But, meantime, what has our friend been about since perhaps six or seven in the morning?  After paying his little homage to his patronus, in what way has he fought with the great enemy Time since then?  Why, reader, this illustrates one of the most interesting features in the Roman character.  The Roman was the idlest of men.  “Man and boy,” he was “an idler in the land.”  He called himself and his pals “rerum dominos, gentemque togatam;” the gentry that wore the toga.  Yes, and a pretty affair that “toga” was.  Just figure to yourself, reader, the picture of a hardworking man, with horny hands like our hedgers, ditchers, weavers, porters, &c., setting to work on the highroad in that vast sweeping toga, filling with a strong gale like the mainsail of a frigate.  Conceive the roars with which this magnificent figure would be received into the bosom of a poor-house detachment sent out to attack the stones on some new line of road, or a fatigue party of dustmen sent upon secret service.  Had there been nothing left as a memorial of the Romans but that one relic—­their immeasurable toga,[9]—­we should have known that they were born and bred to idleness.  In fact, except in war, the Roman never did anything at all but sun himself. Ut se apricaret was the final cause of peace in his opinion; in literal truth, that he might make an apricot of himself.  The public rations at all times supported the poorest inhabitant of Rome if he were a citizen.  Hence it was that Hadrian was so astonished with the spectacle of Alexandria, “civitas opulenta, faecunda, in qua nemo vivat otiosus.”  Here first he saw the spectacle of a vast city, second only to Rome, where every man had something to do; “podagrosi quod agant habent; habent caeci quod faciant; ne chiragrici” (those with gout in the fingers) “apud eos otiosi vivunt.”  No poor rates levied upon the rest of the world for the benefit of their own paupers were there distributed gratis.  The prodigious spectacle (so it seemed to Hadrian) was exhibited in Alexandria, of all men earning their bread in the sweat of their brow.  In Rome only, (and at one time in some of the Grecian states,) it was the very meaning of citizen that he could vote and be idle.

In these circumstances, where the whole sum of life’s duties amounted to voting, all the business a man could have was to attend the public assemblies, electioneering, or factious.  These, and any judicial trial (public or private) that might happen to interest him for the persons concerned, or for the questions, amused him through the morning; that is, from eight till one.  He might also extract some diversion from the columnae, or pillars of certain porticoes to which they pasted advertisements.  These affiches must have been numerous; for all the girls in Rome who lost a trinket, or a pet bird, or a lap-dog, took this mode of angling in the great ocean of the public for the missing articles.