Milton’s contribution to a history of tyrannicide is, as we have said, the most important that has ever been made by any English author. The subject seems to have escaped the notice of later English students of the classics, so that it becomes necessary for the present writer to add several references to those collected by Milton, and to present the material in a more connected form.
1 In the heroic age the Greeks seem to have been upholders of the doctrine of the divine right of kings, for they believed that the king was the choice of the gods, and to murder him was an act of sacrilege.2 In the course of time, however, the Spartans instituted a regular tribunal for the trial and punishment of tyrannical kings. Both Pausanius and Agis were deposed by the ephors and the senate.3 Not alone in Sparta, but throughout Greece, attempts at despotism became common; the isolated districts of a mountainous country, and the isles of the Ægean, saw the rise of numerous small kingdoms governed by tyrants.4 The fickleness of the Greek, and his natural love of liberty, made the tenure of these petty tyrants exceedingly precarious, and usually short-lived. They were frequently driven into exile by sudden revolutions; in Athens a law of Solon decreed the more merciful punishment of ostracism, instead of death.5
It was not until the murder of Hipparchus by Harmodius and Aristogiton that tyrannicide became popular in Greece Although this assassination was inspired by motives of private vengeance, the deed of the two friends became one of the great traditions of Greek liberty, and the murderers of the son of the tyrant Pisistratus were henceforth the subjects of the poet’s song and the sculptor’s chisel. ‘To honor them and their descendants became an article of republican faith.’1 Duruy draws up a list of the honors accorded to the two heroes; it includes a vase, a painting, two monetary types, and marble and brazen statues. ‘The Athenians,’ he says, ‘represented the two friends as martyrs of liberty, they erected statues to them, they granted privileges to their descendants, which the latter enjoyed as late as the time of Demosthenes, and on festival days they chanted:
‘I will carry the sword under the myrtle-branch, as did Harmodius and Aristogiton when they slew the tyrant, and established equality in Athens.
‘Most dear Harmodius, thou art not dead; doubtless thou livest in the Islands of the Blessed, where are, they say, Achilleus the swift-footed, and Diomedes, the son of Tydeus.
‘In the myrtle-branch I will hide the sword, like Harmodius and Aristogiton, when at the festival of Athene they slew the tyrant.
‘Thy fame shall for ever endure upon earth, beloved Harmodius, and thine, Aristogiton, because you have slain the tyrant and established equality in Athens.’
2 Pliny dwells specially on the works of art inspired by this first famous instance of tyrannicide: ‘I do not know whether the first public statues were not erected by the Athenians, and in honor of Harmodius and Aristogiton, who slew the tyrant; an event which took place in the same year in which the kings were expelled from Rome. This custom, from a most praiseworthy emulation, was afterwards adopted by all other nations.’1 Praxiteles also executed ‘two figures of Harmodius and Aristogiton, who slew the tyrants.’2 Amphicrates made a brazen statue of Leæna. ‘She was a skilful performer on the lyre, and had so become acquainted with Harmodius and Aristogiton, and submitted to be tortured until she expired, rather than betray their plot for the extermination of the tyrants. The Athenians, being desirous of honoring her memory, without at the same time rendering homage to a courtesan, had her represented under the figure of an animal (a lioness), whose name she bore; and, in order to indicate the cause of the honor thus paid her, ordered the artist to represent the animal without a tongue.’3
So extravagant was the popular estimation of this murder of the son of Pisistratus that the Athenians gave a dowry to a niece of Aristogiton, who was living in poverty in the isle of Lemnos.4 Even so distinguished an author as Plato joined in the chorus of approbation: ‘For the interests of rulers require that their subjects should be poor in spirit, and that there should be no strong bond of friendship or society among them, which love, above all other motives, is likely to inspire, as our Athenian tyrants learned by experience; for the love of Aristogiton and the constancy of Harmodius had a strength which undid their power.’5 Callisthenes relates that Philotas, the friend of Alexander, asked him one day what person was most honored by the Athenians. He gave the names of Harmodius and Aristogiton, because they had destroyed tyranny by the murder of one of two tyrants.6 Alexander also declared that Athens would be foremost among Greek cities in receiving the murderer of a tyrant. It afterwards happened that the pretended author of Alexander’s death was publicly honored by a decree passed by the Athenians. A decree passed in the year 403 had already authorized any Athenian to kill the citizen who should aspire to the tyranny, betray the republic, or overthrow the constitution. Even down to the days of the Roman empire the memory of the two friends was honored;1 for, after the assassination of Julius Cæsar, the Athenians dressed the statues of Brutus and Cassius, and placed them beside those of Harmodius and Aristogiton on the Agora.2
The earliest reference in Greek literature to the evils of tyranny is contained in verses written by Solon (circa 638-558):
Truth it is that I declined the bloody desperate career
Of tyrannical command, to rule alone and domineer,
In my native happy land, with arbitrary force and fear:
Neither have I since repented; unreproach’d, without a crime;
Placed alone, unparalleled, among the statesmen of the time.3
Another early poet, Theognis of Megara ( 570-548 or 544) was deprived of his property by a tyrant, and forced into exile. The following fragments express his indignation:
Court not a tyrant’s favor, nor combine
To further his iniquitous design!
But, if your faith is pledged, though late and loath,
If covenants have pass’d between you both,
Never assassinate him! keep your oath!
But should he still misuse his lawless power,
To trample on the people, and devour;
Depose or overturn him — anyhow!
Your oath permits it, and the gods allow.4
The sovereign single person — what cares he
For love or hate, for friend or enemy?
His single purpose is utility.5
Herodotus ( 484-443[?]) was also forced into exile by a cruel tyrant. In Samos he gathered together his fellowexiles, returned to Halicarnassus, his own city, and expelled the tyrant Lygdamis. His writings show his animus against despotism, a good instance being the speech which he puts into the mouth of Miltiades on the eve of Marathon; he represents the general as appealing to the soldiers to emulate Harmodius and Aristogiton.1
Xenophon ( 444-357[?]), in the dialogue entitled Hieron, pictures the miseries of a tyrant’s life, and refers to the great honors conferred upon tyrannicides by Greek cities.2
Andocides ( 439-399), exiled in 415, was allowed to return to Athens upon the fall of the Thirty Tyrants. In replying to the charge of unlawful participation in the mysteries, he alludes to the exoneration of the tyrannicide by the Athenian law, and gives as a law of Solon the text of an oath which the Athenian was required to take, to the effect that he would himself kill, if able, any one who overthrew the democracy in Athens, or who set himself up for a tyrant, or should aid another to establish tyranny. If another should kill a tyrant, the citizen swore to regard him as one who had killed an enemy of the Athenians. If a citizen should be killed in attempting to destroy a tyrant, or in such an enterprise, he would accord him and his children the same honor as was given to Harmoeius and Aristogiton and their descendants.3
Plato ( 428-347) was an unfriendly critic of tyrants, although he lived for a time at the court of Dionysius. He did not go to the extent of openly defending tyrannicide, but his intimate friendship with Dion made him sympathize with the latter in his efforts to expel Dionysius. Plato taught that if a man kills another unjustly, he is wretched; if justly, he is not to be envied. He would evidently consider the murder of a tyrant a righteous act, but would not care to be the assassin. He defines tyranny as ‘the power of doing whatever seems good to you in a state, killing, banishing, doing all things as you like.’ He makes Socrates say that a tyrant has no more real power than a man who runs out into the Agora carrying a dagger.1 In the ninth book of the Republic, after describing the excesses of a private person, he says: ‘This noxious class and their followers grow numerous and become conscious of their strength; assailed by the infatuation of the people, they choose from among themselves the one who has most of the tyrant in his own soul, and him they create their tyrant.’2 Again he says that the tyrant is of all men the most miserable,3 and, in comparing the tyrant with the legitimate monarch, he asserts that one year of the tyrannical equals only twelve hours of the royal life.4
Aristotle ( 384-322) was even more outspoken in his condemnation of tyranny than Plato. His famous definition of tyranny was destined to be quoted by the republican writers of future ages: ‘There is also a third kind of tyranny, which is the most typical form, and is the counterpart of the perfect monarchy. This tyranny is just that arbitrary power of an individual which is responsible to no one, and governs all alike, whether equals or betters, with a view to its own advantage, not to that of its subjects, and therefore against their will. No freeman, if he can escape from it, will endure such a government.’5
Demosthenes ( 383-322) quotes the oaths of the Heliasts, which bound them to oppose tyranny.6 He explains that the descendants of Harmodius and Aristogiton are exempt from certain services demanded from other citizens,7 refers to the brazen statue erected to their memory,1 and calls them supreme benefactors, to whose memory the people pour libations, and honor them in songs as the equals of heroes and gods.2 The great orator feared that tyrannicide might be a political necessity in future ages, when the deed of Harmodius and Aristogiton would have to be repeated. ‘The Syracusans,’ he says, ‘could never have expected that a scribe, Dionysius, would become their tyrant, nor yet that Dion with a few ships would be able to expel him.’3
Æschines ( 389-314), the rival of Demosthenes in oratory, was at one with him in denunciation of tyranny, and in praise of the love of Harmodius and Aristogiton.4
Polybius ( 204-122) says the following in approval of tyrannicide: ‘To take away the life of a citizen is considered as a most horrid crime, and such as calls for vengeance; yet a man may openly destroy an adulterer or robber, without any fear of being punished for it: and those who rescue their country from a traitor or a tyrant are even thought worthy of the greatest honors.’5 Again, he observes that ‘the first conspiracies against tyrants were hat first contrived not by men of obscure or low condition, but by those of noblest birth, and who were the most distinguished by their courage and exalted spirit: for such are at all times most impatient of the insolence of princes.’6 Aristomachus, a tyrant of Argos, was put to death in tortures the most cruel and merciless that ever were inflicted upon man; but Polybius was of opinion that ‘the wicked tyranny which he had exercised upon his country might very deservedly have drawn upon him the severest punishment. Because of his great cruelty to others and his perfidy, this tyrant should rather have been led through all the towns of Peloponnesus, exposed to every kind of torture and indignity, and afterwards have been deprived of life.’1
Diodorus Siculus (lived during the reign of Augustus) had much to say on the subject of tyranny. He calls Sicily ‘the land of tyranny,’2 relates sympathetically the expulsion of Dionysius by Dion,3 describes the assassination of Alexander of Pharos,4 of Dion,5 of Philip by Pausanius,6 and relates the awful story of how Timoleon killed his brother, who aspired to be a tyrant.7 In a short chapter which he devotes to the discussion of tyranny, he quotes a saying of Solon to the effect that wealthy men are dangerous to the state, because of their opportunity by means of corruption to set up a tyranny8; in this book we also find a prolix account of the cruelties perpetrated by the tyrant Agathocles. Harmodius and Aristogiton receive the customary honorable mention.9
Plutarch ( 50-120) is the connecting link between Greek and Latin literature, so far as this subject is concerned. He was equally at home in denouncing the Pisistratidæ or the Tarquins, in praising Thrasybulus or Brutus. His lives of Solon, Publicola, Timoleon, Cato, Cicero, Dion, Brutus, and Galba breathe his passionate hatred of tyranny. He contended that the mildness of the doctrines of the Epicureans rendered the soul incapable of strong deeds, since this school had never produced a tyrannicide.10 He praised the philosophical teaching of Plato, however, because it had fortified the souls of patriots; for it was owing to this inspiration that Dion had been able to proceed against Dionysius,11 and others had dared to murder King Cotys of Thrace.12 His parallel lives of Dion and Brutus display Plutarch’s uncompromising republicanism, and his declaration that ‘the greatest glory of both men consists in their abhorrence of tyrants and their criminal measures’ is thoroughly characteristic of the whole body of his political opinions.
Lucian ( 120 (?)-190 (?) speaks of the hopes and fears which agitate the breast of the tyrant; simply the name of tyrant is sufficient to create hatred in the hearts of the people.1 The adorers of tyrants are lovers of power and timeservers, and under the rule of a tyrant the citizen is in greater danger than if he were among a foreign foe.2 Lucian enters upon a nice discussion as to whether a person who kills the son of a tyrant ought to receive the regular reward of a tyrannicide; he concludes that the law of tyrannicide determines the recompense, i. e., the patriotic deed is its own reward.3 This author also gives some interesting data as to the lives, customs, and violent deaths of tyrants.4
Arrian (flourished in the second century ), besides quoting Callisthenes’ account of the conversation between Philotas and Alexander,5 relates that Alexander the Great sent back to Athens bronze statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton, which were recovered at Babylon.6
Although we have already anticipated the Roman point of view in quoting the republican sentiments of Plutarch, we find that long before the days of the great biographer the Latin writers were interested in this subject. Rome had no Harmodius and Aristogiton to commit a political murder in her early days, but she produced a stern foe to tyranny in Junius Brutus, who, even if he did not kill the Tarquins, at least established a precedent for the deposition of unjust rulers. Strictly speaking, the Roman republic could not boast a single case of tyrannicide, but the ancient Brutus, Servilius Ahala, Marcus Brutus, and Cassius took their places in Latin literature on a footing of equality with Harmodius and Aristogiton. As in other respects the literary fashions of the conquered became those of the conquerors, so the eulogy of tyrannicide became a popular theme with the Roman poets, orators, and historians. The troublous and corrupt days of the empire saw the cutting-off of numerous tyrants. ‘The experience of the Roman world,’ says Egger, ‘shows on a larger scale that which Greece had proved many times, the powerlessness of murder to regenerate the people and to establish good government. The republican tradition, however, obstinately outlived these proofs, for it was perpetuated in the conscience of mankind, in serious literature, and in the sophistry of the schools.’1
Cicero ( 106-43), one of the glories of Latin literature, set his seal of approval upon the Greek custom of honoring tyrannicide. ‘The Greeks,’ he says, ‘give the honors of the gods to those men who have slain tyrants. What have I not seen at Athens? What in the other cities of Greece? What divine honors have I not seen paid to such men? What odes, what songs have I not heard in their praise? They are almost consecrated to immortality in the memories and worship of men.’2 Two more quotations from the great orator of Rome must suffice to represent his uncompromising views on this topic; both are from his Offices: ‘What can be greater wickedness than to slay, not only a man, but an intimate friend? Has he then involved himself in guilt who slays a tyrant, however intimate? He does not appear so to the Roman people at least, who of all great exploits deem that the most honorable.’3 Again he says: ‘Now as to what relates to Phalaris [the tyrant of Agrigentum], the decision is very easy; for we have no society with tyrants, but rather the widest separation from them; nor is it contrary to nature to despoil, if you can, him whom it is a virtue to slay — and this pestilential and impious class ought to be entirely exterminated from the community of mankind. For as certain limbs are amputated, both if they themselves have begun to be destitute of blood, and, as it were, of life, and if they injure the other parts of the body, so the brutality and ferocity of a beast in the figure of a man ought to be cut off from the common body, as it were, of humanity.’1
Nepos ( 100-24) narrates the deeds of Thrasybulus, Miltiades, Dion, and Timoleon.
Sallust ( 86- 34) puts a protest against tyranny into the mouth of Caius Memmius.2
Seneca ( 4 (?)— 65) wrote the verses quoted by Milton in The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates (22. 9).5
Persius ( 34-62), in his third satire, exclaims: ‘Great father of the gods, be it thy pleasure to inflict no other punishment on the monsters of tyranny, after their nature has been stirred by fierce passion, that has the taint of fiery poison — let them look upon virtue, and pine that they have lost her for ever!’ He refers in the same satire to the dread of Phalaris and Damocles, when they heard a voice whispering to their hearts, ‘We are going, going down the precipice.’
Quintilian ( 35-97 (?) uses as an illustration in his Principles of Oratory the phrase of Cato, ‘Cæsar came sober to destroy the commonwealth.’6 He also employs the similitude: ‘As physicians prescribe the amputation of a limb that manifestly tends to mortification, so would it be necessary to cut off all bad citizens.’7 The use of all such material in school-exercises reflects the thought of the age; the Roman Senate in the days of Nero and Domitian had become cowardly in its subservience to tyrants, yet the educated classes loved to talk about resistance, even if they had become too effeminate to take up arms against misrule.
Tacitus ( 65 (?)-119 (?), from the opening words of his Annals, wherein he states that ‘liberty was instituted in the consulship of L. Junius Brutus,’ shows his animus against tyrants. His sketch of the life of Tiberius is one of the most terrible exposures of tyranny ever written. His best-known saying on this topic is contained in his description of the funeral of Junia, the niece of Cato: ‘The busts of twenty most illustrious families were borne in the procession, with the names of Manlius, Quinctius, and others of equal rank. But Cassius and Brutus outshone them all, from the very fact that their likenesses were not to be seen.’5
Marcus Aurelius ( 121-180), the republican emperor, was at one with other philosophers of his age in eulogizing Marcus Brutus: ‘From him I received the idea of a polity in which there is the same law for all, a polity administered with regard to equal rights and equal freedom of speech, and the idea of a kingly government which respects most of all the freedom of the governed.’6 He seems to have imbibed these views from the rhetoricians of the day, who taught their pupils to declaim against tyrants: ‘From Fronto [the rhetorician],’ he says, ‘I learned to observe what envy and duplicity and hypocrisy are in a tyrant, and that generally those among us who are called patricians are rather deficient in paternal affection.’7
Dio Cassius ( 155-?) praises Vindex, who incited the army to rise against Nero, and describes with gusto the latter’s vices, vanities, and miserable death.1
Appian (middle of the second century) shows his hatred of tyranny in his relation of the conspiracy of Brutus and Cassius, and their subsequent misfortunes in war.2
Marius Maximus (reign of Severus) wrote the lives of three tyrants, Avidius, Albin, and Niger.
Trebellius Pollio (reign of Constantine), in an endeavor to match the roll of the Thirty Tyrants of Greece, whom Thrasybulus overthrew, drew up accounts of the lives of thirty Roman foes of liberty, most of them being military leaders of slight importance.3
Capitolinus (a contemporary of Pollio) imitated him by writing the lives of the tyrants, Verus, Pertinax, and the Maximins.
Flavius Vopiscus of Syracuse (flourished circa 300) also produced literature of this kind in his lives of the tyrants, Firmus, Saturninus, Proculus, and Bonosus.
Lucius Florus (reign of Trajan) has a single reference to this subject in his remark: ‘Brutus and Cassius seemed to have cast Cæsar, like another king Tarquin, from the sovereignty.’4
Libanius ( 314-393 (?) lived in a century when Christianity had inculcated the duty of passive obedience, but his voluminous writings show all the ardor of Plutarch against tyranny. He quotes Socrates and Theognis as authorities against the prevailing practice of poets in praising tyrants, even those despots who surpass all in madness and wickedness. Alluding to the eulogy of Harmodius and Aristogiton by early poets, he says that he has heard that no slave should be given the name of either hero.5 In a bold justification of tyrannicide he declares: ‘Whoso kills a tyrant subjects himself to greater dangers, and should receive greater honor, than one who has done equal deeds in war, because the soldier is sustained by the presence of his comrades, while the slayer of a tyrant has to act alone.’1 After enumerating the causes of hatred of tyrants, he exclaims: ‘Shall we not love any kind of wickedness before tyranny’?2 He also treats of the perils of tyrants,3 their punishment,4 their infamy,5 the cruelty of Echetus and Phalaris,6 the Athenian tyrants,7 the destruction of the Theban tyrants,8 and the proper reward of tyrannicide.9
Among the schoolmen of the Middle Ages this subject received some attention from John of Salisbury, who approved of tyrannicide,10 and from St. Thomas Aquinas, who disapproved, although he denounced tyranny.11 The murder of the Duke of Orleans in 1407 invested the old question with new and living interest. The assassin, Jean sans Peur, gloated over his crime, and contended that the sixth commandment did not include princes in its prohibition. Had this enthusiast stood alone, his strange plea might have been disregarded, but the Duke of Burgandy was charged with being the instigator of the crime, and the learning of the day came to his assistance. Jean Petit, a doctor of the Sorbonne, publicly maintained the thesis that it is lawful for subjects to slay a tyrant,12 while his associates in the University of Paris drew up rules or maxims on the policy and justice of taking away the life of any tyrannical person, declaring that natural, moral, and divine laws authorize each person to kill, or cause to be killed, a tyrant, and even to do it by wiles or snares.13 This question was not to be decided, however, without the pronouncement of the church. Jean Gerson was the leader of conservative thought on this subject, and, chiefly owing to his denunciation of tyrannicide, it was condemned by the Council of Constance, which decreed in 1415 that it was heretical to assert ‘that any tyrant may be killed by a vassal or subject of his own, even by treachery, in despite of oaths, and without any judicial sentence being passed against him.’1 The Council, for political reasons, refused to condemn the specific opinions of Petit, and, in spite of the decree, Pope Sixtus V subsequently publicly eulogised the assassination of Henri III by Clement, the Dominican.2
Throughout the sixteenth century there was a steady development of the theory of the deposing power, and the literature on the question of tyrannicide becomes abundant. The sermons and exegetical works of the Protestant reformers, especially those of the second generation, encouraged resistance to tyrants through the intervention of the Huguenots, and Roman Catholics of France were opposed to the tyrannical monarch, the former invoking the interests of the state, the latter those of religion.3 But the massacre of St. Bartholomew in 1572 created deeper convictions, and exerted a tremendous effect on thinkers of all shades in politics; the results of that awful event were really most beneficial to the cause of civil and religious liberty. It has been pointed out that within seven years of that seeming calamity were written the most important revolutionary tracts of the century. The following works of that great creative period are especially noteworthy as bearing on the subject of tyranny: Hotman, Franco-Gallia (1573); Bodin, De Republica (1576); Boétie, Discours de la Servitude Volontaire, ou le Contr’un (1576); Languet (or Du Plessis-Mornay) Vindiciæ contra Tyrannos (1579); and Buchanan, De Regni Jure apud Scotos (1579). Of these writers, Bodin seems to have been the first modern to make a search in the writings of Greece and Rome on the subject of tyranny. He draws up a short list of the tyrannicides of antiquity, quotes the law of Solon and the Valerian Law, and admits that if the king be not an absolute sovereign, it is lawful for either the people or the nobility to proceed against a tyrant by way of justice, or even by open force; but if he be an absolute sovereign, as in France, Spain, England, or Scotland, the subjects do not possess even the right to bring him to trial, for they have no jurisdiction over him.1 ‘But a tyrannical king may by another foreign prince be lawfully slain, as Moses slew the Egyptian, and Hercules destroyed many most horrible monsters, that is to say, tyrants.’ Among the imitators of Hercules he includes Dion, Timoleon, Aratus, Harmodius, and Aristogiton.2
The author of Vindiciæ contra Tyrannos refined upon Bodin’s curious distinction between princes, contending that there is the tyrant absque titulo and the tyrant ab exercitio, the former being a usurper, and the latter a legitimate prince, but one who has violated the compact, tacit or expressed, between himself and his people. The private citizen may draw his sword against the usurper, but not against the legitimate prince. The magistrate, however, may be appealed to, and is empowered to compel a lawful king to do his duty.3
The formulation of such views had its natural consequence. They were carried to their logical conclusion by the Roman Catholic party. The articles of the League of Paris in 1584 provided for the suppression of heresy and tyranny, and the assassination of Henri III was the result.4 Henceforth the Jesuit writers regarded any tyrant, and particularly a heretical monarch, as a fitting victim of tyrannicide. The ecclesiastical upholders of political murder taught that there were two kinds of tyrants — usurpers, who might of course be slain, and despots, to be regarded as worthy of death at the hands of the individual citizen, after the whole republic had expressly or tacitly condemned them. This doctrine, to be sure, allowed much latitude for individual judgment.1 Mariana, the Spanish Jesuit, in his famous chapter, De Tyranno, in De Rege et Regis Institutione (1599), gave the frankest exposition of this teaching, and may be regarded as the leading advocate of tyrannicide among the numerous Roman Catholic pamphleteers. He openly justified the assassination of Henri III, and decided that a tyrant might be killed either publicly or by craft. At certain kinds of poisoning he drew the line, but did not object to the poisoning of a tyrant through his clothes or cushions. With the names of Mariana and Buchanan we have completed the historical circle, and have reverted to the views of the Athenians, who chanted the Scolium to the memory of the murderers of the son of Pisistratus.
1 Observ. Art. Peace (Bohn 2. 188).
2 Odyss. 16. 400 ff.
3 Thucydides, History, Bk. 8.
4 The rapid rise and fall of these tyrannies, and their great number, may be studied in the exhaustive work of H. G. Plass, Die Tyrannis.
5 Plutarch. Life of Solon, chap. 19.
1 Egger, Sur le Meurtre Politique chez les Grecs et chez les Romains, p. 5.
2 Duruy, Hist. of Greece, trans. Ripley, 2. 22. This Scolium, or drinking-song, has been attributed to Callistratus. It is quoted by Aristophanes, Lysistrata 632; The Acharnians 990, 1093. For various English translations of this song, and an interesting sketch of the two friends, see Kennedy, Orations of Demosthenes, 3. 264.
1 Natural Hist., Cap. 34. 10.
2 Ibid., chap. 19.
4 Plutarch, Life of Aristides.
5 Symposium, trans. Jowett, 1. 182.
6 Callisthenes, quoted by Arrian, Anabasis of Alexander, 4. 10; 3. 16; 7. 19.
1 For further reference to the praises of these heroes in Greek literature, see Ilgen, Σχολιά, id est Carmina Convivalia Græcorum, passim.
2 Dio Cassius, Hist. 47. 21.
3 Trans. Frere, Works 3. 356.
4 Trans. Frere, 3. 361.
5 Ibid. 362.
1 6. 109. See also 5. 55; 6. 123.
2 As noted above, Milton quoted this dialogue in First Def. (Bohn 1. 125).
3 On the Mysteries, § 93. Cf. Schelling, De Solonis Legibus, p. 7. and Schoemann, De Comitiis Atheniensium, pp. 131 ff.
1 Gorgias 2. 402.
2 Dialogues, trans. Jowett, 3. 285.
3 Ibid. 3. 288.
4 Ibid. (Introd., p. 144).
5 Politics, trans. Jowett, 4. 10. 4. See also 5. 5. 6, 5. to 9. 5. 11. 13; 5. 11. 15; 5. 11. 30; 3. 7. 5.
6 Against Timocrates § 149; Against Leptines § 18.
7 Against Leptines § 29.
1 Ibid. § 68.
2 On the Embassy § 280.
3 Against Leptines § 159.
4 Against Timarchus § 132.
5 Hist. 2. 4.
6 Ibid. 6. 1.
1 Hist. 2. 4.
2 11. 87.
3 16. 6.
4 16. 14.
5 16. 3.
6 16. 94.
7 16. 65.
8 19. 1. Cf. Ure, Origin of the Tyrannis, in Journ. Hellen. Studies 26. 141.
9 3. 87, 92.
10 Moral Maxims, chap. 32.
11 Ibid., chap. 20.
12 Ibid., chap. 32.
1 Works, p. 465 (Paris, 1615).
2 Ibid., p. 233.
3 Ibid., p. 413.
4 Ibid., p. 211.
5 Anabasis of Alexander the Great, cit. supra.
6 Ibid., chap. 10.
1 Sur le Meurtre Politique, etc., p. 28.
2 Speech for Milo, chap. 29.
3 3. 4.
1 Ibid., chap. 7. Other references to Cicero’s writings: ibid. 3. 21; Letters to Atticus 10. 8; 14. 15; 16. 15 (in which he calls those who kill tyrants tyranncotones); To Brutus, chap. 16, Philip. 1. 1.
2 Jugurthan War, chap. 31.
3 Hist. 2. 8.
4 3. 5.
5 Hercules 922-924.
6 Bk. 8, chap. 2.
7 8. 3; cf. 7. 2, 3, 7.
1 Lives, chap. 75.
2 Chap. 37, 49.
3 Chap. 3, 12, 14, 19, 20.
4 Nero, chap. 40; Galba, chap. 11.
5 3. 76.
6 Meditations 1. 14.
7 1. 11.
1 Hist., Bk. 63. See also 73. 22; 57. 24; 62. 27.
2 Hist. of Civil War 4. 114 — 135.
3 See his Thirty Tyrants. See Gibbon’s ridicule of this list, Decline and Fall 1. 408 f.
4 Epitome 4. 2.
5 Opera 1. 655 (Paris).
1 1. 62.
2 1. 783.
3 1. 396.
4 1. 594.
5 1. 623, 735.
6 1. 507.
7 1. 651.
8 2. 490.
9 1. 590.
10 Polycraticus 8. 17 — 21.
11 De Reg. Princ. 1. 2.
12 Creighton, Hist. of the Papacy 2. 71, 72.
13 Blakey, Hist. of Political Liter. 2. 215.
1 Creighton, Hist. of the Papacy, 2. 72.
2 Von Ranke, Hist. of the Popes 1. 521. See also Oxenham, Ethics of Tyrannicide, in Short Studies, p. 409.
3 Armstrong, Political Theory of the Huguenots, in Eng. Hist. Rev., Vol. 4, 1899.
1 The Six Bookes of a Commonweale, p. 222.
2 Ibid., pp. 220, 231.
3 Janet, Hist. de la Science Politique, pp. 86, 87.
4 Armstrong, The French Wars of Religion, p. 53.
1 Figgis, Some Political Theories of the Early Jesuits, in Trans. Royal. Hist. Soc. 11. 104, 105.
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