Book XXIII

tvhole; and he arranges atoms, inuead of conceiving a fyflem. The proof of abilities in a king, as the supreme govcrnour of others, docs not consist in doing every thing himself: to attempt it, is a poor ambition; and to suppose that others will believe it can be done, an idle hope. Ja.^xexjijricuU^ Jtllie.h'lXXS^, should, not

,be thejiodj:jjt?utj;he_foi^^^ by his influence, and under his direction, the hands flaould operate, and the feet should walk: he lliould conceive what is to be done, bi:U-ii£.ihould appoint others to do it; his abilities will appear in the conception of his designs, and the choice of his instruments. He Ihould never Hoop to their function, nor suffer them to aspire to his: neither should he trust them implicitly; he ought to examine their proceedings, and be equally able to detc(5l a want of judgment or integrity. _He governs well,

Jvvlio^fc_erns thij,.Y^jjQ]^^^^ abilities of men, and employs them to achniniftergQ.vernmerit,, under him, in..departments that_are exa(5tly suited to their talents. The perfc6lior>,^pf, fy,pj-cme goyeLnrnent, consists in the governing of those that govern: he that prclides, should try, reflrain, ana correct them; he should encourage, raise, change, and difplace them.;,„Ji:e^ l]ipujdjceep th^ jfor ever, in his eye, and in his hand: but, to make the minute particulars of their subordinate departments, objects of personal application, indicates meannefs and suspicion; and fills the mind with petty anxieties, that leave it neither time, nor liberty, for de^ signs, that are worthy of royal attention. To form great deflgns, all must be freedom and tranquillity; no intricacies of business must embarrafs or perplex, no subordinate objecfls mufl divide the attention. ,_j._jTaind. that, jisexhaufted upon minute particidars, resembles the lees of wine, that have neither flavour nor flrength: and a king, that bufies himself in doing the duty of his servants, is always determined by present appearances, and never extends his view to futurity; he is always absorbed, by the business of tlic day day that is pafling over him; and this, being his only objecT:, acquires an undue importance, which, if compared with others, it would lose. The mind that admits but one objedl at a time, mufl naturally contradl; and it is impossible to judge well of any affair, without conlidering many, comparing them with each other, and j'anging them in a certain order, by which their relative importance will appear. He that ncglecSls this rule in government, resembles a mufician, who should content himself with the discovery of melodious tones, one by one, and never think of combining or harmonizing them into music, which would not only gratify the ear, but afFecft the heart. Or he may be compared to an architei51, who should fancy the powers of his art exhaudcd, by heaping together large columns, and great quantities of flone curiou/Iy carved, without considering the proportion of his building, or the arrangement of his ornaments: such an artist, when he was building a faloon, would not refledl, that a suitable ftair-case should be added; and when he was bufy upon the body of the building, he would forget the court- yard, and the portal: his work would be nothing more, than a confused afTemblage of parts, not suited to £ach other, not concurring to form a whole: such a work would be fo far from doing him honour, that it would be a perpetual monument of difgrace; it would slew, that his range of thought was not sufficient to include all the parts of his design at once, that his mind was contracted, and his genius subordinate; for he that fees only from part to part, is fit only to execute the designs of another. Be aflured, my dear Trlemachus, that the govcmment of a kingdom requires a certain harmony like muiic, and jufl proportions like architedure.

" If you will give me leave to carry on the parallel between these arts and government, I can eafdy make you comprehend the inferiority riority of those, who adminifter government by parts, and not as a, whole,. He that fings particular parts in a concert, however great hi"s skill, or excellent his voice, is still but a fmger; he who regulates all the parts, and condu(5ls the whole, is the master of miific: fo, he that fafliions the columns, and carries up the fide of a building, is no more than a mafon; but he who has designed the whole, and whose mind fees all the relations of part to part, is the archite6t. Those, therefore, who arc mod bufy, who difpatch the greatest number of affiiirs, can lead be said to govern; they are inferiour workmen: the prefiding mind, the genius that governs the state, is he, who doing nothing, causes all to be done; who meditates and contrives; who looks forward to the future, and back to the past; who fees relative proportions, arranges all things in order, and provides for remote contingencies j who keeps himself in perpetual exercise, to wreftle with fortune, as the fwimmcr struggles with a torrent; and whose mind is, night and day, upon the ilretch, that, anticipating all events, nothing may be left to chance.

" Do you think, my dear Telemachus, that a great painter is inceflantly toiling, that he may difpatch his work with the greater expedition? No; such drudgery and conflraint would quench all the fire of imagination; he would, no longer, work like a genius; for the genius works, as he is impelled by the powers of fancy, in sudden, vigorous, but irregular fallies. Does the genius grind his colours, or prepare his pencils? No; he leaves that to others, that are, as yet, but in the rudiments of his art: he referves himself for the labours of the mind; he transfers his ideas to the canvas, in some bold and glowing ftrokes, which give dignity to his figures, and animate them, not only with life but passion.. His> mind, teems with the thoughts and sentiments of the heroes he is to.

to represent; he is carried back to the ages in which they lived, and is prefcnt to the circumstances they were placed in. But, with this fervid enthufxafm, he pofTefTes also a judgment, that reftrains and regulates it; fo that his whole work, however bold and animated, is perfe6lly consonant to propriety and truth. And can it be imagined, that less elevation of genius, less effort of thought, is necessary to make a great king, than a good painter? Let us, therefore, conclude, that the province of a king, is to think; to form great designs; and to make choice of men, properly qualified to carry them into execution."

" I think, said Telemachus, that I perfccT;ly comprehend your meaning: but, surely, a king, who leaves the difpatch of public business to others, will be often impofc^ upon." " You impose iipon yourself, replied Mentor i^^^n^ral. knowledge of government^ will always secure..himi,a^ain,ft imj-.ofm^^^ Those, who are not acquainted with radical principles, and have not fagacity to difcern the talents and characSters of men, are always seeking their way, like men in the dark. If these, indeed, escape imposition, it is by chance; for they have not a clear and perfecft knowledge of what they seek, nor in what direcT:ion they should move to find it: their knowledge is just sufficient to excite suspicion; and they are rather fufpicious of integrity that oppofes them with truth, than of fraud that feduces tlicm by flattery. Those, on the contrary, who know the principle of government, and can distinguish the charaders of men, know what is to be expected from them, and how to obtain it: they know, at leafl, whether the persons they employ are, in general, proper inllruments to execute their designs; and whether they conceive and adopt their views, with fuflicient precifion and abilities to carry them into "effect. Besides, as their attention is not divided by embarralling particulars, they keep the 4 great great objetH; flcadily in view; and can always judge, whether they deviate, or approach it: if they are fometimcs deceived, it is in accidental and trifling matters, that are not elTential to the principal delign. They are also fuperiour to little jealoufies, which are always marks of a narrow mind, and groveling disposition: they know, that, in great affairs, they must in some particulars be deceived, becaufc they are obliged to make use of men, and men are often deceitful; and more is lost, by the delay and irrefolution which arises from want of confidence in those who must be employed, than from petty frauds, by which that confidence is abufed. He is comparatively happy, who is difappointed only in affairs of small moment: the great work may go on with success; and it is about this only, that a great man ought to be solicitous. Fraud, indeed, should be severely punished, when it is difcovercd; but he, that would not be deceived in matters of importance, must, in trifles, be content to be deceived. An artificer, in his work-room, fees every thing with his own eye, and does every thing with his own hand; but a king, who prefides over a great nation, can neither see all nor do all: he ought, indeed, to do nothing himself* but what another cannot do under him; and to see nothing, that is not efTcntial to some determination of great importance.

" You, Telemachus, continued Mentor, are a favourite of the Gods; and it is their pleasure, to distinguish your reign by wisdom. All that you see here, is done, lels for the glory of Idomcneus, than for your inftrudion: and if your virtues correspond with the dcfigns of Heaven, the wife institutions that you admire in Salentuni, are but as shadows to the fubftancc, in comparison of what you will one day do in Ithaca. But Idomcneus has now prepared a ship for our departure; and it is time, that we should think of quitting the coafts of Hefpcria."

H h h At

At the mention of their departure, Telemaciius opened his heart to his friend, with refped to an attachment, which made it impossible for hira to leave Salentum without regret. The secret, however, cofl him some pain '. " You will blame me, perhaps, said he^ for yielding, too easily, to impressions of love, in the countries through which I pass; but my heart would always reproach me, if I should hide from you the paflion that I have conceived for Antiope, the daughter of Idomencus. This, my dear Mentor, is not a blind impulfc, like that which you taught me to furmount in the iiland' of Calypso. I know, that the wound which my heart received from Eucharis, was deep; neither time nor absence can efface her image from my heart; and I cannot, even now, pronounce her name, without emotion. After such experience of my weakness, I muil be diffident of myfclf; yet, what I feel for Antiope, is wholly different from what I felt for Eucharis: it is not the tumultuous desire of passion; it is the calm complacency of reason, a tender approbation and esteem. I desire her, as the filler of my foul, my friend and companion for life; and, if the Gods shall ever rellore my father to me, and I am permitted to chufe, my fate and the fate of Antiope shall be one. The charms that have attached me to Antiope, are the glowing modesty of her countenance; her silent diffidence, and sweet reserve; her constant attention to tapeftry, embroidery, or some other useful and elegant employment; her diligence in the management of her father's household, since the death of her mother; her contempt of excessive finery in her dress; and her total forgetfulness, or, rather, ignorance of her beauty. When, at the command of Idomeneus, Ihe leads the dance, with the beauties of Crete, to the foft found of the flute, she might be well taken for Venus, the queen of fmiles, with the Graces in her train: when he takes her with him to the chafe, she difcovers such skill in the bow, and such dignity

2 of of deportment, as distinguish Diana, when she is furroundcd by her nymphs: of this fupcriority, she alone is ignorant, while every eye remarks it with admiration. When she enters a temple with sacred offerings to the God, she might herself be taken for the Divinity of the place: with what devotion and awe, she presents her gifts, and propitiates the Gods, when some crime is to be expiated, or some fatal omen averted! And when she appears with a golden needle in her hand, surrounded by the virgins of her train, we are tempted to believe, that Minerva has descended, in a human form, to the earth, and is teaching the polite arts to mankind. She encourages others to diligence, by her example; she fweetens labour, and fufpends wearinefs by the melody of her voice, when she fmgs the myflerious hiflory of the Gods; and she excels the mofl exquifite painters in the elegance of her embroidery. How happy the man, whom Hymen shall unite with her by a gentle band! What can he suffer, but her loss! what can he fear, but to furvive her!

" But I take the Gods to witness, my dear Mentor, that I am ready to depart. I shall love Antiope, for ever; but she shall not delay my return to Ithaca, a moment. Jf another should pofTefs her, I shall be wretched; yet I will leave her. Although I know, that I may lose her by absence, I will not mention my love cither to her or to her father; for I ought to conceal it in my bosom from all but you, till Ulysses, again seated upon his throne, shall permit me to reveal it. Judge then, my dear Mentor, how much my attachment to Antiope differs from that paiTion for Eucharis, by which you remember both my virtue and reason to have been overborn,"

" I am sensible of this difference, said Mentor: Antiope is all gentlencfs, prudence, and simplicity; her hands do not dcfpife

H h h 2 labour;

labour; she looks forward with a provident forecaft; she providesfor contingencies; she difpatches preffing business, with fdent expedition; she is always bufy, but never confufcd, for every thing is referred to its proper time and place. The elegant regularity of her father's houfchold is her glory; a nobler diftindtion, than youth and beauty! Though the whole is submitted to her management, and it is her province to reprove, to deny, to spare, which make almofl every other woman hated, yet she is beloved by the whole house; for she difcovers neither passion, nor obftinacy, nor levity, nor caprice, which are fo often blemiflies in the sex; a glance of her eye is a fufhcient command, and every one obeys from an unwillingnefs to displease her. She gives particular directions, with exacftnefs and precifion; and commands nothing, that cannot be executed: there is kindness even in her reproof; and she encourages to amendment, while she blames for mifcondu<5t. She is the folace of her father's fatigue and care; and, to her, his mind retreats for refl, as a traveller, fainting with heat in the summer's sun, retreats to the fliade of a grove, and repofes, in luxurious ease, upon the downy turf. Antiope is, indeed, a treasure, that would repay the moll distant and laborious search. Her mind, no more than her body, is diflionoured by trifling ornaments: her imagination is lively, but not uncontrouled; she speaks only, when it is improper to refrain; and, in her speech, there is an artlefs grace, a foft, but irrefiftible pcrfuafion; all listen in fllence, and she bluflies with confusion; the deference and attention wi'th which she is heard, make it difficult for her modesty not to fupprefs what she intended to say. We have, indeed, heard her speak but seldom; yet you once heard her upon an occaflon, which I am sure you cannot forget. She was, one day, sent for by her father, when he was about to punish one of his slaves with exemplary i'ev€iity: she appeared with her head modeftly reclined, and her face face covered with along veil: she fpokc; but said no more than was jiift; necefTary to appeafe his anger. At first, she fcemed to take part in his refentment; she then foftened it by infenfible degrees: at last, she infinuated an apology for the offender; and, without wounding the king, by the mortifying sense of excellive anger, she kindled in his bosom sentiments of jullice and compassion: the tumult of his mind fubfided tinder an easy, but irrefiftible influence, as the yielding waves infenfibly lose their undulation, when hoary Nereus is foothed into peace, by the gentle blandifhments of his daughter Thetis. Thus, will the heart of a husband, one day, correspond with the influence of Antiope, though she afTumcs no authority, nor takes advantage of her charms; as the lute now answers to her touch, when she wakes it to the tendereft flrains. Antiope is, indeed, worthy of your affedlion, and she is intended for you by the Gods; biu though your love for her is juflilicd by reason, you mufl wait till she is given you by Ulysses. I commend you, for having concealed your sentiments; and I may now tell you, that, if you had made any proportions to Antiope, they would have been reje<5ted, and you would have forfeited her esteem: she will enter into no engagement, but leaves herself wholly to the disposal of her father. He, that hopes to be her husband, mufl reverence the Gods, and fulfil every duty to men. I have observed, and has it not been observed by you? that she is less seen, and that her eyes are more frequently fixed upon the ground, than before your expedition. She is not a stranger to any of your atchievements in the war; she is acquainted with your birth, and your adventures; and she knows the endowments, which you have received from the Gods: this knowledge has increased her reserve. Let us, then, depart for Ithaca: my task will be accomplished, when I have afhfled you to find your father, and put you in a condition to obtain such a wife, as might have increased the felicity of of the golden age. If Antiope, a royal virgin, the daughter of Idomeneus king of Salentum, was a keeper of sheep upon the bleak lummit of mount Algidus, the pofleflion of Antiope would flill be happiness and honour."

The END of the TWENTY-SECOND BOOK.

S.V'.d,!

C.O,/e.

IIW^ .Ir/ .

Cliruftu^H. r/e.

xxiir.

I DO M EN E us, who dreaded the departure of Telemachus and Mentor, formed many pretences to delay them. He told Mentor, that he could not, without his assistance, determine a difputc, which had arifen between Diophanes a priest of Jupiter Confervator, and Heliodorus a priest of Apollo, concerning the omens, that were to be drawn from the flight of birds, and the entrails of victims. " And why, said Mentor, should you concern yourself about lacred things? Leave questions of religion to be decided by the Etrurians, who have preserved the most ancient oracles by tradition, and who are by inspiration interpreters of the Gods to men. Employ your authority, only to fupprefs these disputes in the beginning; a6l with perfect; neutrality, while they continue; and content yourself with fupporting the decilion, when it shall be made. Remember, that kings ought to submit to religion, giotXr and not make it: religion is from the Gods, and above regal authority. If kings concern themselves with religion, they do not protci5t it as a divine inditution, but degrade it to a mere instrument of state policy. The power of kings is fo great, and that of others fo little, that religion would be in danger of becoming just what the sovereign would wish to make it, if he should undertake to determine any queflion about its dodrines or duties. Leave, then, the decisions of these qucftions, implicitly, to the friends of the Gods; and exert your authority, only againfl those, who will not conform to their determination when it is made."

Idomeneus then complained of the perplexity he suffered, from •the great number of causes between private persons, which he was prelTed, with great importunity, to decide. " Decide, said Mentor, all new questions of right, by which some general maxim of jurifprudence will be established, or some precedent given for the explanation of laws already in force: but do not take upon you to determine all questions of private property; they would overwhelm and embarrafs you, by their variety and number; justice would necelFarily be delayed, for your fmgle decision; and all fubcrdinatc raagiftrates would become useless. You would be overwhelmed and confounded; the regulation of petty affairs, would leave "you neither time, nor thought, forbufmefs of importance; and, after all, petty affairs would not be regulated. Avoid, therefore, a state of such difadvantage and perplexity; refer private disputes to subordinate judges; and do nothing yourself, but what others cannot do for you: you then, and then only, fulfil the duties of a king." " But, said Idomeneus, there are many persons of high birth about me, who have followed my fortunes, and lost great poffeffions in my service: these persons seek some kind of recompence for their loffes, by obtaining certain young

7 women women of great wealth in marriage; they urge me, with inceiTant importunity, to interpofe in their behalf; and a fmgle word from me, would enfure them fucccfs."

" It is true, said Mentor, a single word from you would be sufficient; but that single word would coll you too dear. Would you deprive fathers and mothers, of the liberty and consolation of chufing their sons-in-law, and, consequently, their heirs? This, surely, would reduce them to the fevered and mofl abjedl slavery, and make you anfwerable for all the domestic evils of your people. Marriage, at the best, is not the couch of unmingled delight; and why should you fcatter new thorns among the down? If you have faithful servants to reward, distribute among them some unappropriated lands; and give them, besides, rank and honours suited to their merits and condition: if more still is neceflary, add, to these, pecuniary gratifications from your treasury; and make good the deficiency, by retrenching your expence: but never think of paying your own debts, with the property of others; much less, with property transferred in violation of the moil sacred rights, by giving a daughter in marriage, without the consent of her parents."

This difiSculty being removed, Idomeneus immediately proposed.another. " The Sibarites, said he, complain, that certain diflric^s, which we have given, as uncultivated lands, among the flrangers whom we have drawn to Salentum, belong to them. Mufl I admit this claim? and shall I not encourage other nations, to make demands upon our territory, if I do?"

" The Sibarites, said Mentor, should not be implicitly believed in their own cause; nor is it just, to believe you implicitly in your's." " Upon whose teilimony, will you then depend," said Idomeneus? " Upon that of neither of the parties, replied Mentor: ibme neighbouring nation, that cannot be fufpeded of partiality lii to to either, must determine between you. The Sipontines are such a nation; they have no interest that is incompatible with your's." " But am 1 obliged, said Idomcneus, to submit to an umpire? Am I not a sovereign prince? and is a sovereign prince to leave the extent of his dominions, to the decision of foreigners?"

" If you resolve to keep the lands in question, answered Mentor, you must suppose that your claim to them is good: if the Sibarites insist upon a restoration, they mull, on their part, suppose their right to be inconteftible. Your opinions being thus opposite, the difference must either be accommodated by an umpire mutually chosen, or decided by force of arms: there is no metlium. If you ihould enter a country, inhabited by people who had neither judge Hor magiftrate, and, among whom, every family alTumed a right of determining differences with a neighbouring family, by violeace -, •would you not deplore their misfortune, and think, with horror, of the dreadful confusion, which must arise from every man's being armed against his fellow? Can you, then, believe, that the Gods would look, wth less horror, upon the earth, of which all the inhabitants may be confidercd as one people, if every nation, which is but a more numerous family, should assume the right of determining, by violence, all differences v^ith a neighbouring nation? An individual, who poffeffes his field as an inheritance from his anceftors, depends, wholly, upon the authority of the laws, and the judgment of the magiftrate, for the security of his property; and would be fcverely puniflaed, as guilty of fedition, if he should endeavour to secure, by force, what was given him by right: do you, then, believe, that kings are at liberty to support their pretcnfions by violence, without having first tried what could be done by expedients, more consonant to reason and humanity? Is not justice yet more sacred and inviolable, as an attribute of kings, when it has whole nations for its objed;

than than as a private virtue in an individual, when it relates only to a ploughed field? Is he a villain and a robber, who feizes only a few acres; and is he just, is he a hero, who wrclls whole provinces from their pofleflbr? If men are fubje(5t to prejudice, partiality, and error, with refpcft to the trifling concerns of private property; is it probable, that they should be less influenced by such motives, in affairs of fttite? Should we rely upon our own judgment, where it is most likely to be bialFed by paflion; and Ihould not error be most dreaded, where its consequences will be mofl; fatal? The miflake of a prince with rcfpc6t to his own pretenfions, is the cause of ravage, famine, and maflfacres; of iiTeparable loss to the present generation; and of such depravation of manners, as may extend calamity to the end of time. A king know^s, that he is always surrounded by flatterers; should he not, therefore, suppose, that, upon such occasions, he will be flattered? If he leaves his differences to arbitration, he shows himself candid, equitable, and difpafllonate; he states the reasons, upon which his claim is founded; the umpire is an amicable mediator, not a rigorous judge; and though his determinations do not compel implicit obedience, yet the greatest deference should be paid to them: he does not pronounce sentence like a judge, from whose authority there is no appeal; but he proposes expedients; and, by his advice, the parties make mutual conceflions, for the prcfcrvation of peace. If war is, at lafl:, inevitable, notwithflanding the king's utmofl: endeavours to avoid it; he will, at least, have secured the testimony of a good confciencc, the esteem of his neighbours, and the prote(5lion of the Gods." Idomencus felt the force of this reasoning; and consented, that the Sipontines should mediate between him and the Sibarites.

The king, finding thcfe expedients to prevent the departure of the two ftrangei"s ineflei5lual, endeavoured to detain them by a

1 i i 2 ilronger flronger tie. He had observed the attachment of TelExMAchus to Antiope; and he hoped, that, by flrengthening this, he might accomplish his purpose. When he gave an entertainment, therefore, he frequently commanded his daughter to ling: she obeyed* from a fcnfe of duty; but it was with such regret and confusion, as made it easy to perceive, how much she suffered by her obedience. Idomeneus went fo far, as to intimate his desire, that the fubjeft of her song might be the vidlory which had been obtained over the Daunians and Adraftus; but £he could not be prevailed upon to fmg the praises of Telemachus: she declined it with modest refpeft, and her father thought fit to acquiefce. There was something in her voice, inexpreffibly tender and sweet; Telemachus felt all its power, and his emotion was too great to be concealed. Idomeneus remarked it with pleasure; but Telemachus appeared not to perceive his design: he could not quench the fenfibility of passion, but reason precluded its efFedrs. He was, no longer, that Telemachus, whom love, the tyrant of the mind', had once held captive in the island of Calypso: while Antiope sung, he was silent; and, as soon as the song was over, he turned the convcrfation to some other fubjedl.

The king being again difappointed, resolved to give his daughter the pleasure of a great hunting match. She declined the fport, and entreated with tears to be left behind; but the commands of Idomeneus were peremptory, and she was obliged to obey. She was mounted upon a fiery fteed, which, like those that Caftor had trained to war, difdained the ground, and was impatient of the rein; yet Ihe governed him with such easy negligence, that he seemed to move by the secret impulse of her will. A train of virgins followed her with that ardour, which is the diftinc^ion and felicity of youth; and she might have been taken for Diana with her nymphs. The king followed her inceflantly with his eye; and, while he gazed gazed upon his child, forgot the past misfortunes of his life: Ihe fixed also the attention of Telemachus, who was more touched with her modesty, than with the graces of her person, or her dexterity in the field.

The dogs gave chafe to a wild boar, of an enormous size. He was more furious than that of Calydon; the briflles of his back were as rigid as iron, and as Iharp and long as a dart; his eyes seemed to fparkle with fire, and to be fuffufed with blood; his breath was heard at a remote distance, like the hoarfe murmurs of rebellious winds, when Eolus recalls them to his cave, that the tempeft may cease: his long tufks were crooked like a fickle, nor could the trees of the forest Hand before them. He gored all the dogs that had courage to approach him; and the boldeft hunters that perfued him, were afraid he should be overtaken: yet Antiopc-, who, in the course, was fwifter than the wind, came up and attacked him: she threw a javelin at him, which wounded him in the shoulder; the blood gullied out in a torrent, and he turned upon his adverfary with new fury. The horse of Antiope, however bold and fpirited, fhuddered and drew back: the monller then ruflied againfl: him; and the fliock was like that of the ponderous engines, that overturn the bulwarks of the strongest city: the horse could not sustain it, and fell. Antiope was now upon the ground; in a situation, that left her no power to avoid the tuiks of the furious animal, whom she had provoked: but Telemachus, whose attention had been engrofi^ed by her danger, was already difmounted; and, with a rapidity fcarce Icfs than that of lightening, threw himself between her and the boar that was foaming to revenge his wound: the prince instantly plunged a hunting fpear in his body; and the horrid monfl;erfell, agonized with fury, to the ground.

Tf LF.MA.cn rs-

Telemachus cut off the Iiead, which astonished the hunters, sind was dill terrible when nearly viewed: he presented it immediately to Antiope, who bluflied, and consulted the eyes of Idomeneus, to know what she should do. Idomeneus, who had been terrified at her danger, and was now tranfported with joy at her deliverance, made a sign that she should accept the present: she took it, therefore, with an elegant acknowledgment; " I receive from you, with gratitude, said she, a more valuable gift; I am indebted to you for my life." The moment she had spoken, she feared she had said too much, and fixed her eyes upon the ground: Telemachus, w^ho perceived her confusion, could only reply, " How happy is the son of Ulysses, to have preserved a life fo precious! How much more happy, if he could unite it with his own!" Antiope made no answer, but mixed haftily with her young companions, and immediately remounted her horfc.

Idomeneus would immediately have promised his daughter to Telemachus; but he hoped, that, in a state of uncertainty, his pafTion would flill incrcafc, and that the hope of cnfuring his marriage, would prevent his departure from Salenrum. Such were the principles upon which Idomeneus reafoned; but the Gods deride and difappoint the wifdora of men: the very project, that was formed to detain Telemachus, hafteUed his departure. That tumult of love, and hope, and fear, which he now felt in his breast, made him justly diftruft his resolution: Mentor laboured, with double diligence, to revive his desire of returning to Ithaca; and the vcfTel being now ready, he also prefTcd Idomeneus to difmifs them. Thus, the life of Tklemachvs being every moment regulated by the wisdom of Mentor, with a view to the confummation of his glory; he was fufTcred to remain no longer at any place, than was necefTary to exercise his virtues, and add' experience to knowledge.

Mentor,

BOO K XXIir. 431

Mentor, as soon as Telemachus arrived, had given orders that a vedel should be got ready. Idomeneus had seen the preparations with inexprefTible regret; and, when he perceived that the guefts, from whom he had derived advantages fo numerous and important, could be detained no longer, he gave himself up to melancholy and despair: he shut himself up in the innermoft recefles of his palace; and endeavoured to footh his anguish, by venting it in fighs and tears; he forgot that nature was to be fuftained with food, and no interval of tranquillity was beflowed by sleep: his health gradually declined, and the secret anxiety of his heart consumed him: he withered, like a (lately tree which covers the earth with its shadow, but is gnawed by a worm at the root: the winds, in their fury, may have attacked it in vain; the earth may have nourilhed it with delight; and it may have been fparcd, in reverence, by the axe: but if the latent mischief is not difcovcred, k will fade; its leaves, which are its honours, will be scattered in the daft; and the trunk and branches only, rifted and faplefs, will remain. Such, in appearance, was Idomeneus, the viclim of inconfolable grief.

Telemachus was tenderly affected at his diflrefs, but did not dare to speak to him: he dreaded the day of departure, and was always bufied in finding pretences for delay; but he was, at length, delivered from this flate of embarraflrnent and fufpenfe, by Mentor: " I am glad, said he, to see this alteration in your temper. you were, by nature, obdurate and haughty, fenfiblc only to your own convenience and interests; but you are now foftened intD humanity, and your own misfortunes have taught you to compassionate the sufferings of others. Without this sympathy, there can be neither goodness, nor virtue, nor ability to govern; but it must not be carried to excess, nor suffered to degenerate into feminine foftncfs. I would myself folicit Idomeneus to difmifs you, and 4 spare spare you the embarraffinent of fo painful a conversation; but I am unwilling that a false shame, and unmanly timidity, should predominate in your breast. You must learn to blend fortitude and courage, with the tenderness and fenfibility of friendship; you should preserve an habitual fear of giving unneceffary pain; when you are compelled to grieve any man, you should participate his sorrow; and make the blow fall lightly, which you cannot avert." *' That an inevitable ftroke may be thus lightened, said Telemachus, is the reason, why I wish that Idomeneus should be acquainted with our departure, rather by you, than by myself."

" My dear Telemachus, said Mentor, you mistake your motive. You are like all other children of royalty, whose passions have been flattered, and whose wishes prevented in their earliest youth: they expert, that every thing should be managed, fo as to coincide with their desires, and that the laws of nature should be fubfervient to their will; yet they have not resolution to oppose any man to his face. They avoid an opposition, not in tenderness to others; not from a principle of benevolence, that fears to give pain; but from a regard to their own convenience and gratification: they cannot bear to be surrounded with mournful or difcontented, countenances; and are touched with the miseries of men, only as objedls disagreeable to their eye: they will not hear of misfortune, because it is a difguftful fubjedt; and left their fancy should be oJfFended, they must be told that all is prosperity and happiness: they arc surrounded with delights, and will neither see nor hear any thing, that may interrupt their joy. If mifcondu(fl is to be reproved, or error detedled, importunity reprefled, false claims opposed, or fadious turbulence controuledj they will always depute another for the purpose, rather than declare their own will with that gentle firmness, which enforces obedience, without kindling refentment. They will tamely trmcly fulTcr the most unrcafonablc favours to be extorted, aod ihc most important affairs to mifcarry, rather than determine, for thcmfelves, agaiiifl the opinion of thofc who arc continually about them. This weakness is eaiily discovered, and every one improves it to his advantage: every request becomes, in efTccft, a demand j it is urged with the moH: pertinacious and troubleforae importunity j and is granted, that importunity may be troublefome no raore. The first attempt upon the prince, is by flattery; by this, deflgning parafites recommend themfclves to favour; but they are no fooncr truiled to serve, than they aspire to govern: they rule their lord, by the very power they have derived from him v their bridle is in his mouth, and their yoke upon his shoulders: he groans under it, and sometimes he makes an eflbrt to throw it off; this effort is soon remitted, and he bears the yoke to his grave; he dreads the appearance of being governed, yet tamely suffers the reality: to be governed, is, indeed, necessary to such princes; for they refemble the feeble branches of a vine, which, not being able to support themfclves, always creep round the trunk of fomc neighbouring tree. I mull not suffer you, O Telemachus! to fall into this state of imbecility, which cannot fail to render you wholly unfit for command. Though you dare not speak to Idomeneus, left you should wound your fenfibility; you will yet have no sense of his afflidlion, when the gates of Salentura are behind you: you are even now less melted by his grief, than embarraffed by his presence. Go, then, and speak to him for yourself; learn, upon this occasion, to unite the tender and the firm; let him see that you leave him with regret, but that you are determined to leave him."

Telemachus did not dare to oppose Mentor, nor yet to seek Idomeneus; he was alhamed of his timidity, and yet unable to furmounrit; he hefitated, he went forward a few steps, and then returned to Mentor, with some new pretence for delay. He

K. k k was

434 BOO K XXIir.

was about to speak; but the very look of Mentor deprived him of the power, and filently confuted all that he would have said. " Is this, then, said Mentor, with a smile of difdain, the conqueror of the Daunians, the deliverer of Hefperia? Is this the son of the wife Ulysses, who is to succeed him as the oracle of Greece? and does he not dare to tell Idomeneus, that he can no longer delay his relturn to his country, where he hopes once more to embrace his father? O wretched Ithaca! how great will be thy misfortune, if thou art one day to be governed by a prince, who is himself a ilave to an unworthy fiiame; and who, to gratify his weakncfs in the lightefl trifle, will sacrifice the moil important interest. Remark, now, the difference between the fedate fortitude of the clofet, and the tumultuous courage of the field -, you feared not the arms of Adraftus, yet are intimidated by the grief of Idomeneus: this inequality often brings difhonour upon those princes, who have been distinguished by the noblcH atchievements; after they have appeared heroes in battle, they have been found less than men in common occurrences, in which others have been confillent and Heady."

Telemachus, feeling the force of these truths, and flung with the reproach they contained, turned abruptly away, and. debated no longer even with himself. But when he approached the place, where Idomeneus was fitting pale and languifliing, his eyes fixed upon the ground, and his heart oyenvhelmcd with sorrow, they became, in a moment, afraid of each othpr: they did not dare to interchange a look; and their thoughts were mutually known, without language; each dreaded, that the other should break iilence; and, in this painful fufpenfe, both burfl into tears. At length Idomeneus, prefTed by excess of anguish, cried out, " Why should we seek virtue, fmce..those who find her are thus wretched! i am made fcnfible of my weakness, and then abandoned to its efFeds.

B O OK XXIII.

•effeds. Be it fo; and let the past calamities of my life return. I •will hear no more of good government; I know not the art, and am weary of the labour. But as for you, Telemachus, whither would you go? To seek your father is in vain, for among the living he is not to be found: Ithaca is in pofTclIion of your enemies, who •will deflroy you if you return; and one of whom is now certainly the husband of your mother. Be content, therefore, to continue at Salentum; my daughter shall be your wife, and- my kingdom your inheritance. Your power here, even while I live, shall be absolute; and my confidence in you without limits. If these advantages are unworthy of your acceptance, at leafl leave me Men-

. TOR; Mentor is my lafl rcfource. Speak j answer me; let not your heart be ftecled against me, nor deny your pity to she most unfortunate of men! Alas, you are Hill lilent; the Gods are still inexorable: I feci, more fcnfibly, their refentmcnt at Salentum, than at Crete; and the loss of Telemachus wounds me deeper, than the death of my son!"

Telemachus replied, in a timid and a fahering tone, " My departure from Salentum, is not choice, but fate. I am commanded to Ithaca by the Gods; their wisdom is communicated to Mentor, and Mentor has urged my departure in their name. What then can I do? Should I renounce my father, my mother, and my country that should be yet dearer than both f As I am born to royalty, a life of ease and pleasure muil: not be-. my portion, nor must inclination be my guide. With your kingdom, I should poffcfs more weakh and povv^er than my father's can bellow: but I ought to prefer what the Gods have decreed me, to what your bounty has offered in its stead. W Antiope vv'as my wife, I should think myfclf too happy to desire your kingdom; but that I may defcrve Antiope, I miaft go whither I am called by duty, and she

K k k 2 must

436 B © O K XXIII.

must be demanded for me by my father. Did you not promise t(f send me back to Ithaca; and was it not, under this promise, that I marched against your enemy Adraftus, with the army of the allies? And is it not now time, that I should attend to my own interest, and endeavour to redrefs the misfortunes of my family? The Gods, who have given me to Mentor, have also given Mentor to the fonof Ulysses, that, guided by his wisdom, he might fulfil their purpose: would you, therefore, have me lose Mentor, when all, but Mentor, is loll already? I have now no certain i>ortion, retreat, or parent, or country. One man, dilliaguifhcd for virtue and for wisdom, is all that remains; and this, indeed, is the most valuable donation of Jove: judge, then, if I can renounce the bounty, and consent to be totally deftitute and forlorn. I would cease to be, rather than be thus: life itself is of less value, than a friend; take my life, therefore, but leave me Mentor!"

While Telemachus was speaking, his voice became stronger, and his timidity vanished, Idomeneus could not acquiefce, though heknew not what to reply; and being unable to speak, he endeavoured to excite pity by looks and geftures of distress.-

At this moment he perceived Mentor, who addrefled him in a^ folcmn tone, but without severity: " Do not give way, said he, to unrcafonable sorrow. We leave you; but we leave you to that wisdom, which prefides in the councils of the Gods. Remember, with gratitude, that we were sent, by the diredion of that wisdom,. to corred your errors, and preserve your state. We have restored Philocles, and he will serve you with fidelity: reverence for the Gods, delight in virtue, love for the people, and compassion for the wretched, will be always predon^inant in his bosom. Listen tO' hi« advice, and employ him without jealousy or diflruft. The most important important service he can render you, is to tell you your faults without difguife or palliation; require this service of him, there-, fore, in the firfl place. A good king is diflinguiflied by the nobleft fortitude; he fears not the monitor in the friend, nor flirinks from the fight of his own failings: if you are endowed with this fortitude, you have nothing to fear from our absence; the felicity of your life is secure: but if flattery, which fleals its winding way like a serpent, should once more get aceefs to your heart, and render you fufpicious of difinterefled counsel, you are undone. Pine no longer, in voluntary fubjecflion to sorrow; but follow virtue, with the utmofl: effort of your nvind. I have inftrui5tcd Philocles, to lighten your cares, and defcrve your confidence j and I will be anfwerable for his integrity. The Gods have given him to you, as they have given me to Telemaghus: the deftiny which they have alloted us, we Ihould fulfil boldly; for, to regret it, is vain. If my affillance should be necefiary, after I have restored Telemaghus to his father and his country, I will return; and what could give me more sensible delight? I seek, for myself, neither wealth noir power; and I wish only to afiift others, in the search of jufl:ice and virtue. To you, I have a particular attachment; for the generous confidence of your friendship can never be forgotten."

While Mentor was fpeakirig, Idomeiieus became conscious to a sudden and pleasing change. He felt his passions fubfide into peace, as the waves sink to rest, and the tempeft is hufhed to silence, when the father of the deep lists his trident against them. Nothing, now remained, but a kind of tender regret; something, that was rather a foft and foothing melancholy, than grief; and courage, hope, virtue, and confidence in the Gods, began once more to kindle in his bosom.

« Well

*' Well then, my dear Mentor, said he, I must lose all, and be content; let me> however, be still present to your mind. When you Ihall have arrived in Ithaca, where the reward of wisdom shall fill all your willies, remember, that Salentum is your own work; and that Idomeneus, inconfolable for your loss, has no hope but in your return. Farewel, O son of Ulysses I my ports lliall detain you no more: the Gods reclaim the treasure which they lent, and it is my duty to comply. Farewel, Mentor, the greatest and wifeft of men f if such excellence as thine, is within the limits of our nature; and thou art not a Divinity, that hail alTumed the form, to tall strength from weakness, and from simplicity wisdom. Be still the guide and the guardian of Telemachus, who is more fortunate to be thy charge, than to be the conqueror of Adraftus. I difmifs you both: I will restrain my words; my fighs are involuntary, and may, therefore, be forgiven. Go, live together, and together be happy I I have nothing left, but the remembrance that I once shared your felicity: the golden moments are past, and I knew not their value •, they fled in hafte, alas! and they will never return! I have pofTefTed you; but the joy is vanished! I now see you, but I shall see you no more!"

Mentor toak this opportunity to withdraw: he embraced Philocles, who burst into tears, and was unable to speak. Telemaqnus would have taken hold of Mentor's hand, that he might have quitted that of Idomeneus; but Idomeneus, placing himfeif between them, -went towards the port: he gazed upon them, by turns; he fighed; and he frequently began to speak; but his voice faltered, and he left the sentence unfinitlicd.

And now they heard, in a confused murmur, the voices of the mariners that crouded the shore; the cordage was flretcKed, the fails

B o o,K xxiir.

fails were made ready, and a favourable gale fprung up. Telema- CHUS and Mentor, with tears in their eyes, took leave of the king, who held them long in his arms, and followed them with his eyes as far as they could be fcen,

The ENP of the TWENTY-THIRD BOOK,

<P. IVaU dH.

C Oriu