memorable event, compassion for the distressed Carthaginians is stifled by indignation at their treacherous oppressors. Could the monsters, after such treachery, have the impudence to talk of Punica fides? The profligacy of the Roman people, during the triumvirate of Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus, is painted in lively colours by the same author. “For a long time, disorder and confusion overspread the commonwealth: no office was obtained but by faction, bribery, or criminal service: no man was ashamed to buy votes, which were sold in open market. One man there was, who, to obtain a lucrative office, expended eight hundred talents(a): ill men enriched themselves with public money, or with bribes: no honest man would stand candidate for an office; and, into a situa- <410>tion so miserable was the commonwealth reduced, that once for eight months it had not a single magistrate.” Cicero, writing to Atticus, that Clodius was acquitted by the influence of Crassus, expresses himself in the following words: “Biduo, per unum servum, et eum ex gladiatorio ludo, confecit totum negotium. Accersivit ad se, promisit, intercessit, dedit. I am vero, O dii boni, rem perditam! etiam noctes certarum mulierum, atque adolescentulorum nobilium, introductiones nonnullis judicibus pro mercedis cumulo fuerunt”(a).* Ptolomy King of Egypt was dethroned by his subjects for tyranny. Having repaired to Rome for protection, he found means to poison the greater part of a hundred<411> Egyptians, his accusers, and to assassinate Dion, their chief. And yet these crimes, perpetrated in the heart of Rome, were suffered to pass with impunity. But he had secured the leading men by money, and was protected by Pompey. The following instance is, if possible, still more gross. Ptolomy, King of Cyprus, had always been a faithful ally to the Romans. But his gold, jewels, and precious moveables, were a tempting bait: and all was confiscated by a decree of the people, without even a pretext. Money procured by profligacy is not commonly hoarded up; and the Romans were no less voluptuous than avaricious. Alexander ab Alexandro mentions the Fanian, Orchian, Didian, Oppian, Cornelian, Ancian, and Julian laws, for repressing luxury of dress and of eating, all of which proved ineffectual. He adds, that Tiberius had it long at heart to contrive some effectual law against luxury, which now had surpassed all bounds, but that he found it impracticable to stem the tide. He concludes, that by tacit agreement among a corrupted people, all sumptuary laws were in effect abrogated; <412> and that the Roman people, abandoning themselves to vice, broke through every restraint of morality and religion(b). Tremble, O Britain, on the brink of a precipice! how little distant in rapacity from Roman senators are the leaders of thy people!*
The free states of Italy, which had become rich by commerce, employed mer-<413>cenary troops to save their own people, who were more profitably employed at home. But, as mercenaries gained nothing by victory or bloodshed, they did very little execution against one another. They exhausted the states which employed them, without doing any real service. Our condition is in some degree similar. We employ generals and admirals, who, by great appointments, soon lose relish for glory, intent only to prolong a war for their own benefit. According to our present manners, where luxury and selfishness prevail, it appears an egregious blunder, to enrich a general or admiral during his command: have we any reason to expect, that he will fight like one whose fortune depends on his good behaviour? This single error against good policy has reduced Britain more than once to a low condition, and will prove its ruin at last.15
Riches produce another lamentable effect: they enervate the possessor, and degrade him into a coward. He who commands the labour of others, who eats without hunger, and rests without fatigue, becomes feeble in mind as well as in body, <414> has no confidence in his own abilities, and is reduced to flatter his enemies, because he hath not courage to brave them.
Selfishness among the rude and illiterate is rough, blunt, and undisguised. Selfishness, which in an opulent kingdom usurps the place of patriotism, is smooth, refined, and covered with a veil. Pecuniary interest, a low object, must be covered with the thickest veil: ambition, less dishonourable, is less covered: but delicacy as to character and love of fame, are so honourable, that even the thinnest veil is held unnecessary. History justifies these observations. During the prosperity of Greece and Rome, when patriotism was the ruling passion, no man ever thought of employing a hostile weapon but against the enemies of his country: swords were not worn during peace, nor was there an instance of a private duel. The frequency of duels in modern times, is no slight symptom of degeneracy: regardless of our country, selfishness is exerted without disguise when reputation or character is in question; and a nice sense of honour prompts revenge for every imagined af-<415>front, without regard to justice. How much more manly and patriotic was the behaviour of Themistocles, when insulted by the Lacedemonian general in deliberating about the concerns of Greece! “Strike,” says he, “but first hear me.”*<416>
When a nation, formerly in prosperity, is depressed by luxury and selfishness, what follows next? Let the Egyptians an-<417>swer the question. That unhappy people, having for many ages been a prey to every barbarous invader, are now become effe-<418>minate, treacherous, cruel, and corrupted with every vice that debases humanity. A nation in its infancy, however savage, is susceptible of every improvement; but a nation worn out with age and disease is susceptible of no improvement. There is no remedy, but to let the natives die<419> out, and to repeople the country with better men. Egypt has for many ages been in the same languid and servile state. An Arabian author, who wrote the history of the great Saladin, observes, that the Egyptians never thought of supporting the monarch in possession, but tamely submitted to every conqueror. “It was,” says he, “the custom in Egypt at that time to deliver to the victor the ensigns of royalty, without ever thinking of inquiring into his title.” What better than a flock of sheep, obedient to the call of the present shepherd!
I fly from a scene so dismal to one that will give no pain. Light is intended by our Maker for action, and darkness for rest. In the fourteenth century, the shops in Paris were opened at four in the morning: at present, a shopkeeper is scarce awake at seven. The King of France dined at eight in the morning, and retired to his bed-chamber at the same hour in the evening; an early hour at present for public amusements.* The Spaniards ad-<420>here to ancient customs.† Their King to this day dines precisely at noon, and sups no less precisely at nine in the evening. During the reign of Henry VIII. fashionable people in England breakfasted at seven in the morning, and dined at ten in the forenoon. In Elizabeth’s time, the nobility, gentry, and students, dined at eleven forenoon, and supped between five and six afternoon. In the reign of Charles II. four in the afternoon was the appointed hour for acting plays. At present, even dinner is at a later hour. The King of Yeman, the greatest prince in Arabia Felix, dines at nine in the morning, sups at five afternoon, and goes to rest at eleven. From this short specimen it appears, that the occupations of day-light commence gradually later and later; as if there were a tendency in polite nations, of converting night into day, and day into night. No-<421>thing happens without a cause. Light disposes to action, darkness to rest: the diversions of day are tournaments, tennis, hunting, racing, and other active exercises: the diversions of night are sedentary; plays, cards, conversation. Balls are of a mixed nature, partly active in dancing, partly sedentary in conversing. Formerly, active exercises prevailed among a robust and plain people:* the milder pleasures of society prevail as manners refine. Hence it is, that candle-light amusements are now fashionable in France, and in other polished countries; and when such amusements are much relished, they banish the robust exercises of the field. Balls, I conjecture, were formerly more frequent in day-light: at present, candle-light is their favourite time: the active part is at that time equally agreeable; and the sedentary part, more so.
Gaming is the vice of idle people. Savages are addicted to gaming; and those of North America in particular are fond<422> to distraction of a game termed the platter. A losing gamester will strip himself to the skin; and some have been known to stake their liberty, though by them valued above all other blessings. Negroes in the slave-coast of Guinea, will stake their wives, their children, and even themselves. Tacitus(a), talking of gaming among the Germans, says, “Extremo ac novissimo jactu, de libertate et de corpore contendant.”† The Greeks were an active and sprightly people, constantly engaged in war, or in cultivating the fine arts. They had no leisure for gaming, nor any knowledge of it. Happy for them was their ignorance; for no other vice tends more to render men selfish, dishonest, and, in the modish style, dishonourable. A gamester, a friend to no man, is a bitter