The Pander, who basely, for the sake of filthy lucre, ministers to the passions of the young, is represented as the most degraded and contemptible of mortals. The Parasite, who earns his meal by flattering and fawning on his rich patron, is made the butt of unsparing ridicule. And the timid, simple maiden, confiding too implicitly in the affections of her lover, and sacrificing her interests to that love, and not to lust or love of gain, is painted in such colours as to command the spectator’s pity and sympathy, and to call forth his approbation when she is deservedly reinstated in her position as an honourable matron. Lastly, her lover is not represented as a profligate, revelling in the indiscriminate indulgence of his passions, and rendering vice seductive by engaging manners and fascinating qualities: but we feel that his sin necessarily results from the absence of a high tone of public morality to protect the young against temptation; and in all cases the reality and permanency of his affection for the victim of his wrongdoing is proved by his readiness and anxiety to become her husband.
So far as it can be so, comedy was in the hands of Terence an instrument of moral teaching, for it can only be so indirectly by painting men and manners as they are, and not as they ought to be.
It is said that the patrons of Terence assisted him in the composition of his comedies, or, at least, corrected their language and style, and embellished them by the insertion of scenes and passages. An anecdote is related by Cornelius Nepos,[208] which, if true, at once proves the point. He says that Lælius was at his villa near Puteoli during the festival of the Matronalia. On this holiday the power of the Roman ladies was absolute. Lælius was ordered by his wife to come to supper early. He excused himself on the ground that he was occupied, and begged not to be disturbed. When he appeared in the supper-room, he said he had never been so well satisfied with his compositions. He was asked for a specimen of what he had written, and immediately repeated a scene in the “Self-Tormentor”[209] of Terence. Terence, however, gently refutes this story in the prologue to the “Adelphi,” and gives it a positive contradiction in the prologue to the comedy in which the passage occurs. Perhaps he may at first have permitted the report to be credited for the sake of paying a compliment to his patron.
There is a tradition that he lived and died in poverty, and this tale is perpetuated in the following lines by Porcius Licinius:——
The patrons of Terence, however, never deserved the reproach of meanness. Nor could the comic poet have been very poor. He received large sums for his comedies; he had funds sufficient to reside for some time in Greece; and at his death he possessed gardens on the Appian Way twenty jugera in extent.
A mystery hangs over his death, which took place B. C. 158.[210] It is not known whether he died in Greece, or was lost at sea, together with all the comedies of Menander, which he had translated whilst in Greece, or whether, after embarking for Asia, he was, as Volcatius writes, never seen more:——
One daughter married to a Roman knight survived him.
Six comedies by Terence remain, and it is probable that these are all that he ever wrote; they belong to the class technically denominated Palliatæ.
“The Andrian.”
“The Andrian” was exhibited at the Magalensian games, A. U. C. 588,[211] when the poet was in his twenty-seventh year. The musical accompaniment was performed on equal flutes, right-handed and left-handed (tibiis paribus dextris et sinistris;) i. e., as the action was of a serio-comic character, the lively music of the tibiæ dextræ was used in the comic scenes; the solemn sounds of the tibiæ sinistræ accompanied the serious portion. The manners are Greek, and the scene is laid at Athens.
The plot is as follows:—Glycerium, a young Athenian girl, is placed under the care of an Andrian, who educates her with his daughter Chrysis. On his death Chrysis migrates to Athens, taking Glycerium with her as her sister, and is driven by distress to become a courtesan. Pamphilus, the son of Simo, falls in love with Glycerium, and promises her marriage. Simo accidentally discovers his son’s attachment in the following manner:—Chrysis dies, and at her funeral Glycerium imprudently approaches too near to the burning pile. Her lover rushes forward and embraces her, and affectionately expostulates with her for thus risking her life. “Dearest Glycerium!” he exclaims, “what are you doing? Why do you rush to destruction?” Upon this the girl burst into a flood of tears, and threw herself into his arms. Simo had meanwhile betrothed Pamphilus to Philumena, the daughter of Chremes; and although he had discovered his son’s passion, and Chremes had heard of the promise of marriage, he pretends that the marriage with Philumena shall still take place, in order that he may discover what his son’s real sentiments are. In this difficulty, Pamphilus applies to Davus, a cunning and clever slave, who advises him to offer no opposition. At this crisis Glycerium is delivered of a child, which Davus causes to be laid at the door of Simo. Chremes sees the infant, and, understanding that Pamphilus is the father, refuses to give him his daughter. The opportune arrival of Crito, an Andrian, discovers to Chremes that Glycerium is his own daughter, whom on a former absence from Athens he had intrusted to his brother Phania, now dead. Consequently Glycerium is married to Pamphilus, and Philumena is given to a young lover, named Charinus, who had hitherto pressed his suit in vain.
“The Andrian” was, as it deserved to be, eminently successful, and encouraged the young author to persevere in the career which he had chosen. The interest is well sustained, the action is natural, and many scenes touching and pathetic, whilst the serious parts are skilfully relieved by the adroitness of Davus, and his cleverness in getting out of the scrapes in which his cunning involves him. Cicero[212] praises the funeral scene[213] as an example of that talent for narrative which Terence constantly displays. The substance of his criticism is, that the poet has attained conciseness without the sacrifice of beauty; and whilst he has avoided wearisome affectation, has not omitted any details which are agreeable and interesting. Nothing can be more beautiful than the struggle between the love and filial duty of Pamphilus,[214] which ends with his determination to yield to his father’s will; nothing more candid than his confession, or more upright than his earnest desire not to be suspected of suborning Crito.
“The Andrian” has been closely imitated in the comedy of “The Conscious Lovers,” by Sir Richard Steele; but in natural and graceful wit, as well as ingenuity, the English play is far inferior to the Roman original.
“Eunuchus.”
“The Eunuch” is a transcript of a comedy by Menander. Even the characters are the same, except that Gnatho and Thraso together occupy the place of Colax (the flatterer) in the original Greek. It was represented in the consulship of M. Valerius Messala and C. Fannius Strabo.[215] The musical accompaniment was Lydian. It was the most popular of all Terence’s plays, and brought the author the largest sum of money that had ever been paid for a comedy previously, namely, 8,000 sestertii, a sum equivalent to about 65l. sterling. In vain Lavinius, Terence’s most bitter rival, endeavoured to interrupt the performance, and to accuse the author of plagiarism. His defence was perfectly successful, and Suetonius states[216] that it was called for twice in one day.
“The Eunuch” is not equal to some of Terence’s plays in wit and humour; but the plot is bustling and animated, and the dialogue gay and sparkling: it is also unquestionably the best acting play of the whole. There is no play in which there is a greater individuality of character, or more effect of histrionic contrast. The lovesick and somewhat effeminate Phædria contrasts well with the ardent and passionate Chærea, the swaggering, bullying Thraso with the pompous, philosophical parasite, who proposes to found a Gnathonic School. Parmeno is quite as crafty, but far more clever, than Davus, and his description of the evils of love is the perfection of shrewd wisdom.
The plot is as follows:—Pamphila, the daughter of an Athenian citizen, was kidnapped in her infancy, and sold to a Rhodian. He gave her to a courtesan, who educated her with her own daughter Thais. Subsequently Thais removes to Athens; and on the mother’s death Pamphila is sold to a soldier, named Thraso. The soldier, being in love with Thais, resolves to make her a present of his purchase; but Thais has got another lover, Phædria, and Thraso refuses to give Pamphila to Thais unless Phædria is first turned off. She, thinking that she has discovered Pamphila’s relations, and anxious to restore her to them, persuades Phædria to absent himself for two days, in order that Thraso may present her with the maiden. Meanwhile Chærea, Phædria’s younger brother, sees Pamphila accidentally, and falls desperately in love with her. He, therefore, persuades his brother’s slave, Parmeno, to introduce him into Thais’ house in the disguise of a eunuch, whom Phædria has intrusted him to convey to her during his absence. This leads to an éclaircissement. Pamphila is discovered to be an Athenian citizen, and her brother Chremes gives her in marriage to Chærea.
The most skilful part of this play is the method by which Terence has connected the underplot between Parmeno and Pythias, the waiting-maid of Thais, with the main action, their quarrels being entirely instrumental in bringing about the dénouement. Of all the comedies of Terence, the moral tone of this is the lowest and most degrading. The connivance of Laches the father of Chærea, at his son’s illicit amour with Thais, presents a sad picture of moral corruption, as the arrangement coolly made between Phædria and Gnatho[217] displays the meanness, which evidently was not considered inconsistent with the habits of Roman society.
Grievous as are these blemishes, this comedy must always be a favourite. There are in it passages of which the lapse of ages has not diminished the pungency: take, for example, the quiet satire contained in the contrast which Chærea draws between the healthful and natural beauty of his mistress and the “every-day forms of which his eyes are weary:”—
- Ch.
- Haud similis virgo est virginum nostrarum; quas matres student
Demissis humeris esse, vincto pectore, ut graciles sient;
Si qua est habitior paulo, pugilem esse aiunt; deducunt cibum,
Tametsi bona est natura, reddunt curatura junceas:
Itaque ergo amantur. - Pa.
- Quid tua istæc.
- Ch.
- Nova figura oris.
- Pa.
- Papæ!
- Ch.
- Color verus, corpus solidum et succi plenum.[218]
“The Eunuch” suggested the plot of Sir Charles Sedley’s “Bellamira,” was translated by Lafontaine, and imitated in “Le Muet” of Brueys.
“Heautontimorumenos.”
“The Self-Punisher” is a translation from Menander. It was acted the first time with Phrygian music, the second time with Lydian, in the consulship of the celebrated Ti. Sempronius Gracchus and M. Juventius Thalna.[219] This play may be considered as the masterpiece of Terence; it was a great favourite, notwithstanding its seriousness, and the absence of comic drollery throughout. Steele[220] remarks with truth, that it is a picture of human life; but there is not in the whole one passage which could raise a laugh. It is a good specimen of the refined taste of Terence, who, unlike Plautus, abhorred vulgarity and ribaldry, and did not often condescend even to humour. Its favourable reception, moreover, proves that, notwithstanding the preference which the Roman people were inclined to give to gladiatorial shows, and the more innocent amusements of buffoons and rope-dancers, and the noisy mirth with which theatrical entertainments were frequently interrupted, they could appreciate and enjoy a skilfully-constructed plot, and that quality which Terence especially claims for this comedy,[221] purity of style. The noble sentiment,
was received by the whole audience with a burst of applause.
Plot.——Clinia, the son of Menedemus, falls in love with Antiphila, supposed to be the daughter of a poor Corinthian woman, and, to avoid his father’s anger, enters the service of the king of Persia. Menedemus, repenting of his severity, punishes himself by purchasing a farm, and, giving up all the luxuries of a town life, works hard from morning to night. Like Laertes, in the Odyssey, he seeks by occupation to divert his mind from the contemplation of his son’s absence:—
Clinia returns from Asia, and takes up his abode at the house of his friend Clitipho, the son of Chremes. This Clitipho has fallen in love with Bacchis, an extravagant courtesan; and Syrus, an artful slave, persuades him to pass off Bacchis as the object of Clinia’s affection, and Antiphila as her waiting-maid. Chremes, next day, to whom Menedemus had communicated his grief and remorse, acquaints him with the return of his son, and recommends him to pretend ignorance of his amour. By the intrigues and knavery of Syrus, Chremes is induced to pay 10 minæ (40l.) to Clitipho for the support of Bacchis. Sostrata, the wife of Chremes, has mean while discovered, by a ring in her possession, that Antiphila is her daughter. She had, according to the cruel Athenian practice, given her to the Corinthian in infancy that she might not be exposed; she had given the ring, the means of her discovery, at the same time. Clinia, therefore, marries Antiphila; and Chremes, although enraged at the imposition of Syrus, forgives him and his son, and Clitipho promises that he will give up Bacchis and marry a neighbour’s daughter.
This play abounds in amiable and generous sentiments and passages of simple and graphic beauty. The whole scene, in which the habits of the poor girl whom Clinia loves is described, is exquisitely true to nature. Her occupation is like that of the chaste Lucretia in the legend:—
The reader cannot but sympathize with the remark of Clitipho, when he has heard this description of virtuous poverty,—“If all this is true, as I believe it is, you are the most fortunate of men.”
The degraded Bacchis also reads a valuable lesson to her sex, when she shows the blessings of the path of virtue from which she has strayed:—
How beautiful, too, is the unselfish devotion of Antiphila, when she artlessly professes to know nothing of other women’s feelings, but to know this one thing only, that her happiness is wrapped up in that of her lover!——
Phormio.
The Phormio is a translation or adaptation of the Epidicazomene (the subject of the law suit) of Apollodorus: it was entitled Phormio.
It was acted four times; on the last occasion, in the consulship of C. Fannius Strabo and M. Valerius Messala,[223] at the Roman or Circensian games.
Plot.——Chremes, an Athenian, although he has a wife at Athens, (Nausistrata,) marries another at Lemnos under the feigned name of Stilpho. By her he has a daughter, Phanium. When she has attained a marriageable age, Chremes arranges with his brother Demipho, that she shall become the wife of his son Antipho. After this, the two old men leave Athens; and in their absence Demipho’s son, Phædria, falls in love with a minstrel-girl, and the Lemnian wife arrives at Athens, together with her daughter Phanium. There she dies; and Antipho, seeing Phanium at the funeral, becomes enamoured of her. Not knowing what to do, he takes the advice of Phormio. In the case of a destitute orphan, the Athenian law compelled the nearest of kin to marry her or to give a portion. Phormio brings an action against Antipho; the case is proved, and he marries Phanium. The old men return, and Chremes, not knowing that Phanium is his own daughter, is desperately angry. Mean while, Dorio, the owner of Pamphila, threatens to sell her to some one else unless Phædria will immediately pay him thirty minæ. Geta, a knavish servant of Demipho, procures this money by telling the old gentleman that Phormio is willing to take Antipho’s wife off his hands on condition of receiving thirty minæ. Phanium is eventually discovered and acknowledged, and thus matters are happily concluded. Nausistrata is at first very angry, but relents on the submission of the repentant Chremes.
This comedy supplied Molière with a large portion of the materials for “Les Fourberies de Scapin.”
Hecyra.
This comedy, which, if the inscription may be trusted, is a translation or adaptation from one by Menander, was the least successful of all the plays of Terence. Twice it was rejected; on the first occasion, as the prologue to its second representation informs us, owing to “an unheard-of calamity and impediment.”[224] The thoughts of the public were so occupied by a rope-dancer that they would not hear a word. Terence feared to risk a second representation on the same day; but such confidence had he in the merits of the play, that he offered it a second time for sale to the ædiles, and it was acted again in the consulship of Cn. Octavius and T. Manlius.[225] It was acted a third time at the funeral games of L. Æmilius Paulus, when it was again rejected. On its next representation, it was successful; and Ambivius Turpio, by whose theatrical company it was performed, and whose popularity had already caused the revival of some unsuccessful plays,[226] undertook to plead its cause in a new prologue. This prologue enters fully into the circumstances which caused its rejection. It states that some renowned boxers and expected performances of a rope-dancer caused a great tumult and disturbance, especially among the female part of the audience; that, at the next representation, the first act went off with applause, but a rumour spread of a gladiatorial combat, the people flocked to a show which was more congenial to their taste, and the theatre was deserted. In conclusion, for the sake of the art of poetry, for the encouragement of himself to buy new plays, and for the protection of the poet from malicious critics, Ambivio entreated the patient attention of the audience; and the appeal of the old favourite servant of the public was successful.
The Hecyra is, without doubt, inferior to the other plays of Terence, and probably for that reason has never been imitated in modern literature. It is a drama of domestic life, and yet the plot is deficient in interest, and the scenes want life and variety.
Plot.—Pamphilus, at the desire of his father, Laches, marries Philumena, the daughter of Phidippus and Myrrhina, but being involved in an amour with Bacchis, has no affection for his wife, and avoids all intercourse with her. Meanwhile, Bacchis offended at his marriage, shows such an ill-temper, that his affection is weaned from her and transferred to Philumena. Pamphilus then goes to Imbrus, and on his return is surprised with the news that Philumena has left his father’s house, and subsequently discovers that she has given birth to a son. He refuses, consequently, to receive her as his wife; but as he loves her to distraction, he promises her mother that he will keep her shame secret. As he will neither live with his wife nor assign any reason, Bacchis is suspected of being the cause. But she clears herself from the suspicion. Myrrhina, however, recognises upon her finger a ring belonging to her daughter. This leads to the dénouement. Pamphilus had one night when intoxicated met Philumena, and offered her violence. He had forced a ring from her finger and given it to Bacchis. He, therefore, with joy, acknowledges the child as his own, and restores his injured wife to his affections.
The comedy derives its title, Hecyra (the mother-in-law,) from the part taken by Sostrata, the mother of Pamphilus. Laches, unable to account for the conduct of Philumena and his son, is firmly persuaded that his wife Sostrata had taken a prejudice against her daughter-in-law, and Pamphilus, notwithstanding his dutiful affection for his mother, cannot avoid being under a similar impression. Sostrata, in order to remove this suspicion, offers with noble generosity to leave the house in order that Philumena may return.
This amiable rivalry of maternal devotion on the one hand, and filial respect on the other, constitutes the most interesting portion of the comedy; and Terence has thus endeavoured to rescue the relation of mother-in-law from the prejudice which, too often deservedly, attached to it.
Adelphi.
This comedy was acted at the funeral games of L. Æmilius Paulus Macedonius, the conqueror of Perseus, in the consulship of L. Anicius Gallus and M. Cornelius Cethegus.[227] The music was Sarrane or Tyrian, the grave character of which was suitable to the solemnity of the occasion. The cost of the representation was borne by Q. Fabius Maximus, and P. C. Scipio Africanus, the sons of the deceased.
Plot.—Demea, a country gentleman and a strict disciplinarian, has two sons, Æschinus and Ctesipho. Æschinus, the elder, is adopted by his uncle Micio, a bachelor of indulgent temper and somewhat loose principles, who lives a town life at Athens. Whilst Ctesipho is brought up strictly in the country, Æschinus is educated with too great indulgence, and pursues a course of riot and extravagance. One night, in a moment of drunken passion, he offers violence to Pamphila, a young maiden, well born but poor; for which outrage he makes amends by a promise of marriage. Ctesipho soon after falls in love with a minstrel girl whom he accidentally meets; and Æschinus, to save his brother from his father’s anger, conceals his amour and takes the discredit of it upon himself. At last he assaults the pander to whom the girl belongs, takes her away by force, and gives her to his brother. The affair comes to Demea’s ears, who severely reproves Micio for ruining his son by injudicious indulgence. Matters are at length explained, and the marriage between Æschinus and Pamphila takes place, the minstrel girl is assigned to Ctesipho, and the price for her paid. The old bachelor, Micio, marries Sostrata, the mother of Pamphila, and, according to the usual rule of comedy, all the inferior persons of the drama are made happy.
Lax as the morals are which Micio refrains from correcting, his conduct illustrates a valuable principle in education; that——
Nor are the evils likely to arise from indifference to moral principle left entirely without an antidote. A wise and not indiscriminate indulgence is upheld by Demea; and, at the conclusion of the play, he announces his deliberate change of character, but, at the same time, points out the pernicious errors of that kindness and indulgence which proceeds from impulse and not from principle.
This twofold lesson is by no means a useless one to parents, not to purchase the affection of their children by injudicious indulgence like Micio, nor, on the other hand, like Demea, to strain the cord too tight, and thus tempt their children to pursue a course of deceit, and to refuse their confidence to their natural advisers and guardians. The most beautiful feature, however, of the play is the picture which it gives of fraternal affection. This was the last comedy of the author. It furnished Molière with the idea of his “Ecole des Maris,” and Baron with great part of the plot of “L’Ecole de Pères.” Shadwell was also indebted to it for his “Squire of Alsatia,” and Garrick for his comedy of “The Guardian.”
The following comparison of the two great Roman comic poets by a French critic is a just one:——
“Ce poète (Térence) a beaucoup plus d’art, mais il me semble que l’autre a plus d’esprit. Terence fait beaucoup plus parler qu’agir; l’autre fait plus agir que parler: et c’est le véritable caractère de la comédie, qui est beaucoup plus dans l’action que dans le discours. Cette vivacité me paroît donner encore un grand avantage à Plaute; c’est que ses intrigues sont bien variées, et ont toujours quelque chose qui surprend agréablement; au lieu que le théâtre semble languir quelquefois dans Térence, à qui la vivacité de l’action et les nœuds des incidens et des intrigues manquent manifestement.”
If Terence was inferior to Plautus in life and bustle and intrigue, and in the powerful delineation of national character, he is superior in elegance of language and refinement of taste; he far more rarely offends against decency, and he substitutes delicacy of sentiment for vulgarity. The justness of his reflections more than compensates for the absence of his predecessor’s humour: he touches the heart as well as gratifies the intellect.
If he was deficient in vis comica, it is only the defect which Cæsar attributed to Roman comedy generally; and Cicero, who thought that Roman wit was even more piquant than Attic salt itself, paid him a merited compliment in the following line:——
It has been objected to Terence that he superabounds in soliloquies;[228] but it is not surprising that he should have delighted in them, since no author ever surpassed him in narrative. His natural and unaffected simplicity renders him the best possible teller of a story: he never indulges in a display of forced wit or in attempts at epigrammatic sharpness; there are no superfluous touches, although his pictures are enlivened by sufficient minuteness; his moral lessons are conveyed in familiar proverb-like suggestions, not in dull and pedantic dogmatism.
The remaining comic poets will require but brief notice. L. Afranius was a contemporary of Terence, and flourished about B. C. 150. His comedies were all of the lowest class of fabulæ togatæ (tabernariæ;) and he was generally allowed by the critics to possess great skill in accommodating the Greek comedy to the representation of Roman manners:——
His style was short and eloquent (perargutus et disertus,)[229] but he was a man of low tastes and profligate morals;[230] and, therefore, although, from living amidst the scenes of vulgar vice which he delighted to paint, his characters were true to nature, they were revolting and disgusting. His immorality, probably, as much as his talent, caused him to continue a favourite under the most corrupt times of the empire. Fragments and titles of many of his comedies have been preserved.
The name of Atilius is made known to us by Cicero, who mentions him three times. In a letter to Atticus,[231] he calls him a most crabbed poet (poeta durissimus,) and quotes the following line from one of his comedies:—
In the treatise “De Finibus,”[232] he speaks of him as the author of a bad translation of the Electra of Sophocles, and refers to the testimony of Licinius, who pronounces him as “hard as iron”——
and, lastly, in the “Tusculan Disputations,”[233] he gives the title of one of his plays—Μισογυνος (the Woman-hater.) Of his birth and private history nothing has been recorded.
P. Licinius Tegula is generally supposed to have been one of the oldest of the Latin comic writers, having flourished as early as the beginning of the second century B. C. The few fragments which remain of his works afford no opportunity of determining how far he deserved the place assigned to him in the epigram of Volcatius.
Lavinius Luscius is severely criticised by Terence in his prologues to the Eunuchus, Heautontimorumenos, and Phormio, although he is not mentioned by name. Terence, however, defends the severity of his strictures, on the ground that Luscius was the first aggressor. In the first of the above-mentioned prologues, we are informed that he translated well; but, by unskilful alterations and adaptations of the plots, made bad Latin comedies out of good Greek ones:—
Two plays of Menander are mentioned as having been thus ill-treated—the Phasma (Phantom,) and the Thesaurus (Treasure.) How he spoilt the plot of the former is not stated; but in the version of the Thesaurus, Terence convicts Luscius of a legal blunder. A young prodigal has sold his inheritance, on which his father’s tomb stands, to an old miser. The father, foreseeing the consequence of his son’s extravagance, had, before his death, bid him open the tomb after the expiration of ten years. He does so, and finds a treasure. The old man claims the treasure as his own, and the young man brings an action to recover it. The mistake of which Luscius was guilty, was, that in the conduct of the cause he made the defendant open the pleadings instead of the plaintiff.
Of the works of Q. Trabea no fragments remain except the short passages quoted by Cicero,[234] and the time at which he flourished is unknown. There is an anecdote which relates that Muretus presented to Jos. Scaliger a translation in Latin verse from a poem of Philemon, preserved by Stobæus, which he pretended was by Trabea. Scaliger was imposed upon; and in his notes on Varro, quoted the verses of Muretus as the work of Trabea. When he discovered the trick, he suppressed them in the Latin editions of his notes, and revenged himself on Muretus by a libellous epigram.[235]
The last of these dramatic writers who remains to be mentioned is Sextus Turpilius. A few fragments, as well as the titles of some of his plays, are still extant. All the titles are Greek, and, therefore, probably his comedies were Fabulæ Palliatæ. He flourished during the second century B. C., and died, according to the Eusebian Chronicle, at the commencement of the first century.[236]
CHAPTER VIII.
WHY TRAGEDY DID NOT FLOURISH AT ROME—NATIONAL LEGENDS NOT INFLUENTIAL WITH THE PEOPLE—FABULÆ PRÆTEXTATÆ—ROMAN RELIGION NOT IDEAL—ROMAN LOVE FOR SCENES OF REAL ACTION AND GORGEOUS SPECTACLE—TRAGEDY NOT PATRONISED BY THE PEOPLE—PACUVIUS—HIS DULORESTES AND PAULUS.
From what has been already said, it is sufficiently clear that the Italians, like all other Indo-European races, had some taste for the drama, but that this taste developed itself in a love for scenes of humorous satire. Whilst, therefore, Roman comedy originated in Italy, and was brought to perfection by the influence of Greek literature, Roman tragedy,[237] on the other hand, was transplanted from Athens, and with the exception of a very few cases, was never anything more than translation or imitation.
In the century, during which, together with comedy, it flourished and decayed, it boasted of five distinguished writers—Livius, Nævius, Ennius, Pacuvius, and Attius. The only claim of Atilius to be considered as a tragic poet is his having been the translator of one Greek tragedy. But, in after ages, Rome did not produce one tragic poet unless Varius can be considered an exception. His tragedy, Thyestes, which enjoyed so high a reputation amongst the critics of the Augustan age, that Quintilian, whose judgment generally agrees with them, pronounces it as able to bear comparison with the productions of the Greek tragic poets. It was acted on one occasion, namely, after the return of Octavius from the battle of Actium, and the poet received for it 1,000,000 sesterces (about 8,000l.)[238] The tragedies attributed to Seneca were never acted, and were only composed for reading and recitation.
Some account has already been given of Livius, Nævius, and Ennius, because their poetical reputation rests rather on other grounds than on their talents for dramatic poetry. But, before proceeding with the lives and writings of Pacuvius and Attius, it will be necessary to examine the causes which prevented tragedy from flourishing at Rome.
In endeavouring to account for this phenomenon, it is not sufficient to say, that in the national legends of the Hellenic race were imbodied subjects essentially of a dramatic character, and that epic poetry contained incidents, characters, sentiments, and even dramatic machinery, which only required to be put upon the stage. Doubtless the Greek epics and legends were an inexhaustible source of inspiration to the tragic poets. But it is also true that the Romans had national legends which formed the groundwork of their history, and were interwoven in their early literature. These legends, however, were private, not public property; they were preserved in the records and pedigrees of private families, and ministered to their glory, and were therefore more interesting to the members of these houses than to the people at large: they were not preserved as a national treasure by priestly families, like those of the Attic Eumolpidæ, nor did they twine themselves around the hearts of the Roman people, as the venerable traditions of Greece did around those of that nation. The Romans did not live in them—they were embalmed in their poets as curious records of antiquity or acknowledged fictions—they did not furnish occasions for awakening national enthusiasm. Although, therefore, they existed, they were comparatively powerless over the popular mind as elements of dramatic effect.
They were jealously preserved by illustrious houses, furnished materials in a dry and unadorned form to the annalists, and were embellished by the graphic power of the historian; but it is not probable that they ever constituted, in the same sense as the Greek legends, the folklore of the Roman people. In themselves, the lays of Horatius and of the lake Regillus were sufficiently stirring, and those of Lucretia, Coriolanus, and Virginia sufficiently moving, for tragedy, but they were not familiar to the masses of the people.
A period at length arrived in which there was a still further reason why Roman national legends, however adapted for tragedy they might be abstractedly, had not power to move the affections of the Roman populace. It ceased to have a personal interest in them. The masses had undergone a complete change. The Roman people of the most flourishing literary eras were not the descendants of those who maintained the national glory in the legendary period. Not only were almost all the patrician families then extinct, but war and poverty had extinguished the middle classes, and miserably thinned the lower orders. The old veterans of pure Roman blood who survived were settled at a distance from Rome in the different military colonies. Into the vacancy thus caused had poured thousands of slaves, captives in the bloody wars of Gaul and Spain, and Greece and Africa. These and their descendants replaced the ancient people. Many of them received liberty and franchise, and some by their talents and energy arrived at wealth and station. But they could not possibly be Romans at heart, or consider the past glories of their adopted country as their own. They were bound by no ties of old associations to it. The ancient legends had no especial interest in their eyes. It mattered little whether the incidents and characters of the tragedy which they witnessed were Greek or Roman. It was to the rise of this new element of population, and the displacement or absorption of the old race, that the decline of patriotism was owing—the careless disregard of everything except daily sustenance and daily amusement,[239] which paved the way for the empire, and marked the downfall of liberty. From this cause, also, resulted in some degree the non-influential position which national traditions occupied at Rome; and tragedy, though for a time popular, could not maintain its popularity. Thus it entirely disappeared; and, when it revived, it came forth, not as the favourite of the people, but under the patronage of select circles, and took its place, not like Athenian tragedy, as the leading literature of the age, but simply as one species of literary composition.
A people made up of these elements held out no temptation to the poet to leave the beaten track of his predecessor, the imitations of Greek tragedy. They were step-sons of Rome, as Scipio Æmilianus called the mob, who clamoured at his saying that the death of Tiberius Gracchus was just:—