20 they do not permit them to enjoy the last consolations of mankind, or those rights of sepulture, which indicate hope, and which mere nature has taught to mankind in all countries to soothe the afflictions, and to cover the infirmity of mortal condition. They disgrace men in 25 the entry into life they vitiate and enslave them through the whole course of it; and they deprive them of all comfort at the conclusion of their dishonoured and depraved existence. Endeavouring to persuade the people that they are no better than beasts, the whole 30, body of their institution tends to make them beasts of prey, furious and savage. For this purpose the active part of them is disciplined into a ferocity which has no parallel. To this ferocity there is joined not one of the rude, unfashioned virtues which accompany the vices, 35 where the whole are left to grow up together in the rankness of uncultivated nature. But nothing is left to nature in their systems. The same discipline which hardens their hearts relaxes their morals. Whilst courts of justice were thrust 40 out by revolutionary tribunals, and silent churches were only the funeral monuments of departed religion, there were no fewer than nineteen or twenty theatres, great and small, most of them kept open at the public expense, and all of them crowded every night. Among 45 the gaunt, haggard forms of famine and nakedness, amidst the yells of murder, the tears of affliction, and the cries of despair; the song, the dance, the mimic scene, the buffoon laughter, went on as regularly as in the gay hour of festive peace. I have it from good authority, 50 that under the scaffold of judicial murder, and the gaping planks that poured down blood on the spectators, the space was hired out for a shew of dancing dogs. I think, without concert, we have made the very same remark on reading some of their pieces, which being writ55 ten for other purposes, let us into a view of their social life. It struck us that the habits of Paris had no resemblance to the finished virtues, or to the polished vice, and elegant, though not blameless luxury, of the capital of a great empire. Their society was more like that of a 60 den of outlaws upon a doubtful frontier; of a lewd tavern for the revels and debauches of banditti, assassins, bravos and smugglers mixed with bombastic players, the refuse and rejected offal of strolling theatres, puffing out ill-sorted verses about virtue, mixed with the 65 licentious and blasphemous songs, proper to the brutal and hardened course of life belonging to that sort of wretches. This system of manners in itself is at war with all orderly and moral society, and is in its neighbourhood unsafe. If great bodies of that kind were any 70 where established in a bordering territory, we should have a right to demand of their governments the suppression of such a nuisance. What are we to do if the government and the whole community is of the same description? Yet that government has thought proper to 75 invite ours to lay by its unjust hatred, and to listen to the voice of humanity as taught by their example. Burke. You, T. Attius, I know, had every where given it out, that I was to defend my client, not from facts, not upon the footing of innocence, but by taking advantage merely of the law in his behalf. Have I done so? I 5 appeal to yourself. Have I sought to cover him behind a legal defence only? On the contrary, have I not pleaded his cause as if he had been a senator, liable, by the Cornelian law, to be capitally convicted; and shown, that neither proof nor probable presumption lies against 10 his innocence? In doing so, I must acquaint you, that I have complied with the desire of Cluentiùs himself. For when he first consulted me in this cause, and when I informed him that it was clear no action could be brought against him from the Cornelian law, he instant15 ly besought and obtested me, that I would not rest his defence upon that ground saying, with tears in his eyes, that his reputation was as dear to him as his life; and that what he sought, as an innocent man, was not only to be absolved from any penalty, but to be acquit20 ted in the opinion of all his fellow-citizens. : Hitherto, then, I have pleaded this cause upon his plan. But my client must forgive me, if now I shall plead it upon my own. For I should be wanting to myself, and to that regard which my character and sta25 tion require me to bear to the laws of the state, if I should allow any person to be judged of by a law which does not bind him. You, Attius, indeed have told us, that it was a scandal and reproach, that a Roman knight should be exempted from those penalties to which a 30 senator, for corrupting judges, is liable. But I must tell you, that it would be a much greater reproach, in a state that is regulated by law, to depart from the law. What safety have any of us in our persons, what security for our rights, if the law shall be set aside? By 35 what title do you, Q. Naso, sit in that chair, and preside in this judgment? By what right, T. Attius, do you accuse, or do I defend? Whence all the solemnity and pomp of judges, and clerks, and officers, of which this house is full? Does not all proceed from the law, 40 which regulates the whole departments of the state; which as a common bond, holds its members together; and, like the soul within the body, actuates and directs all the public functions? On what ground, then, dare you speak lightly of the law, or move that, in a crim45 inal trial, judges should advance one step beyond what it permits them to go? The wisdom of our ancestors has found, that as senators and magistrates enjoy higher dignities, and greater advantages than other members of the state, the law should also, with regard to them, be more strict, and the purity and uncorruptedness of 50 their morals be guarded by more severe sanctions. But if it be your pleasure that this institution should be altered, if you wish to have the Cornelian law concerning bribery extended to all ranks, then let us join, not in violating the law, but in proposing to have this alter55 ation made by a new law. My client, Cluentius, will be the foremost in this measure, who now, while the old law subsists, rejected its defence, and required his cause to be pleaded, as if he had been bound by it, But, though he would not avail himself of the law, you 60 are bound in justice not to stretch it beyond its proper limits. Yes, Athenians, I repeat it, you yourselves are the contrivers of your own ruin. Lives there a man who has confidence enough to deny it? Let him arise, and assign, if he can, any other cause of the success and 5 prosperity of Philip "But," you reply, "what Athens may have lost in reputation abroad, she has gained in splendor at home. Was there ever a greater appear ance of prosperity; a greater face of plenty? Is not the city enlarged? Are not the streets better paved, 10 houses repaired and beautified?"-Away with such trifles! Shall I be paid with counters? An old square new vamped up! a fountain!, an aqueduct! are these acquisitions to brag of? Cast your eye upon the magistrate under whose ministry you boast these precious 15 improvements. Behold the despicable creature, raised, all at once, from dirt to opulence; from the lowest obscurity to the highest honours. Have not some of these upstarts built private houses and seats, vying with the most sumptuous of our public palaces? And how have 20 their fortunes and their power increased, but as the commonwealth has been ruined and impoverished? To what are we to impute these disorders, and to what cause assign the decay of a state so powerful and flourishing in past times? The reason is plain. The 25 servant is now become the master. The magistrate was then subservient to the people; all honours, dignities, and preferments, were disposed by the voice and favour of the people; but the magistrate, now, has usurp ed the right of the people, and exercises an arbitrary 30 authority over his ancient and natural lord. You, miserable people !-the meanwhile, without money, without friends, from being the ruler, are become the servant ; from being the master, the dependent: happy that these governors, into whose hands you have thus resigned your 35 own power, are so good and so gracious as to continue your poor allowance to see plays. Believe me, Athenians, if recovering from this lethargy, you would assume the ancient freedom and spirit of your fathers-if you would be your own soldiers and 40 your own commanders, confiding no longer your affairs in foreign or mercenary hands-if you would charge yourselves with your own defence, employing abroad, for the public, what you waste in unprofitable pleasures at home-the world might once more behold you making 45 a figure worthy of Athenians.-" You would have us, then, (you say,) do service in our armies in our own persons; and, for so doing, you would have the pensions we receive in time of peace, accepted as pay in time of war. Is it thus we are to understand you?"-Yes, Athenians, 50 'tis my plain meaning. I would make it a standing rule, that no person, great, or little, should be the better for the public money, who should grudge to employ it for the public service. Are we in peace? the public is charged with your subsistence. Are we in war, or un55 der a necessity, as at this time, to enter into a war? let your gratitude oblige you to accept, as pay in defence of your benefactors, what you receive, in peace, as mere bounty. Thus, without any innovation-without altering or abolishing any thing but pernicious novelties, 60 introduced for the encouragement of sloth and idleness -by converting only for the future, the same funds, for the use of the serviceable, which are spent, at present, upon the unprofitable, you may be well served in you armies-your troops regularly paid-justice duly 65 administered the public revenues reformed and increas ed-and every member of this commomwealth rendered useful to his country, according to his age and ability, without any further burden to the state. 3 29* |