Judgment on Alexander and Cæsar and also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius / translated out of the French.

Judgment on Alexander and Cæsar and also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius / translated out of the French.

Table of contents

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Title page

JUDGMENT UPON Alexander and Caeſar.

JUDGMENT ON Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius.

ON PETRONIUS.

CHAP. II.

CHAP. III.

The Matron of Epheſus, according to Petronius.

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Licenſed,

Sept. 17. 1672.

Roger L' Eſtrange.

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JUDGMENT ON Alexander AND Caeſar; And alſo on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius.

Tranſlated out of the French.

LONDON, Printed by A. Maxwell, for Jonathan Edwin at the ſign of the three Roſes in Ludgate-ſtreet. 1672.

JUDGMENT UPON Alexander and Caeſar.

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'TIS a conſent almoſt univerſal, That Alexander and Caeſar have been the greateſt men of the world; and all thoſe who have concerned themſelves to judg of them, have believed, they obliged Conquerors that have come after them, by finding ſome reſemblance between their Reputation, and their Glory. Plutarch after having examined their Nature, their Actions, their Fortune, leaves to us a liberty of deciding, which he durſt not take. Montaigne more [Page] bold, has declared himſelf for the firſt; and ſince the verſions of Vaugelas and of D' Ablancour have made theſe Hero's the Object of all our Converſe. Every one has taken part with the one or the other, according to his inclination or his fancy. For my part, who have poſſibly examined their lives, with as much curioſity as any one, I will not give my ſelf the authoty to judg abſolutely. But if you will diſpenſe with me, to tell you what I think; you ſhall have ſome Obſervations I have made of the agreement and difference I find:

They both had the advantage of great birth: Alexander the Son of a conſiderable King: Caeſar of one of the chief Families of that Republick, whoſe Citizens eſteemed themſelves more than Kings. It ſeems, the Gods were willing to declare the future greatneſs of Alexander, by Olympia's dream, [Page] and ſeveral other preſages: his own haughty inclinations from his infancy, his jealous tears for the glory of his Father, and the judgment of Philip, who believed him worthy of a greater Kingdom than his own, ſeconded the advertiſement of the Gods. Many things of this Nature have been no leſs remarkable in Caeſar: Sylla ſaw in him (young as he then was) many Marius's. He dream't that he lay with his Mother, which the Augurs interpreted, that the Earth, the Common Mother of all men, ſhould be ſubmitted to his power. He was known to weep, looking on the Statue of Alexander, that he had yet done nothing, in an age, wherein that Conqueror had made himſelf Maſter of the Univerſe.

The Love of Learning was a paſſion common to both: But Alexander every way ambitious, was touched with a jealouſly of ſuperiority [Page] in his ſtudies; and his chief deſign for knowledg, was to be more knowing than others; witneſs his complaint, that Ariſtotle had publiſhed certain ſecrets, which ſhould have been known to him alone; he declar'd, that he aſpired to raiſe himſelf above other men, no leſs by Letters than Arms. Having a curious and paſſionate ſpirit, he pleaſed himſelf cloſely with hidden myſteries, and was particularly affected with Poeſy.

There's none but have heard of the paſſions he had for Homer; and who is ignorant, that in favour of Pindar, the houſes of his Deſcendants were ſaved in the ruin of Thebes, and general deſolation of his Country.

The ſpirit of Caeſar, ſomewhat leſs vaſt, reduced Sciences to his uſe; and he ſeem'd, not to have loved learning but for its benefits. In the Philoſophy of Epicurus, [Page] which he preferred before all others, he principally applyed himſelf to what regarded man: but it appears, that Eloquence had his firſt endeavours, as knowing it neceſſary in the Commonwealth to arrive at the greateſt things; he pleaded in the Roſtra, at the death of his Aunt Julia, with great applauſe; he accuſed Dolobella; and in the end made that excellent and delicate Oration for ſaving the lives of thoſe Priſoners taken in Catalines Conſpiracy.

There is left to us nothing that we can aſſuredly ſay was Alexanders, unleſs ſome divine ſayings, of an excellent and admirable compoſure, which leave with us an impreſſion equal to the greatneſs of his Soul, and the vivacity of his Spirit.

But the greateſt difference I find in their Sentiments, is, in the matter of Religion. For Alexander was devout, even to Superſtition, [Page] fering himſelf to be led away by Augurs and Oracles; which, beſides his natural inclination, may be attributed to his ordinary reading the Poets, who begot in men a fear of the Gods, and did indeed compoſe all the Theology of thoſe times.

As for Caeſar, whether it were his temperament, or his having followed the Opinions of Epicucurus, he paſs'd to the other extremity. He expected nothing of the Gods in this life, and took little care what might happen in the other. Lucan repreſents him at the ſiege of Marſeillia in a ſacred Wood, with an Axe in his hand, where giving the firſt blow, he muted the Soldiers, (ſeized with a ſecret horror of Religion), by words ſufficiently impious. Saluſt makes him ſay, That death is the end of all Evils, and that beyond it, there is neither care nor thought of Joy.

[Page] But men, how great ſoever they be, compared one with another are always feeble, defective, contrary to themſelves, ſubject to error or ignorance. Caeſar was troubled at a dream which preſaged him the Empire, and laugh'd at that of his Wife, which advertiſed him of his death. His life did very well correſpond with his faith, 'tis true, 'twas moderated indifferently as to voluptuouſneſs, but yet he denied himſelf no pleaſure that he affected, which gave occaſion to Catullus to make ſo many Epigrams of him; and was in fine the cauſe of that ſaying, That Caeſar was the wife of all husbands, and the husband of all wives.

In this caſe Alexander had great moderation, yet he was not inſenſible. Barſinoe and Roxana won his affection, nor had he ſo much continence, but that he made uſe [Page] of Bagoas, whom Darius had uſed before.

The pleaſure of feaſting, ſo dear to Alexander, and wherein he ſometimes ſuffered himſelf to be carried to exceſs, was indifferent to Caeſar. Not but that in the time of labour and action, Alexander was ſober, and free from delicacy; but in time of repoſe, eaſe was irkſome to him, unleſs he gave life to it by ſomething ſpritely.

They were, both the one and the other, liberal in giving, even to profuſeneſs; but Caeſar with more deſign and intereſt; his largeſſes to the people, his exceſſive expences in his Aedilſhip, his preſents to Curio, were rather corruptions than true liberalities. Alexander gave to do good, out of the pure greatneſs of his Soul. When he went into Aſia, he diſtributed all his deſmeans, diſfurniſhed himſelf of all things, rereſerving [Page] nothing but the hopes of conqueſt, or reſolution to periſh. When he beheld himſelf Maſter of the Eaſt, and had no more need of any perſon, he paid the debts of his whole Army. Painters, Engravers, Muſicians, Poets, Philoſophers, all indigent brave fellows had ſhare in his Magnificence, and part in his Glory. Not that Caeſar was not likewiſe naturally very liberal, but in the deſign he had to raiſe himſelf, he was obliged to gain perſons neceſſary; and ſcarce did he behold himſelf Maſter of the Empire, but it was unfortunately ſnatcht from him with his life.

I find not in Caeſar ſuch friendſhips as Alexander had for Epheſtion, nor ſuch confidence as he had in Craterus. His intercourſes were either ſtrengthnings of his affairs, or a procedure ſufficiently obliging, but much leſs paſſionate [Page] for his friends. 'Tis true, his familiarity had nothing dangerous in it, and thoſe who communicated it, need not fear, either his anger or caprichio's. Whereas Alexander was extream, either he was moſt obliging, or moſt terrible; nor was any one ſecure with a ſecret wherein himſelf was engaged. Notwithſtanding, his friendſhip was his greateſt paſſion next his glory; of which we need no other teſtimony than his own, when he cried out to Achilles Statue. O Achilles! How happy wert thou to have ſo faithful a friend in thy life, and a Poet like Homer after thy death.

Hitherto we have ſought theſe two great men in their Natural qualifications, 'tis time to examine the Genius of Conquerors, and to conſider them in all the extents of action. It is a kind of folly to reaſon of things only imaginary, nevertheleſs according to all appearance, [Page] If Alexander had been in the place of Caeſar, he had only employed his great and admirable qualities to his ruin. It may be believed, that his haughty humour (enemy to precaution) would have difficulty ſecured him in the perſecutions of Sylla; hardly could he have ſought his ſafety by a voluntary withdrawing; as what he gave was out of a pure motion of liberality, his largeſſes would have been pernicious to him, inſtead of attaining the Aedilſhip, wherein magnificencies and profuſeneſs were permitted; his gifts and preſents out of ſeason, would have made him ſuſpected by the Senate; and 'tis very poſſible, he could not have ſubjected himſelf to Laws, which would have pinnioned a Soul ſo imperious as his; and ſo attempting ſomething unſeaſonably, he had found the fate of the Gracchi, Spurius, Manlius, or Cataline, [Page] but if Alexander would have loſt himſelf in the Republick, Caeſar whoſe Courage and Caution uſually went hand in hand, had never conceived in his mind, that vaſt deſign of the Conqueſt of Aſia.

It is to be believed, that Caeſar, whoſe conduct was ſo fine and cloſe, that he was concerned in all the conſpiracies, without being ever but once accuſed, and never convicted. Who in the diviſions he ſtirr'd up amongſt the Gauls, aſſiſted one party to oppreſs the other, till he brought all under his Yoke. 'Tis to be believed, I ſay, that that very Caeſar following his own Genius, would have ſetled his own Eſtate, brought under his Neighbours, and divided all the Republick of Greece, till he had fully ſubjugated them. For certainly, to leave Macedon without hopes of return; to leave Neighbours about him ill affected, [Page] Greece indeed as it were ſubmitting, but ſcarce ſettled in a ſubjection, and with Five and thirty thouſand men, Seventy Talents, few Proviſions, to go to ſeek out the King of Perſia, whom the Graecians called the great King, and whoſe ſingle Lieutenants on the Frontiers made the whole world tremble; is that which paſſes all imagination; and ſeems ſomewhat more, than if in theſe days, the Republick of Genoua, that of Lucca, or Roguſa, ſhould undertake the Conqueſt of France. If Caeſar had declared war againſt the great King; it had been on the Frontiers, by little and little, nor would he have thought himſelf unhappy to have bounded his Eſtates with the Granick, or if his Ambition had preſt him farther, can you think he would have refuſed the offers of Darius; he who daily offered peace to Pompey, or that he would not have [Page] contented himſelf with his Daughter and five or ſix Provinces, which Alexander, 'tis poſſible, inſolently refuſed? In ſhort, if my conjectures be reaſonable, he would never have gone into the plain Country, to have ſought the King of Perſia, accompanied with a Million of men; how brave, how conſtant ſoever he were, I queſtion, whether he would have ſlept ſo profoundly, that night which preceded the battle of Arbella. I believe indeed, he would have been of Parmenio's mind, nor ſhould we have had from him any of the anſwers of Alexander; yet it was neceſſary to undertake this unequal fight to become Maſter of Aſia; otherwiſe Darius had drawn on the War from Province to Province during life. 'Twas of force that he periſh as ſoon as he arrived, or that a thouſand different people ſhould ſee him overcome with all his forces.

[Page] 'Tis true, that this immoderate deſire of glory, and too vaſt Ambition, which permitted him no repoſe, rendred him ſometimes ſo inſupportable to the Macedonians, that they were all ready to forſake him. But 'twas in that Juncture he particularly made appear the greatneſs of that Courage which nothing could aſtoniſh. Go ingrateful wretches, (ſaid he to 'um), go, and tell in your Country, that you have left Alexander with his Friends, labouring for the glory of Greece, among people who will obey him better than you. There is nothing in all his life, which the Prince of—did more admire than this his fierce anſwer to the Macedonians, and this confidence in himſelf Alexander (ſaid he), forſaken by his own, amongſt Barbarians ſcarcely conquered, conceives himſelf ſo worthy to command, that he does not believe they can refuſe to obey him. To [Page] be in Europe or in Aſia, amongſt Greeks or Perſians, is indifferent to him; he doubts not to find Subjects, where he can find Men.

But what is ſaid for Caeſar's advantage, is, That the Macedonians had to deal with Nations ſoft and effeminate; and that the Conqueſt of the Gauls, whoſe people were fierce and warlike, was much more difficult to the Romans. I will not trouble my ſelf to examine the Courages of the one, or the other; but it is certain, that Caeſar found not among the Gauls any true Armies, there were whole entire Bodies of people, even to the women, children, and old men, who tumultuouſly armed themſelves for the defence of their liberty; multitudes who fought without order or diſcipline; and to ſpeak truth, if you except twice or thrice, Caeſar might ſay, Veni, Vidi, Vici, in all thoſe occaſions; which makes me believe, that if [Page] Labienus had commanded thoſe Legions, he had no leſs ſubjected thoſe Provinces to the Republick; whereas Parmenio, according to the beſt appearance, would not at all have fought that great Battle, which decided the affairs of Aſia. You will likewiſe find this particular remarkable: Parmenio ſtood in need of Alexanders aſſiſtance in this fight; whereas Caeſar had one day been loſt without Labienus, who, having routed all on his ſide, ſent the tenth Legion to diſengage him.

But be it for the greater peril of their Enterprizes, for the expoſing their Perſons in them, or for being the leſs fortunate in doing ſo. Alexander was a hundred times in manifeſt danger of his life, and received often very great wounds. Caeſar truly had his hazards, but more rare, nor do I find him dangerouſly wounded in all his wars. Nor can I perceive, that the people [Page] of Aſia were ſo ſoft and effeminate, they who were always formidable to Europe. In the greateſt power of the Commonwealth were not the Romans unfortunate againſt the Parthians, which compoſed but a part of Darius his Empire? Craſſus periſhed with his Legions in the time of Caeſar; and ſoon after, Anthony made a ſhameful and unhappy voyage. As for Conqueſts, none can be truly attributed to C [...]ſar, but that of the Gauls; for in the civil war he reduced the Commonwealth with the beſt part of its own forces; and the ſingle Battle of Pharſalia made him Maſter of an hundred different people, which others had vanquiſhed. Veſpaſian cannot be ſaid to have conquered the Empire, becauſe he was declared Emperor upon the defeat of Vitellius; ſo Caeſar profited himſelf by the Labours of all the Romans, the Scipio's, Aemillus's, Marcellus's, Marius's,[Page]Sylla, and Pompey, his own enemies fought for him, and all all that was done in ſix hundred years, was the fruit of one hours fight.

But that which ſeems to me more incomprehenſible of Alexander, is, that in twelve or thirteen years, he conquered more Countrys, than the greateſt Eſtates have done in the whole extent of their continuance: a Traveller is at this day famous, who has croſs'd but a part of thoſe Nations he ſubdued; and that nothing might want to his happineſs, he peacebly enjoy'd his Empire, even to the point of being adored by thoſe he had overcome. In which I lament the misfortune of Caeſar, who could not give a form to the Eſtate of Rome, according to his deſigns; being aſſaſſinated by thoſe he was about to ſubject.

There yet remains one conſideration to make, concerning Alexander, [Page] That all the Captains of the Macedonians were great Kings after his death, who were but mean men compared to him during his life. And certainly, I pardon him in ſome ſort, if in a Country where it was a received belief, that the moſt part of the Gods had their Families on Earth, where Hercules was believed the Son of Jupiter, for having killed a Lyon, or knocked ſome thief o'th head, I pardon him, I ſay, if ſeconding the opinion of Philip, who believed his wife to have commerce with a God, if deceived by the Oracles, if finding himſelf ſo much above all other men, he has ſometimes deſpiſed his true birth, and ſought for his Original in the Heavens; poſſibly, he cauſed this belief to be ſpread among the Barbarians, to draw from them the greater veneration. Though whilſt he gave himſelf out to the world for a kind of a God; ſleep, pleaſures [Page] with women, and the blood that diſtilled from his wounds, made him know, that he was but a man.

After having ſpoken ſo much in favour of Alexander, I will ſay in one word with Cicero, that for the beauty of an univerſal Genius, Caeſar was in all things the chief of all Romans, Orator, Hiſtorian, in affairs of the Commonwealth, and in Employs of War. In truth the enterpriſes of Alexander have ſomthing more aſtoniſhing, but his Conduct and Capacity appear not to have the ſame Equality. His War in Spain againſt Petreius and Afranius, is a thing which people of the utmoſt experience yet admire. The moſt memorable Sieges of the later times have been formed after the manner of that of Alexia, and we owe to Caeſar, our Forts, our Lines, and our Countervallations, and generally, all that which ſecures Armies before places. [Page] For the vigor of it, the Battle of Munda was more ſharply conteſted than any of thoſe of Aſia; and Caeſar ran as great hazard in Egypt, as Alexander did in the Town of the Mallians.

They were no leſs different in their procedure than in action. When Caeſar had not Juſtice on his ſide, he ſought for appearances, and never wanted pretexts. Alexander would give the world no reaſon but his Will, he followed in all things his Ambition and his Humour, but Caeſar was guided by his intereſt or his reaſon.

There was ſcarce ever known a perſon of ſuch evenneſs in his life, ſuch moderation in his fortune and ſuch clemency in injuries: thoſe impetuoſities which coſt Clitus his life, thoſe ill clear'd ſuſpitions which caus'd the loſs of Philotas, and which, to Alexanders ſhame, drew in train with it, as a neceſſary evil, the death of Parmenio, [Page] all theſe Eruptions were unknown to Caeſar: Who could not be reproached with any death but his own, for that he took not care enough of his proper preſervation.

It muſt therefore be acknowledged, that, far from being ſubject to the diſorders of paſſion, he was the moſt active man of the World, and the leaſt moved: great and little things found him ſtill in the ſame poſture, without appearing to be heightned by one, nor lor'd by the other.

Alexander was not properly in his own nature, unleſs in extreams. If he were to run, it muſt be with Kings; if he were to hunt, it muſt be Lyons; 'twas an affliction to him, to make a Preſent that was not worthy of him. Never was he more reſolute, never more gay, then when his troops ſeemed diſcouraged; never ſo full of confidence as in their deſpair. In a [Page] word, he began to enjoy himſelf at that point, where other men, whether for fear or ſome other weakneſs, uſe to give themſelves over; but his Soul, too exalted, did difficultly comply with the common courſe of life; and little careful of its ſelf, it was to be fear'd, might take its flight in the midſt of pleaſure and repoſe.

Here I cannot forbear to make reflexion upon thoſe Hero's whoſe Empire & Rule has ſo much ſweetneſs in it, that it is no difficulty to obey; we cannot have for them thoſe ſecret repugnances, nor thoſe inward promptings to liberty which perplex us under a forced obedience; all that is within us is made ſupple and eaſie; yet what comes from them is ſometimes inſupportable. When they are our Maſters by right of power, and ſo far above us by Merit, they think to have, as it were, a double Empire, which exacts a double [Page] ſubjection; and it is a troubleſome condition, to depend on men ſo great, that they may lawfully deſpiſe us. However, ſince there is no reigning in deſarts and ſolitudes, and that there is a neceſſity of their converſing with us; it ſhould methinks be their intereſt, to accommodate themſelves to our weakneſs; and we ſhould reverence them like gods, if they they would be content to live with us like men.

But let us finiſh this diſcourſe, which becomes toilſome to my ſelf, and ſay, that by all practicable ways, Caeſar hath done the greateſt things, and made himſelf chief of all the Romans.

Alexander was naturally above all men; and you may ſay, that he was born Maſter of the Univerſe, and that in all his Expeditions, he went leſs to fight with his enemies than to make himſelf known to his Subjects.

JUDGMENT ON Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius.

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I Will begin with Seneca, and tell you, with an extremity of impudence, That I have a greater eſteem for his Perſon than his Works. I honour the Maſter of Nero, the Lover of Agrippina, and that Ambition which pretended to the Empire; but for the Philoſopher and the Writer, I have a very ſlender value; and am neither affected with his ſtile, nor his conceptions. His Latine has nothing in it, like that of Auguſtus [Page] his time, nothing that's eaſie, nothing that's natural; full of points, full of imaginations that breathe forth more of the heat of Affrica or Spain, than the flame of Greece or Italy. You will find there things cut in two, which have the air and method of ſentences, but have neither the ſolidity, nor good ſenſe, which thruſt and preſs upon the mind, without gaining the judgment. The continued violence of his diſcourſe does as it were affright me; and the Soul, inſtead of finding ſatisfaction and content, meets with nothing but melancholy and perplexity.

Nero, who though one of the wickedſt Princes living, was a perſon of a great deal of wit; had ever about him, a ſort of fine ſpruce delicate little Maſters, who treated Seneca like a Pedant, and endeavoured to make a Fop of him. But I am not of the opinion of Bervillus, who thinks the falſe [Page] Eumolphus in Petronius was the true Seneca. If Petronius would have given him an injurious Character, he would rather have perſonated him under a Pedant Philoſopher, than an impertinent Poet; beſides it is almoſt impoſſible to find any reſemblance of humor in it. Seneca was the richeſt man of the Empire, yet always praiſed poverty: Eumolphus was a Poet very low, and almoſt in deſpair with his condition, continually complaining of the Ingratitude of the Age, and for his ſole comfort applying, that bonae mentis ſoror eſt paupertas. If Seneca had vices, he was preciſe to cover them under the cloak of Wiſdom. Eumolphus boaſted of his, and lived in the world like a Libertine.

I cannot therefore perceive on what Bervillus grounded his conjecture. But I am deceived, if all that Petronius ſpeaks of his time, [Page] of the corruption of Eloquence and of Poeſy; if Controverſiae ſententiales vibrantibus Pictae, which troubled him ſo much; if vanus ſententiarum ſtrepitus, at which he was aſtoniſhed, hinted not at Seneca. If the per ambages & deorum Miniſteria, &c. was not meant of Lucans Pharſalia. If the praiſes he gives to Cicero, Virgil, and Horace, were not deſigned to leſſen both the Uncle and the Nephew. However it be, to return to my opinion of this Philoſopher, I never could peruſe his writings without finding an averſion to thoſe principles wherewith he would inſpire his readers. If he endeavour to perſwade Poverty, I dye with a deſire of Riches; his Virtue makes me afraid; and the leaſt vicious, would abandon themſelves to pleaſures, on the deſcription he makes of it. In ſhort, he talks ſo much of death, and wearies [Page] me with ſuch diſmal Idea's, that I do all I can, not to profit by reading him. That which I find moſt praiſe-worthy in his works, are the Examples and Quotations wherewith he adorms them. For he living in a very delicate Court, and knowing a thouſand fine ſtories of all times, has brought in very pleaſant ones, ſometimes of the Greeks, ſometimes of Caeſar, of Auguſtus, of Mecaenas. For after all this, he had abundance of wit, and an infinite knowledg, but his ſtile hath nothing in it agreeable to me, and his opinions are too crabbed; and 'tis ridiculous, that a man who enjoyed an exceſs of riches, and preſerved himſelf with ſuch mighty care, ſhould preach nothing but poverty and death.

Montaigne has found out a great agreement between Plutarch and Seneca; both great Philoſophers, [Page] both Preachers of Wiſdom and Virtue, both Maſters of Roman Emperors; the one richer and greater in the world, the other more happy in the education of his Pupil. The opinions of Plutarch (as ſays the ſame Montaigne) are ſweeter and better accommodated to ſociety. Thoſe of Seneca, according to his opinion, more ſtrong and firm, but according to mine, more rugged and auſtere. Plutarch does ſweetly inſinuate Wiſdom, and would make his Virtue familiar even in pleaſures themſelves, Seneca reduces all pleaſure under Wiſdom, and makes only the Philoſopher happy. Plutarch, of his own Nature virtuous, and firſt perſwaded, eaſily perſwades others. The Spirit of Seneca aims and animates it ſelf towards Virtue, and as if it were a thing ſtrange to him, 'tis neceſſary he firſt ſurmount it.

[Page] As for Plutarchs ſtile, not having any knowledg of the Greek; I cannot give you any aſſured Judgment, or paſs my Sentence concerning it; but I muſt needs ſay, that amongſt his Morals, there is a great deal I cannot at all comprehend, whether it be by reaſon of the difference of things and manners in his time and ours, or that they are truly above my little capacity: the familiar Daemon of Socrates, the Creation of the Soul, and the courſe of the Moon, may be admirable to thoſe that underſtand them. I muſt confeſs, I cannot find out their excellencies; and if they be wonderful, 'tis a wonder beyond my reach. We may judg by the good words of the ancients which he hath left us, by thoſe ſayings left by him, and thoſe gathered together with ſo much diligence, by the long diſcourſes at table, how ſenſible he [Page] was of converſation, and yet there was either little delicacy in thoſe days, or his palat was none of the moſt exquiſite; he ſuſtains grave and ſerious matters with a vaſt proportion of ſenſe and reaſon, but on things depending purely on wit, there is nothing either ingenious or delicate.

To ſay truth, the lives of the Illuſtrious men, are Plutarchs Maſterpiece, and in my judgment one of the fineſt Works of the world; you may there ſee thoſe great perſons expoſed to view, and yet retired within themſelves; you may ſee them in the purity of Nature, and in all the extents of Action; One may behold the conſtancy of Brutus, and his fierce anſwer to the evil Genius that ſpoke to him; one may perceive, that maugre himſelf, there yet remained ſome impreſſion of that Fantaſm which all the reaſoning of Caſſius could [Page] hardly efface; a few days after you may ſee him ordering his Troops, and giving Battle, ſo happy on his ſide, and ſo unfortunate by the error of Caſſius; you may behold him re-attempting his fortune, loſing the fight, reproaching virtue, and finding more ſuccour in his deſpair, than from that ungrateful Miſtreſs he had ſo long faithfully ſerved.

There is a natural force in all his diſcourſe, which equals the greateſt action, and of him only it may properly be ſaid, Facta dictis exaequata ſunt; yet he forgets not the mean nor common things, but with diligence examines the ordinary courſe of the life.

For his Compariſons, which Montaigne hath found ſo admirable, they appear indeed to me very polite; but I think, he might have exceeded them, and pierced farther into the depths of their [Page] Nature. There are windings and turnings in our Souls, which have eſcaped him; he hath given judgment of man too much in the groſs, and has not believed him ſo different as he is from himſef, wicked, virtuous, juſt, unjuſt, merciful, cruel; and where man ſeems to be-ly himſelf, he attributes it to ſtranger cauſes. In ſhort, had he been to define Cataline, he had given him us, either Covetous or Prodigal; that alieni appetens, ſui profuſens, was above his knowledg, and he could never have unravelled thoſe contraries which Saluſt has ſo well ſeparated, and which Montaigne himſelf much better underſtood.

To judg of the merit of Petronius, I would have peruſed what Tacitus ſays, and without lying, he muſt be one of the moſt honeſt men of the world, ſince he could oblige ſo ſevere an Hiſtorian, to [Page] renounce his Nature, and enlarge himſelf in the praiſes of a voluptuous perſon; not but that ſo exquiſite a voluptuouſneſs contributed as much to the delicacy of the ſpirit, as to that of the taſte. That Erudito Luxu, that arbiter Elegantiarum, is the character of an ingenious politeneſs, much different from the groſſer conceptions of the vicious: Nor was he ſo given over to his pleaſure, as to become incapable of affairs; neither had the ſweetneſs of his life made him an enemy to buſineſs. He retained the merit of a Governour in his Goverment of Bythinia, and the virtue of a Conſul in his Conſulate; but inſtead of ſubjecting himſelf to his dignity, as do moſt part of men, fetching thence all their perplexity, or all their joys; Petronius, with a ſpirit ſuperior to his charges, reduced them to himſelf: and to explain my ſelf better, [Page] according to Montaigne, he renounced not the Man in favour of the Magiſtrate.

For his death, after having well examined it, either I am deceived, or it was the moſt exemplary of all antiquity. In that of Cato, I find melancholy, and ſome anger; his deſpair of the affairs of the Commonwealth, the loſs of his Liberty, the hate of Caeſar, were great aſſiſters of his reſolution; and I know not whether his natural fierceneſs, did not almoſt reach to fury, when he tore out his own bowels. Socrates indeed died like a wiſe man, and with indifference enough; however, he ſought to aſſure himſelf of his condition in the other world; was continually reaſoning with his friends in the priſon; & to ſay all in aword, Death was to him a very conſiderable Object. Petronius only found a ſweetneſs and unconcernment in [Page] his Audiebat referentes nihil de immortalitate animae, & Philoſophorum placitis. Sed levia carmina & faciles verſus. He not only continued his ordinary functions, to give liberty to his ſlaves, to cauſe others to be puniſhed, but ſuffered himſelf to be tranſported to any thing that might delight him; and his Soul, at the point of ſo troubleſome a ſeparation, was more affected with the ſweetneſs and facility of Verſe, than all the ſayings of Philoſophers. Petronius at his death only left an image of life; no action, no word, no circumſtance betray'd any trouble of a dying man; of him may properly be ſaid, that dying is to ceaſe to live, and to him the Vixit of the Romans juſtly appertains.

ON PETRONIUS.

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I Am not of their opinion, who believe, that Petronius intended to reprove the vices of the times; or to compoſe a Satyr with the ſame deſign wherewith Horace writ his. I am deceived, or good manners were not ſo much obliged to him. 'Tis rather a delicate Courtier, who finds it ridiculous, that a Pedant ſhould become the publick Cenſurer, and undertake to blame the corruption of the times. And to ſpeak truth, if Petronius would have left us an ingenious moral of the deſcription of Senſualiſts, he had endeavoured [Page] to give us ſome diſguſt, but 'tis in this, that vice appears with all the graces of the Author; 'tis in this, that he ſets forth with more excellency the acuteneſs and politeneſs of his ſpirit.

Moreover, if he had a deſign to inſtruct us by a way more fine and intricate than that of Precept, we ſhould at leaſt ſee an example of divine or human juſtice upon ſome one of his Debauches: but ſo it happens, that the only good man, which he introduces, the poor Lycas, an honeſt faithfull Merchant, fearing the gods, periſhes miſerably in the tempeſt, in the midſt of thoſe Varlets which are preſerved. Encolpius and Giton bind themſelves to one another, that they may dye in the ſtraiter embraces, and death dares not diſturb their pleaſure. The voluptuous Triphena ſaves her ſelf in a skiff with all her baggage. Eumolphus [Page] was ſo little moved with the danger, that he had the leiſure to make ſome Epigrams. Lycas, the pious Lycas, in vain invokes the gods for their aſſiſtance, and, to the ſhame of their providence, is the only innocent ſwallowed up among ſo many guilty. If we ſee ſometimes Encolpion melancholy and grieved, his grief is not the effect of his repentance; he has murdred his Hoſt, is a fugitive, there is no ſort or manner of crime that he has not committed, yet thanks to a good Conſcience, he lives without remorſe; his tears, his ſorrows proceed from a very different cauſe; he laments the unfaithfulneſs of Giton, who has forſaken him, and deſpairs to imagine he may be in the embraces of another, who laughs at the ſolitude to which he is reduced.

[Page] Jacent nunc amatores Obligati noctibus totis; & forſitan, mutuis libidinibus attriti derident ſolitudinem meam.

All crimes ever ſucceeded happily to him, only one, which in truth brought upon him a very ſevere puniſhment; yet this was a ſin to which neither divine nor human Laws had allotted any chaſtiſement; he had too faintly anſwered the careſſes of Carce; and the plain truth is, this fumbling is the only fault that ever afflicted him; he acknowledges he has many times err'd, but never deſerved death but in this occaſion. In fine, not to tye my ſelf to the order of the Hiſtory, he relapſes again into the ſame crime, and receives the deſerved puniſhment with a perfect reſignation; 'tis now that he begins to conſider with himſelf, [Page] and feels the Anger of the gods.

Helleſpontiaci ſequitur gravis Ira Priapi.

He laments the ſad and miſerable eſtate into which he is fallen: ‘Funerata eſt pars illa corporis, qua quondam Achilles eram.’ And to recover his former vigor, he puts himſelf into the hands of a Prieſteſs of that Gods, with moſt excellent reflections on Religion, but in effect, the only ones that ever proceeded from him in all his adventures.

I could tell you likewiſe, that the good man Eumolphus is— by little boys, when he recites his Verſes; but when he corrupts his Scholar, the Mother treats him as a Philoſopher, and though they lye in the ſame Chamber, the Father [Page] ſleeps dogs-ſleep. So much is the buffoon ſeverely puniſhed in Petronius, and vice happily protected. Judg by this, if virtue had not need of another Orator to perſwade it. I believe, he was of the opinion of—

That an honeſt man and good manners agree not together.

Si ergo Petronium adimus, adimus virum ingenio vero aulico, Elegantiae arbitrum, non Sapientiae.

CHAP. II.

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IT's not to be doubted, that Petronius deſigns, to deſcribe the debauches of Nero; and that that Prince was the principal object of his Satyricon. But to know, if the perſons which he introduces are true or feigned, if he give us Characters according to his own fancy, or elſe deſcribes the proper Nature of certain people; is a thing very hard, and which in reaſon we cannot aſſure our ſelves of. I believe for my part, that there is no one perſon in Petronius, that can generally agree with Nero. Under Trimalchio, he apparently derides his ridiculous Magnificence, and the extravagancy of his Pleaſures. Eumolphus repreſents to us the fooliſh [Page] paſſion he had for the Theater.

Sub nominibus exoletorum, faeminarumque & novitate cujuſque ſtupri; Flagitia Principis perſcripſit.

And by an agreeable diſpoſition of different imagined perſons he touches divers impertinencies of the Emperors, and the ordinary diſorder of his life.

It may be ſaid, that Petronius is very contrary to himſelf, to blame the ſumptuouſneſs of a Feaſt, and the delicacy and ſoftneſs of other pleaſures; he that was ſo diligent and ingenious an Inquiſitor after voluptuouſneſs!

Dum nihil amoenum & molle affluentia puta: niſi quod ei Petronius approvaviſſet.

[Page] For to ſpeak truth, though that Prince was in his own nature ſufficiently corrupt, yet according to Plutarchs judgment, the complaiſance of this Courtier contributed very much to throw him into all manner of Luxury and Profuſeneſs. In this, as well as in moſt things of Hiſtory, we muſt regard the difference of times.

Before that Nero gave himſelf over to this ſtrange kind of looſeneſs, there was no perſon in the world, ſo agreeable to him as Petronius; inſomuch, that every thing paſſed for groſs and dull that had not his approbation. This Court was like a School of pleaſure, or Inquiſition of voluptuouſneſs; where every thing was fitted to the delicacy of ſo exquiſite a palat. I believe likewiſe, that the [Page] politeneſs of our Author, became pernicious to the publick, and that he was one of the principal cauſes of the ruin of ſeveral conſiderable perſons, who made a particular profeſſion of Wiſdom and Virtue. He was continually preaching Liberality to that Emperor who was already a Prodigal; ſoftneſs, to one given over to ſenſuality; what ever had but an appearance of Auſterity, ſeem'd to him fond and ridiculous. If my conjectures be right, Traſeas had his turn, Helvidius his, and whoever had merit without the art to pleaſe, was troubleſome at his own coſt.

In this ſort of life, Nero grew every day more and more corrupt; and as the delicacy of the pleaſure began to yeild to the diſorder of the debauch, he fell into extravagancies beyond [Page] all bounds, and into an utter diſorder of mind. 'Twas then that Tigellinus, jealous of the parts and favour of Petronius, and thoſe advantages he had over him in the skill of contriving pleaſures, endeavoured to ruin him, Quaſi adverſus aemulam & Scientiae voluptatem potiorem. Nor was it any difficult matter for him to do; for the Emperor, abſolutely given over as he was, could not ſuffer ſo curious a witneſs of his infamies; he was leſs tormented with remorſe for his Crimes, than with a ſecret ſhame, which his groſs debauches threw upon him, when he remembred the ſweetneſs and delicacy of his former delights. Petronius on his ſide, was not without his diſguſts; and I am of the mind, that in the time of thoſe concealed diſcontents, he compoſed that ingenious Satyricon, [Page] which we unhappily have but imperfect.

We may ſee in Tacitus, the occaſion of his diſgrace, and how ſoon after Piſo's Conſpiracy, the Friendſhip of Scevinus, was the pretence of his fall.

CHAP. III.

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PEtronius is through his whole writings to be admired for the purity of his ſtyle, and the excellency of his conception; but that which moſt of all ſurprizes me, is the great facility wherewith he does ingeniouſly give us all ſorts of Characters. Terence is poſſibly the Author of Antiquity, which dives beſt into the nature of perſons. Yet I can find this to ſay againſt him, that he is too much confin'd, and all his talent is bounded, in putting fit words into the mouths of ſervants, and old men, a covetous father, a debauched ſon, a ſlave, or a kind of Pick-pocket, behold at once the utmoſt extent of Terence his capacity: expect [Page] not from him, either the gallantry, or paſſion, or conceptions, or diſcourſe of an honeſt man.

Petronius, with an univerſal ſpirit, finds the genius of all ſorts of profeſſions, and forms, as he pleaſes, a thouſand different natures; if he introduces a Declamer, he manages ſo well his air and his ſtile, that you would ſay he had Declamed all his life. Nothing in the world can better expreſs the diſorders of a debauched life, than the quarrels of Encolpius and Acyltor, about the matter of Giton.

Does not Quartilla repreſent admirably thoſe proſtituted women?

Quarum ſic acceuſa libido, ut ſaepius peterent viros▪ quam peterentur?

[Page] Does not the marriage of little Giton and the innocent Pannichris give us the perfect image of an accompliſhed unchaſtity.

All that a Fop could do ridiculouſly, at a magnificent Banquet, a counterfeit gallant, and an impertinent; you have repreſented to the life, at the feaſt of Trimalchio.

Eumolphus ſhews us Nero's folly on the Theater, and his vanity, to recite his own works; and you may obſerve, in paſſing over ſo many curious verſes, of which he makes a debaucht uſe, that an excellent Poet is ordinarily no very honeſt man. And by the by, as Encolpion repreſenting Eumolphus, for a Poet dogril, and maker of fantaſtick verſes; yet forbears not to find in his Phyſiognomy, ſomething [Page] of Great; you may perceive, he obſerves judiciouſly not to ruin thoſe Idea's he had given us.

That diſtemper he has, to compoſe out of due ſeaſon, even in vicinia mortis, his volubility to tell his compoſitions in all places, anſwer to his ridiculous aim: ‘Et ego, inquit, Poeta ſum, & ut ſpero non humillimi ſpiritus, ſi modo aliquid Coronis credendum eſt, quas etiam ad imperitos graves deferre ſolet.’

His knowledg general enough, his extraordinary actions, his expedients in misfortunes, his conſtancy to help his companions in Lycas his ſhip; that pleaſant Court of ſearchers for ſucceſſions, which he brings together in Crotona, have ſtill and accord with thoſe [Page] things which Encolpius had promiſed: ‘Senex Canus Exercitati vultus, & qui videbatur magnum aliquid promittere.’

There is nothing ſo natural, as the perſonating of Criſis; all our Confidants come not neer it; and without ſpeaking of her firſt converſation with Polienos, that which ſhe ſays of her Miſtreſs, upon the affront which ſhe had received, with an inimitable quickneſs and propriety: ‘Verum enim fatendum eſt, ex qua hora accipit injuriam, apud ſe non eſt.’

Whoever has read Juvenal, knows very well, impotentiam Matronarum, and their wicked humour, Si quando vir aut familiaris[Page]infelicius cum ipſis rem habuerat, but there is no body but Petronius could deſcribe Circe ſo fair, ſo ſenſual, and ſo gallant.

Enothea, the Prieſteſs of Priapus, raviſhes me with the Miracles which ſhe promiſes, with her Enchantments, her Sacrifices, her mourning for the death of the ſacred Gooſe, and the manner how ſhe was comforted; when Polienos made her a preſent, with which ſhe might buy a Gooſe, and gods too, if ſhe thought fit.

Philumena, that honeſt Lady, is no leſs pleaſant, who when ſhe had devoured many Eſtates in the flower of her youth and beauty, being become old and conſequently uſeleſs for pleaſure, endeavoured to continue her excellent art by the means of her Children, which with a thouſand [Page] fine diſcourſes ſhe introduces to old folks which had none. In ſhort, there is neither nature nor profeſſion, the genius of which Petronius does not admirably follow; he is a Poet, an Orator, a Philoſopher when he pleaſes.

For his verſes, I find in them a pleaſing force, and a natural beauty. Naturali pulchritudine carmen exſurgit. So that Douza could no longer endure the fire and tempeſt of Lucan, when he read the taking of Troy, or that little Eſſay of the War of Pharſalia, which he declares to love much better, ‘Quam trecenta Cordubenſis illius Pharſalicorum verſuum Volumina.’

I know not whether I am deceived, but in my mind, Lucretius hath not ſo aptly diſcourſed [Page] the matrer of dreams, as Petronius.

Somina, quae mentis ludunt volitantibus umbris,

Non delubra Deum, nec ab aethere numina mittunt,

Sed ſibi quiſque facit; nam cum proſtrata ſopore,

Ʋrget membra quies, & mens ſine pondere ludit;

Quicquid Luce fuit, Tenebris agit oppida bello

Qui Quatit & flammis miſerandas ſaevit in urbes;

Tela videt: &c.

And what can one compare to that voluptuous night, the repreſentation of which ſo fills the Soul, that there is need of more than a little virtue, to contain within thoſe ſimple expreſſions it makes upon the ſpirit.

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Qualis nox fuit illa! Dii, Deaeque,

Quam mollis Thorus! Haeſimus Calentes,

Et transfudimus hinc & hinc labellis,

Errantes animas. Valete curae!

Mortalis ego ſic perire coepi.

What a night, O good gods! What warmth! What kiſſes! What breathings! What mixture of Souls in thoſe hot and amorous reſpirations!

Though the ſtyle of a Declamer ſeems ridiculous to Petronius, yet he forbears not to ſhew a great deal of Eloquence in his Declamations; and to make it appear, that the moſt debauched are not incapable of meditation and return; Morality has nothing more ſerious, nor better applied than the reflections of Encolpius on the [Page] inconſtancy of human things, and the uncertainty of death.

What ever ſubject preſents it ſelf, it is impoſſible either to think more delicately concerning it, or to expreſs it more lively. Oftentimes in his Narrations, he proceeds no farther than the ſimple nature, and contents himſelf with the naked graces, ſometimes he puts his laſt hand to the work, and when he pleaſes, there's nothing diſhoneſt, nothing hard. Catullus and Martial treated on the ſame things groſly, but if any one could find out the ſecret to clothe ſmutty things in language like his, I will anſwer for the Ladies, that they would praiſe his diſcretion.

But that which Petronius is more particular in, is, that beſides Horace in ſome Odes, he is [Page] poſſibly the only perſon of antiquity, that has known how to ſpeak of Gallantry. Virgil is touching in the paſſions; the loves of Dido, the loves of Orpheus, and Euridice, have charm and tenderneſs, but there is nothing gallant; and the poor Dido, ſuch a charitable good Soul ſhe was, became amorous of Aeneas upon the recital of his misfortunes. Ovid is witty and eaſie. Tibullus delicate. Yet it behoved all their Miſtreſſes to be more learned than my Lady—whilſt they bring in the gods, fables, examples drawn from the fartheſt antiquity. They are ſtill promiſing Sacrifices, and I believe Mr.— took from them the manner of burning hearts in Holocauſt. Lucian, as ingenious as he was, becomes dull when he talks of love, and makes his Gallants diſcourſe rather in the language [Page] of the Country than Court.

For my part, though I am a great admirer of the Ancients, I cannot forbear to render juſtice to our own Nation, and do certainly believe, that we have over them a great advantage in this point; and without lying, after having well examined the matter, I know none of thoſe great Genius's, that could make Maſſiniſſa, Sophonisha, Caeſar, and Cleopatra, ſpeak ſo gallantly of love as we have heard them ſpeak in our language; but as much as others yeild to us, Petronius exceeds us. There is no Roman can furniſh us with ſo agreeable a ſtory as the Matron of Epheſus. Nothing ſo gallant as the love-Epiſtles of Circe and Polienos; and all their adventure, whether in the entertainments, or in the deſcription, has a Character much [Page] above all the politeneſs of our age. Judg then, how delicately he would have treated a juſt paſſion, when this was only the buſineſs of two perſons, who at firſt ſight were to come to the laſt enjoyments.

The Matron of Epheſus, according to Petronius.

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THere was a certain Lady at Epheſus, in ſo great reputation for Chaſtity, that even the women of neighbouring Nations came to ſee her as a wonder; this excellent woman, when her husband was to be carried to ſepulture, was not content, according to cuſtom, to attend his corps, with diſhevelled hair, and to beat her naked breaſt in the ſight of the people, but would follow his beloved body to its monument, and when it was after the Greek manner placed [Page] in the Sepulcher, would become a Guard to it; and began whole nights and days to weep over it: from thus afflicting her ſelf, and ſeeking her own death, neither her friends nor neighbours could withdraw her; the Magiſtrates at laſt, finding both their power and prayers repulſed, left her; and every one deplored this woman of ſo ſingular an Example, who had now paſt the fifth day without ſuſtenance. There accompanied her a faithful Hand-maid, who with her tears aſſiſted her mourning, and as often as the light placed in the Monument began to fail renewed it. She now was grown the talk of the whole Town; and all ſorts of people confeſſed her to be the only rare exemplar of true Love and Chaſtity. When it hapned, that the Governour of the Country having cauſed certain Thieves to [Page] be crucified neer the place where this Lady thus conſumed her ſelf over the body of her dead Husband; the next night after, a Soldier who had the guard of the Croſſes, leſt any ſhould give the bodies burial, took notice of a light within the Monument, and heard certain mournful voices; and Curioſity, that vice of Mankind, made him deſirous to know who or what it was; going therefore into the Monument, he eſpied a wonderful fair Lady, and ſtood aſtoniſhed, and took it at firſt for an Apparition; but when he beheld the dead body, and conſidered the tears, and ſaw the lacerated countenance, he ſoon conceived what it might be, and that the dead object had made the other careleſs of living; he then brought his Supper into the Monument, and began to exhort the dying Lady, not to afflict her ſelf [Page] with ſo vain a mourning, and with a grief that could bring no benefit, that we muſt all dye, and all go to the ſame home, and many ſuch like things wherewith we uſe to reduce minds overcharged with ſorrow; but ſhe obſtinate to all conſolation, rent more violently her breaſts, and tearing off her hair, ſtrowed it on the boſom of her dead Husband. Yet would not the Soldier be ſo repulſed, but with freſh exhortations, began to perſwade her to eat; till the Maid corrupted with the ſent of the Wine, firſt reach'd out her vanquiſh'd hand to the humanity of the Inviter; and being enlivened with meat and drink, began to combat her Ladies obſtinacy; and what will it profit you, ſaid ſhe, thus to conſume your ſelf? why will you bury your ſelf alive? or why will you render you ſpirit to the Fates before they ask it?

[Page] Think you the gods do for our aſhes care?

Will all your mournings give light to what the Fates have extinguiſhed? why will you not rather renounce this womanly error, and enjoy life while you may? that very dead body lying there, ſhould admoniſh you, to live. There's none do unwillingly give ear, when they are compelled either to eat or live. The Lady wearied with ſeveral days abſtinence, permits her reſolution to be broken, and with the ſame deſire which before had vanquiſhed her Maid, falls to, and eats; you might gueſs the reſt, who know the effects of human ſatiety. With the ſame allurements wherewith the Soldier had perſwaded the Matron to live, with the ſame he aſſaults her Chaſtity. The young [Page] man appeared to her neither deformed, nor of unpleaſant diſcourſe; and the Maid was aſſiſtant with her counſel:

Will you (ſaid ſhe) a pleaſing love diſdain?

Think how you are reſtor'd to life again.

Why ſhould I prolong my ſtory? Neither in this caſe could the woman preſerve her vow'd abſtinence; the Soldier becomes Victor both ways: they therefore lay together, not only that night in which they made their cloſe and ſudden Nuptials, but likewiſe the following, and the third day; ſhutting up the entrance of the Tomb, that both known, or unknown, which paſſed that way, believed this Mirror of Chaſtity to be expired on the body of her dead Husband. The [Page] Soldier in the mean time, delighted as well with the womans excellent beauty, as the ſecret of the adventure, bought all neceſſaries, as far as his ſlender means would go, and every night brought them to the Monument. But whilſt he thus enjoyed his love, ſome of the friends of one of the crucified perſons, perceiving the guard neglected, took down the body and pay'd it the laſt Rites; which when the Soldier the next day found himſelf thus rob'd off, and beheld one of the Croſſes without a body, he runs to his woman, bitterly complaining, and tells her, the like puniſhment was to be inflicted upon him; nor would he ſtay the Judges ſentence, but with his own Sword do juſtice upon himſelf for his neglect. So that now ſhe was like to behold in the ſame fatal Sepulcher, the dead bodies of her Husband and [Page] her Gallant; but the woman was as merciful as ſhe was chaſt. The gods forbid, ſaid ſhe, that I ſhould at once behold the Funerals of two men whom I held ſo dear; I had rather hang up the dead than kill the living; and accordingly ſhe bids him take the body of her dead Husband out of the Coffin, and hang it on the Croſs that wanted one, the Souldier ſteads himſelf of the ingenuity of this prudent woman; and the next day, all the Town admired, how a dead body could creep to the Croſs.

FINIS.

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Information about this book

Title statement

Judgment on Alexander and Cæsar and also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius / translated out of the French.

Rapin, René, 1621-1687.

Edition statement

1672

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2007-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A58059

ID [STC]

Wing R263

ID [STC]

ESTC R21235

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

12681924

ID [OCLC]

ocm 12681924

ID [VID]

65671

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A58059)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 65671)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 367:6)

Source

— Judgment on Alexander and Cæsar and also on Seneca, Plutarch, and Petronius / translated out of the French., Rapin, René, 1621-1687., Dancer, John, fl. 1660-1675..

Extent

[2], 5-78 p.

Printed by A. Maxwell for Jonathan Edwin ...,. London :: 1672.. (Attributed to René Rapin. Cf. Halkett & Laing (2nd ed.).) (Translated by John Dancer.) (Reproduction of original in Union Theological Seminary Library, New York.)

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