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].