcinous, and 
 he will feast you well, and after that you shall tell us your 
 name.' 
 
Miscellaneous, 197 
 
 XX. 
 
 AND at the dawn of day he looked toward the diffs ; and 
 at the water's edge, under a black rock, he saw a white 
 image stand. ' This,' thought he, ' must surely be the statue of 
 some sea god, I will go near and see what kind of Gods 
 these barbarians worship.' 
 
 So he came near, but when he came it was no statue, but a 
 maiden of flesh and blood, for he could see her tresses stream- 
 ing in the breeze : and as he came closer still, he could see 
 how she shrank and shivered when the waves sprinkled her 
 with cold salt spray. Her arms were spread above her head, 
 and fastened to the rock with chains of brass, and her head 
 drooped on her bosom, either with sleep or weariness or grief. 
 But now and then she looked up and wailed, and called her 
 mother, yet she did not see Perseus, for the cap of darkness 
 was on his head. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE laws, in creating property, have created wealth ; but, 
 with respect to poverty, it is not the work of the laws, 
 — it is the primitive condition of the human race. The man 
 who lives only from day to day is precisely the man in a state 
 of nature. The savage, the poor in society, I acknowledge, 
 obtain nothing but by painful labour ; but in a state of nature 
 what could he obtain but at the price of his toil. Has not 
 hunting its fatigues, fishing its dangers, war its uncertainties % 
 And if man appear to love this adventurous life — if he have 
 an instinct greedy of these kinds of peril — if the savage rejoice 
 in the delights of an idleness so dearly purchased — ought it 
 to be poncluded that he is more happy than our day-labourers ? 
 No, the labour of these is more uniform, but the reward is 
 
198 For Greek Prose. 
 
 more certain : the lot of the woman is more gentle, infancy 
 and old age have more resources ; the species multiplies in a 
 proportion a thousand times greater, and this alone would 
 suffice to show on which side is the superiority of happiness. 
 Hence the laws, in creating property, have been benefactors 
 to those who remain in their original poverty. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 BOTH men and horses were of a small size and thin make, 
 the riders unaccoutred and unarmed, except that they 
 carried javelins in their hands ; and the horses without bridles, 
 and awkward in their gait, running with their necks stiff, and 
 their heads stretched out. The contempt conceived from 
 their appearance, they took pains to increase ; sometimes fall- 
 ing from their horses, and making themselves objects of deri- 
 sion and ridicule. The consequence was that the enemy, who 
 at first had been vigilant and ready at their posts in case of 
 attack, now, for the most part, laid aside their arms, and 
 sitting down, amused themselves with looking at them. The 
 Bedouins often rode up, then galloped back, but still contrived 
 to get nearer to the pass, as if they were unable to manage 
 their horses, and were carried away against their will. At last, 
 setting spurs to them, they broke out through the midst of the 
 enemy's posts, and getting into the open country, set fire to 
 all the houses near the road. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 BEAUTY has been the delight and torment of the world 
 ever since it began. The philosophers have felt its 
 influence so sensibly that almost every one of them has left us 
 some saying or other which intimated that he knew too well 
 
Miscellaneous. 1 99 
 
 the power of it. One has told us that a graceful person is a 
 more powerful recommendation than the best letter that can 
 be writ in your favour. Another desires the possessor of it to 
 consider it as a mere gift of nature, and not any perfection of 
 his own. A third calls it a ' short-lived tyranny j' a fourth, 
 ' a silent fraud,' because it imposes upon us, without the help 
 of language ; but I think Carneades spoke as much like a 
 philosopher as any of them, though more like a lover, when 
 he calls it ' royalty without force.' 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 NO man is so obstinate an admirer of the old times as to 
 deny that medicine, surgery, botany, chemistry, engi- 
 neering, navigation, are better understood now than in any 
 former age. We conceive that it is the same with political 
 science. Like those physical sciences which we have men- 
 tioned, it has always been working itself clearer and clearer, 
 and depositing impurity after impurity. As time advances, 
 facts accumulate, doubts arise. Faint glimpses of truth begin 
 to appear, and shine more and more unto the perfect day. 
 The highest intellects, like the tops of mountains, are the first 
 to catch and to reflect the dawn. They are bright, while the 
 level below is still in darkness. But soon the light, which at 
 first illuminated only the loftiest eminences, descends on the 
 plain, and penetrates to the deepest valley. First come hints, 
 then fragments of systems, then defective systems, then com- 
 plete and harmonious systems. The sound opinion, held for 
 a time by one bold speculator, becomes the opinion of a small 
 minority, of a strong minority, of a majority of mankind. 
 Thus the great progress goes on till schoolboys laugh at the 
 jargon which imposed on Bacon. 
 
200 For Greek Prose. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ON the greatest and most useful of all human inventions, 
 that of alphabetical writing, this philosopher did not 
 look with much complacency. He seems to have thought 
 that the use of letters had operated on the human mind as the 
 use of the go-cart in learning to walk, or of corks in learning 
 to swim, is said to operate on the human body. It was a 
 support which, in his opinion, soon became indispensable to 
 those who used it, which made vigorous exertion first unneces- 
 sary, and then impossible. The powers of the intellect would, 
 he conceived, have been more fully developed without this 
 delusive aid. Men would have been compelled to exercise 
 the understanding and the memory, and by deep and assiduous 
 meditation, to make truth thoroughly their own. Now, on the 
 contrary, much knowledge is traced on paper, but little is en- 
 graved on the soul. A man is certain that he can find infor- 
 mation at a moment's notice when he wants it. He therefore 
 suffers it to fade from his mind. Such a man cannot, in 
 strictness, be said to know anything. He has the show with- 
 out the reality of wisdom. 
 
 Plato, Phsdrus, 274 E. sqq. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 ' "\/'0U, my friends, seem as if you would willingly hear the 
 -L proof a little further explained. You appear to be 
 frightened, as children are, that when the soul passes out of 
 the body, the wind may blow it away, especially if there be a 
 strong breeze stirring when the man dies.' At this they 
 laughed, and said, — 'Well, suppose that we are frightened; 
 and do you encourage and comfort us. Or rather, suppose, 
 not that we are frightened, but that there is a child within us 
 
Miscellaneous. 20 1 
 
 who is so. Let us try to persuade him not to fear death, as a 
 kind of bugbear.' ' Yes,' said Socrates ; ' and to do this, we 
 must use some charm, that we can sing over him day by day, 
 till the incantation has quite dispelled his fears.' ' But alas ! 
 Socrates, where shall we find any one else who is master of 
 such a spell ; since you, the most likely to impart it to us, are 
 on the point of leaving us ? ' ' Greece, riiy friends, is a wide 
 place ; and there are in it many good men. Many too are the 
 races of barbarians, all of whom are to be explored in search 
 of some one who can perform such a charm as we have need 
 of: and we must spare no pains nor expense in the search, for 
 on what better object could we expend money or labour? And 
 you must search too among yourselves for this gift : for per- 
 haps you will not easily find any one who has this power more 
 than you have.' 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 TO Plato the science of medicine appeared to be of very 
 disputable advantage. He did not indeed object to 
 quick cures for acute disorders, or for injuries produced by 
 accidents. But the art which resists the slow sap of a chronic 
 disease, which repairs frames enervated by lust, swollen by 
 gluttony, or inilamed by wine, which encourages sensuality 
 by mitigating the natural punishment of the sensualist, and 
 prolongs existence when the intellect has ceased to retain its 
 entire energy, had no share of his esteem. A life protracted 
 by medical skill, he pronounced to be a long death. The 
 exercise of the art of medicine, ought, he said, to be tolerated 
 so far as that art may serve to cure the occasional distempers 
 of men whose constitutions are good. As to those who have 
 bad constitutions, let them die. The sooner the better. Such 
 men are unfit for war, for magistracy, for the management of 
 
202 For Greek Prose. 
 
 their domestic affairs, for severe study and speculation. If they 
 engage in any vigorous mental exercise, they are troubled with 
 giddiness and fulness of the head, all which they lay to the 
 account of philosophy. The best thing that can happen to 
 such wretches is to have done with life at once. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 SUPPOSE that Justinian, when he closed the schools of 
 Athens, had called on the few last sages who still 
 haunted the Portico, and lingered round the ancient plane- 
 trees, to show their title to public veneration : suppose that he 
 had said, — A thousand years have elapsed since, in this famous 
 city, Socrates posed Protagoras and Hippias : during those 
 thousand years a large proportion of the ablest men of every 
 generation has been employed in constant efforts to bring to 
 perfection the philosophy which you teach : that philosophy 
 has been munificently patronised by the powerful : its profes- 
 sors have been held in the highest esteem by the public ; it 
 has drawn to itself almost all the sap and vigour of the human 
 intellect : and what has it effected ? What profitable truth has 
 it taught us which we should not equally have known without 
 it \ What has it enabled us to do which we should not have 
 been equally able to do without it ? Such questions, we sus- 
 pect, would have puzzled Simplicius and Isidore. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 LAW alone could accustom men to submit to the yoke of 
 foresight, at first painful to be borne, but afterwards 
 agreeable and mild : it alone could encourage them in labour, 
 superfluous at present, and which they are not to enjoy till the 
 future. Economy has as many enemies as there are spend- 
 thrifts, or men who would enjoy without taking the trouble to 
 
Miscellaneous. 2,03 
 
 produce. Hence society lives in the midst of snares. It re- 
 quires in the legislator vigilance continually sustained to de- 
 fend it against its constantly reviving adversaries. The law 
 does not say to a man, ' Work, and I will reward you,' but it 
 says to him, ' Work, and by stopping the hand that would 
 take them from you, I will ensure to you the fruits of your 
 labour.' If industry creates, it is the law which preserves. 
 If at the first moment we owe everything to labour, at the 
 second and every succeeding moment -we owe everything to 
 the law. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE plains of this country are irrigated by few streams, 
 which are rather to be called torrents than rivers ; and 
 on none of them can it depend for a perennial supply of water. 
 There is no lake within its limits. Such being the nature of the 
 soil, it followed that the olive was the most common as well as 
 the most valuable production of Attica. Such then were some 
 of the physical defects of this land. But these disadvantages 
 were compensated by the beneficial effects they produced. 
 For the sterility of Attica drove its inhabitants from their own 
 country. It carried them abroad. It filled them with a spirit 
 of activity, which loved to face danger and to grapple with 
 difficulty ; it told them that if they would maintain themselves 
 in the dignity which became them, they must regard the re- 
 sources of their own land as nothing, and those of other 
 countries as their own. 
 
 Plato, Critias, i lO D. sgq. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 IT arose from the barrenness of her soil, that Attica had 
 always been exempt from the revolutions which, in early 
 times -agitated the other countries of Greece : which poured 
 over their frontiers the changeful floods of migratory popula- 
 
204 Fo'^ Greek Prose. 
 
 tions and disturbed the foundations of their national history, 
 and confounded the civil institutions of the former occupants 
 of the soil. But Attica, secure in her sterility, boasted that her 
 land had never been inundated by those tides of immigration. 
 She had experienced no such change : she had enjoyed a per- 
 petual calm. The race of her inhabitants had been ever the 
 same : nor could she tell vi^hence they had sprung : no foreign 
 land had sent them. She traced the stream of her population 
 in a backward course through many generations, till at last it 
 hid itself, like one of her own brooks, in the recesses of her 
 ovni soil. 
 
 Plato, Critias, 109 B. sqq. 
 
 xxxir. 
 
 FROM the mouths of the Adige to those of the Piave, 
 there stretches, at a variable distance of from three to 
 five miles from the actual shore, a bank of sand, divided into 
 long islands by narrow channels of sea. The space between 
 this bank and the true shore consists of the sedimentary de- 
 posits from these and other rivers, a great plain of calcareous 
 mud, covered, in the neighbourhood of Venice, by the sea at 
 high water, to the depth, in most places, of a foot or a foot 
 and a half, and nearly everywhere exposed at low tide, but 
 divided by an intricate network of narrow and winding chan- 
 nels, from which the sea never retires. In some places, 
 according to the run of the currents, the land has risen into 
 marshy islets, consolidated, some by art and some by time, 
 into ground firm enough to be built upon, or fruitful enough 
 to be cultivated ; in others, on the contrary, it has not reached 
 the sea level ; so that, at the average low water, shallow lake- 
 lets glitter among its irregularly exposed fields of seaweed. 
 In the midst of the largest of these, increased in importance 
 by the confluence of several large river channels, towards one 
 
Miscellaneous. 205 
 
 of the openings in the sea bank, the city of Venice itself is 
 built, on a crowded cluster of islands. The various plots of 
 higher ground which appear to the north and south of this 
 central cluster have at different periods also been thickly 
 inhabited, and now bear, according to their size, the remains 
 of cities, villages, or isolated convents and churches, scattered 
 among spaces of open ground, partly waste and encumbered 
 by ruins, partly under cultivation for the supply of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 Plato, Critias, no D. sqq., in, 112, 115 c. sqq. 
 XXXIII. 
 
 THE average rise and fall of the tide is about three feet 
 (varying considerably with the seasons) ; but this fall 
 on so fiat a shore is enough to cause continual movement in 
 the waters and in the main channels to produce a reflux, 
 which frequently runs like a mill-stream. At high water, no 
 land is visible for many miles to the north or south of Venice, 
 except in the form of small islands crowned with towers or 
 gleaming with villages. There is a channel some three miles 
 wide between the city and the mainland, and some mile and a 
 half wide between it and the sandy breakwater called the Lido, 
 which divides the lagoon from the Adriatic, .but which is so 
 low as hardly to disturb the impression of the city's having 
 been built in the midst of the ocean, although the secret of its 
 true position is partly, yet not painfully betrayed, by the cluster 
 of piles set to mark the deep water channels, which undulate 
 far away in spotty chains like the studded backs of huge sea- 
 snakes, and by the quick glittering of the crisped and crowded 
 waves that flicker and dance before the strong winds upon the 
 unlifted level of the shallow sea. But the scene is widely dif- 
 ferent at low tide. A fall of eighteen or twenty inches is 
 enough to show ground over the greater part of the lagoon ; 
 
2o6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and at the complete ebb, the city is seen standing in the midst 
 of a dark plain of sea-weed, of gloomy green, except only 
 where the larger branches of the Brenta and its associated 
 streams converge towards the port of the Lido. 
 
 Plato, Critias, 115c. sqq. ; Timaus, 23. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 '"T^HROUGH this salt and sombre plain, the gondola and 
 X the fishing-boat advance by tortuous channels, seldom 
 more than four or five feet deep, and often so choked with 
 slime that the heavier keels furrow the bottom, till their cross- 
 ing tracks are seen through the clear sea-water like the ruts 
 upon a wintry road, and the oar leaves blue gashes upon the 
 ground at every stroke, or is entangled among the thick weed 
 that fringes the banks with the weight of its sullen waves, lean- 
 ing to and fro upon the uncertain sway of the exhausted tide. 
 The scene is often profoundly impressive, even at this day, 
 when every plot of higher ground bears some fragment of fair 
 building ; but in order to know what it once was, let the 
 traveller follow in his boat at evening the windings of some 
 unfrequented channel far into the midst of the melancholy 
 plain ; let him remove, in his imagination, the brightness of 
 the great city that still extends itself in the distance, and the 
 walls and towers from the islands that are near, and so wait 
 until the bright investiture and sweet warmth of the sunset are 
 withdrawn from the waters, and the black desert of their shore 
 lies in its nakedness beneath the night, pathless, comfortless, 
 infirm, lost in dark languor and fearful silence, except where the 
 salt ninlets plash into the tideless pools, or the sea-birds flit 
 from their margins with a questioning cry ; and he will be en- 
 abled to enter in some sort into the horror of heart with which 
 this solitude was anciently chosen by man for his habitation. 
 Plato, Critias, in, 112, 117, 118. 
 
Miscellaneous. 207 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 ASK a follower of Bacon what the new philosophy has 
 effected for mankind, and his answer is ready : — ' It 
 has lengthened life ; it has mitigated pain ; it has extinguished 
 diseases ; it has increased the fertility of the soil ; it has given 
 new securities to the mariner ; it has furnished new arms to 
 the warrior ; it has spanned great rivers and estuaries with 
 bridges of form unknown to our fathers ; it has guided the 
 thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth ; it has lighted 
 up the night with the splendour of the day ; it has extended 
 the range of human vision ; it has multiplied the power of the 
 human muscles ; it has accelerated motion ; it has annihilated 
 distance ; it has facilitated intercourse, correspondence, all 
 friendly offices, all despatch of business ; it has enabled man 
 to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into the air, to 
 penetrate securely into the noxious recesses of the earth, to 
 traverse the land in cars which whirl along without horses, and 
 the ocean in ships which run ten knots an hour against the 
 wind. These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first-fruits. 
 For it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never 
 attained its limit, which is never perfect. Its law is progress. 
 A point which yesterday was invisible is its goal to-day, and 
 will be its starting-post to-morrow. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 NOR did Bacon ever meddle with those enigmas which 
 have puzzled hundreds of generations, and will puzzle 
 hundreds more. He said nothing about the grounds of moral 
 obligation, or the freedom of the human will. He had no 
 inclination to employ himself in labours resembling those of 
 the damned in the Grecian Tartarus, to spin for ever on the 
 
2o8 For Greek Prose. 
 
 same wheel round the same pivot, to gape for ever after the 
 same deluding clusters, to pour water for ever into the same 
 bottomless buckets, to pace for ever to and fro on the same 
 wearisome path after the same recoiling stone. He exhorted 
 his disciples to prosecute researches of a very different descrip- 
 tion, to consider moral science as a practical science, of which 
 the object was to cure the diseases and perturbations of the 
 mind, and which could be improved only by a method analo- 
 gous to that which has improved medicine and surgery. 
 Moral philosophers ought, he said, to set themselves vigorously 
 to work for the purpose of discovering what are the actual 
 effects produced on the human character by particular modes 
 of education, by the indulgence of particular habits, by the 
 study of particular books, by society, by emulation, by imita- 
 tion. Then we might hope to find out what mode of training 
 was most likely to preserve and restore moral health. ' 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 THAT principle to which policy owes its stability, life its 
 happiness, faith its acceptance, and creation its con- 
 tinuance, is obedience. Nor is it the least among the sources 
 of more serious satisfaction which I have found in the pursuit 
 of a subject that at first appeared to bear but slightly on the 
 grave interests of mankind, that the condition of material per- 
 fection which it leads me in conclusion to consider, furnishes a 
 strange proof how false is the conception, how frantic the pur- 
 suit of that treacherous phantom which men call Liberty ; 
 most treacherous indeed of all phantoms : for the feeblest ray 
 of reason might surely show us, that not only its attainment, 
 but its being was impossible. There is no such thing in the 
 Universe. There can never be. The stars have it not : the 
 earth has it not : the sea has it not : and we men have the 
 
Miscellaneous. 209 
 
 mockery and semblance of it only for our heaviest punisli- 
 ment. 
 
 The enthusiast would indeed say that by Liberty he meant 
 the Law of Liberty. Then why use the single and misunder- 
 stood word % If by liberty you mean chastisement of the pas- 
 sions, discipline of the intellect, subjection of the will; if you 
 mean the fear of inflicting, the shame of committing, a wrong ; 
 if you mean respect for all who are in authority, and consider- 
 ation for all who are in dependence, veneration for the good, 
 mercy to the evil, sympathy with the weak ; if you mean 
 watchfulness over all thoughts, temperance in all pleasures, 
 and perseverance in all toils, why do you name this by the 
 same word by which the luxurious mean license, and the reck- 
 less mean change ; by which the rogue means rapine, and the 
 fool equality; by which the proud mean anarchy, and the malig- 
 nant mean violence ? Call it by any name rather than this, 
 but its best and truest is obedience. 
 
 Plato, Corgias, if)l, D. sqq. 
 
 XXXVIIL 
 
 YOU hear every day great numbers of foolish people 
 speaking about liberty as if it were such an honourable 
 thing : so far from being that, it is on the whole and in the 
 broadest sense dishonourable, and an attribute of the lower 
 creatures. No human being, however great and powerful, was 
 ever so free as a fish. There is always something that he 
 must, or must not do, while the fish may do whatever he likes. 
 You will find, on fairly thinking of it, that it is his restraint 
 which is honourable to man, not his liberty ; and what is more, 
 it is restraint which is honourable even in the lower animals. A 
 butterfly is much more free than a bee : but you honour the bee 
 more, just because it is subject to certain laws which fit it for 
 
 o 
 
2 1 o For Greek Prose. 
 
 orderly function in bee society. And throughout the world, of the 
 two abstract things liberty and restraint, restraint is always the 
 more honourable. It is true, indeed, that in these and all other 
 matters you never can reason finally from the abstraction, for 
 both liberty and restraint are good when they are nobly chosen, 
 and both are bad when they are basely chosen : but of the two, 
 I repeat, it is restraint which characterizes the higher creature, 
 and betters the lower creature : and from the ministering of 
 the archangel, to the labour of the insect ; from the poising of 
 the planets, to the gravitation of a grain of dust, the power and 
 glory of all creatures and all matter consist in their obedience, 
 not in their freedom. The sun has no liberty, a dead leaf has 
 much. The dust of which you are formed has no liberty. Its 
 liberty will come — with its corruption. 
 
 Plato, Gorgiai, 504, c. syj. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 PERICLES spoke to men whom the tribute of vanquished 
 cities supplied with food and clothing, with the luxury 
 of the bath, and the amusements of the theatre, on whom the 
 greatness of their country conferred rank, and before whom the 
 members of less prosperous communities trembled. To be 
 butchered on the smoking ruins of their city, to be dragged in 
 chains to a slave market, to see one child torn from them to 
 dig in the quarries of Sicily, and another to grace the harems 
 of Persepolis, — these were the frequent and probable conse- 
 quences of national calamities in those times. Hence among 
 the Greeks patriotism became a governing principle, or rather 
 an ungovernable passion. Their legislators and their philoso- 
 phers took it for granted that in providing for the strength and 
 greatness of the state, they sufficiently provided for the happi- 
 ness of the people. 
 
Miscellaneous. 
 
 21 I 
 
 XL. 
 
 AN Athenian citizen, it is true, might possess very few 
 volumes, and the largest library to which he had access 
 might be much less valuable than that of a scholar in the pre- 
 sent day. But the Athenian might pass every morning in con- 
 versation with Socrates, and might hear Pericles speak four or 
 five times every month. He saw the plays of Sophocles and 
 Aristophanes; he walked amidst the friezes of Phidias and 
 the paintings of Zeuxis : he knew by heart the choruses of 
 .(Eschylus : he heard the rhapsodist at the corner of the street 
 reciting the shield of Achilles, or the death of Argus : he was 
 a legislator, conversant with high questions of alliance, revenue, 
 and war : he was a soldier, trained under a liberal and gener- 
 ous discipline : he was a judge, compelled every day to weigh 
 the effect of opposite arguments. These things were in them- 
 selves an education, eminently fitted, not indeed to form exact 
 or profound thinkers, but to give quickness to the perceptions, 
 delicacy to the taste, fluency to the expression, and politeness 
 to the manners. 
 
 Isocrates, ad Nicoclem. Orat. ii. p. 15, b.; de Permut. xv. 310, b. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 IT not unfrequently happens that a tinker or coalheaver 
 hears a sernion, or falls in with a tract which alarms him 
 about the state of his soul. If he be a man of excitable nerves 
 and strong imagination, he thinks himself given over to the 
 Evil Power. His sleep is broken by dreams of the great 
 judgment-seat, the open books, and the unquenchable fire. If, 
 in order to escape from these vexing thoughts, he flies to 
 amusement or to licentious indulgence, the delusive relief only 
 makes his misery darker and more hopeless. At length a turn 
 
212 For Greek Prose. 
 
 borrow the fine imagery of one who had himself been thus 
 tried, he emerges from the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 from the dark land of gins and snares, of quagmires and preci- 
 pices, of evil spirits and ravenous beasts. The sunshine is on 
 his path. He ascends the Delectable Mountains, and catches 
 from their summit a distant view of the shining city, which is 
 the end of his pilgramage. Then arises in his mind a natural 
 and surely not a censurable desire, to impart to others the 
 thoughts of which his own heart is full, to warn the careless, 
 to comfort those who are troubled in spirit. The impulse 
 which urges him to devote his whole life to the teaching of 
 religion is a strong passion in the guise of a duty. He exhorts 
 his neighbours : and, if he be a man of strong parts, he often 
 does so with great effect. 
 
 Plato, Repub. 330, D. ; Apolog. Soc. 28, E. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 AS respects natural religion, it is not easy to see that a 
 philosopher of the present day is more favourably situ- 
 ated than Thales or Simonides. He has before him just the 
 same, evidences of design in the structure of the universe 
 which the early Greeks had. We say just the same ; for the 
 discoveries of modern astronomers and anatomists have really 
 added nothing to the force of that argument which a reflect- 
 ing mind finds in every beast, bird, insect, fish, leaf, flower, 
 and shell. As to the other great question — the question what 
 becomes of man after death, we do not see that a highly edu- 
 cated European, left to his unassisted reason, is more likely 
 to be in the right than a Blackfoot Indian. Not a single one 
 of the many sciences in which we surpass the Blackfoot Indians 
 throws the smallest light on the state of the soul after the 
 animal life is extinct. 
 
Miscellaneous. 213 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 THE evening was now far past, and they rose to return 
 home. As they walked along the bank of the Nile, 
 delighted with the beams of the moon quivering on the water, 
 they saw at a small distance an old man, whom the prince 
 had often heard in the assembly of the sages. ' Yonder,' said 
 he, ' is one whose years have calmed his passions, but not 
 clouded his reason : let us close the disquisitions of the night 
 by inquiring what are his sentiments of his own state, that we 
 may know whether youth alone is to struggle with vexation, and 
 whether any better hope remains for the latter part of life.' 
 
 Here the sage approached, and saluted them. They invited 
 him to join their walk, and prattled awhile, as acquaintances 
 that had unexpectedly met one another. The old man was 
 cheerful and talkative, and the way seemed short in his com- 
 pany. He was pleased to find himself not disregarded, ac- 
 companied them to their house, and at the prince's request 
 entered with them. They placed him in the seat of honour, 
 and set wine and conserves before him. 
 
 ' Sir,' said the princess, ' an evening walk must give to a 
 man of learning like you pleasures which ignorance and youth 
 can hardly conceive. You know the qualities and the causes 
 of all that you behold, the laws by which the river flows, the 
 period in which the planets perform their revolutions. Every- 
 thing must supply you with contemplation, and renew the con- 
 sciousness of your own dignity. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 THEN follows a touching description of the misery of a 
 man of letters who had entered the service of one of 
 
214 P'o''' Greek Prose. 
 
 own childish ambition, 'would nothing content me but that I 
 must leave mine old pursuits and mine old companions, and 
 the life which was without care, and the sleep which had no 
 limit save mine own pleasure, and the walks which I was free 
 to take where I listed, and fling myself into the lowest pit of 
 a dungeon like this ? And, O God ! for what ? Was there 
 no way by which I might have enjoyed in freedom comforts 
 even greater than those which I now earn by servitude! 
 Like a lion which has been made so tame that men may lead 
 him about by a thread, I am dragged up and down, with 
 broken and humbled spirit, at the heels of those to whom, in 
 mine own domain, I should have been an object of awe and 
 wonder. And worst of all, I feel that here I gain no credit, 
 that here I give no pleasure. The talents and accomplish- 
 ments which charmed a far different circle, are here out of 
 place. I am rude in the arts of palaces, and can ill bear com- 
 parison with those whose calling from their youth up has been 
 to flatter and to sue. Have I then two lives, that, after I 
 have wasted one in the service of others, there may yet remain 
 to me a second which I may live unto myself?' 
 
 Luciau, de mercede conductis, 23. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 MISINFORMATION is another source of evil : both 
 parties equally treat the commissioners with deceit. 
 The only people who can throw light upon the subject will not, 
 It is difficult not to be won by the first speaker, if he carries 
 the air of mildness and is master of his tale ; or not to be 
 biassed in favour of infirmity or infancy. Those who cannot 
 assist themselves we are much inclined to assist. Nothing dis- 
 solves like tears. Though they arise from weakness, they are 
 powerful advocates, which instantly disarm, particularly those 
 
Miscellaneous. 
 
 215 
 
 which the afflicted wish to hide. They come from the heart 
 and will reach it, if the judge has a heart to reach. Distress 
 and pity are inseparable. Perhaps there never was a judge, 
 from seventeen to seventy, who could look with indifference 
 upon beauty in distress ; if he could, he was unfit to be a 
 judge. He should be a stranger to decision who is a stranger 
 to compassion. All these matters influence the man, and warp 
 his judgment. 
 
 XLVI, 
 
 THIS revolution, say they, was the act of the majority of 
 the people ; and if the majority of any other people, 
 the people of England for' instance, wish to make the same 
 change, they have the same right. Just the same, un- 
 doubtedly. That is none at all. Neither the few nor the 
 many have a right to act merely by their will in any matter 
 connected with duty, trust, engagement, or obligation. The 
 constitution of a country being once settled upon some com- 
 pact, tacit or expressed, there is no power existing of force to 
 alter it without the breach of the covenant or the consent of 
 all parties. Such is the nature of a contract. And the votes 
 of the majority of the people, whatever their infamous flatterers 
 may teach in order to corrupt their minds, cannot alter the 
 moral any more than they can alter the physical essence of 
 things. The people are not to be taught to think lightly of 
 their engagements to their governors : else they teach governors 
 to think lightly of their engagements towards them. In that 
 kind of game in the end the people are sure to be losers. To 
 flatter them into a contempt of faith, truth, and justice is to 
 ruin them ; for in these virtues consists their whole safety. To 
 flatter any man or any part of mankind by asserting that in 
 engagements he or they are free whilst any other human crea- 
 
2 1 6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 ture is bound, is ultimately to rest the rule of morality in the 
 pleasure of those who ought to be rigidly submitted to it : to 
 subject the sovereign reason of the world to the caprices of 
 weak and giddy men. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 WE said that the history of England is the history of pro- 
 gress ; and, when we take a comprehensive view of 
 it, it is so. But when examined in small separate portions, it 
 may with more propriety be called a history of actions and re- 
 actions. We have often thought that the motion of the public 
 mind in our country resembles that of the sea when the tide is 
 rising. Each successive wave rushes forward, breaks, and 
 rolls back; but the great flood is steadily coming in. A per- 
 son who looked on the waters only for a moment might fancy 
 that they were retiring. A person who looked on them only 
 for five minutes might fancy that they were rushing capriciously 
 to and fro. But when he keeps his eye on them for a quarter 
 of an hour, and sees one sea-mark disappear after another, it 
 is impossible for him to doubt of the general direction in 
 which the ocean is moved. Just such has been the course 
 of events in England. In the history of the national mind, 
 which is, in truth, the history of the sation, we must carefully 
 distinguish between that recoil which regularly follows every 
 advance and a general ebb. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 BUT the very considerations which lead us to look forward 
 with sanguine hope to the future, prevent us from look 
 ing back with contempt to the past. We do not flatter our- 
 
Miscellaneous. 2 1 7 
 
 selves with the notion that we have attained perfection, and 
 that no more truth remains to be found. We beUeve that we 
 are wiser than our ancestors. We believe, also, that our 
 posterity will be wiser than we. It would be gross injustice 
 in our grandchildren to talk of us with contempt, merely 
 because they may have surpassed us. As we would have our 
 descendants judge us, so ought we to judge our fathers. In 
 order to form a correct estimate of their merits, we ought to 
 place ourselves in their situation, to put out of our minds, for 
 a time, all that knowledge which they, however eager in the 
 pursuit of truth, could not have, and which we, however negli- 
 gent we may have been, could not help having. It was not 
 merely difficult, but absolutely impossible, for the best and 
 greatest of men, two hundred years ago, to be what a very 
 common-place person in our days may easily be, and indeed 
 must necessarily be. But it is too much that the benefactors 
 of mankind, after having been reviled by the dunces of their 
 own generation for going too far, should be reviled by the 
 dunces of the next generation for not going far enough. 
 
 Isocrates, Panathen. Orat. xii. p. 238, h. sqc[. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 SIR, I would ask whether any man will tell me that the 
 crime of rebellion depends on five, or six, or fifty, or five 
 thousand men assembled together 1 I say, no ; that is not the 
 standard to which to refer the question of rebellion. If there 
 be a systematic plan formed for the destruction of a country, 
 and there is a concert of men, whether three or five, or any 
 other number, to accomplish that end, whether by burglary, 
 or robbery, or murder, or any species of criminahty whatever, 
 or, in furtherance of that plan, to deter the loyal and peaceable 
 part of the community from being true to their allegiance, for 
 the purpose of executing with more facility their martial law. 
 
2 1 8 For Greek Prose. 
 
 as a system either of terror or otherwise, to rob triumphantly, 
 or take away by stealth — whether it be ' the pestilence that 
 walketh in the darkness, or the sword that wasteth in the 
 noonday,' if its character be rebellion, rebellion be it called : 
 if its effect be to defeat the purposes of civil process, whether 
 by skulking with the dagger of the assassin in its hand, or by 
 assuming the parade, the pomp, and the circumstance of, I 
 will not say glorious war, it is still, rebellion. Whether flagi- 
 tious, bold, and open, or sly, insinuating, and crafty — whether 
 with much or with little bloodshed, may be points that may 
 constitute a difference in the degree, but which is most detest- 
 able, is a thing not worth debating. 
 
 THOSE are terrible conjunctures, when the discontents of 
 a nation, not light and capricious discontents, but dis- 
 contents which have been steadily increasing during a long 
 series of years, have attained their full maturity. The dis- 
 cerning few predict the approach of these conjunctures, but 
 predict in vain. To the many, the evil comes as a total 
 eclipse of the sun at noon conies to a nation of savages. 
 Society, which, but a short time before, was in a state of per- 
 fect repose, is on a sudden agitated with the most fearful con- 
 vulsions, and seems to be on the verge of dissolution ; and 
 the rulers who, till the mischief was beyond the reach of all 
 ordinary remedies, had never bestowed one thought on its 
 existence, stand bewildered and panic-stricken, without tiope 
 01 resource, in the midst of the confusion. One such con- 
 juncture this generation has seen. God grant that we may 
 nevei see anothei ! 
 
JMiscellaneous. 2^19 
 
 LI. 
 
 IT is easy to conceive how, under any less beneficent dis- 
 position of the masses of hill, the continents of the earth 
 might either have been covered with enormous lakes, as parts 
 of North America actually are covered, or have become wil- 
 dernesses of pestiferous marsh, upon which the water would 
 have dried as it fell, leaving them for great part of the year 
 desert. Such districts do exist, and exist in vastness : the 
 whole earth is not prepared for the habitation of man ; only 
 certain small portions are prepared for him — the houses, as it 
 were, of the human race, from which they are to look abroad 
 upon the rest of the world, not to wonder or complain that it 
 is not all house, but to be grateful for the kindness of the 
 admirable building in the house itself as compared with the 
 rest. It would be as absurd to think it an evil that all the 
 world is not fit for us to inhabit, as to think it an evil that 
 the globe is no larger than it is. As much as we shall ever 
 need is evidently assigned to us for our dwelling-place : the 
 rest, covered with rolHng waves or drifting sands, fretted with 
 ice or crested with fire, is set before us for contemplation in 
 uninhabitable magnificence ; and that part which we are en- 
 abled to inhabit, owes its fitness for human life chieily to its 
 mountain ranges, which, throwing the superfluous rain off as 
 it falls, collect it in streams and lakes, and guide it into given 
 places and in given directions ; so that men can build their 
 cities in the midst of fields which they know will be always 
 fertile, and establish the lines of their commerce upon streams 
 that will not fail. 
 
 Plato, Critias. no, sqq. 
 
2 20 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LII. 
 
 THERE is sufficient evidence to the fact that Palestine 
 also, a country abounding in mountains and barren 
 plains, was enabled in a remote age, under a wise and prosper- 
 ous administration, to crown its rocks with mould, and cover 
 its sands with verdure, till every comer of the narrow land was 
 devoted to the raising of food for man, and a wide-spread 
 commerce on either sea supplied the requirements of an im- 
 mense population. She had been reduced from this palmy 
 state by intestine divisions and domestic oppression. She 
 next became the prey of foreign conquerors, and her children, 
 already impoverished and diminished in number, were carried 
 off into distant captivity. Their ultimate restoration to their 
 own country had not sufficed to repair the decay of this excep- 
 tional fertility. Successive attacks from Syria and Egypt kept 
 Palestine in a constant state of weakness and poverty; the 
 population outgrew the scanty means of subsistence offered 
 by an ungrateful soil, and the resource of emigration was ac- 
 cepted by one perhaps from choice but by ten times that 
 number from necessity. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 2. Isocrates, Busiris, Or. xi. 223, D. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 IF you will secure a contented spirit, you must measiire your 
 desires by your fortune and condition, not your fortunes 
 by your desires ; that is, be governed by your needs, not by 
 your fancy, by nature, not by evil customs and ambitious prin- 
 ciples. He that would shoot an arrow out of a plough, or 
 hunt a hare with an elephant, is not unfortunate for missing 
 the mark or prey, but he is foolish for choosing such unapt 
 instruments : and so is he that runs after contentment with 
 
WP 
 
 Miscellaneous. 221 
 
 appetites not springing from natural deeds, but from artificial, 
 fantastical, and violent necessities. These are not to be satis- 
 fied j or if they were, a man hath chosen an evil instrument 
 towards his contentment : nature did not intend rest to a man 
 by filling of such desires. Is that beast better that hath two 
 or three mountains to graze on, than a little bee that feeds on 
 dew, and lives upon what falls every morning from the store- 
 houses of heaven, clouds and providence ? Can a man quench 
 his thirst better out of a river than a full urn, or drink better 
 from the fountain when it is finely paved with marble than 
 when it swells over the green turf? 
 
 Plato, Gorgias, 493. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 THE myth is a reproduction of the old story of the break 
 of day. The bright cows, the rays of the sun or the 
 rain-clouds — for both go by the same name — have been stolen 
 by the powers of darkness, by the Night and her manifold 
 progeny. Gods and men are anxious for their return. But 
 where are they to be found ? They are hidden in a dark and 
 strong stable, or scattered along the ends of the sky, and the 
 robbers will not restore them. At last, in the farthest distance, 
 the first signs of the Dawn appear ; she peers about, and runs 
 with lightning quickness, like a hound upon a scent, across the 
 darkness of the sky. She is looking for something, and fol- 
 lowing the right path ; she has found it. She has heard the 
 lowing of the cows, and she returns to her starting-place with 
 more intense splendour. After her return, there rises Indra, 
 the god of light, ready to do battle in good earnest against the 
 gloomy powers, to break open the strong stable in which the 
 bright cows were kept, and to bring light, and strength, and 
 life back to his pious worshippers. 
 
 Plato, Cratyl. 405, sqq., 408. 
 
222 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LV. 
 
 IT is impossible to enter fully into all the thoughts and feel- 
 ings that passed through the minds of the early poets 
 when they formed names for that far far East from whence 
 even the early dawn, the sun, the day, their own life, seemed 
 to spring. A new life flashed up every morning before their 
 eyes, and the fresh breezes of the dawn reached them like 
 greetings wafted across the golden threshold of the sky from 
 the distant lands beyond the mountains, beyond the clouds, 
 beyond the dawn, beyond 'the immortal sea which brought us 
 hither.' The Dawn seemed to them to open golden gates for 
 the sun to pass in triumph, and while those gates were open 
 their eyes and their minds strove in their childish way to 
 pierce beyond the limits of this finite world. That silent 
 aspect awakened in the human mind the conception of the 
 Infinite, the Immortal, the Divine, and the names of Dawn . 
 became naturally the names of higher powers. 
 
 Plato, Cratyl. 411, B. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 THEN they looked round upon the earth, and said within 
 themselves, ' Where is the All- Father, if All-Father 
 there be ? Not in this earth ; for it will perish. Nor in the 
 sun, moon, or stars ; for they will perish too. Where is he 
 who abideth for ever?' Then they lifted up their eyes, and 
 saw, as they thought, beyond sun, and moon, and stars, and 
 all which changes, and will change, the clear blue sky, the 
 boundless firmament of heaven. That never changed ; that 
 was always the same. The clouds and storms rolled far 
 below it, and all the bustle of this noisy world ; but there the 
 sky was still, as bright and calm as ever. The All-Father must 
 be there, unchangeable in the unchanging heaven ; bright, and 
 
miscellaneous. 223 
 
 pure, and boundless like the heavens : and like the heavens, 
 too, silent and far off. 
 
 So they named him after the heaven, Tuisco — the God who 
 lives in the clear heaven, the heavenly Father. He was the 
 Father of Gods and men : and man was the son of Tuisco and 
 Hertha — heaven and earth. 
 
 Plato, Cratyl. 396, 397, c. sqfi. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 jE ch 'ties C~\ '^■^•^'^ ^^ ^"^^ \>&&ri born in other days 1 
 V_y The best men always fall upon the worst. 
 Phocion. The gods have not granted us, ^schines, the 
 choice of being bom when we would : that of dying when 
 we would, they have. Thank them for it, as one among 
 the most excellent of their gifts, and remain or go as 
 utility or dignity may require. Whatever can happen to a 
 wise and virtuous man from his worst enemy, whatever is 
 most dreaded by the inconsiderate and irresolute, has hap- 
 pened to him frequently from himself, and not only without his 
 inconvenience, but without his observation. We are prisoners 
 as often as we bolt our doors, exiles as often as we walk to 
 Munychia, and dead as often as we sleep. It would be a folly 
 and a shame to argue that these things are voluntary, and that 
 what our enemy imposes are not : they should be the more if 
 they befell us from necessity, unless necessity be a weaker 
 reason than caprice. In fine, ^schines, I shall then call the 
 times bad when they make me so ; at present they are to be 
 borne, as must be the storm that follows them. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 THE Greeks had no abhorrence for kings : the descend- 
 ant of a hero-race, ruling over a people whom his 
 
2 24 -^"^^ Greek Prose. 
 
 obloquy either with the people or with the philosophers. But 
 a tyrant, a man of low or ordinary birth, who by force or fraud 
 had seated himself on the necks of his countrymen, to gorge 
 each prevailing passion of his nature at their cost, with no 
 principle but the interest of his own power, such a man was 
 regarded as a wild beast, that had broken into the fold of 
 society, and whom it was every one's right and duty, by any 
 means or with any weapon, presently to destroy. Such mere 
 monsters of selfishness Christian Europe has rarely seen. The 
 most unprincipled of modern sovereigns would yet have ac- 
 knowledged that he owed a duty to his people for the discharge 
 of which he was answerable to God : but the Greek tyrant 
 regarded his subjects as the mere instruments of his own 
 gratification : fortune or his own superiority had given him 
 extraordinary means of indulging his favourite passions, and 
 it would be folly to forego the opportunity. 
 
 Isocrates, de Pace, ill [Oral. viii. 177] ; Evagoras, 35 [Orat ix. 195]. 
 Xenophon, Hiem. ii. 6. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 IN a community of hunters or shepherds every man easily 
 and necessarily becomes a soldier. His ordinary avoca- 
 tions are perfectly compatible with all the duties of military 
 service. However remote may be the expedition on which he 
 is bound, he finds it easy to transport with him the stock from 
 which he derives his subsistence. The whole people is an 
 army ; the whole year a march. But a people which subsists 
 by the cultivation of the earth is in a very different situation. 
 The husbandman is bound to the soil on which he labours. A 
 long campaign would be ruinous to him. Still his pursuits are 
 such as to give to his frame both the active and passive strength 
 necessary to a soldier. Nor do they demand his uninterrupted 
 
Miscellaneous. 225 
 
 attention. Thus the armies of Rome were supplied during 
 its earlier wars. The season during which the fields did not 
 require the presence of the cultivators sufficed for a short in- 
 road and battle. 
 
 Xenophon, de Rep. Lac. vii. Thucydides, i. 141. 
 
 LX. 
 
 THERE is scarce such another destructive thing to king- 
 doms and commonwealths, as that the counsellors, or 
 senators, who sit at the helm, should be naturally scorners ; 
 who, to show themselves courageous advisers, are always ex- 
 tenuating the greatness of dangers, insulting, as fearful 
 wretches, those who weigh them as they ought, and ridiculing 
 the ripening delays of counsel and debate, as tedious matters 
 of oratory, unserviceable to the general issue of business. 
 They despise rumours as the breath of the rabble, and things 
 that will soon pass over, though the counsels of princes are to 
 be chiefly directed from hence. They account the power and 
 authority of laws but nets unfit to hold great matters. They 
 reject, as dreams and melancholy notions, those counsels and 
 precautions that regard futurity at a distance. They satirize 
 and banter such men as are really prudent and knowing in 
 affairs, or such as bear noble minds, and are capable of advis- 
 ing. In short, they sap all the foundations of political govern- 
 ment at once — a thing which deserves the greater attention, as 
 it is not effected by open attack, but by secret undermining ; 
 nor is it, by any means, so much suspected among mankind 
 as it deserves. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 37, 38, 42, 43 ; vi. 35, 36-40. 
 Isocrates, de Pace, lo, sq<i. [Orat. viii. 160.] 
 
2 26 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 THE condition of Dionysius seemed desperate. Block- 
 aded by sea and land, with a people impatient of his 
 despotism, with a force of mercenaries, who, the moment that 
 he became unable to pay them, might betray him either to the 
 enemy without the walls, or to his political adversaries within : 
 he held a council with his friends in the citadel, and expressed 
 his purpose of leaving Syracuse to its fate, and attempting to 
 eflfect his own escape by sea. One of them boldly answered, 
 ' A king's robe is a noble winding-sheet.' At these words the 
 spirit of Dionysius rose within him, and he resolved to live or 
 die a king. 
 
 Isocrates, Archid. Oral. vi. p. 125. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 IT was the afternoon of the day : and as it was the season 
 of the Dionysia, when the great dramatic contests took 
 place, and the prizes were awarded to the most approved poet, 
 the whole Tarentine people were assembled in the theatre, the 
 seats of which looked directly towards the sea. All saw a 
 Roman fleet of ships of war in undoubted breach of the treaty 
 existing between the two states, which forbade the Romans to 
 sail to the eastward of the Lacinian headland, attempting to 
 make its way. into their harbour. Full of wine and in the care- 
 less spirits of a season of festival, they readily listened to a 
 worthless demagogue named Philocharis, who called upon them 
 to punish instantly the treachery of the Romans, and save 
 their ships and their city. So the Tarentines manned their 
 ships, sailed out to meet the Romans, put them instantly to 
 flight, sunk four of their ships without resistance, and took one 
 with all its crew. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 71 ; vi. 44, 52. 
 
Miscellaneoiis. 
 
 227 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 IT is difficult even for the imagination to conceive the feel- 
 ings of such a man at the moment of so sublime a 
 discovery. What a bewildering crowd of conjectures must 
 have thronged upon his mind as to the land which lay before 
 him covered with darkness. That it was fruitful, was evident 
 from the vegetables which floated from its shores. He 
 thought, too, that he perceived in the balmy air the fragrance 
 of aromatic groves. The moving light which he had beheld, 
 had proved that it was the residence of man. But what were 
 its inhabitants ? Were they like those of the other parts of 
 the globe ? or were they some strange and monstrous race, 
 such as the imagination in those times was prone to give to all 
 remote and unknown regions % Had he come upon some wild 
 island far in the Indian Sea % or was this the famed Cipango 
 itself, the object of his golden fancies ? A thousand specula- 
 tions of the kind must have swarmed upon him, as with his 
 anxious crews he waited for the night to pass away, wondering 
 whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, 
 or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and gilded 
 cities, and all the splendour of Oriental civilisation. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 IT was about the middle of April that Columbus arrived at 
 Barcelona, where every preparation had been made to 
 give him a solemn and magnificent reception. The beauty 
 and serenity of the weather in that genial season and favoured 
 cUmate contributed to give splendour to this memorable cere- 
 mony. As he drew near the place, many of the more youthful 
 courtiers and hidalgos of gallant bearing came forth to meet 
 
2 28 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and welcome him. His entrance into this noble city has been 
 compared to one of those triumphs which the Romans were 
 accustomed to decree to conquerors. First were paraded the 
 Indians painted according to their savage fashion, and deco- 
 rated with tropical feathers, and with their national ornaments 
 of gold ] after these were borne various kinds of live parrots, 
 together with stuffed birds and animals of unknown species, 
 and rare plants, supposed to be of precious qualities : while 
 great care was taken to make a conspicuous display of Indian 
 coronets, bracelets, and other decorations of gold, which might 
 give an idea of the wealth of the newly-discovered regions. 
 After these followed Columbus on horseback, surrounded by 
 a brilliant cavalcade of Spanish chivalry. The streets were 
 almost impassable from the countless multitude : the windows 
 and balconies were crowded with the fair ; the very roofs were 
 covered with spectators. It seemed as if the public eye could 
 not be sated with gazing on these trophies of an unknown 
 world, or on the remarkable man by whom it had been dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Appian, Hist. Rom. viii. 66. 
 LXV. 
 
 THE beginning of nations, those excepted of whom sacred 
 books have spoken, is to this day unknown ; nor only 
 the beginning, but the deeds also of many succeeding ages, yea 
 periods of ages, either wholly unknown or obscured and 
 blemished with Fables. Whether it were that the use of let- 
 ters came in long after, or were it the violence of barbarous 
 inundations, or they themselves at certain revolutions of time 
 fatally decaying, and degenerating into sloth and ignorance : 
 whereby the monuments of more ancient civility have been 
 some destroyed, some lost. Perhaps disesteem and contempt 
 of the public affairs then present, as not worth recording, might 
 
Miscellaneous. 229 
 
 partly be in cause. Certainly ofttimes we see that wise men 
 and of best ability have forborne to write the acts of their own 
 days, while they beheld with a quiet loathing and disdain, not 
 only how unworthy, how perverse, how corrupt, but often how 
 ignoble, how petty, how below all history the persons and their 
 actions were, who either by Fortune or some rude election 
 had attained as a sore judgment, and ignominy upon the land, 
 to have chief sway in managing the commonwealth. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 20, sqq. 97. Isocrates, Panegyr. ad init. Orat. iv. 41, aqq. ; 
 Panathenaic. ad iiiit. Orat. xii. 232. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 BUT notwithstanding all these preparations on this side 
 the sea, the relief and provision was very slowly supplied 
 to the other side, where the rebels still increased in strength, 
 and by the fame of these propositions enlarged their power, 
 very many persons of honour and fortune, who till then had 
 sat still, and either were, or seemed to be, averse to the rebel- 
 lion, joining with them, as being desperate, and conceiving the 
 utter suppressing of their religion, and the very extirpation of 
 their nation, to be decreed against them. And, without doubt, 
 the great reformers here were willing enough to drive them to 
 any extremity, both out of revenge and contempt, as a people 
 easy to be rooted out, and that the war might be kept up still ; 
 since they feared an union in that kingdom might much preju- 
 dice their designs in this, both as it might supply the king with 
 power, and take away much of theirs ; whereas now they had 
 opportunity, with reference to Ireland, to raise both men and 
 money, which they might be able to employ upon more press- 
 ing occasions, as they will be found afterwards to have done. 
 Neither was it out of their expectation and view, that, by the 
 king's consenting to that severe decree, he might very probably 
 
230 For Greek Prose. 
 
 discourage his catholic subjects, in his other dominions, from 
 any extraordinary acts of duty and affection : at least, that it 
 would render him less considered by most catholic princes. 
 Thucydides, viii. 66. 46. 2. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 TO the various overtures made by the enemy, the uncom- 
 promising old general replied that he could enter into 
 no engagements of any kind in the absence of instructions from 
 the supreme government. An order opportunely arrived from 
 head-quarters to confirm his intention of standing fast. But 
 the want of money and provisions had begun by this time to 
 press heavily upon the troops. As a matter of necessary pre- 
 caution, the native inhabitants, to the number of 5000, were 
 now expelled from the town, and Candahar became a secure 
 entrenched position from which operations could safely be 
 extended into the neighbouring districts. These measures 
 taken, he marched out with a considerable force, hoping to 
 provoke the Douranees to a battle, but the enemy skilfully 
 evading a collision, moved back suddenly upon the town, and 
 made a desperate night attack, in which, after burning one of 
 the gates, and calling out all the energies of the garrison for the 
 defence, they were repulsed with great slaughter. 
 Thucydides, ii. 72, «jj. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 THIS cordial assurance and sympathy, from one who 
 exercised a control over the public counsels beyond any 
 other ruler, effectually dispelled the doubts that lingered in 
 the mind of Cortes. He readily accepted his invitation to 
 continue his march at once to the capital, where he would find 
 
Miscellaneous. 231 
 
 so much better accommodation for his army, than on a small 
 town on the frontier. The sick and wounded, placed in ham- 
 mocks, were borne on the shoulders of the friendly natives ; and 
 as the troops drew near the city, the inhabitants came flocking 
 out in crowds to meet them, rending the air with joyous ac- 
 clamations, and wild bursts of their rude Indian minstrelsy. 
 Amidst the general jubilee, however, were heard sounds of 
 wailing and sad lament, as some unhappy relative or friend, 
 looking earnestly into the diminished files of their countrymen, 
 sought in vain for some dear and familiar countenance, and as 
 they turned disappointed away, gave utterance to their sorrow 
 in tones that touched the heart of every soldier in the army. 
 With these mingled accompaniments of joy and woe, the way- 
 worn columns of Cortes at length re-entered the republican 
 capital. 
 
 Thucydides, vii. 75. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 SUDDENLY in the spring, ere the enemy's armies began 
 to move, Scipio set out with his whole army of nearly 
 30,000 men, and his fleet, for this town, which he could reach 
 by the coast route from the mouth of the Ebro in a few days, 
 and surprised the Punip garrison, not above 1000 men strongs 
 by a combined attack by sea and land. The town, situated 
 on a tongue of land projecting into the harbour, found itself 
 threatened at once on three sides by the Roman fleet, and on 
 the fourth by the legions : and all help was far distant. 
 Nevertheless the commandant, Mago, defended himself with 
 resolution, and armed the citizens, as the soldiers did not 
 suffice to man the walls. A sortie was attempted, but the 
 Romans repelled it with ease, and without taking time to open 
 a regular siege, began the assault on the landward side. 
 
232 For Greek Prose. 
 
 Eagerly the assailants pushed their advance along the narrow 
 land approach to the town : new columns constantly reheved 
 those that were fatigued : the weak garrison was utterly ex- 
 hausted ; but the Romans had gained no advantage. Scipio 
 had not expected any : the assault was merely designed to 
 draw away the garrison from the side next to the harbour, 
 where, having been informed that part of the latter was left 
 dry at ebb-tide, he meditated a second attack. While the 
 assault was raging on the landward side, Scipio sent a division 
 with ladders over the shallow bank, ' where Neptune himself 
 showed them the way,' and they had actually the good fortune 
 to find the walls at that point undefended. Thus the city 
 was won on the first day : whereupon Mago, in the citadel, 
 capitulated. 
 
 Thucydides, iv. no, sqq. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 THE Carthaginians were already losing their front-rank 
 warriors, the picked men of the whole, and beginning 
 to fight at a disadvantage, when the gods, yet further befriend- 
 ing Timoleon, set the seal to their discomfiture by an inter- 
 vention manifest and terrific. A storm of the most violent 
 character began. The hill-tops were shrouded in complete 
 darkness : the wind blew a hurricane : rain and hail poured 
 abundantly, with all the awful accompaniments of thunder and 
 lightning. To the Greeks this storm was of little incon- 
 venience, because it came in their backs. But to the Cartha- 
 ginians, pelting as it did directly in their faces, it occasioned 
 both great suffering and soul-subduing alarm. The rain and 
 hail beat, and the lightning flashed, in their faces, so that they 
 could not see to deal with hostile combatants : the noise of 
 the wind, and of hail rattling against their armour, prevented 
 
r 
 
 Miscellaneozis. 233 
 
 the orders of their officers from being heard : the folds of 
 their voluminous military tunics were surcharged with rain- 
 water, so as to embarrass their movements ; the ground pre- 
 sently became so muddy that they could not keep their footing ; 
 and when they once slipped, the weight of their equipment 
 forbade all recovery. 
 
 Diodorus, xvi. 79. Plutarch, Timoleon, 27. 
 
 Thucydides, vi. 79, 70 ; vii. 79. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 WITH the whole blockading squadron, which had taken 
 on board volunteers from the legions, he started 
 about midnight, and sailing in good order, with his right wing 
 by the shore, and his left in the open sea, he safely reached 
 the harbour of Drepana at sunrise. The Phoenician admiral, 
 Artabas, commanded there. Although surprised, he did not 
 lose his presence of mind, or allow himself to be shut up in 
 the harbour ; but as the Roman ships entered the harbour, 
 which opens to the south in the form of a sickle, on the one 
 side, he withdrew his vessels from it by the opposite entrance, 
 which was still free, and stationed them in line on the outside. 
 No other course remained to the Roman admiral but to recall 
 as speedily as possible the foremost vessels from the harbour, 
 and to make his arrangements for battle in like manner in 
 front of it. But in consequence of this retrograde movement 
 he lost the free choice of position, and was obliged to accept 
 battle in a line, which, on the one hand, was outflanked by 
 that of the enemy to the extent of five ships (for there was not 
 time fully to deploy the vessels as they issued from the har- 
 bour), and on the other hand, was crowded so close on the 
 shore, that his vessels could neither retreat, nor sail behind 
 
234 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the line so as to come to each other's aid. Not only was the 
 battle lost ere it began, but the Roman fleet was so completely 
 ensnared that it fell almost wholly into the hands of the enemy. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 83, sqq.; vii. 39, sqti. 
 LXXII. 
 
 BUT was this all ? Even at that very moment, when they 
 were endeavouring to induce you to admit these expla- 
 nations, to be contented with the avowal, that France offered 
 herself as a general guarantee for every successful revolution, 
 and would interfere only to sanction and confirm whatever the 
 free and uninfluenced choice of the people might have decided, 
 what were their orders to their generals on the same subject % 
 In the midst of these amicable explanations with you came 
 forth a decree which I really believe must be effaced from the 
 minds of gentlemen opposite to me, if they can prevail upon 
 themselves for a moment to hint even a doubt upon the origin 
 of this quarrel, not only as to this country, but as to all the 
 nations of Europe with whom France has been subsequently 
 engaged in hostility. I speak of the decree of the fifteenth of 
 December. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona., 28 [Orat. xviii. 232, sqq\. 
 iEschines in Ctes. 58 [Orat. iii. 62] ; 73 [Orat. iii. 64]. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 ' A H, Demosthenes,' whispered he, 'your time is fairly 
 -ijL gone by, we have orators now, whom even you, with 
 all your acuteness and capacity, cannot comprehend.' 
 
 'Whom will they convince,' said I. 
 
 ' Convince ! ' cried my narrator, ' who has ever wished to be 
 persuaded against the grain in any matter of importance or 
 
Miscellaneous. 235 
 
 utility? A child, if you tell him a horrible or a pathetic 
 story, is anxious to be persuaded it is true : men and women, 
 if you tell them one injurious to the respectability of a neigh- 
 bour. Desire of persuasion rests and dies here. We listen 
 to those whom we know to be of the same opinion as our- 
 selves, and we call them wise for being of it ; but we avoid 
 such as differ from us, we pronounce them rash before we 
 have heard them, and still more afterwards lest we should be 
 thought at any time to have erred. We come already con- 
 vinced, we want surprises as at our theatres, astonishment as 
 at the mysteries of Eleusis.' 
 
 'But what astonishes, what surprises you?' 
 
 ' To hear an Athenian talk two hours together, hold us silent 
 and immoveable as the figures of Hermes before our doors, 
 and find not a single one among us that can carry home with 
 him a thought or an expression.' 
 
 'Thou art right !' I exclaimed, 'he is greater than Tripto- 
 lemus ; he not only gives you a plentiful meal out of chaff 
 and husks, but he persuades you that it is a savoury repast' 
 
 Plato, Phcsdrus, 260, sqq. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 ' ' T T AVE courage,' said he, ' Philocles !' raising his voice, 
 ll ' be not offended that I say, Have courage ! 'Tis 
 cowardice alone betrays us. For whence can false shame 
 be except from cowardice ? To be ashamed of what one is 
 sure can never be shameful, must needs be from the want 
 of resolution. We seek the right and wrong in things ; we 
 examine what is honourable, what shameful ; and having at 
 last determined, we dare not stand to our own judgment, and 
 are ashamed to own there is really a shameful and an honour- 
 
zx6 For Greek Prose. 
 
 -o 
 
 able. " Hear me," says one who pretends to value Philocles 
 and to be valued by him ; " there can be no such thing as 
 real valuableness or worth ; nothing in itself estimable or 
 amiable, odious or shameful. All is opinion : 'tis opinion 
 which makes beauty and unmakes it. The graceful or un- 
 graceful in things, the decorum and its contrary, the amiable 
 and unamiable, vice, virtue, honour, shame, all this is founded 
 in opinion only. Opinion is the law and measure. Nor has 
 opinion any rule besides mere chance, which varies it, as 
 custom varies, and makes now this, now that, to be thought 
 worthy, according to the reign of fashion, and the ascendant 
 power of education.'' What shall we say to such a one? 
 How represent to him his absurdity and extravagance ? Will 
 he desist the sooner ?' 
 
 Plato, Protag. 337 D. ; Pluzdrus, 231 E. ; Thcetet. 187 B. sqcf. ; 
 Gorgias, 482. c. 483. Aristotle, Eth. Nic. i, 3, 2. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 BACON has remarked that in ages when philosophy was 
 stationary, the mechanical arts went on improving. 
 Why was this? Evidently because the mechanic was not 
 content with so careless a mode of induction as served the 
 purpose of the philosopher. And why was the philosopher 
 more easily satisfied than the mechanic ? Evidently because 
 the object of the mechanic was to mould things, whilst the 
 object of the philosopher was only to mould words. Careful 
 induction is not at all necessary to the making of a good 
 syllogism. But it is indispensable to the making of a good 
 shoe. Mechanics, therefore, have always been, as far as the 
 range of their humble but useful callings extended, not antici- 
 pators, but interpreters of nature. And when a philosophy 
 arose, the object of which was to do on a large scale what 
 
Miscellaneous. 237 
 
 the mechanic does on a small scale, to extend the power, 
 and to supply the wants of men, the truth of the premises 
 which logically is a matter altogether unimportant, became a 
 matter of the highest importance ; and the careless induction 
 with which men of learning had previously been satisfied gave 
 place of necessity to an induction far more accurate and 
 satisfactory. 
 
 Plato, Gorgias, 517 B. sqq. Aristotle, Ethic. I, 7, 17. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 WHEN the mental appetite of men is become like the 
 corporeal, and cannot relish any food without some 
 piquant sauce, so that people will rather starve than live on 
 solid fare ; when substantial and sound discourse findeth 
 small attention or acceptance ; in such a time, he that can, 
 may in complaisance, and for fashion's sake, vouchsafe to be 
 facetious : an ingenious vein coupled with an honest mind 
 may be a good talent : he shall employ wit commendably, 
 who by it can further the interests of goodness, alluring men 
 first to listen, then inducing them to consent unto its whole- 
 some dictates and precepts. 
 
 Plato, R^ub. 452. Euripides, Medea, 845. 
 
 LXXVII, 
 
 SUCH being' their general idea of the gods, we can now 
 easily understand the habitual tone of their feelings 
 towards what was beautiful in nature. With us the idea of 
 the Divinity is apt to get separated from the life of nature ; 
 and iinagining our God upon a cloudy throne, far above the 
 earth, and not in the flowers or waters, we approach those 
 visible things with a theory that they are dead, governed by 
 
238 For Greek Prose. 
 
 physical laws, and so forth. But coming to them, we find the 
 theory fail ; that they are not dead ; that, say what we choose 
 about them, the instinctive sense of their being alive is too 
 strong for us ; and in scorn of all physical law, the wilful 
 fountain sings, and the kindly flowers rejoice. And then, 
 puzzled, and yet happy ; pleased, and yet ashamed of being 
 so ; accepting sympathy from nature, which we do not believe 
 it gives, and giving sympathy to nature, which we do not 
 believe it receives, — mixing, besides, all manner of purposeful 
 play and conceit with those involuntary fellowships, — we fall 
 necessarily into the curious web of hesitating sentiment, 
 pathetic fallacy, and wondering fancy, which form a great part 
 of our modem view of nature. But the Greek never removed 
 his god out of nature at all ; never attempted for a moment 
 to contradict his instinctive sense that God was everywhere. 
 ' The tree is glad,' said he, ' I know it is ; I can cut it down ; 
 no matter, there was a nymph in it. The water does sing,' 
 said he ; ' I can dry it up ; but no matter, there was a naiad 
 in it.' But in thus clearly defining his belief, he threw it 
 entirely into a human form, and gave his faith to nothing but 
 the image of his own humanity. 
 
 Plato, Phcedrus, 229 B. ; 230 A. ; 258 E. sqq. 
 I.XXVIII. 
 
 POETS have lived so in times \vnen true nobleness was 
 better reverenced ; and so should they ever live. Suffi- 
 ciently provided for within, they had need of little from 
 without ; the gift of communicating lofty emotions and glori- 
 ous images to men, in melodies and words that charmed the 
 ear, and fixed themselves inseparably on whatever objects 
 they referred to, of old enraptured the world, and served the 
 gifted as a rich inheritance. At the courts of kings, at the 
 
Miscellaneous. 2 39 
 
 tables of the great, beneath the windows of the fair, the sound 
 of them was heard, while the ear and the soul were shut for all 
 beside ; and men felt as we do when delight comes over us, 
 and we stop with rapture, if among the dingles we are crossing 
 the voice of the nightingale starts out touching and strong. 
 They found a home in every habitation of the world, and the 
 lowliness of their condition but exalted them the more. The 
 hero listened to their songs ; and the conqueror of the earth 
 did reverence to a poet, for he felt that, without poets, his 
 own wild and vast existence would pass away like a whirlwind 
 and be forgotten for ever. The lover wished that he could 
 feel his longings and his joys so variedly and so harmoniously 
 as the poet's inspired lips had skill to show them forth ; and 
 even the rich man could not of himself discern such costli- 
 ness in his idol grandeurs as when they were presented to him 
 shining in the splendour of the poet's spirit, sensible to -all 
 worth, and exalting all. Nay, if thou wilt have it, who but 
 the poet was it that first formed gods for us ? that exalted us 
 to them, and brought them down to us % 
 
 Flato, Ion, 533 D. sqq. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 WHEN they came to the few Indian houses which they 
 thought had been the town, which was not above 
 half-a-mile off, they were under a great disappointment : for 
 there were not above twelve or thirteen houses; and where 
 the town was, or how big, they knew not. They consulted 
 therefore what to do ; and were some time before they could 
 resolve ; for if they fell upon these, they tnust kill all the 
 inmates, and it was ten to one but some of them might escape, 
 it being in the night, though the moon was up : and if one 
 escaped he would raise all the town, so they should have a 
 
240 For Greek Prose. 
 
 whole army upon them. Again, on the other hand, if they 
 went away, and left those untouched (for the people were all 
 asleep), they could not tell which way to look for the town. 
 However, the last was the best advice. So they resolved to 
 leave them, and look for the town as well as they could. 
 They went on a little way, and found a cow tied to a tree. 
 This, they presently concluded, would be a good guide to them. 
 For they said the cow certainlyi belonged to the town before 
 them or the town behind them : and, if they untied her, they 
 should see which way she went. If she went back, they had 
 nothing to say to her : but if she went forward, they had 
 nothing to do but to follow her. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c. iv. 14-22. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 WHILE they were animating one another to the work, 
 three of them that were a little before the rest, called 
 out aloud that they had found Tom JefTery. They all ran up to 
 the place, and so it was indeed ; for there they found the poor 
 fellow hanged up naked by one arm, and his throat cut. There 
 was an Indian house just by the tree, where they found sixteen 
 or seventeen of the principal Indians who had been concerned 
 in the fray with us before ; and two or three of them wounded 
 with our shot ; and our men found they were awake, and talking 
 one to another in that house, but knew not their number. 
 
 The sight of their poor mangled comrade so enraged them, 
 that they swore they would be revenged, and that not an 
 Indian who came into their hands should have quarter, and 
 to work they went immediately ; and yet not so madly as by 
 the rage and fury they were in might be expected. 
 
 Their first care was to get something that would soon take 
 fire ; but, after a litrie search, they found that would be to no 
 
Miscellaneous. 241 
 
 purpose ; for most of the houses were low, and thatched with 
 flags or rushes of which the country is full. So they presently 
 made some wild-firCj and in less than a quarter of an hour 
 they had set the town on fire in four or five places, and 
 particularly that house where the Indians had not gone to bed. 
 Xenophon, Anab. vii. c. v. 14 ; v. c. ii. 3-27. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 AS soon as the fire began to blaze, the poor frighted 
 creatures began to rush out to save their lives ; but met 
 with their fate in the attempt, and especially at the door, where 
 they drove them back, the boatswain himself killing one or two 
 with his pole-axe. The house being large, and many in it, he did 
 not care to go in, but called for a hand-grenade, and threw it 
 among them, which at first frighted them, but when it burst, 
 made such havoc, that they cried out in a hideous manner. 
 
 In short, most of the Indians who were in the open part of 
 the house, were killed or hurt with the grenade, except two 
 or three more who pressed to the door, which the boatswain 
 and two others kept with their bayonets, and despatched all 
 that came that way. But there was another apartment in the 
 house, where the prince or king or whatever he was, and 
 several others were, and these they kept in till the house, which 
 was by this time all of a light, fell in upon them, and they 
 were smothered or burnt together. The heat presently grew 
 so raging, all the houses being made of light combustible stuff, 
 that they could hardly bear the street between them ; and their 
 business was to follow the fire for the surer execution. As 
 fast as the fire either forced the people out of those houses 
 which were burning, or frighted them out of others, our people 
 were ready at their doors to knock them on the head, still 
 calling and hallooing one to another to remember Tom Jeffery. 
 Xenophon, Anab. v. u. ii. 8 27 ; vii. t. v. 14. 
 Q 
 
LXXXII. 
 
 HOWEVER, we went on, and at length came to the town, 
 though there was no entering the streets of it for the 
 fire. The first object we met with was the ruins of a hut or 
 house, or rather the ashes of it, for the house was consumed ; 
 and just before it, plain now to be seen by the light of the fire, 
 lay four men, and three women killed ; and, as we thought, 
 one or two more lay in the heap among the fire. But this 
 was not all. We saw the fire increase forward, and the cry 
 went on, just as the fire went on, so that we were in the utmost 
 confusion. We advanced a little way further, and behold, to 
 our astonishment, three women naked, and crying in a most 
 dreadful manner, came flying, as if indeed they had wings, 
 and after them sixteen or seventeen men, natives, in the same 
 terror and consternation, with three of our English butchers, 
 for I can call them no better, in their rear, who, when they 
 could not overtake them, fired in among them ; and one that 
 was killed by their shot, fell down in our sight. When the 
 rest saw us, believing us to be their enemies, and that we 
 would murder them, they set up a dreadful shriek, especially 
 the women ; and two of them fell down, as if already dead 
 with the fright. 
 Xenophon, Anab. vii. c. v. 14 ; v. c. ii. 8-27 ; i. c. x. 2 ; ii. c. v. 32. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 THE next day saw the boat leave the ship with a few 
 more men than on the previous occasion, containing 
 in her centre the coffin, covered by a flag, and having in its 
 interior the pseudo corpse. It was met by the Sarkese at the 
 landing-place — nothing more than a few rude steps cut into 
 the face of the cliff j and each man was permitted to leave the 
 boat only after undergoing a most rigid search. All suspicion 
 was at rest with the Sarkese, who, afser crossing themselves 
 
Miscellaneous. 243 
 
 with devout diligence, proceeded to give assistance in the 
 removal of the coffin. To the invaders this was a peculiarly- 
 anxious time, as it was absolutely necessary that none of the 
 islanders should have any idea of its weight. Long ropes had 
 been provided, as. from the precipitous nature of the place, it 
 was requisite to draw the coffin up the rocks ; and the seamen 
 taking great care that none of the Sarkese should lend a hand 
 in the work, with hearts, as may be conjectured, full of the 
 most painful excitement, eventually, after the greatest difficulty, 
 and by an amount of exertion the more painful, from the 
 necessity of its concealment, succeeded in effecting its safe 
 landing upon the summit of the rock. The men drew a long 
 breath ; one of the most formidable of their difficulties had 
 been overcome, and they began to make arrangements for the 
 completion of the funeral ceremony. The Sarkese despatched 
 a body of men to secure the boat, while the rest accompanied 
 their visitors, who shouldered the coffin with a solemnity 
 becoming the supposed character of the occasion, and, with 
 much of the semblance of unfeigned sorrow, carried the remains 
 towards the burial-place. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 BUT all was not sufficient, and hundreds of famished 
 wretches died every day from extremity of suffering. 
 Some dragged themselves into the houses, and drew their last 
 breath alone and in silence. Others sank down in the public 
 streets. Wherever they died they were left : there was no one 
 to bury or to remove them. Familiarity with the spectacle 
 made men indifferent to it : they looked on in dumb despair, 
 waiting for their own turn : there was no complaint, no lamenta- 
 tion, but deep unutterable woe. Men's minds were unsettled 
 by these strange and accumulated horrors. . They resorted to 
 all the superstitious rites prescribed by their religion to stay 
 
244 For Greek Prose. 
 
 the pestilence. They called on their priests to invoke the 
 gods in their behalf: but the oracles were dumb, or gave only 
 gloomy responses : their deities had deserted them, and in their 
 place they saw signs of celestial wrath, telling of still greater 
 woes in reserve. Stunned by their calamities, reason was 
 bewildered, and they became the sport of the wildest fancies. 
 Thucydides, ii. 49, 52-54. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 FOR most of the dreadful details of that horrid night, 
 I must refer to Orme and other writers. It may be 
 enough to mention that the first effect of the confinement 
 seems to have been a profuse perspiration ; then intolerable 
 and raging thirst ; next excruciating pains in the breast, with 
 difficulty of breathing, little short of suffocation. Various 
 means were attempted by the unhappy prisoners to gain room. 
 They stripped off their clothes, and several times tried the 
 experiment of sitting down; but when the order was given 
 to rise again, numbers always sank dead to the ground ! 
 Some skins of water were brought to the window ; but as no 
 one could wait to be regularly served, furious and fatal 
 contests took place, during which the water was scattered 
 uselessly over their heads. Delirium and stupefaction beset 
 most of those who remained alive. Dreadful struggles and 
 mortal combats then arose in the attempts to reach the 
 windows ; so that, at two in the morning, not more than fifty 
 remained alive. Mr. Holwell had sunk apparently dead in 
 the heap when daylight broke ; but as it was thought he 
 might have more influence than the others at the window, 
 he was drawn up, and Captain Mills, with rare generosity, 
 resigned his fresh-air place to him. Mr. Holwell had scarcely 
 begun to recover his senses when the nabob sent to know if 
 the chief of the English was alive, and being told that he had 
 
Miscellaneotis. 245 
 
 survived the night, the prison-door was unlocked. But even 
 then the dead were so piled one upon another, and the 
 survivors had so little strength remaining, that they were 
 employed near half-an-hour in removing the bodies which 
 lay against the door, before they could open a passage to go 
 out, one at a time. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 49; iii. 81. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 THERE were in the town five-and-twenty hundred foot, 
 and a regiment of horse and dragoons ; the line about 
 the town was finished ; yet in some places the graff was wider 
 and deeper than in others. The castle within the town was 
 very well prepared, and supplied with great store of provisions 
 to endure a siege. The opinions were several : the officers 
 of the Cornish were of opinion, that it was best to proceed 
 by way of approach ; because, the ground being very good, ■ 
 it would in a very short time be done ; and since there was 
 no army of the enemy in a possibility to relieve it, the securest 
 way would be the best: whereas the works were so good, 
 that they must expect to lose very many men ; and if they 
 were beaten off all their summer hopes would be destroyed ; 
 it not being easy again to make up the spirit of the army for 
 a new action. Besides, they alleged, the well-affected party 
 in the city, which was believed to be very great, would, after 
 they had been closely besieged three or four days, have a 
 greater influence upon the soldiers, and be able to do more 
 towards the surrender, than they could upon a storm, when 
 they would be equally sensible of the disorder of the soldiers, 
 and their own damage by plunder, as the other; and the too 
 late example of the executed citizens would keep men from 
 offering at any insurrection in the city. 
 
 Thucydides, ii. 2, 3 ; v. 7 ; vi. 99, sqq.; vi. 47, sqq. 
 
246 For Greek Prose. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 THEN Hannibal called his soldiers together, and told 
 them openly that he was going to lead them into Italy. 
 ' The Romans,' he said, ' have demanded that I and my 
 principal officers should be delivered up to them as male- 
 factors. Soldiers, will you suffer such an indignity? The 
 Gauls are holding out their arms to us, inviting us to come 
 to them, and to assist them in revenging their manifold 
 injuries. And the country which we shall invade, so rich in 
 corn and wine and oil, so full of flocks and herds, so covered 
 with flourishing cities, will be the richest prize that could be 
 offered by the gods to reward your valour.' One common 
 shout from the soldiers assured him of their readiness to 
 follow him. He thanked them, fixed the day on which they 
 were to be ready to march, and dismissed them. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. i. c. iv. 1 1 ; i. c. vii. 2 ; ii. c. i. 8, sqq.; iii. c. ii. 7) sqq. ; 
 ill. u. ii. 21, sqq. \ iii. u. i. 19. 
 
 Lxxxvin. 
 
 HERE he obtained from the natives on the right bank, 
 by paying a fixed price, all their boats and vessels 
 of every description with which they were accustomed to 
 traffic down the river: they allowed him also to cut timber 
 for the construction of others ; and thus in two days he was 
 provided with the means of transporting his army. But find- 
 ing that the Gauls were assembled on the eastern bank to 
 oppose his passage, he sent off a detachment of his army by 
 night with native guides, to ascend the right bank, for about 
 two-and-twenty miles, and then to cross as they could, where 
 there was no enemy to stop them. The woods which lined 
 the river supplied this detachment with the means of con- 
 structing barks and rafts enough for the passage ; they took 
 
Miscellaneous. 247 
 
 advantage of one of the many islands in this part of the 
 Rhone, to cross where the stream was divided ; and thus they 
 all reached the left bank in safety. There they took up a 
 strong position, and rested for four-and-twenty hours after 
 their exertions in the march to the passage of the river. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. t. iii. 3, 10, 17, 27 ; iii. c. iv. 7 ; i. t. v. 10 ; 
 ii. c. iii. 10. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 HAMILTON of Bothwellhaugh was the person who com- 
 mitted this barbarous action. He had been con- 
 demned to death soon after the battle of Langside, and owed 
 his life to the Regent's clemency. But part of his estate had 
 been bestowed upon one of the Regent's favourites, who seized 
 his house, and turned out his wife naked, in a cold night, into 
 the open fields, where, before next morning, she became 
 furiously mad. This injury made a deeper impression upon 
 him than the benefit which he had received, and from that 
 moment he vowed to be revenged upon the Regent. He 
 followed the Regent for some time, and watched for an oppor- 
 tunity to strike the blow. He resolved at last to wait till his 
 enemy should arrive at Linlithgow, through which he was to 
 pass on his way from Stirling to Edinburgh. He took his 
 stand in a wooden gallery, which had a window towards the 
 street, and having taken effectual precautions to conceal him- 
 self from the observation of those without, calmly expected 
 the Regent's approach, who had lodged during the night in a 
 part of the town not far distant. Some indistinct information 
 of the danger which threatened him had been conveyed to 
 the Regent, and he paid so much regard to it, that he resolved 
 to return by the same gate through which he had entered, and 
 to fetch a compass round the town. But as the crowd about 
 the gate was great, and he himself unacquainted with fear, he 
 
248 For Greek Prose. 
 
 proceeded directly along the street ; and the throng of the 
 people obliging him to move very slowly, gave the assassin 
 time to take so true an aim, that he shot him with a single 
 bullet through the lower part of his belly, and killed the horse 
 of a gentleman who rode on his other side. 
 
 Thucydides, vi. c. 54-59 ; i. t. 134. 
 
 xc. 
 
 OUR army, having entered the territories of the Turks, 
 experienced no hostility during several days : the 
 Sultan wished by his forbearance to allure them into the heart 
 of his dominions, until want of food and the asperities of the 
 road should give him more ready means ,of annoying them. 
 That nefarious traitor had seized the rugged mountain-tops, 
 the thickets of the woods, and the impassable rivers ; and 
 whilst he professed to observe the treaty which he had made, 
 he opposed arrows and stones to our passage. This was the 
 market and safe-conduct which he had promised us : such is 
 the faith that must be placed in the unbelievers ; they always 
 esteem valour and treachery as equally praiseworthy towards 
 an enemy. Moreover, they avoid above all things coming to 
 close quarters and fighting hand to hand; but they shower 
 their arrows from a distance ; and with them it is no less glory 
 to flee than to put their enemy to flight. They attack both 
 extremities of the army, at one time the rear, at another time 
 the van ; that if by any chance they can separate them, they 
 ■ may attack one or the other by itself. \ Night brought with it 
 neither sleep nor rest; for a terrific clamour disturbed the 
 army on every side. A shower of javelins pierced through 
 their tents, numbers of them were slain asleep, and the enemy 
 hung on them so incessantly, that for six weeks they ate their 
 meals under arms, and slept under arms, without taking off 
 their coats of mail. At the same time they were assailed by 
 
Miscellaneotts. 24.9 
 
 such violent hunger and thirst, that when they lost their horses 
 by the chances of war, it was to them -a consolation and a source 
 of delight to feed on horse-flesh and drink the blood : in this 
 manner, by the ingenuity which necessity teaches, they found , 
 out an additional use for the animals on which they rode. 
 Xenophon, Anab. iii. c. i. 2, 15 ; iv. c. i. ; ii. u. 4. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 WHEN the ladders were fixed, those who mounted fore- 
 most were very nearly discovered by two parties of 
 the patrol, which passed in opposite directions soon after each 
 other. Then, after Aratus with the main body had reached 
 the foot of the wall, a great hound, which was kept in the 
 nearest tower, having been at length roused by the barking of 
 the smaller dogs, joined in with it so loudly as to attract the 
 attention of a sentry beyond. But as his master, when called 
 upon to account for the noise, attributed it to the recent 
 passing of the patrol, the followers of Aratus, who overheard 
 the conversation, concluded that he must have been gained to 
 favour their enterprise, and begun to mount the ladders with 
 revived spirits. It was now near daybreak, and the ladders 
 would only bear the weight of one man at a time. When forty 
 had reached the top, Aratus himself followed, and, having 
 waited for but a very few more, hastened to the tyrant's house, 
 and to the guard-room of his mercenary troops. They were 
 overpowered and secured without bloodshed, but Nicolees 
 made his escape by a subterraneous passage. 
 Thucydides, iv. 135 ; iii. 20, sqq. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 To march across this unexplored country with no other 
 guides but Indians, whose fidelity could be little 
 trusted, was the boldest enterprise on which the Spaniards had 
 
250 For Greek Prose. 
 
 hitherto ventured in the New World. But the intrepidity of 
 Balboa was such as distinguished him among his countrymen, 
 at a period when every adventurer was conspicuous for daring 
 courage. Nor was bravery his only merit ; he was prudent in 
 conduct, generous, affable, and possessed of those popular 
 talents, which, in the most desperate undertakings, inspire 
 confidence and secure attachment. Even after the junction 
 of the volunteers from Hispaniola, he was able to muster only 
 an hundred and ninety men for his expedition. But they 
 were hardy veterans, inured to the climate of America, and 
 ready to follow him through every danger. A thousand 
 Indians attended them to carry their provisions j and to com- 
 plete their warlike array, they took with them several of those 
 fierce dogs, which were no less formidable than destructive to 
 their naked enemies. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iii. a i. 2 ; ii. u. iii. II; i. u. ix. I ; i. t. ii. I ; 
 ii. u. vi. I, 16, 21. 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 BALBOA set out upon this expedition on the first of Sep- 
 tember, about the time that the periodical rains began 
 to abate. He proceeded by sea, and without any difficulty, 
 to the territories of a Cazique whose friendship he had gained : 
 but no sooner did he begin to advance into the interior part 
 of the country, than he was retarded by every obstacle, which 
 he had reason to apprehend, from the nature of the territory, 
 or the disposition of the inhabitants. Some of the Caziques, 
 at his reproach, fled to the mountains with all their people, 
 and carried off or destroyed whatever could afford subsistence 
 to his troops. Others collected their subjects, in order to 
 oppose his progress, and he quickly perceived what an arduous 
 undertaking it was to conduct such a body of men through 
 hostile nations, across swamps, and rivers, and woods, which 
 
Miscellaneous. 251 
 
 had never been passed but by straggling Indians. But by- 
 sharing in every hardship with the meanest soldier, by' 
 appearing the foremost to meet every danger, by promising 
 confidently to his troops the enjoyment of honour and riches 
 superior to what had been attained by the most successful of 
 their countrymen, he inspired them with such enthusiastic 
 resolution, that they followed him without murmuring. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. c. i. i, sqq. 8, c. ii. 2 ; iii. c. 1. 2 ; ii. c. iii. II ; 
 i. 0. vii. 6 ; iii. c. ii. 10, sqq. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 WHEN they had penetrated a good way into the moun- 
 tains, a powerful Cazique appeared in a narrow pass 
 with a numerous body of his subjects to oppose their progress. 
 But men who had surmounted so many obstacles, despised the 
 opposition of such feeble enemies. They attacked them with 
 impetuosity, and having dispersed them with much ease and 
 great slaughter, continued their march. Though their guide 
 had represented the breadth of the isthmus to be only a 
 journey of six days, they had already spent twenty-five in 
 forcing their way through the woods and mountains. Many 
 of them were ready to sink under such uninterrupted fatigue 
 in that sultry climate, several were taken ill of dysentery and 
 other diseases frequent in that country, and all became 
 impatient to reach the period of their labours and sufferings. 
 At length the Indians assured them that from the top of the 
 next mountain they should discover the ocean which was the 
 object of their wishes. When, with infinite toil, they had 
 chmbed up the greater part of that steep ascent, Balboa 
 commanded his men to halt, and advanced alone to the 
 summit, that he might be the first who should enjoy a spectacle 
 which he had so long desired. As soon as he beheld the 
 South Sea stretching in endless prospect below him, he fell 
 
252 For Greek Prose. 
 
 on his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven, returned 
 thanks to God, who had conducted him to a discovery so 
 beneficial to his country, and so honourable to himself. His 
 followers, observing his transport of joy, rushed forward to 
 join in his wonder, exultation, and gratitude. They held on 
 their course to the shore with great alacrity, when Balboa, 
 advancing up to the middle in the waves with his buckler and 
 sword, took possession of that ocean in the name of the king 
 his master, and vowed to defend it, with these arms, against 
 all his enemies. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. iv. t. i. 10, c. ii. 10, c. iii. 30, c. ii. 23, c. v. 16, c. vii. 19, sqq. 
 
 XCV. 
 
 THE youth thought proper to retort when I commanded 
 him to be gone. I am not, thou knowest, very patient, 
 and enforced my commands with a blow, which he re- 
 turned as roundly. We struggled, till I became desirous that 
 we should part at any rate, which I could only effect by a 
 stroke of my poniard, which according to old use I have, 
 thou knowest, always about me. I had scarcely done this 
 when I repented ; but there was no time to think of anything 
 save escape and concealment, for if the house rose on me I 
 was lost ; as the fiery old man, who is the head of the family, 
 would have done justice upon me had I been his brother. 
 I took the body hastily on my shoulders to carry it down to 
 the sea-shore, with the purpose of throwing it into a riva, as 
 they call them, or chasm of great depth, where it would have 
 been long enough in being discovered. This done, I intended 
 to jump into the boat which I had lying ready, and set sail 
 for Kirkwall. But as I was walking hastily towards the beach 
 with my burden the poor young fellow groaned, and so 
 apprised me that the wound had not been instantly fatal. I 
 
Miscellaneous. 253 
 
 was by this time well concealed among the rocks, and, far 
 from desiring to complete my crime, I laid the young man 
 on the ground, and was doing what I could to staunch the 
 blood, when suddenly an old woman stood before me. She 
 was a person whom I had frequently seen while in Zetland, 
 and to whom they ascribe the character of a sorceress, or, as 
 the Negroes say, an Obi woman. She demanded the wounded 
 man of me, and I was too much pressed for time to hesitate 
 in complying with her request. She pressed her finger on 
 her lip as a sign of secrecy, whistled very low, and a shapeless 
 deformed brute of a dwarf coming to her assistance, they 
 carried the wounded man into one of the caverns with which 
 the place abounds, and I got to my boat and to sea with all 
 expedition. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. v. & viii. 1-26. 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 • 
 
 THEY soon gained the utmost verge of the forest, and 
 entered the country inhabited by men without vice ; 
 and Asem anticipated in idea the rational delight he hoped to 
 experience in such an innocent society. But they had scarce 
 left the confines of the wood, when they beheld one of the 
 inhabitants flying with hasty steps, and terror in his counten- 
 ance, from an army of squirrels, that closely pursued him. 
 'Heavens!' cried Asem, 'why does he fly? What can he 
 fear from animals so contemptible V He had scarce spoken, 
 when he perceived two dogs pursuing another of the human 
 species, who with equal terror and haste attempted to avoid 
 them. 'This,' cried Asem to his guide, 'is truly surprising; 
 nor can I conceive the reason for so strange an action.' 
 'Every species of animals,' replied the genius, 'has of late 
 grown very powerful in this country ; for the inhabitants, at 
 
2 54 Por Greek Prose. 
 
 first, thinking it unjust to use either fraud or force in destroying 
 them, they have insensibly increased and now frequently 
 ravage their harmless frontiers.' ' But they should have been 
 destroyed,' cried Asem ; 'you see the consequence of such 
 neglect.' ' Where is then that tenderness you so lately ex- 
 pressed for subordinate animals?' replied the genius, smiling: 
 'you seem to have forgot that branch of justice.' 'I must 
 acknowledge my mistake,' returned Asem ; ' I am now con- 
 vinced that we must be guilty of tyranny and injustice to the 
 brute creation, if we would enjoy the world ourselves; but let 
 us no longer observe the duty of man to these irrational 
 creatures, but survey their connections with one another.' 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 AS they walked further up the country, the more he was 
 surprised to see no vestiges of handsome houses, no 
 cities, npr any mark of elegant design. His conductor per- 
 ceiving his surprise, observed : ' That the inhabitants of this 
 new world were perfectly content with their ancient simplicity ; 
 each had a house, which, though homely, was sufficient to 
 lodge his little family ; they were too good to build houses, 
 which could only increase their own pride and the envy of 
 the spectator; what they built was for convenience, and not 
 for show.' 'At least then,' said Asem, 'they have neither 
 architects, painters, nor statuaries in their society ; but these 
 are idle arts and may be spared. However, before I spend 
 much more time here, you shall have my thanks for intro- 
 ducing me into the society of some of their wisest men ; there 
 is scarce any pleasure to me equal to a refined conversation ; 
 there is nothing of which I am so enamoured as wisdom.' — 
 * Wisdom,' repUed his instructor, ' how ridiculous ! we have 
 no wisdom here, for we have no occasion for it ; true wisdom 
 
Miscellaneous. 255 
 
 is only a knowledge of our own duty and the duty of others 
 to us ; but of what use is> such wisdom here, where each in- 
 tuitively performs what is right in himself and expects the 
 same from others ? If by wisdom you should mean vain curi- 
 osity and empty speculation, as such pleasures have their 
 origin in vanity, luxury, or avarice, we are too good to pursue 
 
 them.' 
 
 Plato, Legg. 678, 679. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 ' "\ /"ERY well, sir,' cried the squire, who immediately smoked 
 V him, and winking on the rest of the company to pre- 
 pare us for the sport, ' if you are for a cool argument upon that 
 subject, I am ready to accept the challenge. And first, whether 
 are you for managing it analogically or dialogically?' 'I am 
 for managing it rationally,' cried Moses, quite happy at being 
 permitted to dispute. 'Good again,' cried the squire, 'and 
 firstly of the first, I hope you '11 not deny that whatever is, is : if 
 you don't grant me that, I can go no further.' ' Why,' returned 
 Moses, ' I think I may grant that, and make the best of it.' 
 ' I hope, too,' returned the other, ' you '11 grant that a part is 
 less than the whole.' ' I grant that too,' cried Moses, ' it is but 
 just and reasonable.' ' I hope,' cried the squire, ' you will not 
 deny that the two angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
 ones.' 'Nothing can be plainer,' returned the other, and 
 looked round with his usual importance. ' Very well,' cried 
 the squire, speaking very quick, 'the premises being thus 
 settled, I proceed to observe that the concatenation of self- 
 existences, proceeding in a reciprocal duplicate ratio, naturally 
 produce a problematical dialogism, which in some measure 
 proves that the essence of spirituality may be referred to the 
 second predicable.' ' Hold ! hold !' cried the other, ' I deny 
 that. Do you think I can thus tamely submit to such hetero- 
 
256 For Greek Prose. 
 
 dox doctrines.' ' What V replied the squire, as if in a passion 
 ' not submit ; answer me one plain question. Do you think 
 Aristotle right when he says that relatives are related V ' Un- 
 doubtedly,' replied the other. ' If so, then,' cried the squire, 
 ' answer me directly to what I propose : Whether do you judge 
 the analytical investigation of the first part of my enthymem 
 deficient secundum, quoad, or quoad minus, and give me your 
 reasons — ^give me your reasons, I say, directly.' 'I protest,' 
 cried Moses. ' I don't rightly comprehend the force of your 
 reasoning, but if it be reduced to one simple proposition, I 
 fancy it may then have an answer.' ' Oh, sir,' cried the squire, 
 ' I am your most humble servant. I find you want me to fur- 
 nish you with argument, and intellect too. No, sir, there I 
 protest you are too hard for me.' 
 
 Plato, Republic, 336, 337, 343, 344 ; Protagoras, 328 D., 329 ; Gorgias, 
 494 c, 473 D.; Euthydemus, 275 D., sqq. 
 
 KCIX. 
 
 I CANNOT help thinking that he would feel very much as 
 I did the first time that I found myself in a foreign 
 country. A thousand novelties attracted my attention ; many 
 were strange and some displeasing; and there was more or 
 less that seemed foreign in everything. For this I was pre- 
 pared ; but I was not prepared for another feeling, which very 
 soon and quite unexpectedly sprung up in my mind — ' How 
 much is different, and, go where I may, for ever changing ! 
 True ; but how much is the same everywhere !' It was almost 
 a surprise to me to find that the sun and moon went on much 
 the same way as at home, that there were roads, and rivers, 
 and fields, and woods, and towns, and cities, and streets, and 
 houses filled with people, who might perhaps talk some other 
 language, and dress in some other fashion from mine, but who 
 
Miscellaneous. 257 
 
 had evidently much the same notions as to the necessaries of 
 life and the substantials of society; and, without losing all 
 my pride, or patriotism, or prejudice, I got a new idea of the 
 unity of nature. 
 
 Plato, Phmdrus, 230 D. 
 
 SAPPHO, the Lesbian, in love with Phaon, arrived at the 
 temple of Apollo, habited like a bride in garments as 
 white as snow. She wore a garland of myrtle on her head, 
 and carried in her hand the little musical instrument of her 
 own invention. After having sung an hymn to Apollo, she 
 hung up her garland on one side of his altar, and her harp on 
 the other. She then tucked up her vestments like a Spartan 
 virgin, and amidst thousands of spectators, who were anxious 
 for her safety, and offered up vows for her deliverance, marched 
 directly forwards to the utmost summit of the promontory, 
 where after having repeated a stanza of her own verses, which 
 we could not hear, she threw herself off the rock with such an 
 intrepidity as was never before observed in any who had 
 attempted that dangerous leap. Many who were present 
 related, that they saw her fall into the sea, from whence she 
 never rose again ; though there were others who affirmed that 
 she never came to the bottom of her leap, but that she was 
 changed into a swan as she fell, and that they saw her 
 hovering in the air under that shape. But whether or no 
 the whiteness and fluttering of her garments might not 
 deceive those who looked upon her, or whether she might 
 not really be metamorphosed into that musical and melan- 
 choly bird, is still a doubt among the Lesbians. 
 
 CL 
 
 THEY say that Narcissus was exceeding fair and beauti- 
 ful, but wonderful proud and disdainful; wherefore 
 
258 For Greek Prose. 
 
 despising all others in respect of himself, he leads a solitary 
 life in the woods and chases, with a few followers, to whom he 
 alone was all in all ; amongst the rest there follows him the 
 nymph Echo. During his course of life, it fatally so chanced 
 that he came to a clear fountain, upon the bank whereof 
 he lay down to repose himself in the heat of the day ; and 
 having espied the shadow of his own face in the water, was 
 so besotted and ravished with the contemplation and admira- 
 tion thereof, that he by no means possibly could be drawn 
 from beholding his image in this glass; insomuch, that by 
 continual gazing thereupon, he pined away to nothing, and 
 was at last turned into a flower of his own name, which 
 appears in the beginning of the spring, and is sacred to the 
 infernal powers, Pluto, Proserpina, and the Furies. 
 
 This fable seems to show the dispositions and fortunes of 
 those, who in respect either of their beauty or other gift 
 wherewith they are adorned and graced by nature, without 
 the help of industry, are so far besotted in themselves as that 
 they prove the cause of their own destruction. For it is the 
 property of men infected with this humour not to come much 
 abroad, or to be conversant in civil affairs ; specially seeing 
 those that are in public place must of necessity encounter with 
 many contempts and scorns which may much deject and 
 trouble their minds ; and therefore they lead for the most part 
 a solitary, private, and obscure life, attended on with a few 
 followers, and those such as will adore and admire them, like 
 an echo, flatter them in all their sayings, and applaud them 
 in all their words ; so that being by this custom seduced and 
 puffed up, and as it were stupified with the admiration of 
 themselves, they are possessed with so strange a sloth and 
 idleness, that they grow in a manner benumbed and defective 
 of all vigour and alacrity. Elegantly doth this flower, appear- 
 ing in the beginning of the spring, represent the likeness of. 
 
Miscellaneous, 259 
 
 these men's dispositions, who in their youth do flourish and 
 wax famous; but being come to ripeness of years, they 
 deceive and frustrate the good hope that is conceived of them. 
 Neither is it impertinent that this flower is said to be conse 
 crated to the infernal deities, because men of this disposition 
 become unprofitable to all human things. For whatsoever 
 produceth no fruit of itself, but passeth and vanisheth as if it 
 never had been, like the way, of a ship in the sea, that the 
 ancients were wont to dedicate to the ghosts and powers 
 ^ below. 
 
 Plato, Gorgias, 525 sqq.; Fhado, 82; Republic, 517. 
 
 CII. 
 
 THE ancient sages parabled, that Love, if he be not twin 
 born, yet hath a brother wondrous like him, called 
 Anteros ; whom while he seeks all about, his chance is to 
 meet with many false and feigning desires that wander singly 
 up and down, in his likeness. By them, in their borrowed 
 garb. Love though not wholly blind, as Poets wrong him, yet 
 having but one eye, as being born an archer aiming, and that 
 eye not the quickest in this dark region here below, which is 
 not Love's proper sphere, partly out of the simplicity and 
 credulity which is native to him, often deceived, imbraces and 
 consorts him with these obvious and suborned striplings, as 
 if they were his mother's own sons ; for so he thinks them, 
 while they subtilly keep themselves most on his blind side. 
 But after a while, as his manner is, soaring up above the 
 shadow of the earth, he darts out the direct rays of his then 
 most piercing eyesight upon the impostures and trim disguises 
 that were used with him, and discerns that this is not his 
 genuine brother, as he imagined. He has no longer the 
 power to hold fellowship with such a personated mate ; for 
 straight his arrows lose their golden heads, and shed their 
 
26o For Greek Prose. 
 
 purple feathers, his silken braids untwine and slip their knots, 
 and that original and fiery virtue given him by fate goes out, 
 and leaves him undeified and stript of all his force, till finding 
 Anteros at last, he kindles and repairs the almost faded 
 ammunition of his Deity. 
 
 Plato, Phisdrus, 245 ; Sympos., 203. 
 
 cm. 
 
 GRACIOUS lady,' replied Michael Angelo, 'these are 
 undeserved praises; but as the conversation has 
 taken this turn I must here complain of the public. A 
 thousand silly reproaches are brought against artists of import- 
 ance. Men say that they are strange people, that they are 
 not to be approached, that there is no bearing with them. 
 No one, on the contrary, can be so human and natural as 
 great artists. But they persist in saying (I am not thinking of 
 the few people who think rationally) that they are whimsical 
 and strange. This charge, however, is least consistent with 
 the nature of a painter. It is true, painters have certain 
 pecuharities, especially here in Italy where the painting is 
 better than anywhere else in the world ; but how should an 
 artist, absorbed in his work, take from it time and thought to 
 drive away other people's ennui ? There are few people who 
 do what they do with perfect conscientiousness ; but he who 
 belongs to these few, will understand why it is sometimes not 
 easy to deal with great artists. Their arrogance, certainly, is 
 not to blame for this. But how rarely do they meet with a 
 mind capable of understanding ideas, if they enter into 
 common-place conversation which diverts them from their 
 own deep thoughts 1 I can assure you his Holiness himself 
 often perplexes me, when he asks me why I do not oftener 
 show myself. I believe I can be more useful to him, and can 
 
Miscellaneous. 26 1 
 
 serve him more conscientiously by remaining at home than by 
 appearing in the palace for every trifle. I generally reply to 
 such questions from his Holiness by saying that I prefer to 
 work for him after my own fashion, instead of parading before 
 him like others all day and not stirring a hand.' 
 
 Plato, Ion, 535 ; Gorgias, 509 c. 
 CIV. 
 
 I GRANT all this, and much more, if you will ; but, recol- 
 lect, Athens was the home of the intellectual and the 
 beautiful; not of low mechanical contrivances, and material 
 organisation. Why stop within your lodgings, counting the 
 rents in your wall or the holes in your tiling, when nature and 
 art call you away ? You must put up with such a chamber, 
 and a table and a stool, and a sleeping board, anywhere else in 
 the three continents ; one place does not differ from another 
 indoors ; your magalia in Africa or your grottoes in Syria are 
 not perfection. I suppose you did not come to Athens to 
 swarm up a ladder or to grope about in a closet : yoii came 
 to see and hear, what hear and see you could not elsewhere. 
 What food for the intellect is it possible to procure indoors, 
 that you stay there looking about you ? Do you think to read 
 there? where are your books? Do you expect to purchase 
 books at Athens? you are much out in your calculation. 
 True it is we who live at this day in the nineteenth century, 
 have the books of Greece as a perpetual memorial; and 
 copies there have been since the time that they were written ; 
 but you need not go to Athens to procure them, nor would 
 you find them in Athens. Strange to say, strange to the 
 nineteenth century, that in the age of Plato and Thucydides, 
 there was not, it is said, a bookshop in the whole place : nor 
 was the book trade in existence till the very time of Augustus. 
 
It was what the student gazed on, what he heard, what he 
 caught by the magic of sympathy, not what he read, which 
 was the education furnished by Athens. 
 
 Plato, Erasta, 132 ; Charmides, ad init, 
 
 cv. 
 
 ON applying his Elenchus, and putting to them testing 
 interrogations, he found them all without exception 
 destitute of any real wisdom, yet fully persuaded that they 
 were wise, and incapable of being shaken in that persuasion. 
 The artisans indeed did really know each his own special trade ; 
 but then, on account of this knowledge, they believed them- 
 selves to be wise on other great matters also. So also the 
 poets were great in their own compositions ; but on being 
 questioned respecting these very compositions, they were 
 unable to give any rational or consistent explanations : so 
 that they plainly appeared to have written beautiful verses, 
 not from any wisdom of their own, but through inspiration 
 from the gods, or spontaneous promptings of nature. The 
 result was, that these men were all proved to possess no more 
 real wisdom than Sokrates : but he was aware of his own 
 deficiency ; while they were fully convinced of their own wisdom, 
 and could not be made sensible of the contrary. 
 Plato, Afol. 22-23 > Io"i 533 ^• 
 
 CVI. 
 
 IT decideth also the controversies between Zeno and 
 Socrates, and their schools and successions, on the one 
 side, who placed felicity in virtue simply or attended, the 
 actions and exercises whereof do chiefly embrace and concern 
 society ; and on the other side, the Cyrenaics and Epicureans, 
 who placed it in pleasure, and made virtue (as it is used in 
 
Miscellaneous. 263 
 
 some comedies of errors, wherein the mistress and the maid 
 change habits) to be but as a servant, without which pleasure 
 cannot be served and attended, and the reformed school of 
 the Epicureans, which placed it in serenity of mind and free- 
 dom from perturbation (as if they would have deposed Jupiter 
 again, and restored Saturn and the first age, when there was 
 no summer nor winter, spring nor autumn, but all after one 
 air and season), and Herillus, who placed felicity in extin- 
 guishment of the disputes of the mind, making no fixed 
 nature of good and evil, esteeming things according to the 
 clearness of the desires, or the reluctation ; which opinion was 
 revived in the heresy of the Anabaptists, measuring things 
 according to the motions of the spirit, and the constancy or 
 wavering of belief; all which are manifest to tend to private 
 lepose and contentment, and not to point of society. 
 
 Aristotle, Ethics, i. 10, 15. 
 
 CVII. 
 
 You will not perhaps take my advice yet. The world of 
 man looks so pretty, that you will needs have your 
 peep at it, and stare into its shop windows, and, if you can, 
 go to a few of its stage plays, and dance at a few of its balls. 
 Ah, well ! after a wild dream comes an uneasy awakening : 
 and after too many sweet things comes a sick headache. And 
 one morning you will awake, I trust and pray, from the world 
 of man to the world of God, and wonder where wonder is due, 
 and worship where worship is due. You will awake like a 
 child who has been at a pantomime over night, staring at the 
 'fairy halls,' which are all paint and canvas ; and the ' dazzling 
 splendours,' which are gas and oil; and the 'magic trans- 
 formations,' which are done with ropes and pulleys ; and the 
 ' brilliant elves ' who are poor little children out of the next 
 
264 For Greek Prose. 
 
 foul alley; and the harlequin and clown, who through all 
 their fun are thinking wearily over the old debts which they 
 must pay, and the hungry mouths at home which they must 
 feed : and so having thought it all wondrously glorious, and 
 quite a fairy land, slips tired and stupid into bed, and awakes 
 next morning to see the pure light shining in through the 
 delicate frost lace on the window pane, and looks out over 
 fields of virgin snow, and watches the rosy dawn and cloud- 
 less blue, and the great sun rising to the music of cawing 
 rooks and piping stares, and says, ' This is the true wonder. 
 The theatre last night was the fairy land of man : but this is 
 the fairy land of God.' 
 
 Plato, Zj/JTJ, 206; Gorgias, 521; Thecetet., 197; Philebtts, 51. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 THE divine Plato, whose doctrines are not sufficiently 
 attended to by philosophers of the present age, allows 
 to every man three souls : one, immortal and rational seated 
 in the brain, that it may overlook and regulate the body, — a 
 second, consisting of the surly and irascible passions, which, 
 like belligerent powers, lie encamped around the heart, — a 
 third, mortal and sensual, destitute of reason, gross and brutal 
 in its propensities, and enchained in the belly, that it may 
 not disturb the divine soul by its ravenous bowlings. Now, 
 according to this excellent theory, what can be more clear, 
 than that your fat alderman is most likely to have the most 
 regular and well-conditioned mind. His head is like a huge 
 spherical chamber, containing a prodigious mass of soft brains, 
 whereon the rational soul lies softly and snugly couched, as 
 on a leather-bed ; and the eyes, which are the windows of the 
 bed-chamber, are usually half-closed, that its slumberings may 
 not be disturbed by external objects. A mind thus comfort- 
 
Miscellaneous. 265 
 
 ably lodged and protected from disturbance is manifestly most 
 likely to perform its functions with regularity and ease. By 
 dint of good feeding, moreover, the mortal and malignant soul, 
 which is confined in the belly, and which, by its raging and 
 roaring, puts the irritable soul in the neighbourhood of the heart 
 in an intolerable passion, and thus renders men crusty and 
 quarrelsome when hungry, is completely pacified, silenced, 
 and put to rest : whereupon a host of honest good-fellow 
 qualities and kind-hearted affections which had lain perdue, 
 slily peeping out of the loopholes of the heart, finding this 
 Cerberus asleep, do pluck up their spirits, turn out one and 
 all in their holiday suits, and gambol up and down the dia- 
 phragm — disposing their possessor to laughter, good-humour, 
 and a thousand friendly offices towards his fellow-mortals. 
 
 Plato, Sympos., 215; Republic, 439, sqq.; Ph(sdo,(A% Philebus, 35 ; 
 Timceus, 70. 
 
 CIX. 
 
 ' T HAVE travelled a good deal in the universe,' said 
 J. Micromegas. 'I have seen many classes of mortals 
 far beneath us, and many as much superior ; but I have never 
 had the good fortune to meet with any, who had not always 
 more desires than real necessities to occupy their life. And, 
 pray, how long may you Saturnians live, with your few senses V 
 continued the Sirian. 'Ah! but a very short time indeed!' 
 said the little man of Saturn, with a sigh. ' It is the same 
 with us,' said the traveller ; ' we are for ever complaining of 
 the shortness of life. It must be a universal law of Nature.' 
 'Alas!' said the Saturnian, 'we live only five hundred great 
 revolutions of the sun ;' — which is pretty much about fifteen 
 thousand years of our counting : — ' You see plainly that this 
 is to die almost the moment one is born. Our existence is a 
 point, — our duration an instant, — our globe an atom. Scarcely 
 
266 For Greek Prose. 
 
 have we begun to pick up a little knowledge, when death 
 rushes in upon us, before we can have acquired anything like 
 experience. As for me, I cannot venture even to think of 
 any project. I feel myself but like a drop of water in the 
 ocean, and especially now, when I look at you and at myself, 
 I really feel quite ashamed of the ridiculous appearance which 
 I cut in the universe. ' If I did not know you to be a philo- 
 sopher,' replied Micromegas, ' I should be afraid of distressing 
 you when I tell you, that our life is seven hundred times longei 
 than yours. But what is even that ? and when we come to the 
 last moment, to have lived a single day, and to have lived a whole 
 eternity amount to the same thing. I have been in countries 
 where they live a thousand times longer than with us ; and 
 I have always found them murmuring just as we do ourselves.' 
 
 ex. 
 
 POETRY as distinguished from other modes of compo- 
 sition does not rest in metre, and is not poetry if it make 
 no appeal to our passions or our imagination. One character 
 belongs to all true poets — that they write from a principle 
 within, not originating in anything without : and the true poet's 
 work is distinguished from all other works that assume to 
 belong to the class of poetry as a natural from an artificial 
 flower, or as the mimic garden of a child from an enamelled 
 meadow. In the former, the flowers are broken from their 
 stems and stuck into the ground ; they are beautiful to the eye 
 and fragrant to the sense, but their colours soon fade and their 
 odour is transient as the smile of the plants : while the meadow 
 may be visited again and again with renewed delight, its 
 beauty is innate in the soil and its bloom is of the freshness ot 
 nature. 
 
 Plato, Phadrus, 245 ; Apolog., 22 ; Ion, 533 ; Protagoras, 345 ; 
 Republic, 605. 
 
Miscellaneous. 267 
 
 CXI. 
 
 WHEN he found that he continued thus to live several 
 hours longer than he expected, he sent again for his 
 wife and children to his bed-side, to take his leave once more 
 of them, and of the rest of the family that were up ; and they 
 say, he was even fuller now in his exhortations to them than 
 before, and they were mighty well suited, and particularly 
 applied to the circumstances and conditions of the several 
 persons to whom they were given. He recommended his 
 wife and children to the Divine providence and protection in 
 so moving and affectionate a manner, as is difficult to express : 
 and he thanked all his servants for the pains they had taken 
 with him in his sickness : and as for the rest, his exhortations 
 ran chiefly upon general heads, such as the great importance 
 of rehgion, the vanity of the world, the deceitful nature of 
 riches and honours, and what miserable comforters they would 
 prove at last ; and, finally, the absolute necessity of a holy life, 
 in order to a happy death. These are the subjects which he 
 endeavoured to impress upon the minds of those who were 
 left behind him. 
 
 Plato, Phcsdo, 58, sqq., 118. 
 
 CXII. 
 
 OF all the professors of the art of military plundering, 
 the terrible Martin Schenk was pre-eminent ; and he 
 was now ravaging the Cologne territory, having recently 
 passed again into the service of the States. Born of an 
 ancient and noble family, Martin Schenk had inherited no 
 property but a sword. He joined, while yet a youth, the 
 banner of William of Orange, at the head of two men-at-arms ; 
 and was received with courtesy, but soon quarrelled with his 
 patron. There was a castle of Blyenbeek, belonging to his 
 
268 For Greek Prose. 
 
 cousin, which he chose to consider his rightful property, 
 because he was of the same race, and because it was a 
 convenient and productive estate and residence. The courts 
 took a different view of public law, and supported the ousted 
 cousin. Martin shut himself up in the castle, and having 
 recently committed a discreditable homicide, which increased 
 his unpopularity with the patriots, made overtures to Parma. 
 Alexander was glad to enlist so bold a soldier on his side, 
 and assisted Schenk in his besieged stronghold. For years 
 afterwards, his services under the king's banner were most 
 brilliant, and he rose to the highest military command, while 
 his coffers were rapidly filling with the results of his robberies 
 and extortions. ' 'Tis a most courageous fellow,' said Parma, 
 ' but rather a desperate highwayman than a valiant soldier.' 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. ii. c, vi. 1-15, 21-29. 
 CXIII. 
 
 MARTIN'S couple of lances had expanded into a corps 
 of free companions, the most truculent, the most 
 obedient, the most rapacious in Christendom. Never were 
 freebooters more formidable to the world at large, or more 
 docile to their chief, than were the followers of General 
 Schenk. Never was a more finished captain of highwaymen. 
 He was a man who was never sober, yet who never smiled. 
 His habitual intoxication seemed only to increase both his 
 audacity and his taciturnity, without disturbing his reason. 
 He was incapable of fatigue, of fear, of remorse. He could 
 remain for days and nights without dismounting — eating, 
 drinking, and sleeping in the saddle ; so that to this terrible 
 centaur his horse seemed actually a part of himself. His 
 soldiers followed him about like hounds, and were treated by 
 him like hounds. He habitually scourged them, often took 
 
Miscellaneous. 269 
 
 with his own hand the lives of such as displeased him, and 
 had been known to cause individuals of them to jump from 
 the top of church steeples at his command : yet the pack 
 were ever staunch to his orders, for they knew that he always 
 led them where the game was plenty. 
 
 Xenophon, Anab. ii. c. vi. 1-15, 21-29. Agesilaus, cap. v. 
 
 CXIV. 
 
 I HAVE undertaken to write the biography of a great 
 Statesman under whom I have long served, and for 
 whom I had a respectful and sincere affection. I shall 
 endeavour to perform this not ungrateful task with simplicity 
 and impartiality, feeling certain that the more simply and 
 impartially I can make known the character of Lord Palmer- 
 ston, the more likely I am to secure for his memory the 
 admiration and esteem of his countrymen. 
 
 The most distinguishing quality of the eminent Englishman 
 whom I am thus about to describe was a nature that opened 
 itself happily to the tastes, feelings, and habits of various 
 classes and kinds of men. Hence a comprehensive sympathy, 
 which not only put his actions in spontaneous harmony with 
 the sense and feeling of the public, but, by presenting life 
 before his mind in many aspects, widened his views and 
 moderated his impressions, and led him away from those 
 subtleties and eccentricities which solitude or living con- 
 stantly in any limited society is apt to generate. 
 
 Xenophon, Agesilaus, t. i. u. vii. c. viii. c. xi. 
 
 cxv. 
 
 HE was a man of singular force of temperament and 
 character, one of those who seem destined, in what- 
 ever rank they enter life, to carve for themselves a career. 
 
270 For Greek Prose. 
 
 An adept in all the arts of statesmanship and of business, he 
 was at once an able city functionary and a skilful agriculturist. 
 The heights of office are scaled by different paths. Legal 
 lore, eloquence, military glory, each lead their votaries to 
 eminence. We have in him one whose happy genius followed 
 every track with like success. The employment of the hour 
 seemed the only purpose for which he had come into the 
 world. A gallant soldier in the field and the hero of a 
 hundred fights, when he had won his way to higher rank, he 
 was unrivalled as a general. In the pursuits of peace he was 
 at once the most erudite of authorities on a legal question 
 and a most effective pleader before a jury. Nor can it be 
 said of him that, powerful as were his orations in his lifetime, 
 he has left no enduring record of his gifts. His eloquence 
 is still a living power enshrined in writings of universal range. 
 
 Xenophon, Agedlaus, c. xi. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 LIKE Themistocles, he was gifted with an extraordinary 
 memory ; the very day after his arrival at Rome, he 
 was able to address all the senators and the citizens of the 
 equestrian order by their several proper names. He had 
 studied philosophy, like all his educated countrymen, and 
 appears to have admired particularly the new doctrine of 
 Epicurus; which taught that war and state affairs were but 
 toil and trouble, and that the wise man should imitate the 
 blissful rest of the gods, who, dwelling in their own divinity, 
 regarded not the vain turmoil of this lower world. Yet his 
 life was better than his philosophy; he served his king 
 actively and faithfully in peace and in war, and he wrote a 
 military work, for which he neither wanted ability nor prac- 
 tical knowledge. He excited no small attention as he went 
 
Miscellaneous. 271 
 
 to Rome, and his sayings at the places through which he 
 passed were remembered and recorded. Some stories said 
 that he was the bearer of presents to the influential senators, 
 and of splendid dresses to win the favour of their wives ; all 
 which, as the Roman traditions related, were steadily refused. 
 But his proposals required grave consideration, and there 
 were many in the senate who thought that the state of affairs 
 made it necessary to accept them. 
 
 Thucydides, i. 138. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 IT was in the business of war that his ability was most 
 conspicuous ; and so great it was that he could not only 
 lead an army but make one. For he was not more skilful in 
 conducting actions than in the management of men's minds ; 
 and that not by any ordinary kind of discipline, that inured 
 them to obey commands, or awakened a sense of shame, or 
 enforced by severity, but one that inspired a wonderful order 
 and alacrity, and won the battle almost before it began, and 
 endeared him to the soldiery more than was good for a free 
 commonwealth. Versed as he was moreover in every kind 
 of war, and uniting civil arts with military, no accident took 
 him so unexpectedly but he had a remedy prepared for it : 
 nothing fell out so cross but he drew some advantage from it. 
 Xenophon, Anab. i. c. ix; ii. t. vi. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 TOUCHING matters of revenue, a statesman should be 
 acquainted with the various branches of the public 
 income, its sources and amount ; so that if any one has been 
 overlooked, it may be turned to account, or if less productive 
 
272 For Greek Prose, 
 
 than it ought to be, it may be enlarged. He ought also to 
 be conversant with the public expenditure; for a nation is 
 not less enriched by retrenchment of expenditure than by 
 addition of income. In matters of peace and war he should 
 know the national force, its present amount and condition, as 
 well as the amount it may be raised to, and the improvement 
 it may admit of. He should be familiar too with the wars in 
 which not only his own country, but the neighbouring states 
 have been engaged. And, with a view to the security of the 
 territory, he should understand well what places are best 
 suited for posts, and what amount, as well as what kind of 
 force, is best calculated to defend them. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 328, 304, 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 IN the kingdom of Ternates, among those nations, which 
 we so full-mouthed call barbarous, the custom beareth, 
 that they never undertake a war, before the same be 
 denounced ; thereunto adding an ample declaration of the 
 means they have to employ therein, what manner, and how 
 many men, what munition, and what arras either offensive 
 or defensive : which done, they also establish as a law, that 
 without reproach or imputation it shall be lawful for any man 
 in their wars to use what advantage soever may in any sort 
 further or help them to vanquish. The ancient Florentines 
 were so far from desiring any advantage of their enemies by 
 sudden surprises that a month before they could bring their 
 armies into the field they would give them warning by the 
 continual sound of their common bell, which they called 
 Martinella. As for us who are less superstitious, and deem 
 him to have the honour of the war that hath the profit of it, 
 and, according to Lysander, say, that ' where the Lion's skin 
 
Miscellaneous. 273 
 
 will not suffice we must add a scantling of the Fox's ;' the 
 most ordinary occasions of surprises are drawn from this 
 practice, and as we say there is no time wherein a captain 
 ought to be more wary and circumspect to look about him 
 than that of parleys and treaties of accord : and therefore is it 
 a common rule in the mouth of all our modern men of war 
 that the governor or commander of a besieged place ought 
 never to sally forth himself to parley. 
 
 Xenophon, de Repub. Laced., c. xi. 
 
 cxx. 
 
 THESE Lacedaemonians had lived about four hundred 
 years under one form of government, when the Pelo- 
 ponnesian war began. Their education was only to practise 
 feats of arms, wherein they so excelled, that a very few of 
 them were thought equal to very great numbers of any other 
 people. They were poor, and cared not much for wealth; 
 every one had an equal portion of the common field,, which 
 sufficed to maintain him in such a manner of life as they used. 
 For bravery they had none, and curious building or apparel 
 they regarded not. Their diet was simple, their feasts and 
 ordinary meals being in common halls, where all fared alike. 
 They used money of iron, whereof they could not be covetous 
 nor great hoarders. Briefly, they lived Utopian-like, save 
 that they used no other occupation than war, placing all their 
 felicity in the glory of their valour. Hereby it came to pass, 
 that in all enterprises whereof they were partakers, the leading 
 and high command was granted to them, and all Greece 
 followed their conduct. But the Athenians were in all points 
 contrary to this; for they sought wealth, and measured the 
 honours of their victories by the profit ; they iised mercenary 
 soldiers in their wars, and exacted great tribute of their 
 
 s 
 
2 74 For Greek Prose. 
 
 subjects, which were for the most part islanders, compelled to 
 obey them, because the Athenian fleet was great. 
 
 Xenophon, de Repuh. Laced., c. vii. 
 
 cxxr. 
 
 THREE companies were formed, each composed of 
 eighteen members and a president, and these were to 
 supply the corn and clothing which the armies might require. 
 But in return they demanded an exemption from military 
 service, whilst they were thus serving the state with their 
 money ; and they also required the government to undertake 
 the whole sea-risk, whether from storms or from the enemy : 
 whatever articles were thus lost were to be the loss of the 
 nation and not of the companies. It will be seen hereafter 
 how some of the contractors abused this equitable condition, 
 and wilfully destroyed cargoes of small value in order to 
 recover the insurance upon them from the government. That 
 a citizen should enrich himself by frauds practised on his 
 country in such a season of distress and danger is sufficiently 
 monstrous, but the spirit of jobbing is inveterate in human 
 nature. 
 
 Demosthenes, Symmor, 19} de Corona, 127, 
 
 CXXII. 
 
 IF the talent of ridicule were employed to laugh men out of 
 vice and folly, it might be of some use to the world ; but 
 instead of this, we find that it is generally made use of to 
 laugh men out of virtue and good sense, by attacking every 
 thing that is solemn and serious, decent and praiseworthy in 
 human life. We may observe, that in the first ages of the 
 world, when the great souls and masterpieces of human 
 
Miscellaneous. 275 
 
 nature were produced, men shined by a noble simplicity of 
 behaviour, and were strangers to tjiose little embellishments 
 which are so fashionable in our present conversation. And it 
 is very remarkable, that notwithstanding we fall short at 
 present of the ancients in poetry, painting, oratory, history, 
 architecture and all the noble arts and sciences which depend 
 more upon genius than experience, we exceed them as much 
 in doggerel humour, burlesque, and all the trivial arts of 
 ridicule. We meet with more raillery among the moderns, 
 but more good sense among the ancients. 
 
 Xenophon, Conviv. i. 14. Plato, Repub. v. 3. Thucydides, iii. 83. 
 
 CXXIII, 
 
 THE eagerness and strong bent of the mind after know- 
 ledge, if not warily regulated, is often a hindrance to 
 it. It still presses into farther discoveries and new objects, 
 and catches at the variety of knowledge, and therefore often 
 stays not long enough on what is before it, to look into it as 
 it should, for haste to pursue what is yet out of sight. He 
 that rides post through a country, may be able, from the. 
 transient view, to tell how in general the parts lie, and may be 
 able to give some loose description of here a mountain, and 
 there a plain, here a morass, and there a river ; woodland in 
 one part, and savannas in another. Such superficial ideas 
 and observations as these he may collect in galloping over it ; 
 but the more useful observations of the soil, plants, animals, 
 and inhabitants, with their several sorts and properties, must 
 necessarily escape him ; and it is seldom men ever discover 
 the rich mines, without some digging. Nature commonly 
 lodges her treasure and jewels in rocky ground. If the 
 matter be knotty, and the sense lies deep, the mind must stop 
 and buckle to it, and stick upon it with labour and thought^ 
 
276 For Greek Prose. 
 
 and close contemplation, and not leave it till it has mastered 
 the difficulty, and got possession of truth. 
 
 CXXIV 
 
 IN the present state of public opinion, perhaps always, we 
 shall go on as we have gone on for nearly two centuries, 
 trusting to fortune, British pluck, and the energies of an hour, 
 to parry the blows of emergency. Our sagacity and practical 
 vigour are almost absorbed in politics and trade, excepting, of 
 course, the navy, which is organised, nourished, and sustained 
 on sound principles. We are sometimes described as a war- 
 like but not a military nation, meaning that we are always 
 ready to defend ourselves or our belongings anywhere on the 
 earth, improvising the means as we go forward, and yielding 
 in a contest only to indisputable necessity. While we main- 
 tain a navy on a basis of long-sighted calculation, preparing 
 for probable war and possible contingencies, our military forces 
 are kept just abreast, occasionally below, actual everyday 
 needs. In that respect we differ from all the great Powers, 
 the chief reason being that we are girdled and guarded by the 
 sea. Another is the rare necessity which impels us to take 
 part in Continental wars, and the apparent remoteness of a 
 danger, which, nevertheless, may come at any moment and 
 find us relatively as unprepared as we were in 1827 or 1854. 
 But probably the main effective reason is the ' desire to get 
 on industrially and socially,' the ' wish to get settled early in 
 some permanent employment,' and we may add, that British 
 dislike of restraint which ages of independence have fostered 
 and confirmed. Otherwise, the advantages embodied in the 
 idea of making the army 'something like a great training 
 school,' where order, punctuality, obedience, discipline, readi- 
 ness to cope with sudden demands, in one word, duty in its 
 
uvi isceiianeous. 277 
 
 largest sense, might and should be taught, would not have 
 escaped the notice of a practical community. 
 Thucydides, ii. 62, sqq., 65. 
 
 . cxxv. 
 
 A PATRIOT is necessarily and invariably a lover of the 
 -ti. people. But even this mark may sometimes deceive 
 us. The people is a very heterogeneous and confused mass, 
 of the wealthy and the poor, the wise and the foolish, the good 
 and the bad. Before we confer on a man who caresses the 
 people the title of patriot, we must examine to what part of 
 the people he directs his notice. It is proverbially said, that 
 he who dissembles his own character may be known by that 
 of his companions. If the candidate of patriotism endeavours 
 to infuse right opinions into the higher ranks, and by their in- 
 fluence to regulate the lower ; if he consorts chiefly with the 
 wise, the temperate, the regular and the virtuous, his love of 
 the people may be rational and honest. But if his first or 
 principal application be to the indigent, who are always in- 
 flammable ; to the weak, who are naturally suspicious ; to the 
 ignorant, who are easily misled; and to the profligate, who 
 have no hope but from mischief and confusion ; let his love 
 of the people be no longer boasted. A patriot is always ready 
 to countenance the just claims, and animate the reasonable 
 hopes of the people; he reminds them frequently of their 
 rights, and stimulates them to resent encroachments, and to 
 multiply securities. But all this may be done in appearance, 
 without real patriotism. He that raises false hopes to serve 
 a present purpose, only makes a way for disappointment and 
 discontent. He who promises to endeavour what he knows 
 his endeavours unable to effect, means only to delude his 
 
278 For Greek Prose. 
 
 CXXVI. 
 
 I WILL now beg of my hearer to pause a moment, and to 
 review in his own mind the whole of what has been laid 
 before him. He has seen of what kind, and how great have 
 been the injuries endured by these two nations; what they 
 have suffered, and what they have to fear ; he has seen that 
 they have felt with that unanimity which has led philosophers 
 upon like occasions to assert, that the voice of the people is 
 the voice of God. He has seen that they have submitted as 
 far as human nature could bear ; and that at last these millions 
 of suffering people have risen almost like one man, with one 
 hope ; for whether they look to triumph or defeat, to victory 
 or death, they are full of hope, each individual knows the 
 danger, and, strong in the magnitude of it, grasps eagerly at 
 the thought that he himself is to perish ; and more eagerly, 
 and with higher confidence, does he lay to his heart the faith 
 that the nation will survive and be victorious ; — or, at the 
 worst, let the contest terminate how it may as to superiority 
 of outward strength, that the fortitude and the martyrdom, the 
 justice and the blessing, are theirs and cannot be relinquished. 
 Woe, then, to the unworthy who intrude with their help to 
 maintain this most sacred cause ! It calls aloud for the aid of 
 intellect, knowledge, and love, and rejects every other. It is 
 in vain to send forth armies if these do not inspire and direct 
 them. The stream is as pure as it is mighty, any augmenta- 
 tion from the kennels and sewers of guilt and baseness may 
 clog, but cannot strengthen it. For the contest is not for the 
 concerns of a day, but for the security and happiness of ages ; 
 not for an insulated privilege, but for the rights of human 
 nature ; not for temporal blessings, but for eternal happiness ; 
 not for the benefit of one nation, but for all mankind. 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. p. 29 1. la 
 
Miscellaneous. 279 
 
 CXXVII. 
 
 WHY should we not, with all the unanimity of which we 
 are capable, by public meetings, by petitions, and, 
 when the proper time comes, by presenting ourselves at the 
 polling-booths, do everything in our power to pass this measure 
 into law % I say that we are great in numbers ; that, united, 
 we are great in strength ; that we are invincible in the solidity 
 of our arguments ; that we are altogether unassailable in the 
 justice of our cause. Shall we then, I ask you, even for a 
 moment be hopeless of our great cause? I feel almost 
 ashamed even to argue it to such a meeting as this. I call to 
 mind where I am, and who are those whom I see before me. 
 Am I not in the town of Birmingham — England's central 
 capital ; and do not these eyes look upon the sons of those 
 Who, not thirty years ago, shook the fabric of privilege to its 
 base? Not a few of the strong men of that time are now 
 white with age. They approach the confines of their mortal 
 day. Its evening is cheered with the remembrance of that 
 great contest, and they rejoice in the freedom they have won. 
 Shall their sons be less noble than they ? Shall the fire which 
 they kindled be extinguished with you ? I see your answer in 
 every face. You are resolved that the legacy which they 
 bequeathed to you, you will hand down in an accumulated 
 wealth of freedom to your children. As for me, my voice is 
 feeble. I feel now sensibly and painfully that I am not what 
 I was. I speak with diminished fire ; I act with a lessened 
 force ; but as I am, my countrymen and constituents, I will, 
 if you will let me, be found in your ranks in the impending 
 struggle. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. pp. 26, 31 1. 8. 
 
230 i-'or Lrreek Ji^rose. 
 
 CXXVIII. 
 
 THESE opponents of ours, many of them in Parliament 
 openly, and many of them -secretly in the Press, have 
 charged us with being the promoters of a dangerous excitement. 
 They say we are the source of the danger which threatens ; 
 they have absolutely the effrontery to charge me with being 
 the friend of public disorder. I am one of the people. 
 Surely, if there be one thing in a free country more clear than 
 another, it is that any one of the people may speak openly to 
 the people. If I speak to the people of their rights, and 
 indicate to them the way to secure them — if I speak of their 
 danger to the monopolists of power — am I not a wise coun- 
 sellor, both to the people and to their rulers? Suppose I 
 stood at the foot of Vesuvius or ^tna, and, seeing a hamlet or 
 a homestead planted on its slope, I said to the dwellers in 
 that hamlet or in that homestead, — You see yon vapour 
 which ascends from the summit of the mountain ; — that 
 vapour may become a dense black smoke that will obscure 
 the sky. You see that trickling of lava from the fissures in 
 the side of the mountain ; — that trickling of lava may become 
 a river of fire. You hear that muttering in the bowels of the 
 mountain ; — that muttering may become a bellowing thunder, 
 the voice of a violent convulsion that may shake half a con- 
 tinent. You know that at your feet is the grave of great 
 cities for which there is no resurrection, as history tells us 
 that dynasties and aristocracies have passed away, and their 
 name has been known no more for ever. If I say this to the 
 dwellers upon the mountain, and if there comes hereafter a 
 catastrophe which makes the world to shudder, am I respon- 
 sible for that catastrophe ? I did not build the mountain or 
 fill it with explosive materials. I merely warned the men 
 that were in danger. 
 
 Demosthenes, Olynth. p. 34 1. "• 
 
Miscellaneous, 2 8 1 
 
 CXXIX. 
 
 AND now, sir, I have done with these minor matters. 
 They may seem scarcely worth the trouble I have 
 spent upon them; but it is just such small details as these 
 that form the surest indications of a man's real character. 
 He has not time to rehearse his part, or to pose himself in 
 the attitude in which he would wish others to see him : he 
 must act in accordance with his natural bias. And so in the 
 present case these details show us our honourable statesman 
 swayed only by one motive, the love of power, and ready to 
 sacrifice any principle that may clash with that. 
 
 But I pass to a more serious charge, in which this charac- 
 teristic will appear more plainly : and the charge that I make 
 is this, that knowing this war to be unrighteous, he has yet 
 forced us to take part in it, in order to retain the reins of 
 office for himself: and, further, that he has secured this end 
 by a flagrant bribery of his supporters. What excuse can he 
 allege for such political conduct ? There is no sound defence 
 that he can adduce ; but he will be ready with his sophisms, 
 and I will try to put you on your guard against them. He 
 will say that the members of his side- of the House were 
 elected not to weary the House by explaining their views on 
 every question which occurs, but to vote in support of the 
 Government: consequently it was not a bribe they had 
 received, but the mere worth of their work : they had not 
 changed their opinions for money, and he had but followed 
 the practice of all public men. 
 
 iEschines, in ClesiJ>hont, p. 87, 
 
 cxxx. 
 
 I 
 
 BEG you with all affection to consider the danger in which 
 you have placed yourselves. You have to deal with the 
 
282 For Greek Prose. 
 
 proudest and most overbearing race in the world. For those 
 qualities they are hated by all other nations. 'Tis a race 
 which .seeks to domineer wheresoever it comes. It particu- 
 larly declares its intention to crush and to tyrannise over you, 
 my masters, and all the land. They have conquered you 
 already, as they boast, for the crime of lese-majesty has placed 
 you at their mercy. I tell you that your last act, by which 
 you have declared this army to be rebels, is decisive. You 
 have armed and excited the whole people against them, even 
 to the peasants and the peasants' children, and the insults 
 and injuries thus received, however richly deserved and dearly 
 avenged, are all set down to your account. Therefore 'tis 
 necessary for you to decide now, whether to be utterly ruined, 
 yourselves and your children, or to continue firmly the work 
 that you have begun boldly, and rather to die a hundred 
 thousand deaths than to make a treaty with them which can 
 only end in your ruin. Be assured that the measure dealt to 
 you will be ignominy as well as destruction. Let not your 
 leaders expect the honourable scaifolds of Counts Egmon 
 and Horn. The whipping-post and the gibbet will be their 
 certain fate. 
 
 Demosth. Philipp. p. 66 1. 30. 
 
 CXXXI. 
 
 MY Lords, I have done ; the part of the Commons is 
 concluded. With a trembling solicitude we consign 
 this product of our long, long labours, to your charge. Take 
 it ! — take it ! It is a sacred trust. Never before was a cause 
 of such magnitude submitted to any human tribunal. 
 
 My Lords, at this awful close, in the name of the Commons, 
 and surrounded by them, I attest the retiring, I attest the 
 advancing generations, between which, as a link in the great 
 chain of eternal order, we stand. — We call this nation, we 
 
Miscellaneous. 283 
 
 call the world to witness, that the Commons have shrunk from 
 no labour; that we have been guilty of no prevarication ; that 
 we have made no compromise with crime ; that we have not 
 feared any odium whatsoever, in the long warfare which we 
 have carried on with the crimes — with the voices— with the 
 exorbitant wealth — with the enormous and overpowering 
 influence of Eastern corruption. 
 
 iEschxnes, in Ciesiphont, p. 90, 
 
 CXXXII. 
 
 WHEN our ministers had once departed from the 
 straight line of British policy, the difficulty of return- 
 ing to it became every day greater, and the inclination every 
 year less. We continued busy and bustling iii every Court of 
 Europe. We negotiated against the Emperor in concert with 
 France, and gave her thereby the means of gaining more of 
 that credit and influence in the Empire which she formerly 
 had, than she could have acquired without our assistance. 
 We contrived to make peace abroad almost as chargeable to 
 us as war. Abuses of every kind were suffered at home. 
 Trade was neither eased nor encouraged, and the gradual 
 payment of our debts was utterly neglected by a minister, 
 rather desirous to keep his country under this oppression, 
 than ignorant of the means to deliver her from it. Whilst we 
 acted in this manner, France grew frugal : she made the 
 debts she could not pay sit more lightly upon her ; she raised 
 her credit ; and she extended her commerce. In short, her 
 strength increased, and ours diminished. We were reduced 
 to a state of weakness we had never felt before ; and this very 
 weakness was urged as a reason for bearing tamely the losses 
 our merchants sustained, and all the affronts our Government 
 
284 ^or u^ree/i frose. 
 
 received, lest we should be drawn into a war by using 
 reprisals, the common right of all nations. 
 
 Demosthenes, de Corona, 230, 231, sqq., 240, sqq. 
 
 CXXXIII. 
 
 OUR political system is placed in a just correspondence 
 and S)anmetry with the order of the world, and with 
 the mode of existence decreed to a permanent body composed 
 of transitory parts ; wherein, by the disposition of a stupen- 
 dous wisdom, moulding together the great mysterious incorpo- 
 ration of the human race, the whole at one time is never old 
 or middle-aged or young, but in a condition of unchangeable 
 constancy moves on through the varied tenour of perpetual 
 decay, fall, renovation, and progression. Thus by preserving 
 the method of nature in the conduct of the state, in what we 
 improve we are never wholly new, in what we retain we are 
 never wholly obsolete. By adhering in this manner and on 
 those principles to our forefathers, we are guided not by the 
 superstition of antiquarians, but by the spirit of philosophic 
 analogy. In this choice of inheritance we have given to our 
 frame of polity the image of a relation in blood, binding up 
 the constitution of our country with our dearest domestic 
 ties, adopting our fundamental laws into the bosom of our 
 family affections, keeping inseparable and cherishing with the 
 warmth of all their combined and mutually-reflected charities 
 our state, our hearths, our sepulchres, and our altars. 
 
 CXXXIV. 
 
 A PERFECT democracy is the most shameless thing in 
 the world. As it is the most shameless, it is also the 
 most fearless. No man apprehends in his person that he can 
 be made subject to punishment. Certainly the people at large 
 
Miscellaneous. 285 
 
 never ought ; for as all punishments are for example towards 
 the conservation of the people at large, the people at large 
 can never become the subject of punishment by any human 
 hand. It is therefore of infinite importance that they should 
 not be suffered to imagine that their will, any more than that 
 of kings, is the standard of right and wrong. They ought to 
 be persuaded that they are full as little entitled, and far less 
 qualified, with safety to themselves, to use any arbitrary power 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Thucydides, iii. 37. 
 
 cxxxv. 
 
 YOUR proposal does not surprise me. I have long 
 expected it. I well know the character of that sense- 
 less monster the people, unable either to support the present 
 or to foresee the future, always desirous of attempting the 
 impossible, and of rushing headlong to its ruin. Yet your 
 unthinking folly shall not induce me to permit your own 
 destruction, nor to betray the trust committed to me by my 
 sovereign and yours.. Success in war depends less on intre- 
 pidity than in prudence to await, to distinguish, and to seize 
 the decisive moment of fortune. You appear to regard the 
 present contest as a game of hazard, which you might deter- 
 mine by a single throw of the dice ; but I, at least, have learnt 
 from experience to prefer security to speed. But it seems that 
 you offer to reinforce my troops, and to march with them 
 against the enemy. Where then have you acquired your 
 knowledge of war? And what true soldier is not aware that 
 the result of a battle must chiefly rest on the skill and disci- 
 pline of the combatants ? Ours is a real enemy in the field ; we 
 march to a battle, and not to a review. I am, however, willing 
 to praise your courage, to forgive your murmurs, and to prove 
 to you that my present delay is founded on judicious policy. 
 Thucydides, ii. 60. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A CONSCIENTIOUS man, . 
 
 A gentleman's first characteristic, 
 
 A great sign of vulgarity, 
 
 A nation, once the foremost, 
 
 A patriot is necessarily, . 
 
 A perfect democracy is the most, 
 
 A people whose education and habits, 
 
 A private citizen, 
 
 A reign of terror began, . 
 
 A similar armament, 
 
 A successful sally, enabled the Jews, 
 
 A truer sign of breeding. 
 
 According to this short and imperfect sketch. 
 
 Accordingly, being filled, 
 
 Achilles is everywhere distinguished. 
 
 After such an elaborate display, . 
 
 After ten days' incessant labour, . 
 
 After the truce was concluded, . 
 
 Aftre that, is another Yle, 
 
 'Ah, Demosthenes,' whispered he. 
 
 All around us the world, . 
 
 Although we are not of opinion, . 
 
 Among the Britons, 
 
 Among the heaviest prices. 
 
 An Athenian citizen, ■ 
 
 And alfo Machomete loved wel, . 
 
 And at the dawn of day, . 
 
 And beyond that mortality, 
 
 And first for its noblest faculty, . 
 
 And now, sir, I have done. 
 
 And though I had a desire, 
 
 And whan this paffynge, . 
 
 And ze^ fchulle undirftonde, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 79 
 1 06 
 
 IDS 
 S9 
 
 277 
 
 284 
 89 
 
 191 
 26 
 17 
 
 9 
 106 
 104 
 194 
 12I 
 80 
 21 
 
 S7 
 142 
 
 234 
 
 59 
 
 108 
 
 162 
 
 86 
 
 211 
 
 157 
 197 
 117 
 III 
 281 
 
 36 
 189 
 152 
 
288 
 
 Index. 
 
 As he and the King, 
 ■ As he was one day walking, 
 As if war was a matter of experiment ! . 
 As man is by nature. 
 As our bodies, .... 
 As respects natural religion, 
 As soon as the fire began, 
 As the bear is a heavy, . 
 As they walked further, . 
 As to boys, I cannot speak, 
 As to some of the ends of civil government. 
 As we advance, .... 
 Ask a follower of Bacon, 
 At last, some free and facetious, . 
 
 Bacon has remarked, 
 
 Balboa set out upon this, 
 
 Beauty has been appointed. 
 
 Beauty has been the delight, 
 
 Before men are put forward. 
 
 Both men and horses, 
 
 Burke has described. 
 
 But a more irresistible, 
 
 ' But a question further, ' . 
 
 But about ten of the clock. 
 
 But all was not sufficient. 
 
 But first we may ask, 
 
 ' But how then, ' continued he. 
 
 But I think an important lesson, . 
 
 But, it is said, .... 
 
 But notwithstanding all these preparations, 
 
 But now to the other part, 
 
 But on a sudden, .... 
 
 But straightwayes we saw. 
 
 But the Divine Revenge, 
 
 But the hopes and fears of man, . 
 
 But the natural difficulties. 
 
 But the principal harbour. 
 
 But the temper of Hastings,- 
 
 But the question for us all, 
 
 But the very considerations, 
 
 But the worst of the matter, 
 
 But was this all ? . 
 
 But youth, sir, is not ray only crime. 
 
Index. 
 
 289 
 
 Cassiope having boasted herself, 
 Cromwell was emphatically a man, 
 Cyril speaks of certain people. 
 
 Demagogues are the commonplace of history, 
 Dice play and such other. 
 Different stations of command, . 
 During the celebration, . 
 
 Englishmen, it must be owned, 
 Everything was ready. 
 Everywhere were to be seen, 
 
 Finding that the Gauls, . 
 
 For lives I do find it strange, 
 
 For most of the dreadful details, . 
 
 For my own part, 
 
 ' For my part,' says she, . 
 
 For thus the sun, . 
 
 For what have I entered. 
 
 From the mouths of the Adige, . 
 
 From thence he made sail, 
 
 'Gentlemen,' said he, . 
 
 Gracious lady, replied Michael Angelo, 
 
 Gradually thinking, 
 
 Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh was the person, 
 
 Hannibal allowed forty-eight hours to pass, 
 
 Hannibal was still a young man, . 
 
 Hasdrubal having laid waste, 
 
 ' Have courage,' said he, . 
 
 Having thus spoken. 
 
 He looked on the army, . 
 
 He therefore reminds them. 
 
 He was a man of singular, 
 
 Here he formed the plan, 
 
 Here he obtained, 
 
 His understanding was keen. 
 
 How comes it that in all the state. 
 
 However, we went on, . 
 
 I AM not surprised, 
 
 I am well aware, . 
 
 I beg you with all affection, 
 
2 go 
 
 Index, 
 
 I believe, sir, it will not be denied, 
 
 I can more readily admire, 
 
 I cannot help thinking, . 
 
 I do not wonder, . 
 
 I grant all this, . 
 
 I have now traced, 
 
 I have travelled a good deal, 
 
 I have undertaken to write, 
 
 I know that it has been asserted, 
 
 I never doubted, . 
 
 I no longer know my own house, 
 
 I remember very well, 
 
 I said there was a society, 
 
 I say unto you, my good masters, 
 
 I shall not expatiate, 
 
 I shall now endeavour, 
 
 I will now beg of my hearer. 
 
 If such be the general effect, 
 
 If the talent of ridicule, . 
 
 If, then, more rain fell, . 
 
 If, then, neither the lucrative life. 
 
 If they still persevered, . 
 
 If we had seen, . 
 
 If wealth is the obedient. 
 
 If you will secure. 
 
 In a community of hunters, 
 
 In his sleep, so he said, , 
 
 In numbers, however, 
 
 In proposing to the House, 
 
 In that great war, 
 
 In that kingdom of Abcaz, 
 
 In the commonwealths of Greece, 
 
 In the isle of Roha, 
 
 In the kingdom of Temates, 
 
 In the midst of all this calamity. 
 
 In the plain which he had now reached. 
 
 In the present state of public opinion. 
 
 In the sage assemblies, . 
 
 In the spirit of that benevolence. 
 
 In the year of our Lord 1348, 
 
 In the Yle alfo, . 
 
 In this action. 
 
 In this island, 
 
 In this situation, . 
 
Index. 
 
 291 
 
 In this state of suspense, . 
 
 Is it that the people are changed, 
 
 Is it the result, 
 
 It arose from the barrenness, 
 
 It decideth also the. 
 
 It does, sir, often happen, 
 
 It is a maxim, 
 
 It is difficult even for the imagination. 
 
 It is easy to conceive how. 
 
 It is for the House to decide, 
 
 ' It is hardly probable,' said he, 
 
 It is impossible to enter fully. 
 
 It is not the reasoning power. 
 
 It may be laid down. 
 
 It not unfrequently happens. 
 
 It was about the middle of April, 
 
 It was in the business of war. 
 
 It was midwinter. 
 
 It was necessary to advance men, 
 
 It was said to the King, . 
 
 It was the afternoon of the day. 
 
 It was the 1 8th of June, . 
 
 It will be found, . 
 
 Just as sleep is the renovator. 
 
 Law alone could accustom men, 
 
 Lenity and indulgence. 
 
 Let us pause for a moment, 
 
 Let us suppose, . 
 
 Let us therefore, at length. 
 
 Like his ancestor, 
 
 Like Themistocles, 
 
 Look, gentlemen, to the whole tenor, 
 
 Marcellus brought up his ships, 
 Martin's couple of lances, 
 Meantime Philemenus, . 
 Meanwhile, with the advance of spring. 
 Men fear death, . 
 Men of the strongest minds. 
 Misinformation is another source of evil; 
 Most thinking people. 
 My brother made as if, . 
 
292 
 
 Index. 
 
 • My little friend Grlldrig,' 
 My Lords, I have done, . 
 My Lords, if it were here the law, 
 
 Newcomers among the nations, 
 No doubt in him, as in all men, 
 No man is so obstinate, . 
 No theatric audience. 
 Nor did Bacon ever meddle, 
 ' Nothing,' replied the artist. 
 Nothing so soon awakens. 
 Now here are two great objects. 
 Now, it is notorious, 
 Now King Ine, . 
 
 O THAT we had been bom, 
 Of all the professors, 
 Of the great acts and virtues, 
 Of the points that I am accused. 
 On applying his Elenchus, 
 On that day it was thought, 
 On the greatest and most useful, 
 One day I heard something, 
 One morning in March, . 
 Our army, having entered. 
 Our hold of the colonies, . 
 Our political system is placed, 
 
 Pericles spoke to men, . 
 Placet igitur mihi, 
 Poetry as distinguished from, 
 Poetry is, as was said, 
 Poets have lived, 
 Professions of patriotism, . 
 
 Rehearse the law, 
 
 Sappho, the Lesbian, 
 
 Should a spirit of superior rank. 
 
 Sir, I would ask, . 
 
 So they limped ashore, 
 
 St. Quentiu stands on a gentle er 
 
 Stephen had, to all appearance, 
 
 Such being their general idea, 
 
 Suddenly in the spring, , 
 
Index. 
 
 293 
 
 Suppose that Justinian, . 
 ' Surely,' said the Prince, 
 
 That he has an interest, . 
 
 That principle to which policy, 
 
 That such a retrospect, 
 
 The ancient sages parabled, 
 
 The average rise and fall. 
 
 The beginning of nations, 
 
 The bridge of boats. 
 
 The Carthaginians are already losing. 
 
 The city was very strong, 
 
 The condition of Dionysius, 
 
 The condition of the besieged. 
 
 The confederates might still have. 
 
 The conferences were held, 
 
 The divine Plato, . 
 
 The eagerness and strong bent, . 
 
 The evening was now far past. 
 
 The feeling of patriotism. 
 
 The first care of the robbers. 
 
 The greatness of Pericles, 
 
 The Greeks had no abhorrence, . 
 
 The honourable gentleman, 
 
 The Indian immediately started back, 
 
 The laws in creating property. 
 
 The legend of St. Christopher, . 
 
 The lions once were lazy. 
 
 The majority peering forward, . 
 
 The mere animal consciousness, . 
 
 The myth is a reproduction. 
 
 The next day saw the boat, 
 
 The observation with which. 
 
 The opinions of children and parents, 
 
 The other was a scheme, . 
 
 The plains of this country, 
 
 The pleasures of sight and hearing. 
 
 The poet who, as we have before, . 
 
 The poets say. 
 
 The present is a fleeting moment, 
 
 The Preftes of that Temple, 
 
 The prince's battalion. 
 
 The progress of famine, . 
 
 The right honourable gentleman, 
 
294 
 
 Index. 
 
 The sentiments in an Epic poem, 
 
 The spirit of ancient Rome, 
 
 The sure sign of the general decline. 
 
 The WatreofthatSee, . 
 
 The wild powers and mysteries, . 
 
 The youth thought proper. 
 
 Then follows a touching description, 
 
 Then Hannibal called his soldiers. 
 
 Then he falls upon them, . 
 
 Then he turned to the Italian allies. 
 
 Then he went down. 
 
 Then I demanded of him, 
 
 Then they looked round, . 
 
 There ben alfo in that Contree, 
 
 There is a tradition, 
 
 There is not a man, 
 
 There is only one cure, . 
 
 There is scarce such another. 
 
 There is sufficient evidence, 
 
 There was another circumstance, 
 
 There were in the town, . 
 
 There were two families, . 
 
 These arguments, which had much logic 
 
 These Lacedzemonians had lived, 
 
 These men think it enough to accuse. 
 
 These opponents of ours, . 
 
 They came again, 
 
 They had to dig, . 
 
 They now divided it into three parties, 
 
 ' They say, ' it ran, 
 
 They say that Narcissus, . 
 
 They say that Prometheus, 
 
 They soon gained the utmost, 
 
 They understood, by the way, 
 
 This cordial assurance, 
 
 This old man and his slaves, 
 
 This revolution, say they. 
 
 This tyrant was a cruel oppressor, 
 
 This visitation broke both the power and 
 
 Those are terrible conjunctures, . 
 
 Three companies were formed, . 
 
 Three of these people. 
 
 Through this salt and sombre plain, 
 
 Thus sprang into existence. 
 
 in them, 
 
 the spirit, 
 
Index. 
 
 295 
 
 Thus the battle raged, 
 
 To march across this, 
 
 To Plato the science of medicine, 
 
 To the various overtures, . 
 
 To the westward of this city. 
 
 Touching matters of revenue. 
 
 Two young men, Philemenus and Nicon, 
 
 Under this impression, . 
 Unluckily the boar, 
 
 ' Very well, sir, ' cried the squire, 
 
 We are all of us condemned to die. 
 
 We are dealing not merely. 
 
 We are liable to make, . 
 
 We came to a great forest of trees, 
 
 We can easily understand, 
 
 We crossed a walk. 
 
 We find but few historians, 
 
 We have come to dedicate. 
 
 We have moreover, 
 
 We said that the history of England, 
 
 When a war of annihilation. 
 
 When he found that he, . 
 
 When Livia was first married. 
 
 When our ministers had once, 
 
 When Sir Walter, 
 
 When the ladders were fixed. 
 
 When the mental appetite. 
 
 When the whole fleet. 
 
 When they came to the, . 
 
 When they had penetrated. 
 
 While they were animating. 
 
 Whenever the supreme authority. 
 
 While everything was a preparing, 
 
 While you have everything to fear. 
 
 Why should we not. 
 
 With the whole blockading squadron. 
 
 You had not been forty-eight hours. 
 
 You hear every day. 
 
 You, my friends, seem as if, 
 
 'You see, thqn,' said he, . 
 
 You will not perhaps take, 
 
 Your proposal does not surprise me, 
 
PRINTED BV T. AND A. CONSTABLE, PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTY, 
 AT THE EDINBURGH UNIVERSITY PRESS.