A city in Boeotia, greatly celebrated on account of a battle fought near
it between Philip of Macedon and the Athenians.
The two armies encamped near Chæronea. Philip gave the command of his
left wing to his son Alexander, who was then but sixteen. He took the
right wing upon himself. In the opposite army the Thebans formed the
right wing, and the Athenians the left. At sunrise the signal was given
on both sides. The battle was bloody, and the victory a long time
dubious; both sides exerting themselves with astonishing valour. At
length Philip broke the sacred band of the Thebans[191], which was the
flower of their army. The rest of the troops being raw, Alexander,
encouraged by his example, entirely routed.
The conduct of the victor after this victory shows that it is much
easier to overcome an enemy than to conquer one's self. Upon his coming
from a grand entertainment which he had given his officers, being
equally transported with joy and wine, he hurried to the spot where the
battle had been fought, and there, insulting the dead bodies with which
the field was covered, he turned into a song the beginning of the
decree, which Demosthenes had prepared to excite the Greeks to war, and
sang thus, himself beating time; "Demosthenes the Peanian, son of
Demosthenes, has said." Everybody was shocked to see the king dishonour
himself by this behaviour; but no one opened his lips. Demades, the
orator, whose soul was free, though his body was a prisoner, was the
only person who ventured to make him sensible of the indecency of this
conduct, telling him--"Ah, sir, since fortune has given you the part of
Agamemnon, are you not ashamed to act the part of Thersites?" These
words, spoken with so generous a liberty, opened his eyes, and made him
turn inward; and so far from being displeased with Demades, he esteemed
him the more for them, treated him with the utmost respect, and
conferred upon him all possible honours.
The bones of those slain at Chæronea were carried to Athens; and
Demosthenes was charged with composing a eulogium, for a monument
erected to their memory:--
This earth entombs those victims to the state,
Who fell a glorious sacrifice to zeal.
Greece, on the point of wearing tyrant-chains,
Did, by their deaths alone, escape the yoke.
This Jupiter decreed: no effort, mortals,
Can save you from the mighty will of fate.
To gods alone belongs the attribute
Of being free from crimes with never-ending joy.
According to Procopius, Chæronea and other places in Boeotia (also of
Achaia and Thessaly) were destroyed by an earthquake in the sixth
century.
The Acropolis[192] is situated on a steep rock, difficult of access; the
walls and square towers are, in some places, well preserved; and their
style, which is nearly regular, renders it probable, that they were
constructed not long before the invasion of the Macedonians.
The ancient Necropolis is on the east side of the Acropolis, behind the
village: the remains of several tombs have been uncovered by the rains.
The church of the Holy Virgin contains an ancient chair of white marble,
curiously ornamented. It is called by the villagers the throne of
Plutarch[193].
There are two ancient circular altars with fluted intervals, in the
manner of an Ionic or Corinthian column. Altars of this kind were placed
on the road side. They were unstained with fire and blood, being set
apart for exclusive oblations of honey, cakes, and fruit. These altars
are common in Greece, and generally formed of coarse black stone; those
of Chæronea, however, are of white marble. They are frequently found in
Italy, and are at present used as pedestals for large vases, their
height being in general about three feet. They are never inscribed, and
sometimes not fluted; and are frequently represented on painted
terra-cotta vases.
Some Ionic fragments of small proportions are scattered among the ruins.
On the rock there was anciently a statue of Jupiter; but Pausanias
mentions no temple. The theatre stands at the foot of the Acropolis, and
faces the plain. It is the smallest in Greece, except one at
Mesaloggion; but it is well preserved. Indeed, nothing is better
calculated to resist the devastations of time than the Grecian theatres,
when they are cut in the rock, as they generally are.
"The sole remains of this town," says Sir John Hobhouse, "are some large
stones six feet in length, and the ruins of a wall on the hill, and part
of a shaft of a column, with its capital; the seats of a small
amphitheatre, cut out of the rock, on the side of the same hill; in the
flat below, a fountain, partly constructed of marble fragments,
containing a few letters, not decipherable; some bits of marble pillars,
just appearing above ground, and the ruins of a building of Roman
brick."
Two inscriptions have, we understand, lately been discovered at this
place; one relative to Apollo, the other to Diana. Several tombs have
been also discovered and opened.
Though a respectable traveller asserts, that the battle of Chæronea, by
putting an end to the turbulent independence of the Grecian republics,
introduced into that country an unusual degree of civil tranquillity and
political repose, we cannot ourselves think so; we therefore subjoin,
from Dr. Leland, a short account of the conqueror's death.
"When the Greeks and Macedonians were seated in the theatre, Philip came
out of his palace, attended by the two Alexanders, his son and
son-in-law. He was clothed in a white flowing robe, waving in soft and
graceful folds, the habiliment in which the Grecian deities were usually
represented. He moved forward with a heart filled with triumph and
exultation, while the admiring crowds shouted forth their flattering
applause. His guards had orders to keep at a considerable distance from
his person, to show that the king confided in the affections of his
people, and had not the least apprehensions of danger amidst all this
mixed concourse of different states and nations. Unhappily, the danger
was but too near him. The injured Pausanias had not yet forgot his
wrongs, but still retained those terrible impressions, which the sense
of an indignity he had received, and the artful and interested
representations of others, fixed deeply in his mind. He chose this fatal
morning for the execution of his revenge, on the prince who had denied
reparation to his injured honour. His design had been for some time
premeditated, and now was the dreadful moment of effecting it. As Philip
marched on in all his pride and pomp, this young Macedonian slipped
through the crowd, and, with a desperate and malignant resolution,
waited his approach in a narrow passage, just at the entrance into the
theatre. The king advanced towards him: Pausanias drew his poniard;
plunged it into his heart; and the conqueror of Greece, and terror of
Asia, fell prostrate to the ground, and instantly expired[194].