same motives, and the same zeal.

All were equally affected oy the event; and all equally resolved to conquer or die in defence of liberty.

On the eve of the decisive day, Diogenes, the famous cynic, who had long looked with equal contempt on both parties, was led, by curiosity, to visit the camps, as an unconcerned spectator. In the Macedonian camp, where his character and person were not known, he was stopped by the guards, and conducted to Philip's tent. The king expressed surprise at a stranger's presuming to approach his camp; and asked, with severity, whether he came as a spy? "Yes," said Diogenes, "I am come as a spy upon your vanity and ambition, who thus wantonly set your life and kingdom to the hazard of an hour."

And now, the fatal morning appeared, which was for ever to decide the cause of liberty, and the empire of Greece. Before the rising of the sun, both armies were ranged in order of battle. The Thebans, commanded by Theogenes, a man of but moderate abilities in war, and suspected of corruption, obtained the post of honour on the right wing of the confederated Greeks, with that famous body in the front, called the Sacred Band, formed of generous and warlike youths, connected and endeared to each other by all the noble enthusiasm of love and friendship. The centre was formed of the Corinthians and Peloponnesians; and the Athenians composed the left wing, led by their generals, Lysicles and Chares.

On the left of the Macedonian army, stood Alexander, at the head of a chosen body of noble Macedonians, supported by the famous cavalry of Thessaly. As this prince was then but nineteen years old, his father was careful to curb his youthful impetuosity, and to direct his valour; and, for this purpose, surrounded him with a number of experienced offi cers. In the centre, were placed those Greeks who had united with Philip, and on whose courage he had the least dependence; while the king himself commanded on the right wing, where his renowned phalanx stood, to oppose the impetuosity with which the Athenians were well known to begin their

onset.

The charge began, on each side, with all the courage and violence, which ambition, revenge, the love of glory, and the love of liberty, could excite, in the several combatants. Alex ander, at the head of the Macedonian nobles, first fell, with all the fury of youthful courage, on the Sacred Band of Thebes; which sustained his attack with a bravery and vigour worthy of its former fame.

The gallant youths who composed this body, not being

timely, or not duly supported, by their countrymen, bore up, for a while, against the torrent of the enemy; till at length, oppressed and overpowered by superior numbers, without yielding or turning their backs on their assailants, they sunk down, on that ground where they had been originally stationed, each by the side of his darling friend, raising up a bulwark, by their bodies, against the progress of the army. But the young prince and his forces, in all the enthusiastic ardour of valour, animated by success, pushed on through all the carnage, and over all the heaps of slain, and fell furiously on the main body of the Thebans, where they were opposed with obstinate and deliberate courage, and the contest was for some time supported with mutual violence.

The Athenians, at the same time, on the right wing, fought with a spirit and intrepidity worthy of the character by which they were animated. Many brave efforts were exerted on each side, and success was for some time doubtful; till, at length, part of the centre, and the left wing of the Macedonians, (except the phalanx,) yielded to the impetuous attack of the Athenians, and fled, with some precipitation. Happy, had it been, on that day, for Greece, if the conduct and abilities of the Athenian generals had been equal to the valour of their soldiers! But those brave champions of liberty were led on by the despicable creatures of intrigue and cabal.

2

Transported by the advantage now obtained, the presumptuous Lysicles cried out, "Come on, my gallant countrymen, the victory is ours; let us pursue these cowards, and drive them to Macedon;" and thus, instead of improving their happy opportunity, by charging the phalanx in flank, and so breaking this formidable body, the Athenians wildly and precipitately pressed forward, in pursuit of the flying enemy. themselves in all the tumult and disorder of a rout. Philip saw this fatal error, with the contempt of a skilful general, and the secret exultation arising from the assurance of approaching victory.

He coolly observed, to those officers that stood around him, "That the Athenians knew not how to conquer;" and ordered his phalanx to change its position, and, by a sudden evolution, to gain possession of an adjacent eminence. From thence, they marched deliberately down, firm and collected, and fell, with their united force, on the Athenians, now confident of success, and blind to their danger.

The shock was irresistible: they were at once overwhelmed; many of them lay crushed by the weight of the enemy, and expiring by their wounds; while the rest escaped from the dreadful slaughter, by a shameful and precipitate flight;

bearing down, and hurrying away with them, those troops which had been stationed for their support; and here, the renowned orator and statesman, whose noble sentiments and spirited harangues had raised the courage on this day so eminently exerted, betrayed that weakness, which has sullied his great character. He alone, of all his countrymen, advanced to the charge, cold and dismayed; and, at the very first appearance of a reverse of fortune, in an agony of terror, turned his back, cast away that shield which he had adorned with this inscription, in golden characters-To Good Fortune; and appeared the foremost in the general rout. The ridicule and malice of his enemies, related, or perhaps invented another shameful circumstance; that, being impeded in his flight by some brambles, his imagination was so possessed with the presence of an enemy, that he loudly cried out for quarter. While Philip was thus triumphant on his side, Alexander continued the conflict on the other wing; and at length broke the Thebans, in spite of all their acts of valour, who now fled from the field, and were pursued, with great carnage. The centre of the confederates, was thus totally abandoned to the fury of a victorious enemy. But, enough of slaughter had been already made: more than one thousand of the Athenians lay dead on the field of battle, two thousand were made prisoners, and the loss of the Thebans was not inferior.

Philip therefore determined to conclude his important victory, by an act of apparent clemency, but really dictated by policy and ambition. He gave orders, that the Greeks should be spared; conscious of his own designs, and still expecting to appear in the field the head and leader of that body which he had now completely subdued.

Philip was transported with this victory, beyond measure, and having drunk to excess, at an entertainment which he gave upon that occasion, went into the field of battle, where he offered insult to the slain, and upbraided the prisoners with their misfortunes. He leaped and danced about, in a frantic manner, and, with an air of burlesque merriment, sung beginning of the decree, which Demosthenes had drawn up as a declaration of war against him.

the

Demades, who was one of the prisoners, had the courage to reproach him with this ungenerous behaviour; telling him, "That fortune had given him the part of Agamemnon, but that he was acting that of Thersites." He was so struck with the justness of this reproof, that it wrought in him a thorough change; and he was so far from being offended at Demades, that he immediately gave him his liberty, and showed him afterwards great marks of honour and friendship.

He likewise released all the Athenian captives, without ransom; and, when they found him so generously disposed towards them, they made a demand of their baggage, with every thing else that had been taken from them; but, to that Philip replied, "Surely, they think I have not beaten them." This discharge of the prisoners, was ascribed, in a great measure, to Demades; who is said to have new-modelled Philip, and to have softened his temper with the Attic graces, as Diodorus expresses it: indeed, Philip himself acknowledged, upon another occasion, that his frequent conversation with the Athenian orators, had been of great use to him, in correcting his morals.

Justin represents his deportment after the battle, in a very different light; alleging, that he took great pains to dissemble his joy that he affected great modesty and compassion, and was not seen to laugh; and that he would have no sacrifice, no crowns nor perfumes; that he forbade all kinds of sports; and did nothing that might make him appear to the conquerors to be elated, nor to the conquered to be insolent. But this account seems to have been confounded with others given of him, after his reformation by Demades. It is certain, that, after his first transport was over, and that he began to recollect himself, he showed great humanity to the Athenians; and, that, in order still to keep measures with them, he renewed the peace.

But the Thebans, who had renounced their alliance with him, he treated in another manner. He, who affected to be as much master of his allies, as of his subjects, could not easily pardon those who had deserted him in so critical a conjuncture. Wherefore, he not only took ransom for their prisoners, but made them pay for leave to bury their dead. After these severities, and after having placed a strong garrison over them, he granted them a peace.

We are told, that Isocrates, the most celebrated rhetorician of that age, who loved his country with the utmost tenderness, could not survive the loss and ignominy with which it was covered, by the loss of the battle of Charonea. The instant he received the news of its being uncertain what use Philip would make of his victory, determined to die a free man, he hastened his end, by abstaining from food; being ninety-eight years of age.

This defeat was attributed chiefly to the ill conduct of the generals Lysicles and Chares; the former of whom the Athenians put to death, at the instance of Lycurgus, who had great credit and influence with the people, but was a severe judge, and a most bitter accuser. "You, Lysicles," said he, "were

general of the army; a thousand citizens were slain, two thousand taken prisoners; a trophy has been erected to the dishonour of this city, and all Greece is enslaved. You had the command, when all these things happened; and yet you dare to live, and view the light of the sun, and blush not to appear publicly in the forum; you, Lysicles, who are born the monument of your country's shame!”

This Lycurgus was an orator of the first rank, and free from the general corruption which then reigned among them. He managed the public treasures, for twelve years, with great uprightness, and had, all his life, the reputation of a man of honour and virtue. He increased the shipping, supplied the arsenal, drove the bad men out of the city, and framed several good laws. He kept an exact register of every thing he did during his administration; and when that was expired, he caused it to be fixed to a pillar, that every body might be at liberty to inspect it, and to censure his conduct. He car ried this point so far, that, in his last sickness, he ordered himself to be carried to the senate-house, to give a public account of all his actions; and, after he had refuted one who accused him there, he went home and died.

Notwithstanding the austerity of his temper, he was a great encourager of the stage; which, though it had been carried to an excess manifestly hurtful to the public, he still looked upon it as the best school to instruct and polish the minds of the people. To this end, he kept up a spirit of emulation among the writers of tragedy, and erected the statues of Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. He left three sons, who were unworthy of him, and behaved so ill, that they were all put in prison; but Demosthenes, out of regard to the memory of their father, got them discharged.

It does not appear that Chares underwent any prosecution, for his share of this action; though, according to the general character, he deserved it as much, or more, than his colleague. He had no talent for command, and was very little different from a common soldier. Timotheus said to him, "That, instead of being a general, he was fitter to carry the general's baggage." His person, indeed, was of that robust kind of make; and it was that which served, in some measure, to recommend him to the people, But he was more a man of pleasure, than fatigue.

In his military expeditions, he usually carried with him a band of music; and defrayed the expense out of the soldiers' pay. Notwithstanding his want of abilities, he had a high opinion of himself. He was vain and positive, bold and boisterous, a great undertaker, and always ready to warrant