NOthing can be truer than your Opinion, for Art and Educa­tion only cannot make a Man, of ex­traordinary Merit, neither can Na­ture alone do it much better, and were I to choose, I should prefer a good Education, with a moderate Talent, rather than the greatest Na­tural Parts with a Mean Education. I have particular reasons to be of this Opinion. You know, I had the Fortune to fall into good hands in my younger Years, and though I signify not much, I verily believe it had been worse with me, if I had not had that happyness; and I will tell you what befel me, since you know it already. I had indifferently well [Page 2]perform'd my Studys and Exercises at the University &c. and was as well pleas'd at it my self, as those that had the Inspection over me. When it was my Chance to be pre­sent with some Gentlemen of my acquaintance, who agreed to make your Friend a Visit in the Country, where he usually passed the Summer, his Name, which was not unknown to me, gave me the Curiosity to be one of the number: I cannot tell what he discover'd in me that plea­sed him, but when my Company were returning, he so courteously de­sir'd me to stay, that I could not re­fuse him; having spent some Days in common Discourse, the wearyness of the Country, to which young People are often subject, so prevai­led, that I began to have a desire to see the Town again, however I had so much Complaisance not to be gon so soon as I could have wish'd, but I was not discreet enough to conceal my uneasyness, which Caesarion ob­serv'd, and seeking only to divert me, took occasion to entertain me [Page 3]upon the very Subject. Do not think, said he one day, (having almost made me own it) that I blame you, it is a thing Natural to Persons of your Age, who being like you en­dow'd with the Qualities that make them succeed in the World, are most desirous to communicate them to o­thers, and to make tryal whether their Sufficiency be such, as they be­leive it. I am only troubled (said he) you should enter into the World without knowing it, and which is worse in beleiving it to be other than it is. I shall know it as others do, said I, when I lanch into it: You think then, said he, that all those, who are in it understand it, and how, said I, could they guide themselves in it, all their Life if they did not know it, like blind Men, said he, in an irregular great House, the forward Fools go by chance, and the wisest grope to find the way, almost all the World may be consider'd one of these ways, and there is nothing more difficult, than to penetrate into Men and Business.

Those who are capable of Reflec­tion have a confus'd knowledg, that [Page 4]they see not clearly, and despairing of ever surmounting the obscurity, wherewith they are encompass'd, they lay aside their Circumspection, they rather desist than proceed for fear of missing their Aim; they Essay and try the best they can every thing they find in their way, before they trust or rely upon it, and flatter them­selves that in Time, and with Pati­ence in turning round and trying e­very way, at last they shall find som­thing, and (if I may so speak) they think they are fall'n into the lap of Fortune: You shall often see great Places occupyed by Men of this Mould, it is such are cry'd up by the Vulgar sort for Wise and able Men; nevertheless it is neither Greatness of Spirit, nor Nobleness of Mind that has plac'd them in the Station they are in, it is only because they were affraid of every thing, and be­gan betimes, and from the opposite to what they are, from the lowest attain to the highest Degree, they in­tended not to stay for what they knew they did not deserve, and [Page 5]whereunto probably they had some inward shame to aspire; these kind of Men are commonly seen in Italy, and this kind of circumspect close Carriage, without any other Talent, has more than once mounted Persons unto the highest and greatest Prefer­ments.

There be others, I told you, that go­vern themselves quite another way, but also with as little knowledg. These are persons naturally bold and resolute, but wanting Judgment; ob­stinate, indefatigable, violent in all their Motion, are always extrava­gant in their carriage, who never al­ter the course they have taken, be it never so difficult, they are startl'd nor restrain'd by nothing, and resolve to surmount all Obstacles whatsoever. This kind of Men, having no Solid Judgment, and going still onwards do of course find many things which ra­ther impede than forward them, and stopping to remove that they should shun, they many times afflict them­selves in vain and to no purpose, and seldom find any good Success, unless [Page 6]it be by some unlook'd for Accidents, wherein Violence and Inadvertence are the chief Ingredients. It being Chance which produces these Con­junctures they succeed sometimes sooner; whereas those, who are cir­cumspect, never arrive thereunto un­less it be in a long Process of Time. At first they be laught at, because all imprudent ways are to be despis'd, and that nothing is more ridiculous than to strive without any likely­hood of attaining, but however they succeed soon or late. Fortune is a Wo­man, she loves to be importun'd, not to say forc'd, and it is almost the same of the Honours of this World as of those of the next, that the Vio­lent take them by Force.

I sufficiently beleive, answered I, (seeing Caesarion stop) what you have said; but are there only these two sorts of Men in the World, and can it be, that there are none truly wise a­mongst such Multitudes of Men? Yes doubtless said he, there are, but many by one Accident or other are flung out of Fortuns Chariot before they [Page 7]come unto the end of the Race, or come out themselves, having found by Experience that they are not fit to run the Course.

What, answered I, then it should seem by your Discours, that persons of Merit are more unfit for the World than those others which you have describ'd, Yes, without doubt. And how can that be, reply'd I, much concern'd at his Words: Is it not much better for all to have Wisdom than not, the danger is not in having Wisdom, said he instantly, nothing is more Desirable, whatever men think, nor so Useful and Universal. What­ever Fortune men attain unto who are destitute of it, they have only an imperfect sense of their Happiness, and always live depriv'd of the most solid satisfactions, which it might af­ford.

But the Evil is, that those, which have too much Wisdom, have some secret Inclinations of complying with the Maxims of the World. They doe enough to shew the way they should go in, but they do not conti­nue [Page 8]long in it. Can there be seen a greater peice of Flattery, than that of Aristippus kissing old Dennis the Tyrants feet, in asking him a Boon: It was all a wise Man could doe that desir'd to live peaceably in a Tyrants Court, but he should have stop't there, and not have answer'd those that wonder'd at it, that Dennis had Ears in his Feet. This Action spake of it self, and needed no Explana­tion: And so it is, that many Men, of great parts, lose the fruit of much paines which they take to attaine their Ends with great Men, through their weakness in not keeping their own Counsel.

Not that this Expression had any harm in it, it seems to me the least of those which we have remaining of this Excellent Per­son, and I much more esteem the Answer of the Philosopher Fa­vorinus unto those, who blam'd him, for submitting without reason to the Emperour Adrian, in a Dispute which he had with this Prince: And how could he chuse but be in the right, that had the Command of Thirty Legions. Yet [Page 9]you see this Expression, how wise so­ever it is, might have been taken ve­ry ill of the Emperor, if it had been appli'd unto him, or at least it might have made Favorinus have forfeited the Merit of his Discretion.

In this manner it is, that the ablest Persons discover them­selves when they are overcome with Weakness and Pride, and that they cannot strike Saile un­to greater Powers: The inconside­rate freedom of Philoxenes appears much more pardonable; you know that the above mention'd Dennis having condemn'd him to the Mines for not approving some Verses this Tyrant had made, being set at li­berty, Dennis, thinking he had made him more Compliable, shew'd him other Verses; but Philoxenes could not prevaile with himself to find them any better than the former, not doubting but his Sincerity should re­ceive the like Punishment; instead of the Praises which the Tyrant expect­ed, he gave no other answer than this, to the Mines, to the Mines, di­recting his words unto the same Sa­tellites, [Page 10]which had lately freed him. I much better approve the equal Reso­lution of this unfortunate Poet, than the Timorousness of Aristippus and Favorinus, who having prevail'd with themselves to doe what they ought, yet could not forbear saying what they should not have spoke. I should rather pardon the inconside­rate answer of Gondamor, the Spanish Ambassador, unto James the first King of England, with whom mak­ing his Court and discoursing in La­tin, the King, speaking it correct and perfectly well, fell into a laughter at some slips the Count made, at which the Ambassador said of a suddain, that his Latin was the Latin of a King, but the King's was that of a Pedant. It is probable, it was a suddain Motion which this able States-Man could not Controule, wherein I find him more excusable than Favorinus and Aris­tippus, who made the Replyes, for which I blame them, in cold Blood.

Moreover, I suppose that it might be farther said in the Ambassadours Justification, that how free soever his [Page 11]Answer was, it was of a good Cour­tier, inasmuch as it ascribed unto the King the glory of speaking good La­tin, wherof he was so Ambitious; Yes, answer'd Caesarion, but it was turning this Glory into ridicule, and nothing more frets great Persons than to slight things, wherein they think they excel, how unbeseeming soever they be unto them. And it is, whereof, the Grammarian with whom Philip of Macedon disputed about a Question, was unmindful as well as you, when he answer'd this Prince, God forbid, Sir, that you should know this matter as well as I.

This Answer, reply'd I, seems very polite for a Grammarian, and one could not more cleverly have inti­mated unto a great King, that he was in an errour. But what resemblance is there betwixt That and our Prac­tice: The Grammarians of our times are seldom guilty of such faults, and seldom dispute with Kings. Every Age and Country have their Customs, replyd Caesarion, nevertheless, you see by these Instances, that Pride, be­ing [Page 12]inseparable from those that have much Wit, is but a very ill way of ma­king their Court. The greatest Part cannot comply in seeing prefer'd, be­fore them, Persons not worthy to be compar'd unto them, and hide ma­ny times part of their Merit to pre­vent Jealousy in others, and by seeing Superiors assume unto themselves the Labour and Desert of those which serve under them. To con­clude, to behold Favour with the same respect which is only due to Merit: But if there be any found, that have the Command over themselves whol­ly to Sacrifice their Pride, when it doth not accord with their Interest, those have most commonly some o­ther Failing no less hurtful, and that is, to be subject to their Plea­sures.

This Defect, answer'd I, seems not unto me so dangerous as the other, there's Time for all things, and Men would be miserable, if there was not a time for Recreations. Pleasures, re­ply'd Caesarion, are a greater hin­drance than you Imagine, and a [Page 13]Man, that enters into the World with high Designs, has but few how­ers to spare, if he intends to setle him­self in any Creditable way, and to ap­pear Expert betimes. Moreover, no­thing doth so insensibly ingage in troublesome Affairs as Love, for the most beautiful Woemen are not al­ways the most reasonable, nor the least wicked, and when once they take up the trade of Gallanting, they expose every thing else.

These be the Baits, which Pride and Pleasures lay before Persons of Merit, and wherein most do suffer them­selves to be insnar'd; it is, what makes them go astray, or at least stops them in their course, whilst others, not being detain'd by these things, go forwards, and fill the Places, which Persons of Merit might justly have pretended unto. If it be so, they do ill, said I, and I do not pity them in the least; ne­vertheless they are to be pity'd, said he, and if ever you fall into any in­convenience of this Nature, you will find it is harder to resist than you i­magine. I mean of Persons well de­scended, [Page 14]as for those which endea­vour to raise themselves only by the Evil which they doe, having no other means to becom Great, to satisfy their Revenge or their Malice, or any of those Passions wherein their Delight does consist, in vexing others, and never affording any Rest or Content­ment to themselves, such Persons ne­ver find any thing unworthy which may tend unto their Ends, nor no­thing pleasing as may any way hin­der them from attaining their De­sires.

I understand your Meaning, an­swer'd I, at these words, but I cannot beleive that the greatest num­ber of Persons of Merit are Guilty of these two Faults you have mentioned; on the contrary, said he, these defects are almost in­separable, those which are extream­ly vain are not Amorous, or are not so very long. To Love, one must think there is want of something which one has not, and not be over­well content with ones self, so that Persons, that are very Amorous, can­not well be very Proud. Love is such [Page 15]an overflowing Spring of gross De­fects, that make but ever so little Re­flection in this State, one shall scarce keep any good Opinion at all of him­self: So that it is very seldom, that any Man is affected with these two different Extreams at once, either of them is sufficient to ruine him that entertains it; and it often happens, that Men pass from one of them to the other. Being recover'd from the Love of Glory, Men fall into Vo­luptuousness, as Lucullus did, and some­times also from Pleasures Men en­tertain thoughts of Glory, but that's but seldome.

It is pity, said I, that these two Passions, so incident unto Persons of good Extraction, should be so hurt­ful unto their Fortunes; for I suppose, that when they are settled in us, it is very difficult to moderate them; a thousand times, said he, more difficult than you can imagine, and it is where­in Caesar shew'd himself the Greatest Man that ever was; Pint. in his Life, & Suet. c. 74, &c. one of his Friends is accus'd of the most Criminal Cor­respondence in the World with his [Page 16]Wife, no less than Adultery and Sa­criledg both at once, and in so pub­lick a Manner, that he is arraign'd for it before the severest Tribunal in Rome; it was a Person absolutely ne­cessary for his Designs; it was ne­cessary to repair this Injury, but it was no less convenient not to differ with him that did it, there needed an excellent temper of Mind, to find an Expedient to reconcile two such opposite Inclinations, and any body, besides Caesar, would have been sway­ed by the Consideration of his Ho­nour rather than Interest, or rather would have taken care of his Glory, which was his Interest to have don. He put away his Wife, saying, it was only because shee was suspected; and to shew at the same time shee was In­nocent, he refus'd to produce any E­vidence against him, that had De­bauch'd her.

If you inquire into his Pleasures, you will therein find the same Pre­caution; his Frolicks at Bithinia were only Youthful Extravagancies, which were of no great Consequence, and [Page 17]could only serve as matter of sport unto some Soldiers in a day of Tri­umph. Suet. c. 49. His Gallantrys at Rome serv­ed only to Amuse him no longer than that they were no hindrance to his other Designs, but when his discre­tion became suspected of Treason, and that they would Accuse him of a Crime of State for a Paper he re­ceiv'd in the Senat-House because he went about to conceale it, Plut. in Cato of Ʋtic. having don the part of a Gallant in conceal­ing a Ladies Favours, he made no dif­ficulty of sacrificing his Mistresses Letter unto the severe Cato, who had defi'd him to do it; who no sooner looked on it, but he saw it was his Sis­ters hand. Cleopatra her self, whate­ver is said of it, stai'd him no longer than was necessary to assure the Conquest of Egypt, the great Impor­tance whereof at that time is suffici­ently known; neither did shee hin­der him (as shee did his Leivtenant afterwards) to prosecute the Course of his Victories; yet, said I, shee must needs be more Beautiful then; shee was so, said he, for shee was but [Page 18]19 Years Old, but she had not so much Experience as afterwards, and be­sides, she had a particular Kindness for Antonius, she was the Mistress of his Master, and what Master?

What you have said of Caesar, answer'd I, in that he would not prosecute his Wives Gallant, puts me in mind of a­nother Husband that I was tould of a while ago, which was not altoge­ther so Scrupulous: It was the Beau­tiful Dutchess-D'Estampes Husband, Mistress unto Francis the first, after the Death of this Prince, the good Man would needs begin a Law-sute against his Wife, which he durst not do any sooner, by reason of the great Kindness the King had for the Lady as long as he liv'd; and having oc­casion to prove this nice Point in open Court, These In­formati­ons are to be seen in the King's Library. he caus'd Informati­ons to be made, wherein Henry the 2. and other cheif Lords of the Court at his request testifi'd, in the handso­mest terms they could, the great in­fluence his Wife had on the King, and the strict Amity was betwixt that Prince and her. But to return [Page 19]to our business, be pleas'd to let me tell you, that I don't see but there be as many good men as others that at­tain to good Fortune: For if Pride and Voluptuousness hinder them on one hand, their extraordinary Gifts, whereby they understand the World better than others, should ad­vance them to better Success: It is true, reply'd he, for such as have great Endowments of Mind without any Love of Vertue, which is more fre­quent than one imagins; for the most part of those which are esteem­ed cunning able Oppressors, are only unjust but not wise, and the Vulgar only think them to be so, because they attain their Ends, without exami­ning how or by what means they do it. But as for truly Virtuous Men how wise soever they be, they have in their Soule a Natural Incapacity of knowing the World, which hin­ders them more from making any Fortune in it, than all their other Pas­sions besides; and the reason is, to remove all our Admirations, conti­nues he without giving me leave to [Page 20]interrupt him; that the World being compos'd of Injustice, Oppression, Fraud; when one is born honest, just, and sincere; one cannot con­ceive but after a long and sad Expe­rience, and when 'tis too late; I say, one cannot beleive, that Men can be so divided amongst themselves, and that the same things, which appear so fair or deform'd unto some, should appear the quite contrary unto o­thers. Whereas Vitious persons, find­gin nothing in themselves that contra­dicts what's practis'd in the World, have no difficulty to know what it is, and to accommodate themselves to its Maxims. Nevertheless, answer'd I, if some ingenious Person, that I lookt upon as my Friend, did repre­sent it unto me Naturally and to the Life; how strange soever it appear'd, I should have no difficulty to under­stand it. For to conclude, it's no such new or strange thing, to hear that the World is corrupt, and that Men are unjust and wicked, it is what is heard dayly in every body's Mouth. It is true, reply'd he, smiling, [Page 21]it is daily spoken: Nevertheless it is only such as have made long and deep Reflections in tryal of it, that can imagin unto what degree the thing is true; and you your self that speak, should the wisest Man, that e­ver was, tell you exactly what 'tis, you would not beleive him. But I tell you, I would beleive him: But I tell you, you would not beleive him: You are a strange Man, reply'd I, (with a kind of concernedness, as made him smile) to imagine that you know better than I, what I should beleive, or what not: without doubt, I know better than you doe your own self. And for what reason, I pray? the rea­son is, that knowing the things this able Person would tell you, I can tell better than you, that did not know them, if you would beleive them, or if you would not beleive them: You may say what you list, answer'd I, you shall never make me agree unto all your Subtilties, that I should not be­leive what was told me, when what's told me should be true. And for tryal, endeavour to tell me som­thing, [Page 22]that you know to be most in­credible, and you shall perceive by the course I shall take, whether I shall beleive it, or not. Some other time, reply'd he, we will make this Essay, if you think fit; for we have dis­cours'd a good while, what diverted you at first may in continuance be troublesom to you, and you may well imagin, that is not my Intention.

NExt day I rose much sooner than I was accustom'd, the new Idea's, which your Friends dis­course wrought in me, would not let me rest, and I was impatient to have them more fully explain'd: You must needs grant, that less matters might justly cause Admiration; no Person ever had a clearer apprehension, nor judged all things more accurately than he did, he had a peculiar way of expressing himself as seem'd to Charm his hearers; that's no strange thing in common Conversation. Many do speak very well and smoothly of mat­ters daily discours'd of, but to express ones self so well in such sublime mat­ters, as those he communicated to me, [Page 24]nothing seems more admirable in my Opinion. This incomparable and so rare a Gift was particularly his Talent. I have convers'd with other Persons, that were litle inferiour to him in Parts, but you must as 'twere guess at their Meaning, and their Gifts were a Treasure, that none but themselves could reap any benefit by; him that most of all resembled him, and that came nearest him in hand­ling matters, and for whom he had the greatest kindness, was so ob­scure, that Caesarion, who only under­stood him, was wont to say of him, that he spoke by figures darkly; and I have observ'd, that the greatest and most profound Wits have the great­est difficulty, in making themselves be understood.

I entertain'd my self with these thoughts, walking in a Gallery that joyned unto his Closet, not thinking that he was yet stirring, when of a suddain, I saw him coming towards me: I perceive, said he, that serious discourses are somthing contrary to your Humour, I can only impute the [Page 25]cause of your so early rising unto those we had togeather Yesterday; a little thing serves to stir up Admirati­on in a person of your Age and Tem­per, but that shall be avoided here­after: Come let's go to Break-fast, and let's lay aside our Discourse of Mo­rals; to say the truth, a good nap of sleep is better than all we can say; I made a suddain Pause at these words, looking steadily upon him, to look if he really beleiv'd what he said, and if he judged a privation of Sense and Motion better than the Discourse we had the precedent Day: I may, said he, reply in the words of one of the Antients, unto whom one said, that for a Philosopher, he made but little account of Philosophy. Why, it is even that, reply'd he, which is to be a Philosopher, but I will not use so proud an Evasion; It is neither Con­tempt, nor Pride, which inspire me with the thoughts, whereat you are so much surpris'd, it is a kind of Stupi­dity of Soule, in fine, a kind of Con­tempt of Life, which would appear very reasonable unto you, did you [Page 26]but know, how I have hitherto spent it.

Our Break-fast held not long, and the Sun was already too high to goe abroad, therefore we return'd to the Closet from whence he came; there were several Books lying open upon the Table, and Notes and Memorials which seem'd to be newly Written: I was not so much Master of my Self, but that I cast an Eye upon them, and being about to excuse my self, he prevented me, saying, that they were no Secrets, and if they were, that nothing should be a Secret to me in his House: Then, I repli'd, that if I should beleive all his Kindnesses were real, he should tell me if they were Secrets or not: Seeing you are desirous to know the truth, they are only Abstracts, I have drawn this morning out of the Books you see, for my own private Diversion, to clear up one of the most curious mat­ters of Antiquity, wherein I resolv'd fully to satisfy my self; whereupon, desiring him to impart it to me, he [Page 27]soon yeilded, and being sat down, he began in this manner.

Yesterday we spake amongst other things of Cleopatra, but it may be, you don't know what kind of Man her Father was, besides the name of Pto­lomy, which was common unto all the Kings of Egypt, he was Surnam'd Flute-Player, Auletes. Strab. and Por­phyr in Euseb. for he so much admir'd that Instrument, that he assembled into his Palace, those which profess'd to be the most skilful at it, and vyed with them, which Play'd best, him or they; his Predecessor, named Alex­ander, being exiled from his King­dom by his Subjects, fled unto Tyre, where he Dyed not long after, De lege Agraria 1 & 2. and having no Issue, nor no other lawful Prince of the blood Royal to succeed, he made the people of Rome his Heirs, thinking he could not commit his Kingdom into safer hands; accor­dingly the Senat, intending to reap the benefit of so fair a Succession, dis­patch'd also Deputies unto Tyre, to recover certain sums of Money, left there by this King at his De­cease, but all these Projects fell to the [Page 28]ground. Some Tribunes urged a­mongst other Reasons, that it was of dangerous Consequence, that the Pleasantness and Fertility of Egypt might allure too many of the People of Rome to go thither, if once they were Masters of it; therefore the Fa­ther of Cleopatra possessed himself of it, as Unkle or half-Brother to the late King, which had been formerly practis'd in that Illustrious Family.

There was no Prescription unto the Pretensions of the People of Rome, and it was but an uncertain Title of holding a Country that had been so well setled before, unless some Means could be found to make them quit their Claim. All the for­mer Kings of Egypt had been Friends, or Allies unto the Romans, and upon several Occasions, improv'd the be­nefits which accru'd thereby. It re­garded the present King more im­mediatly than any other: He could not be received more Authentically for a Lawful King, than by admit­ting him, their Allie; and because the Ceremony was usually performed in [Page 29]the Capitol; the Allyance, Pro Ra­birio Postumo. by this means, became a Matter of Religion, than which nothing could be more Sacred and Inviolable.

But the more necessary all this was, for him to attain to, so much the more difficult it was, how to ac­complish it? The Memory of his Predecessors Testament was still fresh in Mind, and as the Faults of Princes, which are not sutable to their Quali­ty, are not easily forgiven, although many times greater Failures are past by; the Sur-Name of Flute-Player, which this King had got, gained him as much Discredit at Rome, as it had done at Egypt: Nevertheless he de­spaired not of good Success, but all the Means he used to attain his Ends proved fruitless for a long time, and in all likelihood would never have succeeded, had not Caesar been Con­sul. This ambitious Spirit, who im­braced every thing that favour'd his Designs; being cumber'd with ex­cessive Debts, finding this King dis­posed to purchase by Money, what he could not attain by Right, sold him [Page 30]the Allyance of Rome, as dear as he would purchase it, and received for himself and Pompey (whose Interest was necessary to procure the Peoples consent) near Six Thousand Talents, which amounts unto Ten or Eleven Millions of our Money.

Although this King did every year raise twise as great a Sum in his Country, he could not on a suddain raise this, without very much bur­dening his Subjects; they were al­ready dissatisfi'd with him, for suf­fering the Romans to invade Cyprus, which antiently belonged unto Egypt. In this Conjuncture, the extraordina­ry Impositions he was forced to make so displeas'd his Subjects, that they openly rebelled; where­upon he resolved to make his escape privately, to preserve his Life. He convey'd himself so secret­ly away, that it was reported in E­gypt he was slain, or they seemed to believe so. The Eldest of his three Daughters called Bernice was Pro­claimed Queen in his stead, although he had two Sons, but much Younger [Page 31]than the Daughters, and shee soon after marryed a Neighbour Prince, which pretended to be Issued from the Antient Kings of Syria.

Soon after her Father arriving at the Isle of Rhodes, which was in his way to Rome, understanding that Marcus Cato (afterwards surnamed Ʋtica) was also arriv'd there; this Prince, desirous to entertain him of his Affaires, caused notice to be given him of his being there, supposing this wise Roman would not have fail­ed, presently to visit him. But Cato sent him word, that he should come to him, if he had a mind to speak with him; when Ptolomy entred his Chamber, he did not so much as rise off his Seat, but saluting him only as an ordinary Person, bid him sit down. The King, although sur­pris'd at such a Reception, could not but admire, how so much Height and Greatness could meet together in the same Man, with so much mo­desty and plainness, as appear'd in his Habit and Equipage: But he was much more astonish'd, when [Page 32]having discours'd of his Affairs, Ca­to blam'd him openly, for quitting the finest Kingdom in the World, to goe expose himself to the Pride and Covetousness of the great Men of Rome, and to suffer a thousand In­dignities by them. That it would be much his wisest way, to returne aboard his Ships, and saile back for Egypt, to agree with his Subjects, and that he was ready to accompany him thither, if he pleas'd, and would em­ploy himself in their Reconciliati­on.

Ptolomy, awakn'd by this Discourse as from a Dreame, having seriously consider'd his precipitate Wrath a­gainst his Subjects in Egypt, confess'd his ill Conduct in forsaking his Coun­try. But his Followers, that attended him, being prevail'd with by Pompey, to have him goe to Rome, in the hopes, which all the World perceived after­wards, having diverted him from the good Counsel given him by Cato, he proceeded on his voyage, and repent­ed at leisure for having harkned un­to them, finding himself constrain'd [Page 33]afterwards, to go from Door to Door, and from one Magistrate to another in this proud City, solici­ting his Business like a common or­dinary Person.

Caesar, on whose help he built his greatest Hopes was not in Rome, he was making War in Gaul. But Pom­pey, being there, entertain'd him in his House, and did him all friendly Offices. Besides the Money I told you he received of this Prince con­jointly with Caesar, Plin. Hist. l. 33. c. 10.Ptolomy had de­served Pompey's favour by divers services he had rendr'd him in his Wars against Mithridates, and had de­fray'd the Charge of 8000 Horse in the Wars of Judea. Having therefore represented unto the Senate, the Re­bellion of his Subjects, he desired they might be reduc'd under his Obedi­ence, as their Allyance obliged the Romans to do; Dion. 39 ad Fam. l. 1, Ep. 1. in Piso­nem, pro Ra­birio. in which affair Pom­pey's Faction prevail'd, and it was re­solv'd accordingly. Upon the Pro­position made by the Consul Publius Cornelius Lentulus, it was agre'd, that he should draw Lots with his Col­legue, in what Provinces they should [Page 34]go to command as Proconsuls, when they had finish'd their Year; and be­cause Cilicia was one of those nomi­nated for them, and that it was only separated from Egypt by the Coast of Syria, it was agre'd, that unto either of them, to whose Lot it should fall, he should be charged with the Kings Re-establishment.

It fell to Lentulus his Lot to un­dertake this Business, but before his Consul-ship was ended, the Egyptians, hearing their King was not dead as they supposed, and that he was at Rome, dispatched away a So­lemn Embassy, to represent and justi­fy their Revolt and Proceedings to the Senate; this Embassy was compos'd of a hundred Persons of good Note, the cheif of which was a famous Philosopher, Pro Cae­lio de Harusp. resp. Strabo, & Dion. ibid. called Dion, who had many and great Friends: Ptolomy, ha­ving notice hereof, used Means, by Murder and Poison, to destroy the greatest Part of these Ambassadours, and so terrified those, whom he could not corrupt, nor make away, that they dared not execute their Commission, nor demand Justice for so many [Page 35]Murders and Violences. But the hey­nousness of his Crimes being known by every body, it was no less hurt­ful unto him, than if they had been prosecuted in the due course of Ju­stice; it in the end rendr'd the King as odious as he was despicable, and the vast Sums of Money, which he employ'd in gaining and corrupting the meanest and most covetous Persons in the Senate, became so pub­lickly known, that it was the general and common Town-talk. There had not to that time been seen so much Corruption and Violence used at once about any business whatsoever; and when there was occasion offer'd to speak in publick of this Kings Affairs, his coming to Rome was always e­steem'd one of the greatest Mischiefs, that ever hapn'd to the Common­wealth; having absolutely complet­ed the Debauchery and Corruption of good Manners, by his ill Practices and Example.

Several other Ambassa­dours of Allies being sent to Rome, Pro Caelio de Harusp. reso to complain of their Magistrates, were abused after the [Page 36]same manner as those of Egypt were, but these last having, fill'd up the Measure, all honest Men in the Senate shew'd themselves on this occasion. Marcus Favorinus, amongst others, a Philosopher of the Sect of the Stoicks, was the first that declar'd himself against Ptolomy, he caus'd to be re­solv'd, that the Academist Dion, Chief of the Embassy, should be sent to the Senate House to declare the Truth of things, but 'twas to little effect; the Faction of the King joyned with that of Pompey and Lentulus, of those whom he had gained with Money, and of those that had supply'd him Money to corrupt others, acted so publickly in his favour, that Dion dared not appear, and Ptolomy cau­sing him to be slain soon after, al­though the Homicide was lawfully accused, Pro Cae­lio. yet he was acquitted for say­ing he had just reason for what he had done.

Whether this Prince thought he had no more to do at Rome that re­quired his Presence there; or that be­ing generally hated, as he was, he [Page 37]might receive some Affront should he stay there any longer, he soon af­ter withdrew himself to Ephesus, into the Temple of Diana, until he saw what Course his Destiny would take.

Things were in this state, towards the end of the Year, DCXCVI. of the Cities Foundation, at which time the new Tribunes of the People en­ter'd their Office, according to Cus­tom the 13 of December; one of which called Cajus Cato, a bold resolute Young Man, who wanted no Elo­quence, declar'd himself in frequent Speeches against Lentulus and Ptolo­my, with a general Approbation.

In the beginning of the following Year, DCXCVII. an Image of Jupiter, being overthrown by Light­ning in Mount Alban, according to the ancient Custom, the Books of the Sybils were consulted to know what this Prodigy portended, and in them these Words were found. If a King of Egypt has need of help, and addresses himself unto you, do not refuse him your Friendship, nevertheless grant him not [Page 38]Succours, for by so doing you will suffer much Damage.

The usual Manner was, to com­municate these kind of Oracles, first to the Senate, to examine if it were lawful to divulge them. But Cajus Cato, fearing the Kings Faction might resolve to suppress this, it being so much to this Prince's prejudice, with­out farther Ceremony, presented the Priests, which kept these sacred Re­cords unto the People, and by Virtue of the Power his Tribune-ship gave him, obliged them to expose unto the Publick, what they had therein found without consulting the Senate in the matter.

This unexpected proceeding was as 'twere another Thunder-clap to Ptolomy and Lentulus. The words of the Sybil were too precise and ex­actly calculated to the present Con­juncture, not to imprint in the People the Impressions, the Kings Enemies desired, and Lentulus, whose Consul­ship was expired, not willing to re­ceive in Person the disgrace of revo­king [Page 39]the Senat's Decree, which had appointed him to restore Ptolomy, went away immediatly into his Pro­vince. In fine, a few days after, one of the new Consuls, called Marcellinus, an open Enemy unto Pompey, having represented the Sense of the Oracle to the Senate; it was resolved, O­bedience should be given unto it, and that it was not safe for the Common-Wealth, Ad Fam. l. 1. Ep. 1. ad Q. F. l. 2. Ep. 2. Ap. in Sir. & Parth. &c. to re-establish the King of Egypt by force of Armes.

Caesarion stopping at these words, as 'twere to recollect what he had else to say; I could not hide my ad­miration from him, that in so learn­ed an Age, the most Illustrious As­sembly in the World, should give credit to so unlikely a Superstition. You must not wonder at it, saith he, unto me: A whole Assembly may have some difference upon a Religi­ous score, which it may be not one of those Persons would doe whereof it's compos'd, were they alone, and Men are very different when they are together, Ad Fam. l. 1. Ep. 1. of what they be when they are single and apart. No body [Page 40]doubts, but this suppos'd Oracle was contriv'd on purpose in hatred of Pompey, Ad Fam. l. 1. Ep. 1. who espous'd the Kings Interests, and whose ambitious deal­ings were alike suspected and known. Besides, it is most certain that the generality of good Men, at that time made no esteem of the Books of the Sybils. They were much admir'd indeed at the first beginning of the Common-Wealth, when the Roman Ignorance was as great as their Vertue; but since Learning had passed out of Greece into Italy, those kind of Prophesies were not regarded, and the three Books sold by the Sybil of Cuma at so great a price unto the first of the Tarquin's, having been burnt in the Capitol in the dayes of Sylla, it not being permitted to have Copies of them, other nice kind of Books, that had been gather'd throughout the Empire, to supply their place when the Capitol was re­built, not being of the same Autho­rity, little heed was given to them; but let us re-assume the Course of our History.

Ptolomy having observ'd during his stay at Rome, that the Cor­respondence betwixt him and Lentu­lus tended but little to his advantage, because this Proconsul had many Ene­myes; at his departure from thence he left one Ammonius, an Egyptian, his Ambassador there in his stead, and charged him not to insist upon the order of Senat, that had appoint­ed Lentulus to act in his Re-establish­ment; moreover judging it necessa­ry, this Commission should be put in the hands of some Person of Autho­rity, and extraordinary Interest and Reputation, seeing it could not be executed by Force, by reason of the Oracles Prohibition; he Order'd his Ambassadours to demand, it should be committed into the hands of Pompey, attended only with two Bayliffs.

Two Bayliffs, said I, to reduce a whole Kingdom to Obedience; re­ply'd Caesarion, the Majesty and Re­spect at that time born unto the Ro­man Name throughout the World, may be demonstrated from as im­probable things as that; did you ne­ver [Page 42]hear, said he, of that great Am­bassadour sent by the Senate, the Age before that we speak of, unto Anti­ochus the famous King of Syria? This Prince, having almost subdued the whole Kingdom of Egypt, was going to beseige Alexandria, in which place the Royal Family had taken Sanctuary, being destitute of any other help, but the protection of the Romans.

Cajus Popilius was the Name of this Ambassadour, who meeting this proud King, being an Ally of Rome, four miles from this flourish­ing City, having saluted him, present­ed him his Hand in token of Friend­ship; Popilius made no other answer to his Civility, but presenting him the Senates Letters bid him read them. Antiochus, having read them, said, he would advise with his Friends in the Case; but Popilius drawing a Circle about the King with a Rod he had in his Hand; be­fore, said he, you pass the Limits of this Circle, give the Senate your Answer.

The King, being surpris'd with so resolute a demand, paused a little, and then promis'd to do what the Senate commanded; whereupon Po­pilius stretched out his hand, and de­clared the King, a Friend and Ally of Rome; and Antiochus, quitting all he had conquer'd, soon after depart­ed out of Egypt by the time prefixt.

I confess, said I, the two Bayliffs are not so strange as this Adventure, and it had been necessary in this jun­cture, that this King had resembled one of our Kings, that boasted his Horse carry'd all his Council, but if you please, let us return unto Pom­pey.

The Hopes, replied Caesarion, which Ptolomy had in him, was the more just, because this Illustrious Roman was at that time in the highest pitch of his Glory, by reason of the good success in conquering Mithridates, Rex post. Alex. Max. Cic. Luc. the greatest King that Asia enjoy'd, ever since the days of Alexander. Two Tribunes of the People, one called Lupus, the other Caninius, being both devoted unto Pompey, having in pub­lick [Page 44]read Letters from Ptolomy, whereby this Prince desired of the Senate, Plut. in Pompe. that Pompey might be entrust­ed with the power of restoring him to his Kingdom; thereupon grew up amongst the Senators sundry dif­ferent Opinions.

Publius Servilius Isauricus was of opinion not to give him any Assi­stance at all, and it had been so car­ried by Plurality of Voices, had not Caninius opposed himself thereto, as his Office of Tribune qualified him.

Hortensius, Marcus Lucullus, and Cicero maintain'd, that the former Decree of the Senate ought to be ob­serv'd in behalf of Lentulus, and that seeing the Oracle permitted him not to re-establish the King by force of Arms, it behoved him to find out some other convenient way of resto­ring him. Crassus was of opinion, that Commission should be given to three Ambassadors, which should be indifferently chose out of the Senate. Bibulus, a declar'd Ene­my of Caesar, and by consequence of Pompey his Son in Law, concurr'd [Page 45]also in the same Opinion, of sending three Ambassadors with Crassus, but excepting all such of the Senate, which bore any other Office, as Pom­pey and Lentulus did. This Opinion was liked by the new Consuls Mar­cellus and Philip, and generally by all those that had been Consuls, except Volcatius an intimate friend of Pom­pey's and Afranius, who had been his Lieutenant against Sertorius, and against Mithridates.

About this time, his Geatness be­came suspected unto most of the Se­nat, especially by reason of his Al­liance and Intimacy with Caesar. It was observ'd a good while, that he always ambition'd the greatest Com­mands, and that, as soon as ever one Office was expir'd, he presently grasped after some other, at any rate; so that having put an end to the Civil Wars in Italy, which took beginning presently after the death of Sylla, he procured to be sent into Spain against Sertorius, then soon after against the Pirates; afterwards by his Factions, he caused Lucius Lu­cullus [Page 46]to be recall'd in the midst of his successes against Mithridates, and to be sent himself in his stead, to com­mand the Legions in the East: To con­clude, after the Death of this Prince, there being no considerable Wars stirring, he obtein'd a new Commis­sion, to provide Corn for the speedy releif of the necessities, that Italy was then reduc'd unto. The Romans thought it no less glorious, to supply the wants of their Country, than it was to expel their Enemies; where­fore, this latter Commission stirr'd up all the Envy imaginable a­gainst him, even those that seem'd to be his Friends before, upon this oc­casion, refused to favour his Designe, in re-establishing the King of E­gypt, Plut. in Pom. because he had the Commis­sion of providing Corn for five Years, whereas it was against the Laws, that any should Execute two Offices at once.

Notwithstanding all these oppo­sitions, Ad Fam. l. 1. Ep. 1. Lucius Libo, whose Daugh­ter afterwards Marryed Pompey's youngest Son, a Tribune named [Page 47] Plautius Hipsaeus, who had been his Quaestor against Mithridates, and ge­nerally all his Friends so highly de­clared for him in this Matter, that no body made any doubt, but that he earnestly desired this Imploy­ment, although he declared it not openly himself.

He had receiv'd too many and pub­lick favours from Lentulus, to have dar'd to oppose him openly. It was Lentulus, that procur'd for him the Power of the Corn business, but this important Service, which had incurr'd to this Pro-consul the hatred of all those which pretended to this Of­fice, did never a whit the more assure him of the Friendship of Pompey, for no thing indeed could assure it. Cicero who knew him better than any Man, and who had the greatest Obligation un­to the same Proconsul, for his being releas'd from Banishment, ceased not to importune Pompey, in favour of their common Benefactor; and as this Oraror in this Rancoun­ter, perform'd the part of a grateful friend; Pompey on his part, thought best to dissemble his [Page 48]Ingratitude, so far as to make a Speech in the Senat-House, Pompeius fremit queri­tur, sed utrum fronte an men­te dubi­tatur, l. 1. Ep. 14. Ad Att. with all the Vigour and seeming Kindness could be, in behalf of Lentulus: But there was very little credit given to it, he was observ'd to compass his Ends by such oblique Courses, that there was no trust given * to any thing he either did, or said.

You give there, said I, interrupting him at these words, a strange Cha­racter of the great Pompey, and I could never have thought it, by his Sur­name and great Reputation. You meane, answer'd Caesarion, the Phar­salia; but you shall find afterwards, that Lucan has represented him quite different from what he was, and that many times there is no good ground for the greatest Reputations. I confess, answer'd I, at my turn, if things were as you say, Lentulus de­serves to be pity'd; for there can nothing be more cruel, than to be abus'd by a Person, that one has serv'd, and to be expos'd to the Ma­lice of Enemies, that one has got by serving his Friend. But I expected [Page 49]however, that Pompey's Enemies would forbeare persecuting Lentulus, when they saw he was betray'd by him: You are much deceiv'd, an­swered Caesarion, this Treason repair'd not the micheif don them by Len­tulus, in preferring Pompey before them, and their hatred was no way mitigated, on the contrary they us'd all means possible in protracting the business, because it could not be ter­minated, but in favour of the Pro-Consul; for not agreeing to employ Pompey in the business, nor any one else to his prejudice, should a final resolution be taken, they could not avoid confirming the former Act of the Senat, which had nominated Len­tulus on the termes the Oracle had prescrib'd, of setling the King of E­gypt otherwise, than by force of Armes.

In effect, the Opinion of Bibulus of granting a Commission about the the matter in agitation to three Am­bassadours, excluding amongst o­thers, Pompey and Lentulus, out of the number, because they were pos­sess'd [Page 50]of other Offices, was not insist­ed upon next day, as it had been till then, and there was only deliberated about those which confirm'd Lentulus, and those which propos'd Pompey.

The usual form was that they should first confider that which con­firm'd Lentulus, because it had been propos'd by Consulary Persons; whereas the other had only been propos'd by the Tribunes: But Lu­pus, one of those Tribunes, seeing which way the Senat was inclin'd, fear'd, that if they should begin to deliberate upon Lentulus, that he he would be confirm'd in spight of his Enemies; to prevent this Dan­ger, and to use his last endeavour in in his friends behalf, it came into his minde to propose, that it was most expedient, to deliberate of Pompey first.

Most of the Senatours highly re­jected this Innovation, but the Con­suls did not so, they were ever of the Judgment of Bibulus, equally contra­ry both unto Lentulus and Pompey. But seeing the cause almost deserted, [Page 51]they sided with those that favour'd Pompey, not with intent to confirm him, but with a Design, to hinder Lentulus's friends from confirming him, in spending all the Session as the former had been, in frivolous Disputes. To this purpose they de­clar'd, not as the others did, against the Tribunes unaccustom'd proceed­ing, neither did they much regard it; and keeping up the Feud amongst the several Factions, by this dubious proceedings instead of composing differences, which they might easily have don by their Authority, they did what they desir'd, which was, that nothing at all should be don, and so they parted the third time, with­out coming to any Conclusion.

The Enemies of Lentulus, for to frustrate his Pretensions, only need­ed to stave it off to the Sitting fol­lowing, which was to be the Ad. Fam. l. 1. Ep. 4. 15 of January, because the Senate could not meet all the rest of the Month, for sundry reasons, that time being appointed for giving Audience to Am­bassadors, so that no other business was [Page 52]to be heard, until they were dis­patch'd. The last day therefore of this Session, Curion the Father, who had not hitherto appear'd in the Matter, spake smartly, both a­gainst Pompey, and against Lentulus. And although Bibulus had almost de­clin'd the Opinion, which he at first gave, of joyning with the friends of Lentulüs against Pompey, Pompey's party grew so insolent, and took such Liberty in speaking, that every one spake and concluded what they listed; so that this Sitting also was as fruitlesly spent, as the others had been before.

Yet although the pretensions of Lentulus were still delay'd by these Artifices; the Tribune Cato, fearing yet that it might succeed, propos'd to the People about the beginning of February, to discharge him of his Go­vernment of Cilicia. His Son, as the manner was in the like cases, went into mourning to solicit for his Fa­ther, and his friends used all manner of Endeavours in his behalf. It was strictly prohibited, to treat with the [Page 53]People about any business whatsoe­ver, on the Days wherein the flight of Birds was observed; and all Ma­gistrats having the priviledg to ob­serve them when they pleas'd, Lentu­lus's friends made use of this Artifice, to hinder the People from deliberat­ing of Cato's Proposition against him. A little while after, another Tribune, called Lucius Racilius, who was his Friend, removed this obstacle by in­terposing his Authority, after the usual form, according to the privi­ledg of his Office. For when a Tri­bune oppos'd himself unto what the rest had propos'd, they could not proceed any farther without the con­currence of the People, which was difficult and rare to be seen.

During these Transactions, Pom­pey making a Speech to the People a­bout another business, instead of re­ceaving thanks and commendations, he was scoff'd and revil'd; amongst other things he was tax'd, for star­ving the People for want of Corn, their indignation proceeded so farr, that they accus'd him of the most [Page 54]horrible Crimes, but especially, they jeer'd him publickly, at his design of restoring the King of Egypt.

The Tribune Cato some time after, in the Senat, pressed him so hard, and was so favourably heard by the whole Assembly, that Pompey, how close soever he carri'd it, could not at least conceale his trouble and grief. These two misfortunes, hav­ing plainly discover'd unto him, the Envy which all the World bore him, made him wholly lay aside all farther thoughts of the business of Egypt: And some time after, Lentu­lus writing to him in such a way, as if he believ'd, he never had thoughts of seeking after it; he was so pleas'd with the Letter, that he forthwith imbrac'd Cicero's opinion of the thing, in wishing it to their Common friend.

I perceive then, said I, it was not Pompey alone, that knew how to dis­semble in those dayes, and Lentulus knew how to doe it as well as him. It is not a thing to be blam'd, reply'd Caesarion, to wink at the failing of [Page 55]our friends, when this Connivance may recal them to their Duty; on the contrary ther's nothing more manly and generous, and that was the case, as you see, of Lentulus. But to dissemble as Pompey did, by his evil designs against his friend, and to leave no meanes unattempted to ef­fect them, is the basest of all treache­ries.

But what expectation, reply'd I, could Cicero have for Lentulus, and what could this Proconsul do, with­out imploying open Force against a great Kingdom, where the fame of the Oracle had been spread, which enjoyn'd, that it should not be at­taqu'd by open Force: You are not very deep sighted, answer'd Caesarion. The Oracle only prohibited furnish­ing the King with an Army to re­establish him: Could not Lentulus have left the King, as 'twere incognito, in some place near the Borders, and in the mean time with a good Army, goe beseige Alexandria? then when he had taken it, leaving good Garrisons behind him, come back and send the King into his Kingdom, who should [Page 56]find all places ready to receive him? and were not this, said I, to re-estab­lish him by force of Armes, against the Prohibition made by the Sybil; not at all, reply'd Caesarion, for in the time Lentulus subdu'd the Egyptians, the King was not with him; and when the King was return'd, there was no Army, and so it could not be said that he had an Army given him, to restore him to his Country. You jeere, said I, to reason after this man­ner, as if it were not all one, that Ptolomy had been with Lentulus, or had not been with him, seeing the Proconsul subdu'd Egypt by force. You are dul of Apprehension, reply'd Caesarion, but if you will not believe me, it may be you will give more credit to Pompey and Cicero. Harken then to the very words of this Ora­tour, writing to Lentulus, as well in his own Name, as in Pompey's: ‘It is for you to judge what you can un­dertake, being Master of Cilicia and Cyprus, and if you conceive it feasible, to take Alexandria and the rest of Egypt, doubtless it is for your Credit and for the Repub­licks, [Page 57]that you should hasten thi­ther, with your Fleet and Army, leaving the King at Ptolomais, or some other adjacent place, to the end, that when you have appeas'd the Rebellion, and plac'd good Garrisons every where, the King might returne thither. In this manner you will re-establish him, as the Senat at first appointed you, and he will be restor'd without Force, as our Zealots affirm, the Sybil appointed it should be done.’

Sic have to, me, cum illo re saepe commu­nicata, de illius ad te sententia, & auto­ritate scribere; Te posse perscribere, qui Ciliciam Cyprumque tenes, quid office­re, & quid consequi possis, & si res fa­cultatem habitura videatur, ut Alexan­driam atque Aegyptum tenere possis, esse & tui, & nostri Imperii dignitatis, Pto­lemaide, aut aliquo propinquo loco, Rege collocato, te cum classe atque exercitu pro­ficisci Alexandriam, ut cum illam pace praesidiisque firmaris, Ptolomaeus redeat in regnum. Ita fore ut per te restituatur, quemadmodum initio Senatus censuit, & sine multitudine reducatur, quemadmo­dum homines religiosi Sibyllae placere dix­erunt. Ad Famil, l. 1. Ep. 7.

You see by this, continued Caesarion, making a little pause, the truth of what I told you at first, that in the main, the Sybil's Books were not much valu'd: For Cicero adds in plain Terms, that how strange soe­ver, the advice, he gives to Lentulus, does appear, all the World should judge of it by the Success; so that he should on­ly be careful to take his measures so well as to be sure not to fail in his Design; and if he did not, he had as good do no­thing at all.

I freely confess, that I should ne­ver have thought of such a cunning peice of Policy, reply'd I, being able not to contain any longer, and I see thereby, Heaven may be compounded with at any time.

But pray, let me know if this Pro­ject succeeded. Lentulus, reply'd Cae­sarion, did not think himself strong enough to follow this Counsel, and the Troops, which he could private­ly have furnished Ptolomy withal, ap­peared not sufficient unto this Prince, to restore him without the Presence of the Pro-Consul.

But there was another which com­manded at the same time in Syria, who was not altogether so scrupu­lous. It was Aulus Gabinius, one tu­tour'd by Catiline, of whom he had been tenderly belov'd in his Youth, and his Actions did not derogate from his Education. He was esteem'd a great Dancer, Dion. l. 39. Strab. l. P7. ad Catili­nam a­matorem suum Ejus vir Catili­na, l. 3. c. 14. as Ptolomy was a Player upon the Flute; he rifled his own Province worse than the Ban­ditty or wild Arabians would have done, had they had their Will. But e­specially he exercised his Cruelty a­gainst all sorts of Publicans, out of Envy against the Order of Knights they were of, who had in an emi­nent manner defended Cicero against him; for it was under his Consul­ship, and especially by his Authority that this Orator was condemn'd to to Banishment.

Ex eventu homines de tuo consilio ex­istimaturos; si exploratum tibi sit, non cunctandum; sin dubium, non conan­dum, ibid.

His proceedings had rendr'd him so odious at Rome, that having accor­ding to Custom given the Senat ad­vice of a War, De Pro­vin. Con­sular in Pisonem ad. Q.F. l, 2. Ep. 7. that he had began and brought to a happy Conclusion a­gainst the Kings of Judea, his Let­ters were slighted, and little or no notice taken of them, which had ne­ver been done before unto any else besides, neither would the Senate vouchsafe to thank the Gods in his Name. But he grew never the wiser nor better for this disgrace. There being no more to be got in Syria, which he had utterly ruin'd by his Oppressions, he design'd a War a­gainst the Arabians, when Mithrida­tes Prince of the Parthians came to crave his assistance, who was expell'd by the King his Brother out of Me­dia, which had been assigned unto him for his Portion. Although it was strictly prohibited by Law, that no Pro-consul should go out of his Pro­vince, nor undertake, or declare any War whatsoever, without the Se­nate's express Order, yet Gabinius made no Scruple of ingaging in [Page 61]this Quarrel, in hope of making ad­vantage of the great Riches of these two Princes, by their mutual animo­sities. He had already passed Euphra­tes with his Army, to this purpose, when Ptolomy met him with Letters from Pompey, the Friend and Protec­tor of them both, who was then new­ly declared Consul for the ensuing Year, by which Letters, he con­jur'd Gabinius to hearken to the Proposals this Prince should make him, concerning his re-establishment in his Kingdom.

Whether it was out of regard to the Sybils Oracle, or that the Par­thian War seem'd less difficult and more profitable, than that of Egypt, most of the cheifest Men about Ga­binius declared themselves against Ptolomy, Antonius only excepted, who though very Young, Ap. l. 5. & Plut. in Ant. com­manded the Cavalry, and was after­wards one of the Triumvirs, and an intimate friend of this Prince.

But the more the business was dis­lik'd, the more Gabinius resolv'd to be courted, and to make his advan­tage [Page 62]by it. Ptolomy, who resolv'd to spare no cost, to procure his consent, offer'd for the General and the Ar­my, Ten Thousand Talents, which amounts, in our Money, to about Se­venteen Millions, the greatest part to be paid in advance, and the rest as soon as he was restor'd. It was no hard matter for Antonius, to prevaile with Gabinius to accept this offer, who thirsted more after it than he himself.

Egypt was govern'd by the King's Eldest Daughter, who I told you was Proclaim'd Queen, when the King sled away. The Syrian Prince that Marryed her, prov'd a very mean and brutish Person. Whether it was his Natural Love to Riches, or that he thought not himself well Establish'd, he resolved to make use of his Time. His first care was, to take the Body of Alexander the Great, out of the Coffin of Massy Gold, which he converted to his own use, having, till then lain quietly therein, and caus'd it to be put into one of Glass. But this, and several other the like [Page 63]Actions by him done, render'd him equally odious unto the Queen and her Subjects, so that she caus'd him to be strangl'd not long after. And the friends of this Princess, seeing the need shee had of the Support and Counsel of some Person of eminent Fortune and Merit, against her Fa­thers designs, they made choise of one of the Princes of the greatest Fame in all the East, for her second Husband.

He was nam'd Archelaus, Son of the great Mithridates, though he was not really, but the Son of his Leivtenant. This Leivtenant, be­ing suspected by his Prince, about his managment of a Treaty with Sylla, thought it his wisest way, in time to change his Party to preserve his life, and joyning himself to the Romans, he much enrich'd himself thereby; and also receiv'd the titles of Friend and Allye of Rome. His Son, following his Example, ingag­ed also in the same party, and was made Prince of Comagene by Pompey, in recompence of Service, perform'd [Page 64]by him. Having contracted an inti­mate Friendship with Gabinius, in a time when this Proconsul made War in those Provinces, under other Ge­nerals, as soon as he came to com­mand in cheif in Syria,; this Prince went to him, with a designe of at­tending him in the Parthian War, there to Merit, by his Service, new Favours and Commands under the Romans. But the Senate not approv­ing this designe, and the Queen of Egypt soliciting him at the same time, he withdrew himself privatly from Gabinius to consummate his Marriage, Strab. l. 17. judging the Romans would hinder it, should they have knowledg of it.

About six Months after this Mar­riage, and in the Spring of the yeare D CX CV III under the Consul­ship of Pompey and Crassus, Gabinius left his Province to the care of his Son, Dion. l. 39. T. liv. 105. Egesip. l. 1. c. 21. Jose. Plut. in Anto. who was but young and weakly guarded; and with his Army marched through Palestine towards Egypt. He received all the assistance could be desired, from Antipater the Father of Herod the Great, into [Page 65]whose hands he committed the chief Power of those Countries after the Wars, I told you he had in those parts. The greatest difficulty at pre­sent was, what course was best to take from thence to the fronteers of Egypt, over great and deep sands, full of Serpents, or by the Fens and Marshes of the Lake Sirbonides, in ei­ther of which there was no fresh water to be had: But Antonius marching before with the Cavalry, had so well prepar'd the way for the rest of the Army, that it all arriv'd safely at Pelusium.

It was a large, strong and popu­lous Sea-port Towne, which was, as may be said, the Key of the whole Kingdom, and the only convenient Haven neere the Sea: But it being cheifly inhabited and defended by Jews, whose neighbourhood, togea­ther with the conveniency of Traf­fique, invited them thither; it was no difficult matter for Antipater, by the familiarity and commerce he had with them, to perswade them, to deliver the City to the Romans: [Page 66]Ptolomy being transported with Joy at so happy a beginning, also with rage against the Egyptians, would have put all that were in the City to the Sword, but that Antonius dis­swaded him from it: The Army, be­ing divided into two Battalions, soon after marched forwards, and meeting that of Egypt commanded by Archelaus, fought and took Ar­chelaus prisoner, and defeated his Ar­my. Gabinius might soon have put an end to this War, in carefully keep­ing this Prince, in whome the Queen and the Egyptians put their whole confidence. But he thought, that if he should so soon settle Ptolomy and with so little labour, this Prince would use some pretext of breaking his word, and not pay the Mony according to his promise: He there­fore thought it better, to get as great a Ransom as he could by his Priso­ner, and to give him opportunitys of making his escape, in considera­tion of their former friendship.

Afterwards he caus'd his Fleet to saile up the River, where they met [Page 67]the Egyptian Fleet, which was also worsted, and then he march'd di­rectly to Alexandria, with his Land­forces. Archelaus, being retir'd thi­ther, march'd forth with his Army to give him Battel. Valer, Max. l. 8. c. 1. When he en­camped and would intrench him­self, the Egyptians cry'd out, that he should get Mercenaries to work at the publick charge, if he would; you may easily guess what resistance such Soldiers would make. Archelaus, who in all likelihood acquitted himself better than his Soldiers, Dio. l. 1. P. 58. Caesar. l. 3. of Sivil War. T. lib. 6. 150. Strab. l. 12, 17, in Pison. Dion. l. 39. ad. Att. l. 4. Ep. 9. Por. in Easub. Ege. l. 1. c. 2. caus'd him­self [seeing all was lost) to be kill'd: Antonius having contracted friend­ship with this Unfortunate Prince, whilst he was with Gabinius, caus'd his Body to be found out amongst the Slain, and to be Royally In­terr'd.

Gabinius plac'd very strong Gar­risons of Gauls and Germans in Al­exandria, under Roman Command­ers. Ptolomy being thus restor,d to his Kingdom, caus'd the Queen, his daughter to be Slain, and also the chiefest Men of the Kingdom, un­der [Page 68]pretext that they favour'd the Revolt, but it was truly to seiz their Goods to satisfy Gabinius: The Egyp­tians suffer'd all these Oppressions without Murmuring. But a few dayes after, a Roman Soldier, for kil­ling a Cat by accident, was by the common People cut in peices on the place, for the violation done to the Country Gods, the authority of Ptolomy nor Gabinius not being a­ble to restrain them.

Behold, said I, at these words, see­ing Caesarion make a pause, a very strange story from first to last, and a strangely various destiny, of this Unfortunate King.

But pray let me know, if you please, if any thing else of Remarque befel him afterwards; there is no­thing else known, reply'd Caesarion, but that a decay'd Knight of Rome, called * caius Rabirius Posthumus, Pro Ra­birio, Postumo. who had furnish'd or procur'd for him, several great sums of Mo­ney at Rome, when he was fully re­stored to his Kingdom, went to de­mand payment. This Prince told [Page 69]him, he fear'd he should never be a­ble to satisfie him, unless he would take the care and charge of his Re­venues, by which means, he might by degrees reimburse himself. But this Unfortunate Creditour, having accepted the offer for fear of losing his Debt: The King soon after found a pretext to comit him Prisoner, al­though he was one of the Antientest, and best of Caesars friends; and that Pompey was also in a manner Caution for the Debt; the Money being lent in his presence, and the Obligations past by his request, at a Country-House of his Neere Alba.

But Rabirius had the good For­tune, not long after of escaping out of Prison, recovering out of Egypt more miserable than he went thither; and to compleat this Misery, at his return to Rome, Suet. in Claud. c. 16. * he was judicially accused, to have assisted Ptolomy, to corrupt the Senate, by the Sums of Money which he had lent him to this purpose, that he had forfeited his Honour of Knighthood, by the Imployment he had taken upon him [Page 70]in Egypt, and that he had correspond­ed and shared with Gabinius, in the Money that had been given him. The admirable discourse Cicero made in his defence, and which we have yet remaining, is an Eternal Monu­ment, of the ingratitude and perfidi­ousness of this unworthy King; he dyed in the peaceable possession of E­gypt, soon after this wicked Action, and about four Years after his Restau­ration: An Authentical Copy of his last Will was brought to Rome, to be deposited in the publick Treasury, having made the People of Rome his Executors, he conjru'd the Senat, in the name of all their Gods. (Caution of their Alliance) to favour the dis­posal, which he made of his King­dom to Ptolomy his eldest Son, who was afterwards sirnamed Dennis, and to Cleopatra his eldest Daughter, whom he also enjoyned to Marry togeather, according to the custom o [...] that Country. It is also found, that Pompey was appointed Guardian to the young King by the People, who caus'd him to be so basely Murder'd [Page 71]fower Years after. This is in few words, said Caesarion, what we find upon Record, of the Life and Acti­ons of this King, Player on Flutes.

For a Fidler, said I, I think he was no foole. It seemes to me, all things confider'd, that he could not doe bet­ter in his ill Fortune, and that he knew to be Cruel, Prodigal, and Pa­tient, for his own ends, as occasion requir'd. But especially I commend him, for engaging Gabinius in his Restoration, and were I not loath to be too troublesome to you, I would desire to be inform'd, what hapn'd to Gabinius afterwards: There hapn'd, reply'd Caesarion, nothing but what must needs come to pass. Dion. l. 39. Ad Att l. 4. Ep. 16. The Py­rats taking occasion of his absence, overrun and wasted all his Govern­ment, without any resistance; and the Publicans of the Neighbour Pro­vinces, being able no better than those of Syria, by reason of the mul­titude of Robbers, not to convey the Money by land-carriage, which they were oblig'd to pay to the publick Treasury at the time prefixt, they [Page 72]were forc'd to take up Money at Rome, at excessive Interest, to doe it, to their great Damage.

The first News that was in Italy of Ptolomy's Restauration, being brought to the Waters at Pouzzol, whither Recreation as well as Health invited much good company to re­fort, it passed no sooner from thence to Rome, but all the several sorts of complaints and greivances, which were to be preferr'd against Gabini­us, were, by the parties interested, dispers'd about amongst the People; so that it was resolv'd, to inflict se­vere Punishments upon this Procon­sul, at his returne to Rome. The Fa­thers of the Senat were the forward­est in moving the Magistrats, to be inform'd of his Crimes, and there was nothing less than Death intended for him. He had not given the Senat advice of his expedition into Egypt, conclu­ding it would be worse censur'd, than was that of Judea; and the Con­sul Crassus, who was to succeed him in Syria, having sent one of his Leiv­tenants, to take possession of the Go­vernment [Page 73]in his name, Gabinius, to compleat his insolency, refus'd to resigne although his time was expir­ed.

But how great soever this affront was to Crassus, having a greater love for Money than Honour, Gabinius would have soon appeas'd him; in so much that Cicero sometime after made a motion in the Senate, to pub­lish again the Oracle of the Sybils, the more to exasperate Mens minds; but Crassus oppos'd himself thereun­to, as much as Pompey, and both of them were so displeas'd at Cicero, that they reviled him with his Ban­nishment. You may imagine how this Orator answer'd them, seeing he desired no better Subject to insist up­on, and that his reproach rather a­nimated than discourag'd him. To conclude, their Consul-ship ending soon after, he caused the business to be brought under deliberation.

The new Consuls, Domitius and Appius, were not devoted unto Ga­binus, as were the former; Domitius being promoted unto the Dignity [Page 74]in spight of Pompey, was upon this score his Enemy. Appius was his Ally, but he affected Popularity; and being moreover very Covetous, he was for compelling Gabinius to pur­chase his Protection: So it was a­gre'd by common Consent, that the Oracle should be again published.

Although Gabinius had been re­mov'd from his Government, from the beginning of the Year DCXCIX. by Crassus himself, who went the end of the precedent Year to take posses­sion of it, yet he made no hast in coming to Rome, he would let the Peoples anger towards him to abate, and give time to his Friends to gain and corrupt his Judges and Accu­sers, by the vast Sums of Money he had sent before him to that purpose; but hearing that his delay rather ex­asperated Mens minds against him than not, and that the Tribunes, dis­pleased with his Stratagems, resol­ved to proceed to his Condemnation in his absence; at last he set forwards, and on the way gave out that he was going to Rome, to demand a [Page 75]publick Triumph of the Senate for his two Expeditions into Judea and Egypt.

And in effect, being arrived neer Rome the 19 of September, he enter'd not into the City to rights, but stai'd some Miles off, as the Generals were wont to doe, that pretended unto the Triumph, which was no sooner known, but he was accus'd of three several Crimes, in the usual form of Justice. First against the State, for restoring the King of Egypt. As. in Pison ad Q. F. l. 3. Ep. 1.2. & 3.Next of Interest, for the great Op­pressions committed by him in Syria. And Lastly, For buying of voices, when he was made Consul 5 Yeares before.

These Accusations, having soon made him relinquish the pretension of a Triumph, he came to Rome to defend himself the 27 of September, privatly in the night time; and in the poorest Equipage, that ever Pro­consul did. Next day he appear'd, as he was assign'd before the Praetor, who was to be the Cheif Judg as to the Crime of State, he was a Person of [Page 76]known Worth and Integrity. Ten days after, he appear'd before the Se­nat, to give an account of his Go­vernment; but intending to go out after he had done it in a slight man­ner, he was stayed by the Consuls, and at the same time the Publicans of Syria were call'd into the Senat, that he might answer their Com­plaints. Cicero speaking in their be­half, Gabinius defended himself by calling him Exile, with a low voice. But the whole Senat at this word rising up as 'twere with one accord, imposed silence on him, the Pub­licans testified no less displeasure, and the Consul Appius, having also declar'd himself an Accuser, named the Witnesses and Accessorys of Ga­binius's Crimes, so that he could not answer a word.

Fower dayes after he presented himself before the People, the con­course was so great, and the first resent­ment of his horrible Crimes so odi­ous, that he had like to be stifled or torn to peices. Especially a Tribune of the People, Cajus Memmius accus'd [Page 77]him with so much vehemency, and to so general a liking, that he could not avoid being condemn'd to Death, or atl east to perpetual Imprison­ment, but that his Son, whom I mentioned to you before, being there present, supplicated Memmius to have compassion of him: But this Tribune transported with Pride, at the good success of his enterprise, let the unfortunate Son lye at his feet, Valer. Max. l. 8. c. 1. without taking the least notice of him: The People being moved with some tenderness at such a dutiful Object, the favourableness of the conjuncture gave courage to another Tribune, which he dared not do be­fore, also being gain'd by Gabinius, to spake in his behalf, and made the Officer free him, that had already sei­zed on his Body.

The People not desiring to prevent the ordinary Judges in this Cause, as they were wont somtimes to doe; it was somtime after debated before them, and the Assembly was no less before the Praetors Tribunal, than it had been in the publick place: They [Page 78]were to the number of Seventy, chosen partly out of the Senat, part­ly out of the order of Knights, and of the Tribunes of the Treasury. There were several accusers; but he that spake in the behalf of the rest, per­form'd it so coldly, that every body suspected he was corrupted by Gabi­nius, as also the Judges that favour'd him. Pompey neglected no opportu­nity of serving him; he us'd all his endeavours to reconcile him to Cicero, and even to oblidge this Orator, to plead his cause, but to no purpose, and Cicero could not dispense him­self, from Witnessing against him.

It was urged in his behalf, that it was the interest of the Common­wealth, to expel Archelaus out of E­gypt; whose Fleet hinder'd the Na­vigation and Commerce of Rome, and the adjacent Seas, and gave all sorts of assistance to Pyrats, who ex­ercised all manner of Cruelties upon the Subjects of the Republick. It was also alleadged, this expedition was permitted unto Gabinius, by a Law whereof we have no Record; [Page 79]that at the worst, the Oracle did not relate the present business, and that the matter hapned long before, in the Person of a former King of Egypt, whereof I made mention, who had also been expell'd out of his King­dom, and pray'd assistance of the Senat. But if the Oracle meant his Successour, Dion. l. 39. Ad Att. l. 4. Ep. 16. l. 3. Ep. 4. the Sybil not having express'd what Punishment they deserv'd, that should restore this Prince, by force of Arms against its Prohibition, no body hath right to determin it.

But with all these Evasions Gabi­nius durst not have contested, were it not for a rumor spread abroad, that Pompey was to be made Dictator: This Report was not without some collour. The Election of Consuls being usual about the beginning of August, was deferr'd until towards the end of October, by several slights and in­terests, that nothing regarded the af­faires of Gabinius; and these hindran­ces not being likely to remove of themselves, it was beleiv'd recourse must be had to the means us'd at all [Page 80]times formerly in the like occasions, which was to create a Dictator, whose unlimited power, was only able to reduce all persons to their Duty.

You may easily beleive on this oc­casion, no body could more justly pretend to it than Pompey, although it's true, the Tribunes did not propose it in due form, but several Months after. Dion. l. 40. The Rumor that was spread abroad of it before hand, serv'd to intimidate the Judges, the greater part whereof were Persons much in­feriour to him; and it was somthing strange, that there were found, in this Conjuncture thirty-two, that had the honesty and courage to con­demn Gabinius, against Thirty-eight that declar'd him Innocent. Ad Att. l. 4. Ep. 16. l. 8. Ep. 14. Domitius Calvinius amongst others, (through a partial Ostentation, the like where­of was never seen,) acquitted the Criminal by open voice, whereas he should have given his Judgment by Scrutiny, as others did. Another rose off the Bench, in sight of all the Peo­ple, before the Session was ended, as [Page 81]soon as ever the Voices were taken, to be the first carrier of the News to Pompey.

See here, said I, at these words, a happy Villian. Don't make too much hast, said Caesarion, and stay till the end, seeing you desire to know all. It wanted not much, but that the People had tore all the Judges to peices, at the first motion of their Rage. One of Gabinius's freemen, that bore some command under him in Syria, being accus'd as one of his Accessaries, bore also the Punishment: This Wretches business was heard an hower after, before other Judges, he was condemn'd with the greater severity, for Rage, that his Master had been accquitted and discharg'd.

Dureing these Transactions the Ri­ver Tyber overflow'd its banks on a suddain, with so great violence, Dion. l. 39. that it overthrew many Houses and swept away many Persons, as well at Rome, as in the adjacent parts. The People suppos'd there was somthing extra­ordinary in this Accident, and lookt upon it, as a Judgment from Heaven [Page 82]upon them, for Gabinius and his Judges, having slighted the Orracle of the Sibyls. I told you, he stood ac­cus'd, for three several Crimes: Be­ing therefore accquitted for that a­gainst the State, he was prosecuted for his Extortions, by the same Tri­bune Memmius, which had so sharply prosecuted him before the People; by Tiberius Nero, Father of the Em­perour of that name; and by Cajus and Lucius, Brothers to the same An­tonius, that was afterwards Tryumvir, and that commanded his Cavalry. The great Cato (who, I told you had the intervew with Ptolomey at Rhodes) presided in this Judgment in quallity of Praetor. He had been in­dispos'd, and for that reason Judg­ment was deferr'd, the Judges were also chang'd, but Gabinius thought himself so fully accquitted, that he took not the paines nor trouble, to gaine them.

Pompey having still the charge of the Corn business, was absent from Rome, repairing the dammages made by the Inundation of the River, which [Page 83]had ravadged, destroy'd, and spoil'd, vast quanteties of Grain, and the most fertile Feilds of all Italy. But recei­ving advice of the danger Gabinius was in, he came as near the City as he could, to try to save him once more, and his Office not permitting him to enter into the City, he as­sembled the People without the Walls, and harrangu'd them to that effect. He publickly read Letters from Caesar, wherein he recommend­ed Gabinius unto him, with all the affection that could be, and for the last Remedy, he prevail'd with Cicero, Dion. 39 Valer. Max. l. 4. c. 2. to plead for him; for which this Orator was surnamed Turn-coate to reproach either his weakness, or inconstancy.

I perceive then, said I, at these words, Pompey was as zealous a Friend, as Cisero was a weak Enemy. Pom­pey, reply'd Cesarion, had, as all ambi­tious Men have, the vulgar Maxim, which almost comprehends the skill of rhe Pollititians of these times; to be a good Friend and a cruel Ene­my, without any Judgment in choos­ing, [Page 84]Friends or Enemies. But nei­ther he nor they, need be oblidg'd, to venture so far for their Friends, if there were none but good Men. It's only for bad Men, that these extra­ordinary endeavours of Credit and Authority need be used; and how bad a business soever befals an honest Man, the regular forms are always sufficient, to bring him off. So that this resolvedness, and great zeale, which is shewn for defending and protecting vitious Persons, is so far from being Praise-worthy, that no­thing is more odious, and detestable; seeing that in effect, it hath only self­interest or Vanity for its Motive; and Injustice for its Scope.

Beware of Digression, answer'd I, and pray let me know, if Gabinius was condemn'd or accquitted, this second time. He was condemn'd, said Caesarion, to perpetual Bannish­ment, and his goods confiscated, notwithstanding the power of Pom­pey, and Eloquence of Cicero. But Cae­sar esteeming him one of the best Commanders in Rome, making him­self [Page 85]Master of the Republick six Years after, he recal'd him out of Bannishment, and gave him the Command of a little Army in Illyria, Caesar de Bell. Allex. App. in Illiric. where he was routed by the Barba­rians of the Country, and being forc'd to fly to Salonia, he there end­ed his dayes, not long after.

IF you did not know as well as I, that Nature had endow'd your Friend, with two of the most incom­parable Talents in the World, I mean, a prodigious Memory, and an excel­lent Judgment; you would scarce be­leive, that he recited to me extempo­re, the Histories that I have related to you. Although I had heard much of his great Accomplishments, yet I was not a little surpris'd, for he look'd not past three or four times, on his Books and Papers, to make so long a Narration, and he had all he said, as ready in his mind, as if he related to me his own particular concerns. I was only desirous to be satisfi'd, where 'twas, that he read and found [Page 87]so many considerable things, as he mention'd to me, and which I do not remember, to have Read in the Greek nor Roman Historians, which wrote of those Times. His demea­nour in all things, were very modest and obliging: meeting him the next day, as I walked upon a Terrass that fronted his House towards the Valley, I could not forbear asking him, and he soon answer'd me, put­ing a Book into my hand, that he was Reading, as if he should say, that 'twas from thence he collected all, that I thought he had invented in his own Brain. I open'd the Book ve­ry hastily, but my curiosity was not much satisfi'd, when I saw it was nothing but Cicero's Epistles.

As the Reading of those Epistles at the University, made no great im­pression on my mind, so I was the more surpris'd at what I saw; he began to laugh at my astonishment, and said unto me, that I should not be troubl'd, that it was not me he blam'd but my Tutors, because it was their fault more than mine, if I [Page 88]had not rellish'd the sweetness of the most pretious remains of Anti­quity. That he had often admired in himself, how those Docters could pretend to know, the nice and finest things in the World, when they did not understand them, and that I should be no less surpris'd, if I would but Read over those Letters with him, that had been so irksom to me heretofore. You may well beleive, I took him at his word. Having there­fore open'd the first Book of those to Atticus, he Read out two or three of them, which treated of the same Matter, and as I intimated to him, the great desire I had to heare him on this Subject, he delay'd sattisfying me no longer, but till such time, as we retir'd into the Closet, where he so pleasantly entertain'd me, the Day before.

What delights me most of all, said he, of the practise of the Antients, is the regularity of their Friendship, it is the only thing wherein they most of all Excel us, and wherein we least strive to equal them. On the contra­ry, [Page 89]should any one at this time practise this regularity, he would be esteem'd Ridiculous; the best of his friends would admire him, for the infinite advantages, of being be­lov'd after this manner, whilest o­thers would impudently deride it. But all in general would look upon him as a friendly Tyrant, if he expected they should be as regular towards him, as he is punctual to them.

It was not so that Men liv'd in Greece, in the days of Zenophon, this Regularity so little practis'd amongst us, was then lookt upon as an indis­pensable Duty: All aspir'd un­to it, as a quality absolutely ne­cessary for every body to have; they boasted of it, as of the most shining Vertues. They Dyed, said this Illust­rious Athenian, making the Elogy of the Greek Captains his companions, that had been perfidiously Massacred by the Treacherous Persians. Zen. Ret. of 10. m. l. 2.They dyed, having liv'd without reproach, ei­ther in War or Friendship. Who in our times, dare use the like comenda­tions, in the Funeral Solemnities of our Generals?

There seems to be as much Heat and Vigour in Friendship now a days, as there was formerly, but there is not so much Tenderness. It has pro­duc'd in our dayes, Actions of as great Fidelity, Liberality, and Cou­rage as ever; but I question, if there can be found, so many instances of Gentleness and Patience, so frequently seen amongst the Antients, for the sor­rows, and even the unjust reproaches of their Friends? for the modest complacency, which they shew'd for the boundless Passions, of them whom they lov'd, and to conclude, the same punctuality, the same re­gard, and the same concernedness, for all that regards our Friends, as we would, that they should have for Us.

It may be, reply'd I, it is not be­cause we Love less than they did for­merly, but only we have less Know­ledg and Judgment. You need only, said Caesarion, but compare the Lo­vers of our times, with the Friends, to discern the Invalidness of your Answer. Lovers, do they not daily [Page 91]do for their Mistresses, that which true Friendship should do for his Friend? Have they not for them all the Care, Dilligence, and Respect that can be desir'd? A Soul truly touch'd with a lively Simpathy, ne­ver wants Motives to follow its In­clinations; there is common Effects of this seen in vulgar Persons. They seem to be inspir'd with some new Genius, when they begin to be in Love, they appear Witty beyond their Natural Endowments, especi­ally in what regards their Passion. What Love Operates in mean Souls, not Friendship do much more, in Persons of a Nobler make, if it be Sincere? If it do's not at all times discharge its Function, may it not well be concluded that 'tis not Sincere, and that 'tis kept up in the occasions wherein it Opperates, by some other Motive, to which it only lends it's Name.

But now 'tis high time to tell you, wherefore I took occasion to make those reflections; Atticus having been Arbitrat in a certain Business, of a [Page 92]Friend both of his and Cicero's, this Friend was not very well pleas'd with the Judgment made by Atticus, in the matter. And by what follows, it seems he had no great cause to be sattisfy'd. For Atticus going into Greece a little after, he wrote to Ci­cero upon this Subject in these Terms, as soon as he was arriv'd at Athens. If any body be displeas'd with me, it is your part to appease them. It was needless, answer'd Cicero, that you should bid me do it, for I endeavour'd it before; this party is very much offend­ed at you, I omitted nothing that could be said on this subject, but I did not think it convenient to press him any far­ther, until I knew your mind, whether you desire it or not?

Quod scribis, etiam si cujus animus in te esset offensior, a me recolligi oportere. Quid dicas? Neque id neglexi. Sed est miro quodam modo affectus Ego autem quae dicenda fuerunt de te non preterii. Quid autem contendendem esset, ex tua putabam voluntate statuere oportere Ad Atticum. l. 1. Fp. 5.

You will grant that any body elce besides Gicero, would not have stay'd for a new Order, and would have thought themselves sufficiently im­powr'd, by what Atticus had writ, to deale with their common Friend, perhaps more than Atticus would have desir'd. This daily fall's out, because most Men rather aspire af­ter Commendation, than to serve those well that do Employ them, in concerning themselves only so far as they have a mind; nothing is more dangerous, than to seek this kind of of Servise of ones Friend, for most do more than they are desir'd, and which is worst of all, one dares not complain, for fear of being blam'd by the World, because of their pre­tended good meaning, which in my Judgment, is the most frivolous ex­cuse in the World. For every body easily perceives, when they pass the bounds of their commission, and one questions in passing it, if what we doe, will be well resented or not? and in this respect, it is a kind of per­fidiousness to do it. Because one [Page 94]runs a Risque of disobliging a Friend, in seeming to goe about to serve him. Quam si ad me per scri­pseris intelli­ges, me neque di­ligentio­rem esses, voluisse quam tu esses neque negligen­tiorem fore quam tu velis. Ille noster amicus sane tibi iratus est. Hoc si quanti tu estimes, sciam tum quid mihi ela­borarn­dum sit scire possim. 7.

Cicero was too brave a Person, to fall into such an Error. If you write unto me, continues he, how far I shall proceed you, shall find, that I will not be more hasty in accommodating you than you desire, nor more backward than you would have me be. And in another Letter writ a little after, not having recei­ved answer unto the former. * Our Friend, saith he, again, is very angry with with you; if you let me know how much you care for it, I can tell what meanes to use to appease him.

He knew very well, that how spe­cious soever the pretext of Reconcil­ing Friends is, yet he ought not to pass the intention of him, that En­gadg'd him in the business, and desir'd the accomodation, on such and such Terms, but not on any Terms what­soever. He had not the Ambition so common amongst us, to pretend to impose upon his Friends, in what they lik'd or lik'd not, but rested satisfi'd to reconcile them. Most Men doe now a [Page 95]dayes advance themselves into Pe­dagogues, and affect a higher degree of Wisdom and Knowledg, which is the greatest Bane of true Friendship.

How many be there, that Act in a Business according to the mind of him that Employ them, when ne­vertheless, they think they ought to Act quite contrary? It were som­thing, if in this Consideration they would desire wholly to be excus'd, but ther's very few, that Act with such freedom. On the contrary, either to be thought not to forsake their Friends in their necessity, or that they fear the business being done by othe­rs, it may have success contrary to their advice, the most part continue to in­terpose, even when they are not de­sir'd, and pretending to govern them­selvs as they were intrusted, which yet they approve not off, they endeavour what they can under hand, to let the business fall, thereby the better to Justify their own Sentiments. And if it be discover'd that they have Act­ed contrary to directions, and to what they promis'd, they never [Page 96]want Reasons to shew, that one should approve of their Conduct; but this is not much to the purpose: Or if they do not the quite contra­ry, of what they were desir'd, they satisfy themselves barely, with acting only so far, as that it might be said, that they employ'd them­selves in the business, and how ill so­ever they acted, they think them­selves discharg'd in saying, that one can never mind ev'ry thing, or that they thought they did all for the better.

True Friendship is never redu­ced to such a non-plus, it is a conti­nual Spring of Industry, it can do nothing by halves, and it holds that for ill done, which might be better done, but more especially it appears admirable in business, wherein Ho­nour and Interest are concern'd, not to explain it any farther. Nothing is easier, then to make him pass by what one has no Mind to discover, and although one expose not them­selves by declaring ones Mind, he is not at all displeas'd at it, and he acts [Page 97]no less Diligence, than if one had fully and freely committed ones self to his discretion. Besides, he is not satisfy'd with himself, no far­ther than he satisfy's those for whom he acts: he cannot admit of any o­ther Interest in what he do's, but that of his Friend; he neglects him­self the better and more perfectly to understand his Friends Design and Passion. Therefore it falls out, that many times he knows better than they, what they would, and what they would not have done, he un­ridles their opposite thoughts where­with they are most agitated, and discerns sometimes better than they do, what they most desire, and what at last shall be most predominant.

False Friendship, on the contrary, is always dissatisfied with the man­ner that 'tis employ'd, it is always self-conceited; it never fails of ma­king some private Interest in the bu­siness wherein it is employ'd, how little soever it regards him; it has always some private End, that it dares not own; It holds with the [Page 98]Letter when it should with the Sence, and commonly seeks some contrary meaning, when 'tis neces­sary to keep to the Literal Sense. Besides it has ever either ill Read or ill Heard, and things are never plainly enough exprest.

One cannot, said I, ramble more pleasantly than you do, for we have almost lost sight of Atticus; and to say the truth, I would willingly hear farther of him. Cicero, repy'd Caesarion, receiv'd Letters from him, soon after the Letter I formerly mention'd, and he reply'd to him in these Terms. I promise you to pacifie our Friend, and it may be ingage him also, to be wholly yours. I endeavour'd it before of my own accord, but now I per­ceive by your Letter, that you earnestly desire it, I will employ my self more di­ligently therein, and will press him more earnestly than I did. You need not doubt but he is highly displeas'd with you, but as I know that he has no great reason for it, I dare undertake to pacifie and to dispose him as I list.

Tibi de nostro amico placando, aut [Page 99]etiam plane restituendo polliceor. Quod ego, etsi mea sponte ante facie­bam, eo nunc tamen, & agam studi­osius, & contendam ab illo vehemen­tius, quod tamen ex Epistola volun­tatem ejus rei tuam perspicere vide­or. Hoc te intelligere volo, pergra­viter illum esse offensum. Sed quia nullam video gravem subesse cau­sam, magnopere confido illum fore in officio, & in nostra potestate. l. 1. Ep. 1. ad Atticum.

You may see what were Cicero's hopes, but he was mistaken, and you need not be surpris'd at it, for ther's no body but may be mistaken, if they do not fully know the ground and bottom of a Business, and one is on­ly bound to judge aright of what one is inform'd; after having us'd all endeavours, say's he to At­ticus, very far from setling you in his thoughts as you had been before, I could not so much as gather from him, the cause of his Strangeness. For whatsoever he say's of your Arbitration, and of the other things, I knew before wherewith he was dissatisfi'd at your de­parture, there is something else he [Page 100]sticks at more than all that; the which neither your Letters, nor my Mediation cannot reconcile, as well as you may do your self at your return hither, not only by Conversation, but also by your Obli­ging wayes, that is, if you think it worth your while. And do not think strange, that I dare not promise any Kindness from him, having intimated to you in my last, that I us'd all my endeavours. You cannot beleive, how much stranger he ap­pears to me than formerly, and persists more in his Obstinacy.

Cum omnia fecissem, non modo eam voluntatem ejus, quae fuerat er­ga te, recuperare non potui, verum ne causam quidem elicere immutatae voluntatis. Tametsi jactat ille qui­dem illud suum arbitrium, & ea quae jam tum cum aderas offendere ejus animum intelligebam. Tamen habet quiddam profecto quod magis in a­nimo ejus insederit, quod neque E­pistolae tuae, neque nostra Allegatio tam potest facile delere, quam tu praesens, non modo oratione, sed illo tuo vultu familiari, tolles, si modo [Page 101]tanti putabis, id quod si me audies, & si humanitati tuae constare voles certe putabis. Ac ne illud mirere cum ego antea significarem tibi per lite­ras, me sperare eum in nostra protes­tate fore, nunc idem videar diffidere. Incredibile est, quantum mihi vide­atur illius voluntas obstinatior, & in hac iracundia obfirmatior. 10.

You see by this, that Cicero's mo­deration was very discreet, and you perceive that his Friend being irre­concileable, Atticus it may be would not have gone any farther to have pacifi'd him, and therefore would have had just cause to blame Cicero, had Cicero done it without his express Order.

But wherefore would not this Man, reply'd I at these words, de­clare his greatest Cause of displeasure against Atticus? You must not, an­swer'd Caesarion, wonder at that; the most Sincere and the most Sensible are they which say least; because they are Clear, Constant, and Free from making feigned or frivolous [Page 102]Excuses. Now to what purpose is it to discover a thing, where there is not a Salve or Remedy for it.

Moreover the greatness of an in­jury is never well known, but by him that gave it, and by him that receiv'd it, forasmuch as it depends on the Circumstance, wherein the party offended was, when he receiv'd it; to know to what degree he was concern'd, and how far the Offender knew his Sensibility. And from hence it happens, that the most cru­el Injuries be those, that sometimes seem the least, to those that have not receiv'd them.

Besides, there be things that can­not be fully explain'd without Pub­lishing others, which it were better to hide and conceal. Therefore, those, which have committed such Extravagancies, do so often dare those to Publish them, to whom they have done them, knowing very well the Parties offended will rather endeavour to Conceal them if they be Wise, but if they be so imprudent to discover themselves, they are soon [Page 103]punish'd by their own Folly, by gratifying others, in declaring what they have suffer'd; this pleasure is so great and pleasing to corrupt Minds, that instead of being asham'd to publish their wickedness, they glo­ry in it, and do manifest, that this very declaring of it is the accom­plishing the Triumph of their Spleen and Malice.

Nevertheless, answer'd I, ther's nothing more generally blam'd, than this unwillingness, of owning the displeasure, one harbours a­gainst our Enemy. You see how­ever, reply'd Caesarion, that at cer­tain times, ther's nothing more just and prudent, than this kind of Ob­stinateness.

What Cicero adds afterwards, Sed haec aut sana­buntur cum ve­neris, aut ei molesta e­runt, in utro cul­pa erit. ibid. conti­nues he, will more surprise you. But, concludes he, either you will compose these matters when you arrive here, or which ever of you both are in the wrong, it will fare the worse with him.

This Discourse which seems so un­reasonable, was the very Truth it self. The Reputation of Atticus's [Page 104]Wisdom and Probity was so well setled, that no body in Rome would scarce have question'd it, although his proceedings, at all times, were not the fairest.

He was one of those kind of Sparks, that was neither Eminent by Birth, nor by Office, nor by any extraordinary Parts, but made him­self be talkt of by an affected way of Living, and of being admitted into Great mens company, who, for the most part, are not the hardest to be de­ceiv'd. For which purpose, it is e­nough to have store of Wealth, and a great deal of Wit; to be born with a temper incapable of violent Passions, neither good nor bad, and with a great stock of indifferency for Truth and Justice, that can see these divine Virtues violated, and be able to violate them, when 'tis for ones Interest. It is requisit, to be na­turally neither a Deceiver nor Unjust, that one should, in most occasions, practise these Virtues in shew and seemingly, because in a great mea­sure it is more useful, to be Just and [Page 105]Sincere, than to be otherwise. Also it is requisit, to appear a Friend e­qually alike to all sorts of persons, and not to be so truly to any body. Not much to frequent ones Equals, and neither to despise them. With these qualities, it is an easie matter to insinuate into great Mens compa­ny, especially if ones behaviour be not Offensive.

If such a person as this will also force himself to flatter great Persons in their follies, wherewith they are most pleas'd, praise them for quali­ties which they really have, and for which every body blames them, and for those they think they have, and that every body knows they have not, how do they delight in such a Person, and how do they cry him up? But especially, if he holds in favour with those, that are at enmi­ty amongst themselves, then he be­comes alike useful to both party's, they both vie in his commendation, and others, seeing Persons so divided, agree in admiring him; it's present­ly beleiv'd, it can only be pure Me­rit, [Page 106]that can so unite them, and so conceive a good opinion of him, which, Si liberi­us, ut con­suesti, a­gendum putatis. ep. 12. l. 5. ad fam. Sanctissi­mi homi­nis at­que inte­gerrimi illahuma­nitate il­lis studi­is, arti­bus, doc­trina. diffusing abroad, do's insensib­ly create this shadow of Reputation, wherewith those are deluded, that do really want it themselves.

Such a kind of Person was Atticus, but his Antagonist was a Man of ano­ther Temper, and of a make altogea­ther as Solid and Sincere, as that of Atticus was Forc'd and Artificial. He was call'd Lucius Lucceius, and was of a very good Family. He wrote the History of his times, with much Honour and Eloquence, as may be judg'd by Cicero's desiring him to write that of his Consulship apart, and with that Freedom and Sincerity, which was so Natural to him. Pro Cae­lio. The same Cicero in a publick Act ap­plauds The integrity of his life, his virtue, Meher­cule vir optimus & mihi amicissi­mus. ad Att. l. 1. Ep. 17.goodness, and learning, with a greatness, that cannot be the least question'd; especially considering, that writing to Atticus himself about their difference, he cannot forbear to call the same Lucceius, a very honest Man, and his very good Friend. He was [Page 107]afterwards Competitor with Caesar and Bibulus for the Consulship, Sueto. c. 19. ad Att, l. 4. Ep. 16. Optima­tes, viri boni ad Att. passim. and was refus'd it for no other reason, but for Corresponding with Caesar against Bibulus. For this Familiarity made him be suspected by the great Men, which were call'd the Honest Party, and declar'd Enemies to Caesar: But as they could not exclude this great Man, and that 'twas of great Moment to the Common-Wealth, that he should not have the Colleague he desir'd, they us'd such extraordi­nary means to frustrate Lucceius, that at last they effected their desires, and and chose Bibulus in his stead.

It appears that failing in this de­sign, he quitted all farther preten­sions, doubting the success, by reason of his many great and powerful E­nemies, and in all likelihood, the very great sincerity of Life, that he pro­fess'd and practis'd, made him give over the Correspondence he had maintain'd with Caesar, for which rea­son he imploy'd him not in the Civil Wars, as he did all his other friends, and kept himself all that time in [Page 108]the Country, or privately in Rome at his Study, or other Domestick Affairs.

But if you desire to know him more particularly, than by what I have already said, you may be pleas'd to read a Letter which he wrote to Cicero, upon the death of his dear Daughter Tullia. Methinks it shews so much tenderness, wisdom and discretion, that I was much pleas'd in Translating it. At these words Caesarion opening a little Ma­nuscript full of Translations made by him, which I since copy'd out; I there read this which follows.

See here, said I, (having done reading) a very obliging advice, and I cannot tell how a person of such singular merit could be refus'd, [Page 113]being in the right. Yet there's no­thing more frequently seen, reply'd Caesarion. The greatest merits were not most esteem'd in corrupt ages, as was the last of that of the Roman Commonwealth. There shin'd so many virtues amongst that glorious people for the space of six hundred years, that it could not be but some footsteps of them remained in the age we speak of. But in like man­ner, as craft and vice, which neces­sarily attend the greatness of World­ly Empire, had attained unto their highest pitch: Art had in most things subverted Nature, and the little, but pretious remainder, of ancient simplicity and integrity of former ages, being mixt with much deceit and seeming virtue, became so much the more odious, as that it put on the resemblance of truth it self.

In all ages Truth has been called a Chimaera by those that are not able to understand it, and those which do comprehend it, not puting it in practise, through malice, speak [Page 114]slightly of it, and give it the worst character they can. It were well if it were quit for not pleasing them; but as they cannot but admire it in their soul, they continue not in an indifferency, but go on to hate it, because naturally men hate what they Esteem very much, but cannot Love.

How is't possible, say they, to live with persons that never will be re­concil'd with those they have once differ'd, that forgive not their friends, that have no regard for their coun­sels, nor for their intreaties; that ex­pect such care and observance, that good Masters would not require from their Slaves; that do not re­gard their own concerns, and that will not suffer their friends to take the care which they ought to take their ownselves?

Cicero might have said all this against Lucceius upon his obstinacy in not agreeing with Atticus, but he knew very well, that 'tis only those which easily differ, that are soon re­conciled again. That offences which [Page 115]deserve but little notice to be taken of them, being received from indif­ferent persons, are mortal injuries when they proceed from a person that one loves, or of those by whom we think we deserve to be loved; no body is a better judge of advice, than him to whom it is given; that there are requests which be in­jurious as well as just: That one may expect from their friends, the same care and kindness as one hath for them. And to conclude, it is for the most part a kind of reproof, rather than sign of friendship, to concern one self in others affairs, whether they will or not.

These are the Rules whereby Ci­cero governed himself with his friends. But there were but very few that were so virtuous as he was; as the friendship of Atticus was ar­tificial, crafty, and suted, and adapted to the Commerce of the World; so that of Lucceius was pure and sin­cere, and altogether unfit for the World: It is not strange therefore, that Atticus his humour was more [Page 116]taking, and oftentimes procur'd him an applause that he did not really deserve.

For the World do's usually judge of affairs by the persons, instead of judging by the things themselves, for it requires some pains to exa­mine a business, and 'tis a trouble which men do not willingly under­go; whereas there's no pains in judging of affairs thereafter as one is affected more or less with the person it concerns. Moreover when once one is setled in a fancy, one natural­ly shuns knowing what might change our opinion, because men don't care to know that they have been deceived.

There is therefore no cause to wonder why Cicero said, That whoever it was that was in the right, either At­ticus or Lucceius, their contest would only prove prejudicial to Lucceius in the Worlds esteem. Although Cicero wrote so plainly to Atticus him­self, in supposing he might be in the wrong; to Atticus I say, who al­ways boasted to be in the right. I [Page 117]make no doubt, but knowing him as I do, this supposition toucht him to the quick, though perhaps he was glad at the heart that Cicero own'd, as he did by this Discourse, that his reputation was setled to such a degree, that it might be sup­ported, even without reason, against a man of that worth Lucceius was of; and in all likelihood it was to give him this secret pleasure, that Cicero, who understood him very well, wrote to him after this manner.

Yet I have one request more to make to you, reply'd I, seeing Cae­sarion silent. It is to know if this grudge lasted always, it is not known, said he, how they were reconciled. But it appears by Cice­ro's Letters, that they visited each other familiarly twelve years after. That's a thing often seen when one has to do with a man of Atticus his temper. How much soever one is perswaded of their perfidiousness, they'l make themselves no strangers, and wanting no excuses of one sort or other, they employ so many [Page 118]friends to compose matters, that at last one is forc't to comply: for com­monly persons are more inclinable to the Offendor, than to the Offend­ed; the malignity of nature, being delighted at the seeing and suffering of ill, never fails, in these Occasions, to incline to him that gave the of­fence, to the prejudice of him that received it, under the specious pre­tence of making Peace.

Nevertheless I cannot tell but the open Enmity of Atticus had been less hurtful to Lucceius than their re­conciliation: for Atticus never acted but through respect of his own pri­vate interest, and would never have been so desirous of reconcilia­tion, had he not believ'd that Luccei­us his Enmity would have been to his disadvantage; not but that his also might have been hurtful to Lucceius; but there was this diffe­rence to be made, that their accom­modation did absolutely remove the disadvantage which Atticus might re­ceive by this Enmity, because Luc­ceius could not be reconcil'd but with [Page 119]a truly good intent, whereas there was great cause to think that Atti­cus would not be any truer to him after reconciliation, than he was be­fore their rupture, especially being netl'd by the long refusal Lucceius made of being accommodated, and by the secret reproaches of his own Conscience, wherewith the most vi­tious persons (do they what they can to suppress them) are as often tormented, as the most ignorant sort of men.

By what I had ever heard of At­ticus formerly, the description Caesa­rion now gave me of him, could not choose but surprise me. I had al­ways heard him represented as the true model of an honest man: ha­ving read his Life in Latine, French and English, I was fully confirm'd in this opinion, and I freely confess, I fear'd there might be some affecta­tion of singularity in your friends sentiment; he judg'd of my thoughts by my countenance, and having freely own'd it to him, he continu'd his Discourse as follows.

It is very true, said he, most in­telligent Persons, and that are best skill'd in these matters, are of a ve­ry different judgement from me touching the man we speak of, and do not wonder at it. He deceiv'd wi­ser than they, and those that had opportunity of knowing him better. I speak of the learned age wherein he liv'd, wherein I told you already, that his Reputation was as great as I believe it was undeserved. You must not imagine that he was the only person of this kind: I'le in­stance in others both Ancient and Modern when you please, and 'tis very probable his Historian took the voice of the People for it, which is not always the voice of God. But his error is no authority, and the character of his Hero is of that importance to be clear'd up, that it deserves to be examin'd a little nar­rower than he has done it.

You may guess how easily Fame is acquir'd by having great Riches, when one knows ever so little how to use them; to judge aright of a [Page 121]man he should be consider'd by the qualities which are least seen; and there is no degree of Reputation but may be attain'd without virtue; by riches, wit and a great deal of va­nity; there can nothing more neces­sary be taught Gentlemen of your age, than to distinguish counter­feit vertues from real, and not to be deceived by common report in the merit of particular persons. You cannot imagine the trouble one has all their life, for admiring persons in their youth, which deserve not to be admired. And when I speak of merit, pray observe, that I thereby mean true integrity and honesty, without which I know not any, and it is that merit which I deny to Atticus, for (this excepted) it was hard to have more wit and prudence than he had, or to understand the Times, Men and Business better than he did.

If what you say be true, reply'd I to this Discourse, his Historian is the greatest flatterer that ever was. Say rather that he was his Panegy­rist, [Page 122]said Caesarion; Nepos is in most things a down right Lyar, and ap­pears to be but of a mean capacity, as may be judg'd by what we have remaining of his; he took for cur­rant all that his Hero said to make himself be cry'd up; and relates, as undoubted truth, all that he had heard spoken in favour of Atticus, by Atticus himself.

One cannot be justly more suspect­ed than Nepos is: he boasts to have lived so familiarly with this Gallant, that he was privy to his Journal of Expences; he interven'd in his acti­ons, and at his request registr'd some of them. It do's not appear that this Historian made any great Figure in the World, as most of his time did; so that there's just cause to suspect, that Atticus his friendship being the highest of his preferment, his own private interest moved him to advance the glory of Atticus to the highest pitch he could. But you shall find afterwards that he was so unfortunate or indiscreet, that the most glorious actions related by him, [Page 123]are either convinc'd of falshood by other Writers, of greater credit than him, or related in such a man­ner by himself, that unawares he destroyes all their Merit in discour­sing of their true Original.

You promise me things that are very curious, reply'd I to Caesarion; I very much question if any besides your self could perform your pro­mise, and you will do me a singular pleasure if you discharge it faithful­ly. There's no need of being a ve­ry able man, reply'd he, to satisfie you therein, and I'le not defer your desire any longer.

To render the Oeconomy and Li­berality of Atticus the more admira­ble, and to shew that he had not in­creas'd his wealth but by honest ways; Nepos boldly affirms, Nullius rei neque praes, ne­que man­ceps. Tu ali­quid pub­licanus pendis. l. 2. ep. 15. that he was never concern'd in business, nei­ther directly nor indirectly, as other Knights of Rome usually were. Ne­vertheless the quite contrary appears by Cicero's Letters, which Nepos himself testifies to have seen; in which this Orator calls Atticus Pub­lican [Page 124]in express terms, and gives him an account of a Decree of the Senate against the Creditors of the Free People, wherein Atticus himself was concern'd, because he had ad­vanc'd great Sums of mony for those of Sicionia, which were of that qua­lity.

And it would be very strange to conceive, how he should acquire such extraordinary great Riches, distri­buting so Liberally, and living so Honourably as he did, having never born any Office nor Command, if he had not gained Wealth some o­ther way; and there's no doubt but it was the cause that made a learn'd French Critick, in some obscure words which he wrote to Cicero, discover, that he held a Bank at Rome in his own House, under the Name of Op­pius's, which were at his Devotion, and made publick profession of it. But I excuse Nepos for being igno­rant of the thing, for by the dark Enigmatical manner that Atticus mentions it to Cicero, it may easily be seen that he conceal'd it with [Page 125]extraordinary care, and made not his Historian privy to it.

In another place to exaggerate the great esteem every body had for him; the same Historian positively affirms, that Pompey had no ill will for him, for staying in Italy during the Civil Wars, without joyning to any side, although he was bound in strict bands of Amity to this great Man. Nevertheless the same Cicero, who must needs know things better than Nepos, Constitu­tum om­nium ve­strum bo­nae prae­dam esse illius vi­ctcriae. Vestrum plane di­co, nun­quam e­nim de te ipso nisi crudelissi­me cogi­tatum est. ep. 6. l. 11. seeing he was at that time with Pompey in Thessaly, writes in express terms to Atticus after the Death of this General, that he esteem'd them equally his Enemies, that had not follow'd and sided with him, I say you as well as others, says Cicero, for it was determin'd, to have us'd you Cruelly, if we had return'd to Rome.

I would instance in sundry other places, wherein Nepos has not been more faithful, than in these two now mention'd, but as that would be too tedious, so I'le content my self to in­stance one more, after which, you [Page 126]will the easier credit the rest; it is where he affirms, Ciceroni in omni­bus ejus periculis singula­rem fidem praebuit. that Atticus had a perfect kindness for Cicero in all his troubles. You shall heare what Cicero himself saith, and I cannot suffici­ciently admire the impudence of this Writer, to dare affirm a thing so boldly, in a Work wherein he speaks in the praise of Letters writ­en by Cicero himself to his Hero; L 3. ep. 15.24. &c. whereas the very same Letters a­vouch the quite contrary, and are full of reproofs and just and vehe­ment complaints, which Cicero makes of Atticus, to Atticus himself.

I am not any longer surpris'd at Nepos's Errours, said I to Caesarion, by what you have related to me of him. But I much admire at Atticus, by what you have now said, and I could never have thought, but that so great a Friendship, as that betwixt him and Cicero, should have been maintain'd on both parts with all the fidelity imaginable; you won't so much wonder at it, reply'd Caesarion, if you consider what fol­low's, with a little more heed than [Page 127]you have hitherto done. You will not find in him any symptom of true goodness, and it cannot be said it was the commerce of the World that deprav'd him, because in this respect he was the same in his Youth as he was in his riper Years.

His Father dyed when he was ve­ry Young, and left him Wealth more than enough to serve him as long as he liv'd. For his Quality, he was but of the Equestrian Order, that is to say, a good Alderman or Citizen. In his Youth when the most timorous have some courage, he quited Italy, and retir'd to Athens under a pretence of studying, but in effect, it was because a Seditious Tribune had been executed at Rome, Anicia Pompo­nii conso­brina nupserat M. Servio fratri P. Sulpitii qui tribu­nus plebis interfec­tus est. whose Brother had Marry'd Atticus his Cousin-german, this was, as you may perceive, to see a storm far off; and one could not have desir'd more favourable circumstances of becoming a perfect Epicure than these were, as he verifi'd afterwards. I don't de­sign to censure this Sect, I perfectly know it's sentiments as well as you: [Page 128]Nevertheless I cannot but say, that 'tis a strange kind of Wisdom, to see ones Country on the point of utter ruin, without concerning ones self one way or other, although one has Extraordinary means and opportuni­ties of serving it; and to suffer all things to be turn'd upside-downe, rather than to be expos'd to the least danger. I make no doubt, but you have heard of the Law of Solon, that declar'd those Infamous, which took not some side or other in a publick Insurrection. But this Subject would ingage us too far; you may only observe, that this kind of temper of profound indifferency, not to say in­sensibleness, which Atticus had all his life, for all things which did not directly concern himself, was the true cause of his continual prosperi­ty; and it was this prosperity that made him cheifly to be admir'd. But it is an easie matter to be happy when one is left rich, enjoys wit and health, and cares for no body.

Do you call that, reply'd I, caring for no body, to support ones Friends, [Page 129]when they are forsaken by all the World, with money and all necessa­ries in their need, without expect­ing any return or recompence: Yes answer'd Caesarion unconcernedly; I call this proceeding, vanity, osten­tation, policy, in fine, any thing rather than true Liberality, when it is so dissembled, artifitial, and self-ended, as was that of Atticus, when it has only vain glory for it's scope, and do's not appear as well in pri­vate as on publick occasions.

He sent money to young Marius his schoolfellow, when he fled pro­scib'd by Sylla; it was the greatest name of Rome, Neque longius quam dictum esset cos debere passus fit, neque in­dulgendo inveter­ascere eo­rum as altenum patieba­tur. and it was hard to judge at that time, if he would not become more powerful than ever he was before, according to what had lately hapn'd his Father. He lent to the Athenians considerable sums of Money without Intrest, to pay their City Debts, and Nepos commends him, for requiring it to be paid punctually at the prefixt time; so great an itch had he to praise him on any score. He could not better have bestow'd his [Page 130]Liberality than upon the most Illu­strious City in the World, which he had chose for the place of his retire­ment, at a time when he thought it not oversafe to stay at Rome. And all kind of respects were pay'd him in acknowledgement thereof, no­thing was done but by his Mini­stry and Advice; it proceeded so far, that they erected Statues in his Ho­nour, whether he would or no, in the most publick places in the City.

I see nothing, said I, but what was very commendable in this action; the Athenians gratitude could not render the thing to be done out of self-interest, and it seems to me to inhance the kindness, rather than to lessen it. If there be no more in't than to say Atticus did it through vain glory; then the best and most commendable actions may by the same reason be sensur'd, because eve­ry thing may be esteem'd vain glo­rious when 'tis known, that is, as soon as it comes to be spoken of.

Nevertheless, reply'd Caesarion, he did more generous actions than [Page 131]these were in appearance, the which however Cicero did not very well ap­prove of; and after the manner that he dealt with Atticus, it may safely be affirm'd, that he put no great va­lue on these splendid Liberalities, seeing he cannot forbear writing slightly of them unto Atticus him­self. But, saith he in a certain place, Sed heus tu Ache­nis, pla­cet hoc tibi. Is it true that you have distributed Corn to the Athenians, do you think it's well done?

This Discourse, if I mistake not, intimates that these actions were at least much suspected in those times, when they could be better judg'd of than now; and Cicero's authority is of far greater weight in this mat­ter than that of Nepos. Neverthe­less it must be granted, it would be unjust to sensure them, did one know no more than what this Histo­rian do's relate; but he reporting others of the same stamp, which are undoubtly false, one may by the same measure the more naturally judge of those that be dubious.

After the death of Caesar it was propos'd amongst the Roman Knights, to raise a stock for the maintenance of his Assassinates, in consideration of the pretended ser­vice they had done the Common­wealth. One of these Knights who had the chief conduct of the busi­ness, thinking he could not better advance it, than by ingaging there­in one of the chief of his Order, address'd himself unto Atticus, as unto a particular friend of Brutus, who was chief of the Murderers. What answer think you Atticus made unto this proposal? Ille con­sensionis globus hujus u­nius dis­sensione dissectus est qui officia a­micis praestan­da sine factione existi­maret, &c. there was need of maintaining an action, which at that time was esteemed generous by every body, and there appear'd no danger in doing it. He made the whole design fall to the ground (saith Nepos) thinking it not fit to serve his friends by a spirit of faction. Did you ever see a poorer excuse, nor the word Faction worse apply'd? and that you may the plainer see that he refus'd only out of singula­rity. Affairs having quite chang'd [Page 133]soon after, and Brutus with his com­plices being forc'd to withdraw, At­ticus sent him considerable sums of mony of free gift. But who doth not see that this supply, how great soever, could not be comparable to that which was design'd to be given him by the greatest part of the wel­thyest Citizens, of which he was depriv'd by Atticus his refusal: and to conclude, this denial could pro­ceed only from an affectation of be­ing distinguish'd from all others, without any other end or aim, but an envious fear and jealousie of sharing with his equals in the glory of a good action.

It's true, reply'd I, there appears something very strange in this con­duct, and that renders it something suspitious, and I cannot but own it. But in requital you must grant in the next place, that there could be nothing more free and generous, than what he did a while after in regard of Antonius. One had need be somthing more than a Prophet, to foresee the Triumvirat during the [Page 134]Seige of Modena; Antonius declar'd an Enemy by the Senate, routed, and fors'd to raise the Seige by Octa­vius and the Consuls, his whole Ar­my dispers'd and slain, himself flying into Gaul to the mercy of Lepiddus, abandon'd by his best Friends, and persecuted by some of them as by his worst Enemies; his Wife and Children expos'd every moment to the greatest Extremitys. In this de­plorable condition Atticus entertains and supports those of his, that held true to him, supply's them with all necessaries; accompanies Fulvia in all places, interceeds for her, and be­comes her caution, lends her mony without intrest, to pay Debts which were falen due, without obliging her to repayment. It seems to me that 'tis not enough to be good and disinterested to act after this man­ner, but also it shews resoluteness and great courage.

To answer the exaggeration you have now made, reply'd Caesarion; before we examine this matter to the bottom, let me desire you to [Page 135]make? reflection, which I have ta­ken from a good authority, which perhaps you have never yet thought of. At these words Caesarion mu­sing about what he intended to say, we heard a noise of several Horse­men in the Court, which obliged us to rise and see what it meant.

OUr Conversation was deferr'd for some time by company that came to visit your friend, and though it wrought in me some im­pressions not very agreeable unto one of my years, yet I can say without vanity, that it was with great satis­faction I return'd unto it. Besides the extraordinary desire one has na­turally to improve ones self in know­ledge, having never met a man that condescended more to humour my weak apprehension; our discourse had also in it the pleasure of Novelty, and I was sensibly taken in that part that was most grateful to me. I fanci'd therefore to be return'd to the light after a long darkness, the [Page 137]first time we met together alone, and the delight I conceived might have been discern'd in my looks by any body else, as well as by him. It was, I shall never forget it, the ve­ry afternoon of the same day that our Company went away, we walk­ed in the same Gallery talking to­geather, which I told you fac'd his Closet; and as he could not but wonder at the pleasure I took in his discourse, not knowing otherwise how to divert the commendations he gave me on that account, and which was burdensome to me; I bethought my self of asking him the meaning of the first Picture that offer'd it self to my view, amongst several others that were in the same place.

It represented a Man with a Face as great as it was ill fetur'd, very ill accouter'd after the Greek habit, leaning with one Hand upon his Staff, and stretching out the other, half open, unto a Statue richly adorn'd. Nere this man lay an empty Vessel, part of the Head being out, the [Page 138]bottom of the Cask might be seen: without much difficulty, by this e­quipage I knew it was the Philoso­pher Diogenes, but the posture where­in he was represented appearing something strange, I desir'd to know of Caesarion what it signifi'd; I'le make you, reply'd he, the same an­swer Paulus Emilius made those that desir'd him in the behalf of King Perseus his prisoner, that he might not be carri'd in Tryumph through Rome, That he would ask it of his own self. If I understood what the Pain­ter had done, said I, I should not have any need to ask the explicati­on of it of my self, nor of you. And have you not heard, reply'd he, that sometimes one knows things that one thinks they be ignorant of. In­quire therefore of your own self with a little reflection, what this posture means, and you will find at last, that you will resolve your own self as well as I can.

This Picture, said he, is not like most others which represent Histories. Painters have not alwayes the judg­ment [Page 139]as good as the sight, they think that all things are alike fit to be painted, yet there be but few things proper to be painted, for the Pensill not being capable, to give the Figures motion upon the Cloth, it cannot represent but very imperfect­ly, those Objects which consist in motion, as Combats, bodily Exerci­ses, Tempests, Incendiaries, and most of those things which they most of all delight in. I know not if any body else has felt the displeasure that I have done, in considering this kind of Painting, for methinks the Figures ought to have Motion, and the Moving Posture wherein they be represented, though in effect they are immovable, doth imply a kind of contradiction, wherewith my mind is somewhat dissatisfi'd.

At this rate, said I, you had need of Comedians or Stage-players to represent things, and you would de­prive Painters of the greatest and pleasantest part of their Profession: That is not my design, reply'd he, and if it were, I would not venture to di­vulge [Page 140]it. But I say to judge naturally of things, it were better to Paint Histories, whose essential part con­sisted in a fix'd posture, which the Pensil may very well perform, where­of there has been some instances, wherein the persons concern'd have been in all liklyhood immovable. As for Example, the action of Saevola, immovably constant holding his hand in the Flames, whil'st Porsenna and the rest that beheld him were immovable through admiration. Such also was the judgment of Solo­man, where the true Mother held the Arm of him that went to Di­vide her Child, whilst the pretend­ed Mother stood immovable in her Obstinacy. And such to conclude, is the Picture that you see. Imagin then what sense you would give the Action it represents, if you see it in the Original, seeing it would be but the same that 'tis in the Coppy.

If passing through the Caemariqae amongst the Statues of the Demy Gods of Greece, Plutar. of Shame. you should see Dio­genes prostrate before one of those I­mages, [Page 141]holding out his hand asking an Alms, what would you think of it? I should be much startl'd at it, said I, to see so careless a Man begging, and so wise a Man to begg of a Statue; that is the very reason, riply'd Caesa­rion, which should make you guess the meaning of his posture. It don't seem strange to you to begg of a Sta­tue, but because it cannot give any thing. If then any body asks of it, 'tis not because they think to receive any thing; this demand therefore is not out of Intrest, it is not there­fore incompatable with the great in­differency of Diogenes, there only remaines to inquire why he amus'd himself about so frivolous (not to say so foolish) an Action.

To understand the true Reason, you need only consider him with at­tension in this posture; I should soon be try'd, said I, and could not long hold out without growing impatient. Admire then, reply'd Cae­sarion, the patience of this Phi­l [...]sopher in so unpleasant an exe­rcise, that you cannot behold him [Page 142]a moment without displeasure. If your Patience cannot resist so little a thing, what would you do at Court, where you would find a Thousand greater occasions to try it. It would be in vain to flatter ones self with Suc­cess, If one did not practise this im­portant Virtue, as you see Diogenes here doth. If one do's not beg as he doth without hope of being heard, and of being refus'd too without be­ing discourag'd. Importunity perse­verance, boldness, these be the qua­lities necessary to make our servise acceptable to those Idols, to whom our ambition and covetousness do's sacrifice the best of our daies; who­ever has these qualities, shall be heard sooner or later; without them, wisdom, valour, goodness and vir­tue, are but frivolous ornaments.

You are surpris'd at this Discourse, reply'd Caesarion, seeing me silent, you thought till now, that Merit alone had been sufficient to advance a man in the World. The several Masters and Tutours you have been under, have only labour'd in a manner to [Page 143]no other end, than to imprint this in your mind: That a perfectness in corporal exercises and virtuous qua­lities were a necessary and infallible means of making a fortune in the World. This is true in one sense; this perswasion was necessary for you at that time and age, doubtless it contributed very much towards your accomplishment, and it was not very requisite you should know any more at that time.

But when you left those Masters to enter into the commerce of the world, had they fully discharg'd themselves of their duty, they ought to have told you quite another thing, they ought to have told you what you dream't not of, that the best qua­lities both acquir'd and natural, are things difficult to be us'd; that they must be conceal'd almost as often as shewn; that oftentimes they make those conceited that enjoy them, make them silly and hated, and sometimes render them ridicu­lous, and therefore for the most part do more hurt than good. That at [Page 144]best they only procure a forc't and unprofitable esteem, that they have very little contributed unto the grea­test fortunes that have been made, and that if any that are endow'd with these qualities and know best to use them, arrive at any extraordi­nary promotion, they serv'd only for shew, he owes the true cause of it to some other quality of more value in the main, and which lyes more hid.

Caesarion stoping at these words, I confess said I, you surprize me. I be­liev'd indeed there was ill ways of advancement, but I also concluded that there were good ways no less certain, and that a man of good merit might attain good fortune without doing any thing unworthy of him­self.

You are very much deceiv'd, re­ply'd Caesarion, a man of this stamp is a kind of publick Enemy, which all the world has reason to hate; he ty­ranizes over men by a kind of ne­cessity, he imposes upon them to e­steem him; he is the cause that all other things are not admir'd as much [Page 145]as himself; he engrosses a great ma­ny applauses which would serve to gratifie a great many others; how then can he but be envy'd?

This perswasion is as firmly root­ed in the minds of men, as the love of glory it self; and it never appear'd more than amongst the people that were most of all enflam'd with a love of this glory. You know against what sort of men the Ostracism was set up at Athens: and doubtless you have heard of that Country Fellow that gave his voice for banishing A­ristides; he could give no other rea­son for it, but that it displeas'd him to hear him always be call'd the Just. Nemo de nobis u­nus excel­lat; sed siquis ex­titerit, alio in lo­co & a­pud alios sit. Sic. Tusc. quaest. l. 5. So those of Ephesus expell'd the most virtuous of their Citizens without any other reason, but for these memorable words, That none a­mongst them should excel above his fel­lows, and if there be any here that would, let them go excel elsewhere. So the Ephori condemn'd Agesilaus into a Mulct, because he alone possessed the hearts of the Lacedemonians. And he that conquer'd Hanibal thought he [Page 146]ought to banish himself from Rome, that so he might give liberty to vir­tues inferior to his, to appear there; so true it is, that at all times nothing has been more dangerous amongst men, than too shining a merit.

If this remarkable truth has ap­pear'd in the most virtuous and best govern'd Common-wealths, do you think it will not appear in Courts, where many times there is neither order nor virtue? There's nothing harder than for such a man as you mean, there to find favour or prote­ction; because those which have the chief power, are not always of such merit, as not to fear such as are en­dow'd with higher merit than them­selves. One had need have a great stock of virtue, to love it in another as much as it deserves; this is the most assured sign of true merit, and one may, without vanity, be fully as­sur'd of his own, when one does right to that of other mens; that one takes pleasure in making it known, and that one honours the party indiffe­rently, in all places, and at all times.

And such a one was Scipio, that I before mention'd to you; and I can­not better represent him to you by this great Idea, than in the very words of his incomparable Historian. After the unfortunate death of his Father and Unkle in Spain, one of their Lieutenants, called Martius, maintain'd the glory of Rome, which had been shrewdly shaken by such two terrible blows, that scarce any that succeeded those two great men, could not well have supply'd their place better than him: So that of those that were in Rome capable of such imployments, there was none that durst aspire to that, in Spain, but the Heir of the Illustrious de­ceas'd; he was aged about 24 years. How do you think he carry'd himself towards this brave Lieutenant, who would have darkn'd the glory of any other Captain but this, when he a­riv'd in his Province? He did not set about changing the Orders Mar­tius had given; he did not narrowly search into the faults that might be committed before his coming, a­mongst [Page 148]so many great transactions, and of what might have been done better than was done: He kept not strictly his distance and port, as was due to him as General, and affected not the respect due to it, Martium secum tanto cum honore habeb at, ut facile appare­ret, eum nihil mi­nus vere­ri, quam ne quis obstaret gloriae suae. l. 26. Aelian. Hist. di­vers. l. 12. c. 16. Quint. Curt. l. 8 with this great Person, more than he did with others his inferiors: neither did he use indirect ways, as most Com­manders do, to disparage the con­duct of their Predecessors; He had Martius always near him, saith Tit. Livius, and he did him so great honour, that 'twas plainly seen, he feared not that any body could hinder the progress of his glory.

Alexander, surnam'd the Great at­tain'd not such a pitch of virtue; he was not so ingenious, saith the most impartial of his Historians, in valu­ing the virtue and courage of his own Countrymen, as much as he did that of strangers. Another Author makes a long narrative of the good qualities peculiar unto each of his Captains, for which he hated them without any other cause, and therefore Par­menion, him that of all others knew [Page 149]him best, said for an only lesson to Philotas, My Son be little in thine own esteem. If a person of so eminent degree as this Conqueror, was not free from jealousie, how can it be ex­pected, that the most part of the great Men, we speak of, can be ex­empt from it? And what assistance can a man of true virtue and merit hope from such, in prefering him at Court? Yet what possibility is there of being consider'd without the fa­vourable recommendation of some or other? The Princes favour and good­will is already ingag'd, how virtuous and valiant soever a person is, he must not think to be regarded for that reason alone, unless he is ingag'd to do it by some other way and means. It's possible he may do you right, should he reward your merits; but how unlikely is it, that he will trou­ble himself to inquire into your de­serts? Something else is requisite for the attaining your ends.

A Prince that has already chose and setled his affection upon his Mi­nisters and Favourites, before ever [Page 150]you were thought of, thinks that he has no further need of any body else; he sees by their Eyes, hears by their Ears, and for the most part Judges by their judgement: So that any bo­dy that offer their service, otherwise than by their means, is not regarded by him, he must move out of his Sphere to do otherwise: being only familiarly acquainted with them, he knows not if there be any others that excel them; and herein he resembles that Woman amongst the Ancients, that suppos'd all men had stinking breath, because she never kiss'd any but her own Husband.

Moreover, Favourites and great Ministers, looking upon the Princes favour to be uncertain, and a thing that may be lost; they dread nothing more than a man that is endow'd with the many good qualities you speak of; they knowing him a long time, do judge better than new Comers the effects it may produce in the mind of their Master; they know how to represent such of these qualities as may not be pleasing, and [Page 151]use all means to hinder those from being known, which would please too much.

And do not imagine, that 'tis in­terest alone that makes them act in this manner, in dissipating the cloud that threatens them, it is the general practice of Courtiers to pre­ceed this way, although they drive at several ends; and the most oppo­site agree in this, to discourage por­sons of extraordinary merit from ha­ving any shear in the Prince his fa­vour, although they cannot but have a great esteem for such themselves. It is a compact which they be natu­rally inclin'd to, and they never fail to agree in the executing of it: they have no need of consulting, nor of being advis'd to joyn together in these occasions; envy and vanity, wherewith they are equally pos­sess'd, directs them to the same end, more than all the consultatious in the World can do.

Let but one of them begin to tell a ridiculous story of such a Person as this, either false, or so grosly coun­terfeit, [Page 152]that it can scarse be discerned by those which know the contrary; he is surpris'd, that another, who it may be know's not so much as he do's, should presently give such cre­dit to what he heard, that the other might be ready, to guess at what he so cunningly invented. Two or three such ill Offices as this, were suffici­ent to ruin any Man, were he never so well esteem'd by his Prince, who if not very wise, never inquires into the Cause of things; or if he doth, is not for the most part more favourable to Persons of extraordinary Merit, than his Courtiers are.

Therefore it is, that he scarce ever regards such Persons as these be, for Men are startl'd at the least inclina­tion he has for them, and then they are envi'd by all the World; and this general design of ruining them, which is a necessary Consequence of the goodness of his choise, discourages the Prince and naturally inclines him to be suspitious.

It may plainly be perceiv'd, that the general aversion he find's in [Page 153]Mens minds for the good choice he should make, do's at length reduce him to the necessity of making a bad one, and then he finds no longer any opposition; for it is only Virtue and Merit which are suspected; a Man is seldom hated for being Vitious, the first favours bestow'd on him are not suspected, they are attributed to some other Cause, and 'tis not belie­ved they can hold long, yet such a person easily and without oppositi­on, by his corruptness, Establishes himself in the Princes favour, to the Admiration of all the World; It is not believ'd till 'tis too late, and the wisdom of the Prince being ingag'd, he is bound in honour to vindicate it, and will not be perswaded to the contrary of what he has done.

Caesarion having deliver'd this Dis­course with some concerndness, stop­ing at these words, I could not but testify to him my Astonishment at what he said; for although the con­sequence seem'd very natural in hearing him, yet I did not well per­ceive to what it tended. If it be so, [Page 154] said I, nothing is more difficult, than for a Prince to make a wise choice; there's no question of it, said he, for he never understands the persons that he chooses, and all that are about him agree to cousen him; and the life of those especially that are neer­est him is nothing else but a continu­al Fars, wherein all things are repre­sented to him in Masquerade: How­ever methinks, said I, when it falls out that he makes any extraordinary ill choise, it being the intrest of a great many to inform him of it, it cannot choose, but in time he must be somwhat sensible of it, and so by consequence reform his errour. Then you think it a small matter, reply'd Caesarion, to confess that one is mista­aken; this aversion being natural to all Men, is more particularly rooted in the spirits of Princes. Vain glory is so inherent to them, that 'twere almost unjust to censure them for it. Pray tell me which is the best course they can take in the condition you place them, either to publish to the World the ill choise they have made [Page 155]by correcting it; or by continuing to persist in the same.

Now by this demand I understand your meaning. I find that what you say of Favorites is true, and that a Prince is much in the right, not to change them how bad soever they be. But methinks it should not be so of his Ministers; no certainly, reply'd Caesarion, Favorites are not directly concern'd with publick affairs, all their actions do only regard the per­son and particular actions of the Prince; so that the little Merit they have, is scarce known to any, but to those which be as near the Prince as themselves, and such are sufficiently concern'd not to disclose it to the rest of the World.

On the contrary, the Function of Ministers of State being publick, a Prince that has made an ill choise of them cannot hide the Errour he has committed in persevering in it; and rather than convince the World of their incapacity, one of these two things is believ'd; either that he un­derstands it not, and that ignorant [Page 156]as they be, he thinks them very able, because they are wiser than him, or that, if he wants not judgment, and is destitute of humanity and true glo­ry, seeing he cares not that all the World should suffer through his Fault, and is less sensible of his Peo­ples just grievance, than at the shame of owning his own Errour.

And is it not just, reply'd I, at these words, to judge after this sort? One cannot judge otherwise, answer'd Cae­sarion, but Princes do not think so. And what can they think, when they prefer persons to the greatest Imployments, that are not capable of discharging the least? They think, said he, and they are not altogeather deceiv'd, that most Men do not judge of things themselves, and much less of those things that are above their Capacity: that 'tis easie to deceive the sight, when one appears but seldom and at a distance; to hide ones Igno­rance when one speaks but seldom, or when one lists, and when one is not bound to be accountable for on's A­ctions. To give an outward attenti­on [Page 157]and seemingly listen to Discourse, and yet though they did so seriously, do not at all comprehend what they hear. To conclude, they believe that the number of those that have judgment sufficient, to distinguish truth through the mist of errour, and have courage to defend it, being but very few in comparison of the contrary party, their wisdom and freedom makes them only be scoffed at, and they be suppress'd by the great numbers of those who are not so ju­ditious, or if they be, dare not de­clare what they think.

But grant that all this were true, said I again, were it not better and more glorious for a Prince, to choose Ministers, that stood not in need of these poor shifts, to conceal their little Merit from the sight of the World? There's no doubt of it, reply'd Caesarion, but you don't consider, that most great Men desire not to be often seen, nor narrowly discern'd by Men of great Virtue and Merit.

Persons do not make choise of ex­traordinary Men, any farther than [Page 158]they resemble them. It is only a wise Prince, that will make choise of a wise Minister, and that will praise him, and declare to the World the benefit he receives thereby. Let us drink said Philip of Macedon, making a De­bauch amongst his Friends, in the midst of his greatest affairs, Let us Drink, Athen. l. 10.it is sufficient that Antipater is sober. This in my opinion, is the highest commendation that ever was given by a Sovereign to a subject. To speak after this manner, Philip must needs look upon the great Merit of Antipater, as making up a part of his own. A Prince that gave so high an Encomium to his Minister, had no cause to be jealous of him; he must be as excellent a Prince, as his Minister was an excellent Minister. And had I no other proof than this Discourse, I should be no less assur'd of it, than by the great things which daily ex­perience shews us.

It's true, reply'd I, that of all the passages of Antiquity, that I have heard of, none touch'd me sosensibly as this did. Do not you find therein [Page 159]as well as I, said Caesarion, somthing that appears not only natural and fa­miliar, but also noble and great? In the liberty of Wine and feasting of those Times, which was not so regu­lar as in our Daies, to have the pre­sence of Mind excusing his excess, e­ven when it might have been conni­ved at, to those that might have blam'd it, and of giving a sober ac­count of it, although the time and place might have dispensed him here­in, whosoever knew how to make a Debauch in this manner, could not be much prejudic'd thereby.

But to return to our Discourse; Do not imagin that all great Men, such as the King we speak of, do glo­ry in having near them Persons of the Merit of Antipater: An excellent Mi­nister cannot sute with a Prince of little judgment; it's enough that he may have good servants, and 'tis al­so true, that such will never preserve him from falling into danger. If A­grippa had been a Man of such a Soul, Augustus had never been Mast­er of the World. These are excellent [Page 160]Mariners in calm and fair weather, and during a prosperous Gale, but the first Storm they soon are split to pieces on some Rock or Sands. But they have the pleasure for a while to diceive the World, and to be thought able persons amongst such as be not so; their very Shipwrack which a­wakens the most insensible, do's not alwaies reclaim the Prince from his Errour; they impute the misfortune to the Winds or Planets, and al­though he do's not excuse them, yet had he rather be dishonour'd by per­sons, that he can somtimes look upon as inferiour to him, than to be well serv'd by others, that he must be ob­lig'd to admire.

I cannot tell, answer'd I, at these words, if there be any such Princes as those you speak of; but I know that Augustus whom you mention'd but now, was none of the number: You may, reply'd Caesarion, be deceiv'd as well as many others; he had a great deal of witt and ingenuity, 'tis not to be deny'd; but he was not altogeather so great a Genius as most [Page 161]do imagin, grounding their beleif upon the report of some Modern Writers, who have not had know­ledg sufficient to be competent Judg­es in the Case. And I am much de­ceiv'd, continu'd he, if you are not well pleas'd at what I shall relate to you of him.

You know better than I, Abstinu­it con­gressu ho­minum Diu prae pudore, & jam de necan­da deli­beravit. Suet. that be­ing inform'd of his Daughters mis­fortunes, he was at the same time so afflicted in hearing that it was known, and so exasperated against her, for the singular circumstances wherewith it was attended: That he not only refus'd to appear in in publick for a confiderable time, but had also thoughts of putting his Daughter to Death. But altering his mind, De silia absens, ac libello per Quaesto­rum re­citato sub notum senatui fecit. ibid. instead of wholly conniving at her Debauches, not being willing to punish them as they deserv'd, he could not for­beare complaining to the Senate, by a Memorial which he caus'd there to be read publickly to that purpose. It was his Custom after this manner to im­part his most important Affaires, whether Publick or Domestick, to [Page 162]the Fathers of the Senate, when he did not do it in person. But some time after, his anger and grief giv­ing place to his Reason, he repented publishing his own Shame, in such a manner as all the World was sensi­ble of the business, and in the just displeasure therof cry'd out more than once: Horum mihi ni­hil acci­disset, si aut A­grippa, aut Me­coenas vixisset. Senec. 6 de Benef. That if Agrippa or Mecae­nas had been alive, he had not commit­ed such an Errour.

Nothing can be more to the Sub­ject we speak of, than what you have now mention'd. This unfortunate Father, so happy in all things else, knew very well, as you see, the great need that a Prince has (be he never so able himself) of a Minister, that may be as able or wiser than himself; of one that he may love and esteeme so much, as to suffer him to reclaime him when he doth amiss. And to quit this old pernitious Maxim of Court; If thou dost hinder thy Master from Falling, he will not be sensible, that 'tis thou that Raisest him up. But be­leive me, there are but very few, that will own, as this Emperor did, [Page 163]that their Counsellours have more wisdom than they. And were I to begin the World agine, I should be cautious how I judg'd of others by him; and I would rather give credit to a Courtier belonging to Emanuel King of Portugal, whose Example may serve for a Rule, to all able per­sons, that have to do with great Men.

This Prince, having a Letter of importance to write, commanded one of his Gentlemen to do it; the Gentleman perform'd his part the best he could, and carri'd it to the King: The King, having read it, drew one out of his Pocket, that he had compos'd himselfe about the same business, and comparing them togeather, he ingeniously confess'd, that the Gentleman's was the best, and that he would make use of it. What reflection, think you, made the Courtier on this Discourse; he took no farther notice of it, but making a profound Obeysance, went presently and took leave of his best Friend, tel­ing him, That he had no more to do at [Page 164]Court, the King knew that he had more witt than himself. I do not conceive, reply'd I, at this story, that this Ex­ample is af any great moment. In all likelihood this Gentleman was too soon alarm'd, and the Noble sinceri­rity of his Master, in doing him just­ice, would have produc'd other effects, than to expel a person of his Merit. As it was more glorious to the King to submit, than it was to the Courtier to be submitted to; he had more reason to be jealous of his Master, than to feare that his Mast­er should be jealous of him, and it could not be thought, but a Prince, that could do so generous an Action, would also put a due value upon it.

Nothing can be better imagin'd, than what you have now express'd, reply'd Caesarion, to me: Nevertheless as nothing oblig'd the King to shew his Letter, and it not being to his Credit to do it; it may well be sup­pos'd he did it unawares, and that he repented doing of it. Now if you do not think, that the effects of the [Page 165]displeasure he had for it, would not fall on him, that was the occasion of it, you have not the same Idea of the hearts of Men that I have, and espe­cially of great Men.

How can they, without displea­sure, acknowledge themselves infe­riour, in any thing, to persons that are so far from being worthy to be their Equals? All that they hear or see tends only to make them believe that they are above all things; what appearance is there, that they can re­sist so pleasant an impression? Men not only endeavour to give them an opinion of the greatest Idea of them­selves, but also strive to find high mysteries in the explication they make of the meanest of their expres­sions, which they could never have dreamt of themselves, by turning in­to ridioule the good Qualities of their Equals, thereby to provoke their dis­pleasure, and what is worst of all, and most tends to corrupt them, is, by disguising their greatest faults with the names of virtues which re­semble them.

Now if private persons, Non vi­des ip­sum il­lum Ari­stotelis discipu­lum tan­to inge­nio, tan­ta mode­stia, post­quam Rex ap­pellatus sit, crude­lem, su­perbum, immode­ratum fuisse. Cic. ad Att. l. 13. ep. 2.8 whose whole life is nothing but a continual pas­sage from one subjection to another, or that at least spend the greatest part of it with persons that have no need to flatter us, find it so difficult to rule our passions and self-love: how should a great Prince, whose state is a kind of continual intoxication, be­come reasonable, without it be by a special grace of God, or by an extra­ordinary gift of wisdom?

Do you not see, cry'd the greatest Wit in Rome, speaking familiarly to his best friend of what might be ex­pected of Caesar, (who then appear'd very moderate) if once he became peaceable and absolute Master of the Commonwealth, Do you not see (saith he unto him) how the Disciple of Ari­stotle so wise, so modest, became passionate, cruel and proud, as soon as he was mount­ed the Throne.

As able as he thought himself, this great Judge was however deceiv'd in his opinion: the Roman, he prophe­si'd so ill of, made as great a progress in virtue, even to his death, as the [Page 167] Greek, to whom he resembles him, had done in vice. But Caesar had been 50 years a private person, and besides we do not every day find a Caesar.

Not that I will say, but that our age has produc'd great Spirits, that do move in high Spheres. Nature is as liberal and vigorous as hereto­fore; not to instance in those whose reputation equals their merit, such as the invincible Monarch of France, envy'd by the whole World. I was told, some years past, of a great Prince, who at 13 years of age, being prais'd by his Courtiers, for some Action that he was not over well satisfi'd withal himself, he answer'd in repro­ving them of their flattery, I Pren­cipi fanno sempre tutto bene.

But once again, such Answers are not heard every day; and for my part, very far from wondring or thinking strange, that persons of this degree should not have the Merit which is duo unto them, I rather think it strange, that they do not reason as Caligula did, and that our [Page 168]blind submission to their unreasona­ble desires should raise their Presum­ption unto the highest extravagance, Seeing those that conduct droves of Cat­tle (said the fool) are not beasts like themselves, Philo. in his Am­bass.but are of a more excellent nature; is it not just, that those which command so absolutely over men, and whom all others obey, should be more than men, like those over whom they command?

This is the effect our flattery do's naturally produce in the Spirit of Princes, and it is what frequently hapn'd for the most part in the times of Papanism. But if our holy Religion do's not allow of these Apo­theoses, yet it do's so well establish the absolute Authority of Princes, that it is much easier for them to of­fend in this regard, than it was here­tofore to those deifi'd Kings and Em­perors.

Although Caesarion had done speak­ing, I was so concern'd at what he said, that I fancy'd I still heard him; his discourse seem'd so strange to me, and withal so apparent, that I knew [Page 169]not what judgement to make of it. On one hand I had much difficulty to disuse my self from admiring the condition of Princes, whom I al­ways heard call'd Gods upon earth; on the other hand I could not deny the weakness's which he demonstra­ted they were inclin'd to. But at length, truth carrying a kind of Maje­sty with it, which no prejudice is able to resist, I could not avoid being of his judgement; and in this manner, with as great pleasure as good for­tune, I divested my self of the strong opinion I suck'd in, in my youth.

At this rate, reply'd I at length, having paus'd a while, the conditi­on of Kings is a deplorable state; to judge rightly of it, there's no state more miserable, said Caesarion, and which deserves more pity; and it is whereof we ought to be well per­swaded when we go to Court. On the contrary, answer'd I, methinks this perswasion seems to discourage us from ingaging at all at Court: you are much mistaken, said he. A Courtier that looks upon greatness [Page 170]with such an eye, not as a sovereign Good, but as a Good whose conse­quences are commonly attended with error and ignorance, will not be so easily agitated with those dis­orderly and furious desires of attain­ing them, which trouble the mind in the same degree as it excites it, which makes a man take ill mea­sures, and inspires him with rashness and folly. Ambition thrusts him for­wards barefac'd, it do's not transport him beyond himself with joy nor grief at the appearance of frowns or smiles; it do's not make him, through greediness or impatience, guilty of a­ny false step, which may without ne­cessity oblige him to discover his de­signs, and which may render him ri­diculous if he should not succeed in them: There appears nothing but what is decent, equal, and moderate in all his dealings. If he do's not arrive at some great fortune by these meanes, yet at least he exposes not himself much, and 'tis no disgrace not to obtain, what he do's not very eagerly pursue.

Indeed a man of this temper may be a Courtier all days of his life; he considers it as a School, where he must go to receive his Masters directions, and not as an employment. If he seeks his Princes favour, it is that he might be serviceable to him, either to make Religion flourish amongst his Subjects, or to defend them from their Enemies, or to see that they have Justice done them. But not to do any thing all his life, but gaze at a man, and to seek all occasions to shew himself, he would not think all the Riches and Honour in the World worth he getting, by such an idle dissembling sort of life.

Not but that he likes Riches, and approves of Honour and Glory, and will spare no just means to attain them; it is because he thinks not that true Glory, which is attain'd by these ways. It may be offer'd to him at a rate that he thinks unreasonable; he knows what to lay out before he cheapens it, he will give for it no more than 'tis worth, and if it be ovevalu'd, he will not disparage it, [Page 172]but thinks he should be counted a fool to buy it at too dear a rate.

And do not think, that 'tis out of any disrespect or aversion for Princes that he is of this opinion, or because he thinks them to be unfortunate and corrupt. The faults, which would deserve his hatred in private persons, only excite his pity towards Prin­ces; and as it is the most active of all the Passions in a generous soul, it inclines him naturally to assist them, and not to shun and abandon them to the mercy of Cheats and Flatterers; he satisfies himself in u­sing all honest ways and means to procure their favour and good liking, that they may see the need of having such as him near them: If they were duely inform'd, they would spare no cost of employing such in their ser­vice, for he excuseth in them a thou­sand things, which those that envy them do condemn: He saith, that it would not be only unjust, but also inhumane to reproach them with defects, which are almost inseparable from their quality; very far from that [Page 173]dark, black and malitious spight, mix'd with indignation and envy, where with most of them that ap­proach their persons be infected; he bears to them the pity and tenderness that a Father doth to his Child be­fore it attains the age of discretion: And the care of a tender Physitian to his sick Patient, whose soul sym­pathises with the sickness of his Pa­tients body: He has always this great truth in his mind, that he should per­haps be more frail than they, were he rais'd to the same Eminency: By this noble consideration, he bears from them what he would not from any else; he persists in serving them when all others forsake them; he prays for them when all the World doth curse them, and without trou­ble renders them the Religious re­spect which all Laws give unto them; he bears always in mind the the saying of the antient Poet, Senec. Epig. 41. de Exilio suo. Res est Sacra Miser.

It was Sun set, when Caesarion had ended this Discourse: I cannot des­cribe the impressions it made on my [Page 174]mind, and I did not perfectly under­stand it, but by the use I since made of it. I only remember that going after­wards to walk in a Garden, that fronted his House, to take the fresh air; I was so concern'd, that I could not speak a word all that Evening, nor do any thing but look at him, as if I had never seen him before: Any body besides him would have per­ceiv'd it with pleasure, and would have let me gone on in my folly, but he laugh'd at me as soon as ever he perceiv'd it: Whether it was by na­ture, or by much study, he was wholly insensible of the pleasure that self-love usually affords. He con­fess'd to me afterwards in our famili­ar meetings and discourses, that this indifferency proceeded from the con­tinual experience he had of his own defects, and the impossibility he found to prevent them; that they were odious to him, and no less pre­sent in his thoughts, than his good Qualities, although perhaps less dis­cern'd by the World; that it may be every man might say so much of [Page 175]himself, would they make a diligent scrutiny; but most did not trouble themselves in examining their thoughts as strictly as he did, where­in he knew not if he deserv'd be en­vy'd or to be pity'd. If it were not to be happy to be in this temper of mind, it was at least to be prudent and discreet, and you have as great cause to lament surviving so rare a friend, as I have of retaining in my mind a tender and religious Remem­brance of his admirable great Learn­ing and Wisdom.