But whilst every thing abroad was glorious and happy for Philip, he found the utmost uneasiness at home; division and trouble reigning in every part of his family. The ill temper of Olympias, who was naturally jealous, choleric, and vindictive, raised dissensions perpetually in it, which made Philip almost out of love with life: not to mention that, as he himself was not a faithful husband, it is said that he experienced, on his wife's part, the infidelity he had so justly deserved. But whether he had a just subject of complaint, or whether it was from fickleness and inconstancy, it is certain he proceeded so far as to divorce her. Alexander, who had been disgusted upon several other accounts, was highly offended at this treatment of his mother.

A

queen. He had invited to it the most considerable persons of Greece; and heaped upon them every mark of friendship and honour, to testify his gratitude for their having elected him generalissimo of the Greeks. The cities made their court to him in emulation of each other, by sending him golden crowns; and Athens distinguished herself above all the rest by her zeal. Neoptolemus the poet had written, purposely for that festival, a tragedy, entitled Cinyras,' in which, under borrowed names, he represented this prince as already victor over Darius, and master of Asia. Philip listened to these happy presages with joy; and, comparing them with the answer of the oracle, assured himself of conquest. The day after the nuptials, games and shows were solemnized. As Philip, after divorcing Olympias, married Cleopatra, these formed part of the religious worship, there were niece to Attalus, a very young lady, whose beauty, carried in it, with great pomp and ceremony, twelve however, was so exquisite that he could not resist its statues of the gods, carved with inimitable art. charms. In the midst of their rejoicings upon occa-thirteenth, that surpassed them all in magnificence, sion of the nuptials, and in the heat of wine, Attalus, was that of Philip, which represented him as a god. who was uncle to the new queen by the mother's side, The hour for his leaving the palace being arrived, he took it into his head to say that the Macedonians went forth in a white robe; and advanced with a ought to beseech the gods to give them a lawful suc- majestic air, in the midst of acclamations, towards the cessor for their king. Upon this Alexander, who was theatre, where an infinite multitude of Macedonians, naturally choleric, exasperated at such an insult, cried as well as foreigners, waited his coming with impaout, "Wretch, dost thou then take me for a bastard?" tience. His guards marched before and behind him, and at the same time flung the cup at his head. At- leaving, by his order, a considerable space between talus returned the compliment; upon which the quar- themselves and him, to give the spectators a better rel grew warmer. Philip, who sat at another table, opportunity of surveying him; and also to show that was very much offended to see the feast interrupted in he considered the affection which the Grecians bore this manner; and not recollecting that he was lame, him as his safest guard. drew his sword, and ran directly at his son. Happily the father fell, so that the guests had an opportunity of stepping in between them. The greatest difficulty was, to keep Alexander from rushing upon his ruin. Exasperated at a succession of such heinous affronts, in spite of all the guests could say, concerning the duty he owed Philip as his father and his sovereign, he vented his resentments in this bitter sneer: "The Macedonians, indeed, have a captain there, vastly able to cross from Europe into Asia; he who cannot step from one table to another, without running the hazard of breaking his neck!" After these words, he left the hall; and taking Olympias, his mother, along with him, who had been so highly affronted, he conducted her to Epirus, and himself went over to the Illyrians. In the mean time, Demaratus of Corinth, who was connected with Philip by the ties of friendship and hospitality, and was very free and familiar with him, arrived at his court. After the first civilities and caresses were over, Philip asked him whether the Greeks were at peace among themselves? "It indeed becomes you, Sir,” replied Demaratus, "to be concerned about Greece, who have filled your own house with feuds and dissensions." The prince, sensibly affected with this reproach, came to himself, acknowledged his error, and sent Demaratus to Alexander to persuade him to return home. Philip did not lose sight of the A. M. 3668. conquest of Asia. Full of the mighty Ant. J. C. 336. project which he was revolving in his mind, he consults the gods to know what would be the event of it. The priestess replied, "The victim is already crowned, his end draws nigh, and he will soon be sacrificed." Philip hearing this, did not hesitate a moment, but interpreted an oracle in his own favour, the ambiguity of which ought at least to have kept him in some suspense. In order, therefore, that he might be in a condition to apply himself entirely to his expedition against the Persians, and devote himself solely to the conquest of Asia, he despatches with all possible diligence his domestic affairs. After this, he offers up a solemn sacrifice to the gods; and prepares to celebrate, with incredible magnificence, in Ege, a city of Macedonia, the nuptials of Cleopatra, his daughter, whom he gave in marriage to Alexander king of Epirus, and brother to Olympias his

Plut in Alex. p. 669.

But all the festivity and pomp of these nuptials ended in the murder of Philip; and it was his refusal to do an act of justice that occasioned his death. Some time before, Attalus, inflamed with wine at an entertainment, had insulted, in the most shocking manner, Pausanias, a young Macedonian nobleman. The latter had long endeavoured to revenge the cruel affront, and was perpetually imploring the king to interpose his power. But Philip, unwilling to disgust Attalus, uncle to Cleopatra, whom, as was before observed, he had married after having divorced Olympias his first queen, would never listen to Pausanias's complaints. However, to console him in some measure, and express the high esteem and the great confidence he reposed in him, he made him one of the chief officers of his life-guard. But this was not what the young Macedonian required, whose anger now swelling to fury directs itself against his judge, and he forms the design of wiping out his shame, by imbruing his hands in a most horrid murder.

When once a man is determined to die, he is vastly strong and formidable. Pausanias, the better to put his bloody design in execution, chose the instant of that pompous ceremony; when the eyes of the whole multitude were fixed on the prince; doubtless to make his vengeance more conspicuous, and proportion it to the greatness of the injury which he had received, and for which he conceived he had a right to make the king responsible, as he had long solicited that prince in vain for the satisfaction due to him. Seeing him therefore alone, in the space which his guards left round him, he advances forwards, stabs him with a dagger, and lays him dead at his feet. Diodorus, observes, that he was assassinated the very instant his statue entered the theatre. The assassin had prepared horses ready for his escape, and would have got off, had not an accident happened which stopped him, and gave the pursuers time to overtake him. Pausanias was immediately cut to pieces upon the spot. Thus died Philip, at forty-seven years of age, after having reigned twenty-four. Ar- Ant. J. C. 336. taxerxes Ochus, king of Persia, died also the same year.

A. M. 3668.

died in much the same manner as Philip, observes, that
Suetonius, among the presages of Caligula's death, who
Mnester, the Pantomime, exhibited the same piece which
Neoptolemus had represented the very day Philip was mur
dered.
Eschin. contra Ctesiph. p. 440.

I did not know till now that he was one of my friends." The whole court soliciting him to punish the ingratitude of the Peloponnesians, who had hissed him publicly in the Olympic games: "What won't they attempt," replied Philip, "should I do them any injury, since they laugh at me, after having received so many favours at my hand?""

Demosthenes had private notice sent him of Philip's | upon which Philip replied, "Set the man at liberty; death; and in order to prepare the Athenians to resume their courage, he went to the council with an air of joy, and said, that the night before he had had a dream, which promised some great felicity to the Athenians. A little after, couriers arrived with the news of Philip's death, on which occasion the people abandoned themselves to the transports of immoderate joy, which far exceeded all bounds of decency. Demosthenes particularly had inspired them with these sentiments; for he himself appeared in public crowned with a wreath of flowers, and dressed with the utmost magnificence, though his daughter had been dead but seven days. He also engaged the Athenians to offer sacrifices, to thank the gods for the good news; and, by a decree, ordained a crown to Pausanias, who had committed the murder.

His courtiers advising him to drive from him a certain person who spoke ill of him: "Yes, indeed," said he, "and so he'll go and speak injuriously of me every where." Another time, when they advised him to dismiss a man of probity, who had reproached him: "Let us first take care," says he, "that we have not given him reason to do so." Hearing afterwards that the person in question was but in poor circumstances, and in no favour with the courtiers, he was very boun

changed into applauses, which occasioned another fine saying of this prince's: "It is in the power of kings to make themselves beloved or hated."'

On this occasion we do not recognize either Demos-tiful to him: on which occasion his reproaches were thenes or the Athenians; and we can scarce conceive how it came to pass that, in so detestable a crime as the murder of a king, policy, at least, did not induce them to dissemble such sentiments as reflected dishonour on them, without being at all to their advantage; and which showed that honour and probity were utterly extinct in their minds.

SECTION VIII.-MEMORABLE ACTIONS AND SAY-
INGS OF PHILIP. GOOD AND BAD QUALITIES OF

THAT PRINCE.

THERE are, in the lives of great men, certain facts and expressions, which often give us a better idea of their character than their most shining actions; because in the latter they generally study their conduct, act a borrowed part, and propose themselves to the view of the world; whereas in the former, as they speak and act from nature, they exhibit themselves such as they really are, without art and disguise. M. de Tourreil has collected with sufficient industry most of the memorable actions and sayings of Philip, and he has been particularly careful to draw the character of this prince. The reader is not to expect much order and connection in the recital of these detached actions and sayings.

Being urged to assist, with the influence and authority he had with the judges, a person whose reputation would be quite lost, by the sentence which was going to be pronounced against him; "I had rather,” says he, "he should lose his reputation, than I mine."

Philip rising from an entertainment at which he had sitten several hours, was addressed by a woman, who begged him to examine her cause, and to hear several reasons she had to allege, which were not pleasing to him. He accordingly heard it, and gave sentence against her; upon which she replied very calmly, “I appeal." "How!" says Philip, "from your king? To whom then?" "To Philip when fasting," replied the woman. The manner in which he received this answer would do honour to the most sober prince. He gave the cause a second hearing; acknowledged the injustice of his sentence, and condemned himself to make amends for it.

just indignation had extorted from this poor woman; and far from being offended at it, he satisfied her that instant, and afterwards became more punetual in giving audience. He was sensible, that in fact a king and a judge are the same thing; that the throne is a tribunal; that the sovereign authority is a supreme power, and at the same time an indispensable obligation to do justice; that to distribute it to his subjects, and to grant them the time necessary for that purpose, was not a favour, but a duty and a debt; that he ought to appoint persons to assist him in this function, but not to disburden himself absolutely from it; and that he was no less obliged to be a judge than a king. All these circumstances are included in this natural, unaffected, and very sensible expression, "Be no longer king;"10 and Philip comprehended all its force.

A poor woman used to appear often before him, to sue for audience, and to beseech him to put an end to her law-suit; but Philip always told her he had no time. Exasperated at these refusals, which had been Though Philip loved flattery so far as to reward the so often repeated, she replied one day with emotion; adulation of Thrasideus with the title of king in Thes-"If you have not time to do me justice, be no longer saly, he, however, at some intervals loved truth. He king." Philip was strongly affected with this rebuke, permitted Aristotle' to give him precepts on the art of which a reigning. He declared, that he was obliged to the Athenian orators for having corrected him of his errors, by frequently reproaching him with them. He kept a man in his service to tell him every day, before he gave audience," Philip, remember thou art mortal." He discovered great moderation, even when he was spoken to in offensive and injurious terms; and also, which is no less worthy of admiration, when truth was told him; a great quality, says Seneca, in kings, and highly conducive to the happiness of their reign. At the close of an audience which he gave to some Athenian ambassadors, who were come to complain of some act of hostility, he asked, whether he could do them any service? The greatest service thou couldst do us," said Demochares, "would be to hang thyself." Philip, without the least emotion, though he perceived all the persons present were highly offended at these words, made the following answer: "Go, tell your superiors, that those who dare to make use of such insolent language are more haughty, and less peaceably inclined, than they who can forgive them."

Being present, in an indecent posture, at the sale of some captives, one of them, going up to him, whispered in his ear, "Let down the lappet of your robe;"

He understood raillery,' 11 was very fond of smart sayings, and very happy at them himself. Having received a wound near the throat, and his surgeon importuning him daily with some new request; "Take what thou wilt," says he, "for thou hast me by the throat."

It is also related,12 that after hearing two villains, who accused each other of various crimes, he banished the one and sentenced the other to follow him.

Menecrates," the physician who was so mad as to fancy himself Jupiter, wrote to Philip in these terms: "Menecrates Jupiter, to Philip greeting." Philip

answered, "Philip to Menecrates, health and reason." | But this king did not stop here; for he hit upon a pleasant remedy for his visionary correspondent. Philip invited him to a grand entertainment. Menecrates had a separate table, where nothing was served up to him but incense and perfume, whilst all the other guests fed upon the most exquisite dainties. The first transports of joy with which he was seized, when he found his divinity acknowledged, made him forget that he was a man; but hunger afterwards forcing him to recollect his being so, he was quite tired with the character of Jupiter, and took leave of the company abruptly.

Philip made an answer which redounded highly to the honour of his prime minister. That prince being one day reproached with devoting too many hours to sleep: "I indeed sleep," says he, "but Antipater wakes."

Parmenio, hearing the ambassadors of all Greece murmuring one day because Philip lay too long in bed, and did not give them audience: "Do not wonder," says he, "if he sleeps whilst you wake; for he waked whilst you slept." By this he wittily reproached them for their supineness in neglecting their interest whilst Philip was very vigilant in regard to his. This Demosthenes was perpetually observing to them with his usual freedom.

Every one of the ten tribes of Athens used to elect a new general every year. These did their duty by turns, and every general for the day commanded as generalissimo. But Philip joked upon this multiplicity of chiefs, and said, "In my whole life I could never find but one general (Parmenio,) whereas the Athenians can find ten every year at the very instant they want them."

The letter which Philip wrote to Aristotle on the birth of his son, proves the regard that prince paid to learned men; and at the same time, the taste he himself had for the polite arts and sciences. The other letters of his, which are still extant, do him no less honour. But his great talent was that of war and policy, in which he was equalled by few; and it is time to consider him under this double character. I beg the reader to remember, that M. de Tourreil is the author of most of the subsequent particulars, and that it is he who is going to give the picture of king Philip. It would be difficult to determine whether this prince were greater as a warrior or a statesman. Surrounded from the very beginning of his reign, both at home and abroad, with powerful and formidable enemies, he employed sometimes artifice, and sometimes force, to defeat them. He uses his endeavours with success to divide his opponents. To strike the surer, he eludes and wards off the blows which were aimed at himself; equally prudent in good and ill fortune, he does not abuse victory; equally ready to pursue or wait for it, he either hastens his pace or slackens it, as necessity requires; he leaves nothing to the caprice of chance, but what cannot be directed by wisdom: in fine, he is ever immoveable, ever fixed within the just bounds which divide boldness from temerity.

deaf to good advice, and seemingly determined on their ruin.

He unites in himself two qualities which are commonly found incompatible, viz. a steadiness and calmness of soul that rendered him attentive to take ad vantage of every juncture, and to seize the favourable moment without being disconcerted by disappointments; this calmness, I say, was united with an activity, ardour, and vivacity, which were regardless of intervals for rest, of the difference of seasons, or the greatest of dangers. No warrior was ever bolder, or more intrepid in fight. Demosthenes, who cannot be suspected of flattering him, gives a glorious testimony of him on this head for which reason I will cite his own words. "I saw," says this orator, "this very Philip, with whom we disputed for sovereignty and empire; I saw him, though covered with wounds, his eye struck out, his collar-bone broken, maimed both in his hands and feet, still resolutely rush into the midst of dangers, and ready to deliver up to fortune any other part of his hody she might desire, provided he might live honourably and gloriously with the rest of it."

Philip was not only brave himself, but inspired his whole army with the same valour. Instructed by able masters in the science of war, as the reader has seen, he had brought his troops to the most exact, regular discipline; and trained up men capable of seconding him in his great enterprises. He well knew how, without lessening his own authority, to familiarize himself with his soldiers; and commanded rather as a father of a family, than as the general of an army, whenever it was consistent with discipline. And indeed from this affability, which merited so much the greater submission and respect, as he required less, and seemed to dispense with it, his soldiers were always ready to follow him to the greatest dangers, and paid him the most implicit obedience.

No general ever made a greater use of military stratagems than Philip. The dangers to which he had been exposed in his youth, had taught him the necessity of precautions, and the art of resources. A wise diffidence, which is of service, as it shows danger in its true light, made him not fearful and irresolute, but cautious and prudent. What reason soever he might have to flatter himself with the hope of success, he never depended upon it; and thought himself superior to the enemy only in vigilance. Ever accurate in his projects, and inexhaustible in expedients; his views were unbounded; his genius was wonderful, in fixing upon proper junctures for the executing of his designs and his dexterity in not suffering his designs to be discovered no less admirable. Impenetrable as to his secrets, even to his best friends, he was capable of attempting or concealing any thing. The reader may have observed, that he strenuously endeavoured to lull the Athenians asleep, by a specious outside of peace; and to lay silently the foundations of his grandeur, in their credulous security, and blind indolence.

But these exalted qualities were not without imperfections. Not to mention his excess in eating and In Philip we perceive a king nearly as much master carousing, to which he abandoned himself with the of his allies as of his own subjects, and no less for- utmost intemperance; he also has been reproached midable in treaties than in battles; a vigilant and ac- with the most dissolute and abandoned manners. We tive monarch, who is his own superintendent, his own may form a judgment of this from those who were prime minister and generalissimo. We see him fired most intimate with him, and the company which usualwith an insatiable thirst of glory, searching for itly frequented his palace. A set of profligate dewhere it is sold at the highest price; making fatigue and danger his dearest delights; forming incessantly that just, that speedy harmony of reflection and action which military expeditions require; and with all these advantages turning the fury of his arms against commonwealths, exhausted by long wars, torn by intestine divisions, sold by their own citizens, served by a body of mercenary or undisciplined troops; obstinately

The Greek word bytalve signifies both these things. 2 Plutarch. 3 Id. Plutarch. in Apoph. p. 177.

bauchees, buffoons, pantomimes, and wretches worse than these, flatterers I mean, whom avarice and ambition draw in crowds round the great and powerful; such were the people who had the greatest share in his confidence and bounty. Demosthenes is not the only person who reproaches Philip with these vices; for this might be suspected in so avowed an enemy; but Theopompus, a famous historian, who had written the history of that prince in fifty-eight books, of

Demosth. pro Ctes. p. 483. • Diod. Sicul. 1. xvi. p. 408.

which unhappily a few fragments only are extant, | gives a still more disadvantageous character of him. Philip," says he," "despised modesty and regularity of life. He lavished his esteem and liberality on men abandoned to debauchery and the last excesses of licentiousness. He was pleased to see the companions of his pleasures excel no less in the abominable arts of injustice and malignity, than in the science of debauchery. What species of infamy, what sort of crimes, did they not commit !" &c.

ceiving all with whom he treated. He did not blush t
say, "That children were amused with play-things,
and men with oaths."
How shameful was it for a prince to be distinguished
by being more artful, a greater dissembler, more pro-
found in malice, and more a knave than any other
person of his age, and to leave so infamous an idea of
himself to all posterity! What idea should we form
to ourselves in our intercourse with the world, of a
man who should value himself upon tricking others,
and rank insincerity and fraud among virtues? Such
a character in private life is detested as the bane and
ruin of society. How then can it become an object
of esteem and admiration in princes and ministers of
state, persons who are bound by stronger ties than the
rest of men (because of the eminence of their stations,
and the importance of the employments they fill) to
revere sincerity, justice, and above all, the sanctity of
treaties and oaths; to bind which they invoke the name
and majesty of a God, the inexorable avenger of perfidy
and impiety? A bare promise among private persons
ought to be sacred and inviolable, if they have the least
sense of honour; but how much more ought it to be
so among princes? "We are bound," says a cele-
brated writer," "to speak truth to our neighbour; for
the use and application of speech imply a tacit promise
of truth; speech having been given us for no other
purpose. It is not a compact between one private

But a circumstance, in my opinion, which reflects the greatest dishonour on Philip, is that very one for which he is chiefly esteemed by many persons; I mean his politics. He is considered in this respect as a prince of the greatest abilities that ever lived. And, indeed, the reader may have observed, by the history of his actions, that in the very beginning of his reign, he had laid down a plan, from which he never deviated; and this was to raise himself to the sovereignty of Greece. When scarce seated on his throne, and surrounded on every side with powerful enemies, what probability was there that he could form, at least that he could execute, such a project as this? However, he did not once lose sight of it. Wars, battles, treaties of peace, alliances, confederacies; in short, every thing terminated in that point. He was very lavish of his gold and silver, merely to engage creatures in his service. He carried on a private intelligence with all the cities of Greece; and by the assistance of pen-man with another; it is a common compact of mansioners, on whom he had settled very large stipends, he was informed very exactly of all the resolutions taken in them, and generally succeeded in causing the deliberations to take a turn in his own favour. By this means, he deceived the prudence, eluded the efforts, and lulled asleep the vigilance of states, who till then had been looked upon as the most active, the wisest and most penetrating, of all Greece. In treading in these steps for twenty years together, we see him proceeding with great order, and advancing regularly towards the mark on which his eye was fixed; but always by windings and subterraneous passages, the outlets alone of which discovered the design.

kind in general, and a kind of right of nations, or rather a law of nature. Now, whoever tells an untruth, violates this law and common compact." How greatly is this enormity increased, when the sanctity of an oath has intervened, and the name of God been called upon to witness it, as is the custom always in treaties! "Were sincerity and truth banished from every part of the earth," said John I. king of France, upon his being solicited to violate a treaty, "they ought to be found in the hearts and in the mouths of kings,"

The circumstance which prompts politicians to act in this manner, is, their being persuaded that it is the only means to make a negotiation succeed. But though this were the case, yet can it ever be lawful to purchase such success at the expense of probity, honour, and religion? "If your father-in-law" (Ferdi nand the Catholic,) said Lewis XII. to Philip archduke of Austria, "has acted perfidiously, I am deter mined not to imitate him; and I am much more pleased in having lost a kingdom (Naples) which I am able to recover, than I should have been had I lost my honour, which can never be recovered."

Polyænus shows us evidently the methods whereby he subjected Thessaly, which was of great advantage to the completing of his other designs. "He did not," says he," carry on an open war against the Thessalians, but took advantage of the discord that divided the cities and the whole country into different factions. He succoured those who sued for his assistance; and whenever he had conquered, he did not entirely ruin the vanquished, he did not disarm them, nor raze their walls; on the contrary, he protected the weak- But those politicians who have neither honour nor est, and endeavoured to weaken and subject the strong-religion, deceive themselves even in this very particu est: in a word, he rather fomented than appeased their divisions, having in every place orators in his pay, those artificers of discord, those firebrands of commonwealths. And it was by these stratagems, not by his arms, that Philip subdued Thessaly."

All this is a masterpiece, a miracle, in point of politics. But what engines does this art set to work, what methods does it employ to compass its designs? Deceit, craft, fraud, falsehood, perfidy, and perjury. Are these the weapons of virtue? We see in this prince a boundless ambition, conducted by an artful, insinuating, knavish, subtle genius; but we do not find him possessed of the qualities which form the truly great man. Philip had neither faith nor honour; every thing that could contribute to the aggrandizing of his power, was in his opinion just and lawful. He gave his word with a firm resolution to break it; and made promises which he would have been very sorry to keep. He thought himself skilful in proportion as he was perfidious, and made his glory consist in de

1 Theopomp. apud Athen. 1. vi. p. 260. Polyan. 1. iv. c. 19.

Demosth. Olynth. ii. p. 22.

lar. I shall not have recourse to the Christian world for princes and ministers, whose notions of policy were very different from these. To go no farther than our Greek history, how many great men have we seen perfectly successful in the administration of public af fairs, in treaties of peace and war; in a word, in the most important negotiations, without once making use of artifice and deceit! An Aristides, a Cimon, a Phocion, and so many more, some of whom were so very scrupulous in matters relating to truth, as to believe they were not allowed to tell a falsehood, even laughing and in sport. Cyrus, the most famous conqueror of the east, thought nothing was more unworthy of a prince, nor more capable of drawing upon him the contempt and hatred of his subjects, than lying and deceit. It therefore ought to be looked upon as a cer tain truth, that no success, how brilliant soever, can or ought to cover the shame and ignominy which arise from breach of faith and perjury.

Elian. 1. vii. c. 12.

M. Nicole, on the epistle of the 19th Sunday after
Whitsuntide.
• Mezerai.
Ibid.