Act 5 — Scene VIII. (continued 2)

Some commentator on Terence very ingeniously observes, that Davus, by saying that he is not Œdipus, and cannot understand his riddle, covertly insinuates that Simo is a second Sphinx.

Terence has rendered by the word pistrinum, the Greek σωφρονιστήριον, or house of correction, whither criminals were sent for the various terms of imprisonment proportioned to their offences. Slaves, while in this prison, were employed chiefly in grinding corn, which, from a deficiency of mechanical knowledge, was, in those times, a very laborious employment. The Athenians, who were universally celebrated for their kind and gentle treatment of slaves, were very reluctant to proceed to severer punishments than whipping or imprisonment: but when a flagrant delinquency rendered it necessary to make an example, they either burned the criminal with a hot iron, in the offending member, if possible; or put on his feet a torturing instrument, called χοῖνιξ. If the law required the criminal to suffer death, which happened in very few cases, he was either hung, beaten to death with clubs, or cast into a deep pit, called βάραθρον, filled at the bottom with sharp spikes. They sometimes had recourse to other extraordinary modes of punishment: but the before-mentioned were the most common.

This scene contains the second part of the narration, which possesses all the requisites enumerated by Cicero, perspicuity, probability, brevity, and sweetness. It is introduced with Terence’s usual art, and enough is said respecting Glycera’s birth, to prepare the mind for the dénouement in the last act. This scene, and that before it, are omitted in the Conscious Lovers; and a dialogue between Humphrey and Tom, and another between Tom and Phyllis, the English Davus and Mysis, are substituted instead of them: but Phyllis is the servant of Lucinda, the lady Sir J. Bevil wishes his son to marry: and not of Indiana, the modern Glycera. The two scenes above mentioned contain only one incident: the conveyance of a letter from young Bevil to Lucinda, apprizing her of his disinclination to the match.

The original of this passage is as follows: Quæ si non astu providentur, me, aut herum pessundabunt. A deviation from the customary mode of expression sometimes occurs in our author’s writings. I shall set down the most remarkable words of this nature that are to be found in this play.

Abutor, with an accusative.

Alterco, for altercor.

Astu, for Astutia.

Complacita est, for placuit.

Catus.

Claudier, for claudi.

Conflictatur, cum ingeniis ejusmodis.

Duint, for dent.

Diecula.

Emergere se, for emergere.

Face, for fac.

Introspicere.

Ipsus.

Immutarier, for immutari.

Morigera.

Maximum facere hominem, for maximi.

Ornati, for ornatus.

Preci, for precibus.

Postillà, for posteà.

Symbola, for symbolum.

Spero, for timeo.

Subsarcinatam.

Tetulit.

Tumulti, for tumultus.

Terence has the art of making us feel interested in the favour of almost all his characters: they insensibly gain ground in our good opinion: even this Davus, who certainly has a spice of the rogue about him, creates a warm interest in his favour by his fidelity to Pamphilus; and his generosity in risking his own safety to serve him: he braves the threats of Simo, when, by assisting him, and betraying Pamphilus, he must have secured the old man’s favour, and consequently great advantages to himself. But very few of the worst characters in Terence’s plays seem to us to be wholly unamiable.

Terence plays upon the words in the original of this passage, which is as follows,

“Nam inceptio est amentium, haud amantium.”

Literally, For they act like mad people, not like lovers. This pun cannot be preserved in an English translation, till two words can be found alike in sound, one meaning “mad people,” and the other “lovers.” The only attempt in English is the following: but the author has rather altered the sense.

Terence plays upon words in this manner several times in this play,

The ancients manifested very great partiality for this species of wit, which the Greeks called παρανομασία and the Romans agnominatio. The writings of Plautus abound with puns above all others, and he is thought to have applied them with great ingenuity: the following may serve as a specimen.

Though the Greeks and Romans considered puns an ornament to writings and discourses of all kinds, modern critics have decided that they ought to be admitted only in writings of a light nature; and that they decrease the force and beauty of grave and serious compositions, which ought to wear an air of dignified sublimity, unmixed with any thing of a trivial nature.

The lines immediately preceding the before-mentioned passages are thus altered by a French editor. Vide Note 72.

The original lines are,

In the Latin,

Quidquid peperisset decreverunt tollere.

Boy or girl, they have resolved that it shall be taken up. The words taken up allude to the custom which prevailed in Greece, of destroying children. This barbarous cruelty was practised on various pretences; if an infant was, at its birth, deformed in any of its members, or if it appeared extremely feeble or sickly, the laws allowed, and even enjoined, that it should be exposed: sometimes illegitimacy was considered a sufficient cause for the exposure of a child. Though the parents were generally allowed to choose whether their offspring should be destroyed or preserved; in some parts of Greece all the inhabitants were compelled to send their new-born infants to officers appointed to examine them: who, if they found them not robust and healthy, cast them immediately into deep caverns, called ἀποθέται, which were dedicated to this purpose. It was customary, in Athens, to place a new-born infant on the ground at the feet of its father, if he then took it up in his arms, it was considered that he bound himself to educate and provide for the child: hence, the expression tollere, to take up: but, if on the contrary, he refused to acknowledge it, a person appointed for that purpose conveyed it to some desert place at a distance from the city: and there left it to perish. The Thebans are said to have been the only people in Greece, among whom this barbarous custom did not prevail: but the story of Œdipus, a prince who was exposed, though afterwards preserved, is a proof that they did not altogether abstain from this practice.

Women were allowed to enjoy the privileges of Athenian citizens, and, at the building of Athens, by Cecrops, they carried a point of no less importance than the choice of a name for the new city, in opposition to the votes of the men. Varro tells us that Neptune wished the new-built city to be called after his name, and that Athena, or Minerva, rivalled his pretensions. The question being put by Cecrops to his people, the men all voted for Neptune, but the women voted for Minerva, and gained, by one vote, the privilege of naming the city. The women were wholly excluded from any share in the government of Athens, in later ages; though they still retained various privileges as Athenian citizens.

For a further explanation of the rights of the Athenian citizens; and for some account of the city of Athens, vide Notes 150, 179, 180, 181, 193, 197.

The title of merchant we are to suppose to be added by Davus to embellish the tale. Neither Chremes nor Phania are described as merchants. This addition is well managed by the author, as Davus, who thought the whole a fabrication, imagined he was more likely to gain credit by telling the tale that way; as a considerable traffick was carried on between Athens and the island of Andros, which was a very fertile spot.

M. Baron has translated this scene with great fidelity and beauty. Davus developes in it a plan to break off the dreaded match with Philumena, by introducing Glycera to Chremes: which incident is substituted instead of the birth of the child. There is a break in the French lines which renders them inimitably beautiful.

A forum, both in Athens and Rome, was a large open space within the city, dedicated to various purposes. The forum was a place where the people met for public worship, for the administration of justice, and to debate on the public affairs. In the Forum, also, were the temples, hospitals, sanctuaries, and the markets of all kinds: in short, it was a place of general rendezvous for men of all ranks and professions, and was, in many respects, very similar to those places of meeting we call by the name Exchange.

In Rome there were six great forums, 1. the Roman, 2. the Julian, 3. the Augustan, 4. the Palladian, 5. the Trojan, 6. the Forum of Sallust. In Athens, the principal Forum was called ἀρχαία ἀγορὰ; it was extremely spacious, and decorated with some very fine buildings, and statues of eminent persons. There were also many others, but the most considerable was called the Forum, by way of distinction.

Of all writers ancient or modern, except Seneca, Terence was the most indefatigable in endeavouring to embellish his writings with all the ornaments that alliteration could give them. It is not my intention to enter in this place into a discussion of the advantages, or disadvantages that verses may derive from alliteration; a subject on which critics differ as widely as they can on any other point. The practice of many first-rate writers, however, both ancient and modern, who have thought that alliteration adorned their compositions, entitles it to attention. Although eminent critics have argued against this literary ornament, that its success is but a trivial excellence, I cannot but remark that it is allowed on all sides that great labour, care, and patience, are requisite, to succeed in alliteration; which must certainly contribute to render it of some value, and afford an absolute proof of the excessive labour and deliberation with which Terence wrote his plays, every line of which was, as I may say, weighed, before he wrote it down: for no author, ancient or modern, (with the before-mentioned exception,) ever employed alliteration so frequently, nor, in my opinion, with better effect than Terence.

The following lines will afford the reader a specimen of the almost astonishing extent to which alliteration was used by some of the ancient authors, Greek and Latin.

I. From Terence.

II. From Seneca.

III. From Cicero.

De scripto dicta sententia est, quam Senatus frequens secutus est summo studio magnoque consensu.

IV. From Pliny.

Cum sciam, Domine, ad testimonium laudemque morum meorum, pertinere tam boni principis judicio exornari, rogo, dignitati, ad quam me provexit indulgentia tua, vel auguratum, vel septemviratum, quia vacant, adjicere digneris: ut jure sacerdotii precari deos pro te publicè possim, quos nunc precor pietate privatâ.

V. From Horace.

VI. From Ovid.

VII. From Plutarch. Κόσμος ἐστιν ὡς ἔλεγε Κράτης, τὸ Κοσμοῦν. Κοσμεῖ δὲ τὸ Κοσμιώτερον.

VIII. From Tyrtæus. Ἡ δ’ Ἀρετὴ τόδ’ Ἄεθλον ἐν Ἀνθρώποισιν Ἄριστον.

IX. From Æschines. Οἱ Ἐξ Ἐκείνου Ἔχοντες Ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ. ΤαῦΤα μὲν οὖν μοι δοκῶ καὶ Τἄλλα Τὰ ΤούΤοις. Ἔοικε, Φειδίας Ἐνεργολαβεῖν Εἰργάσατο καὶ Ἐνεπιορκεῖν.

X. From Anacreon.

Mr. Cooke makes this speech come from Archillis, and writes it thus: Tamen eam adduce, I say, fetch her. This reading is taken from Guyetus: but Dr. Bentley objects to Archillis within calling to Mysis without. But as Mysis uses the expression importunitatem SPECTATE aniculæ, see the old woman’s importunity, and not audite importunitatem, hear, &c.: we must suppose Archillis to show her impatience by gestures, as she stood at the door of Glycera’s house.

Importunitatem spectate aniculæ. Anicula is a word of singular derivation, and signifies literally a sorceress; being compounded of two Latin words, one signifying an old woman, and the other to howl: because sorceresses always howled when they made their incantations. We must not suppose that Mysis here meant to call Archillis a sorceress, but merely used the word above mentioned as a term of reproach. According to Antonius Magnus, the aniculæ were not a little mischievous, as he proposes to shew by the following quotation: “Retulit Leonardus Varius, lib. I. de Fascino, multas hac nostra tempestate existere aniculas, quarum impuritate non paucos effascinari pueros, illosque non modo in gravissimum incidere discrimen, verum atque acerbam sæpissime subire mortem. Pecudes insuper partu, et lacte privari, equos macrescere, et emori, segetes absque fructu colligi, arbores arescere, ac denique omnia pessum iri quandoque videri.”—Antonius Magnus. Perscrutator rerum abditarum naturæ. Norimberga, 1681, p. 39.

The common reading of this passage is, Di date facultatem, May the Gods grant, &c., but I should rather imagine that Terence wrote, Diana da facultatem, May Diana grant, &c., because, on these occasions, the Greeks never invoked the assistance of all the gods, but usually requested the help of Diana, as Glycera does afterwards, when she calls upon her by the name of Juno Lucina, (vide Note 143). Diana was supposed to preside over women in childbirth, and was called Εἰλείθυια.

This scene contains the third and last part of the narration, which is entirely pathetic, and its length is very artificially and successfully relieved by the figure called by the Greeks προσωποποια, which is introduced with so many moving and pathetic graces, as afford ample proof that Terence was as great a master of the passions, as even Trabea, Attilius, and Cæcilius themselves, who were so highly extolled by the ancients for their excellence in compositions of that nature. Terence has admirably relieved the necessary length of his narration in this play, by his judicious method of dividing it: the first part is serious, (vide Note 65,) and raises our curiosity: the second part is comic, (vide Note 89,) and excites our laughter; the third part is pathetic, and moves our pity. The lines in which Pamphilus describes the death of Chrysis are so extremely moving, that some of the most eminent critics have considered them at least equal, if not superior, to all attempts in the pathetic both ancient and modern. The finest passage in M. Baron’s Andrienne is, (in my opinion,) his imitation of the before-mentioned speech of Pamphilus: and the inimitable beauty which so much strikes us in the French copy ought to impress us with a just idea of the splendid merit of the Latin original.

The whole speech is too long to be inserted here, the following are extracts:

The verb immutare in other Latin authors, and even in other parts of Terence himself, signifies to change; as in the Phormio, Antipho says, Non possum immutarier. I cannot be changed. But here, the sense absolutely requires that immutatum should be rendered not changed. Madame Dacier endeavours to reconcile this, according to a conjecture of her father’s, by shewing that immutatum stands for immutabilis, as immotus for immobilis, invictus for invincibilis, &c. But these examples do not remove the difficulty; since those participles always bear a negative sense, which immutatus does not: and thence arises all the difficulty. Terence certainly uses the verb immutare both negatively and positively, as is plain from this passage, and the above passage in the Phormio: and I dare say, with strict propriety. In our own language, we have instances of the same word bearing two senses, directly opposite to each other. The word let, for instance, is used in the contradictory meanings of permission and prohibition. The modern acceptation of the word is indeed almost entirely confined to the first sense; though we say, even at this day, without let or molestation. Shakspeare, in Hamlet, says,

‘I’ll make a ghost of him that lets me;’

“That is, stops, prevents, hinders me, which is directly opposite to the modern use of the word.”—Colman.

“Immutare always signifies to change, immutatus therefore cannot mean unchanged: we see, moreover, that Pamphilus has been all along in love with Glycera, and that he never for a moment entertained the slightest idea of forsaking her. This passage was very difficult; but my father has made it easy, by shewing that immutatus is put for immutabilis, and that composed adjectives, which are derived from passive participles, do not always express what is done, but sometimes what may be done; that is to say, they become potentials. For example, immotus for immobilis, infectus for what cannot be done, invictus for invincibilis, invisus for invisibilis, indomitus for indomabilis, thus immutatus is for immutabilis.”—Madame Dacier.

The reader will judge whether the arguments used by these two learned and ingenious critics, will justify them in translating immutatus in a sense directly opposite to its usual meaning, in the writings of Cicero, and the most learned of the Roman authors. With all the respect which is unquestionably due to the pre-eminent talents of Madame Dacier and Mr. Colman, I am inclined to believe that the sense of this passage is made more clear by the reading I have adopted. If we allow their arguments to be of force, we must translate the sentence thus, is Chremes changed because he sees that I am unchanged. But if we allow immutatus to retain its usual signification, the sentence must be read thus, is he changed because he sees that I am changed: i. e., because I, who had so high a character for prudence, am changed, and by my connexion with Glycera have proved that I am imprudent. It is, in short, as if he said, Chremes has changed his mind once on account of my connexion with Glycera, and now, I suppose, he changes it again for the same wise reason. This would not, (in my opinion,) be an unnatural expression for an impatient man: and the sequel of the same speech seems to favour this interpretation.

NOTE 103.

I shrewdly suspect that this daughter of Chremes is either hideously ugly, or that something is amiss in her.

In the Latin aliquid monstri alunt, they breed up some monster.

This expression took its rise from the custom of exposing and destroying monstrous and deformed children, (see Note 93) which was required by law: therefore, those parents who resolved, notwithstanding, to educate a child of that kind, were compelled to do so with the utmost secrecy: hence, the phrase “alere monstrum,” to breed up a monster, was used in Rome, to express any thing done in great secrecy. Terence has, by no means, violated probability, in representing Pamphilus as unacquainted with the person of Philumena: though she had been contracted to him; as Grecian women very seldom appeared abroad, and never, unveiled: and it not unfrequently occurred, that the bridegroom was introduced to the bride for the first time on the day of marriage.

In the Latin, Laborat e dolore. Cooke thinks that these words mean merely she is weighed down by grief: and argues, that if Pamphilus had understood her words in any other sense, he would have urged her to more haste; as he does, when she tells him that she is going for a midwife. But laboro sometimes means to strive or struggle, as in Ovid,

Also, in Horace,

And that, doubtless, is its meaning, when joined to dolore. What Mysis says, moreover, to Lesbia the midwife, in the first scene of the third act, is sufficient to justify this interpretation.

NOTE 105.

Can I suffer, that she, who has been brought up in the paths of modesty and virtue, should be exposed to want, and, perhaps, even to dishonour?

By the expression sinam coactum egestate ingenium immutarier? shall I suffer her innocence to be endangered by want? I am inclined to believe that Terence meant, the want of friends and protection, and not poverty, because we are told afterwards, (Act IV.) that Glycera was possessed of the property of Chrysis, which we are to imagine, from what Crito says concerning it, to have been something considerable. I believe egestate is often put for want of any kind. It may appear somewhat enigmatical, that Terence should speak of the liberal and virtuous education of Glycera, by such a person as Chrysis was said to have been; but it is a circumstance in no wise repugnant to the manners of the Greeks; as we see in the Eunuch in the instance of Thais and Pamphila.

NOTE 106.

I call upon you, then, by the pledge of this hand you now extend to me, and by the natural goodness of your disposition.

Quod ego te per hanc dextram oro, et ingenium tuum. Some read genium, by your genius, or by your good angel, and quote the following passage from Horace in support of this reading:

The difference, however, between the genius and the ingenium, is not very material; as the ingenium or disposition, was supposed by the ancients to be prompted by the genius, or tutelar spirit, who presided over and directed all the actions of mankind. Each person was thought to have a good and also an evil spirit, who never quitted its charge till death: the spirits attendant on the men were called by the Romans genii, and those belonging to the women were named junones. The Greeks considered these aërial beings as of a nature between that of gods and men: and that they communicated to the latter the will of the former by oracles, dreams, &c. Apuleius takes the genius to be the same as the lar and larva: but it is most probable, that the larvæ, lemures, and dæmones, were all used as names for what were termed the evil genii.

Amicum, tutorem patrem. The word tutorem in this line, alludes to the Roman custom of appointing guardians, which was usually performed with great ceremony: frequently on a dead-bed. The person who intended to constitute a tutor or guardian, made use of a set form of words, which were spoken before witnesses, when the ward was delivered to the guardian, with these words, “Hunc (vel hanc) tibi commendo, Tutor esto.” I commend him (or her) to your protection, be to him a guardian. Thus Ovid,

Some words were also addressed to the ward, as “Hunc tibi tutorem do,” I appoint this person your guardian.

Donatus observes, that the line

——“Te isti virum do, amicum, tutorem, patrem,”

ought to be read with a long pause between each word, as Terence intended to describe the broken, interrupted voice of a person at the point of death.

“These two characters were not in the works of Menander, but were added to the fable by Terence, lest Philumena’s being left without a husband, on the marriage of Pamphilus to Glycerium should appear too tragical a circumstance.—Donatus.

Madame Dacier, after transcribing this remark adds, that it appears to her to be an observation of great importance to the theatre, and well worthy our attention.

Important as this dramatic arcanum may be, it were to be wished, that Terence had never found it out, or, at least, that he had not availed himself of it in the construction of the Andrian. It is plain that the duplicity of the intrigue did not proceed from the imitation of Menander, since these characters, on which the double plot is founded, were not drawn from the Greek poet. Charinus and Byrrhia are indeed but poor counterparts, or faint shadows of Pamphilus and Davus; and, instead of adding life and vigour to the fable, rather damp its spirit, and stop the activity of its progress. As to the tragical circumstance of Philumena’s having no husband, it seems something like the distress of Prince Prettyman[A], who thinks it a matter of indifference, whether he shall appear to be the son of a king or a fisherman, and is only uneasy lest he should be the son of nobody at all. I am much more inclined to the opinion of an ingenious French critic, whom I have already cited more than once, than to that of Donatus or Madame Dacier. His comment in this underplot is as follows:—

“It is almost impossible to conduct two intrigues at a time without weakening the interest of both. With what address has Terence interwoven the amours of Pamphilus and Charinus in the Andrian! But has he done it without inconvenience? At the beginning of the second act, do we not seem to be entering upon a new piece? and does the fifth conclude in a very interesting manner?”—Diderot.

It is but justice to Sir Richard Steele to confess, that he has conducted the under-plot in the Conscious Lovers in a much more artful and interesting manner than Terence in the play before us. The part which Myrtle sustains (though not wholly unexceptionable, especially the last act,) is more essential to the fable than Charinus in the Andrian. His character also is more separated and distinguished from Bevil, than Charinus from Pamphilus, and serves to produce one of the best scenes[B] in the play.” Colman.

Thimble. Brave Prettyman, it is at length revealed,

That he is not thy Sire who thee conceal’d.

Prettyman. What oracle this darkness can evince!

Sometimes a fisher’s son, sometimes a prince.

It is a secret, great as is the world;

In which I, like the soul, am toss’d and hurl’d.

The blackest ink of fate sure was my lot,

And when she writ my name, she made a blot.

[Exit.

Bayes. There’s a blustering verse for you now.

Smith. Yes, Sir; but why is he so mightily troubled to find he is not a fisherman’s son?

Bayes. Phoo! that is not because he has a mind to be his son, but for fear he should be thought to be nobody’s son at all.

Smith. Nay, that would trouble a man, indeed.

Rehearsal, A. III. S. IV.

Quæso ædepol, Charine. Ædepol means literally by the temple of Pollux, being an abbreviation of the words per templum Pollucis, as pol was used for per Pollucem: and hercle for per Herculem. These ancient expletives are of a similar nature to those in modern use, which are almost all of religious derivation.

To affirm a thing by the temple of Pollux, was a very common expression among the ancients; and is frequently used in the plays of Terence, where it seems to have been particularly the oath of slaves. It was natural enough that Athenian slaves should asseverate by this temple, as it was the place where they were bought and sold by the inhabitants of Attica. This splendid building, which was so unworthily employed, was situated in the κάτω πόλις, or the lower city, towards the sea; and was called Ἀνάκειον, because Castor and Pollux were called ἄνακες. In the Greek mythology, Castor and Pollux were the twin sons of Leda: their father, Jupiter, rewarded their virtues, by giving them a place in the heavens, where they are called Gemini. They were supposed to preside over martial exercises, (for their skill in which they were particularly eminent,) and they had the power of allaying storms. These fables have caused the names of Castor and Pollux to be given to that well-known meteor which sometimes appears at sea in the shape of several fire-balls, which seem to adhere to the vessel, and which are judged to indicate an approaching calm. This phænomenon is called by the French, Spaniards, and Italians, San Elmo, or Hermo.

NOTE 110.

Byrrhia.—I beseech you, O Charinus, to wish for something possible, since what you now wish for is impossible!

Terence always admirably preserves the characters of domestics, in the style of the advice they give their masters, which is very often conveyed in some trite adage, or formal apothegm. This is another instance of our author’s art. Want of attention to the dialogue of the inferior characters, is a frequent fault among dramatic writers; and often proves hostile to the success of a piece, particularly of a comedy, where it is absolutely essential.

Madame Dacier observes, with her usual judgment, that Terence simplifies a philosophical maxim in so elegant and familiar a manner, that it assumes a grace, even from the lips of a domestic. Diderot makes a similar remark in the Preface to his Père de Famille; which he probably remembered from the learned lady before mentioned. Montaigne has elegantly expressed the sense of Byrrhia’s speech. C’est foiblesse de ceder aux maux, mais c’est folie de les nourrir.

NOTE 112.

Charinus.—What think you, Byrrhia, shall I speak to him?

Byrrhia.—Why not? that even if you can obtain nothing, you may make him think, at least, that Philumena will find a pressing gallant in you, if he marries her.

The original of these lines is the most exceptionable passage in this play.

The ingenious French editor, mentioned in Note 72, has given the following elegant and delicate turn to this objectionable passage.

Though Charinus means, that the misery of losing Philumena would cost him his life, as he expressly tells Davus in the next scene, yet he only insinuates this by saying, You will never see me again: and avoids the mention of death: which was considered among the Greeks as a word that should scarcely ever be named: and it was reckoned the height of ill breeding to discourse in company respecting human mortality; which was a subject to be spoken of only by distant hints: (vide Note 190.) This whole scene is admirably written; and as well as the last scene in the first act, is a specimen of Terence’s powers in the pathetic. Some very ingenious remarks on this scene are to be found in Donatus, and in the Miscellanies of Nonnius.

NOTE 114.

Now, if either you, or Byrrhia here, can do any thing; in Heavens name, do it; contrive, invent, and manage, if you can, that she may be given to you.

It does not appear that Charinus and Byrrhia set any stratagem on foot, in compliance with the wishes of Pamphilus, to break off the treaty between Simo and Chremes; indeed, they are rather inactive throughout the play, and the under-plot proceeds separately from the principal plot: this, I attribute to Terence’s close imitation of Menander, in what respects Pamphilus’s intrigue, as the characters of Charinus and Byrrhia were added by Terence: Menander’s play being written with a single plot; which was doubled by our author, in compliance with the taste of his age. It is supposed that Terence’s reputation for art was gained chiefly by his success in combining two intrigues in one play: a mode of dramatic writing which the Romans in those times considered a great novelty. The Stepmother is the only play written by Terence, in which the plot is single, and though critics in general argue with Volcatius,

“Sumetur Hecyra sexta ex his fabula,”

that it is not equal to the rest of his productions, many persons, very eminent for their judgment, have attributed the superiority of the other five plays, to the advantages they possess over the Stepmother, both in portraiture of character, and in the conduct of the catastrophe, and of the fable in general, rather than to any additional attraction which they can derive from a double plot. The Carin and Byrrhie of M. Baron, are, in every respect, the counterparts of the Charinus and Byrrhia of Terence; but Sir R. Steele has very much enlivened the character of Charinus; his Myrtle is one of the most entertaining personages in the piece. Vide Notes 108, 159, 162, 163.

From Byrrhia, whom he had just parted from, as he afterwards relates: this, though a trivial circumstance, shews Terence’s great art. Donatus reads this sentence,

“Et tu quid timeas scio.”

but the measure of the verse does not seem to admit of timeas.

The marriage ceremonies of the Greeks were, in many respects, very similar to those of the Romans. In Athens, as at Rome, sacrifices were deemed necessary preliminaries to the celebration of a marriage: and the bride, accompanied by bride-women, whom the Latins called pronubæ, the Greeks νυμφεύτριαι, was conducted to her husband’s house with great ceremony; if the parties were of rank, the bride’s train was increased by the attendance of many of her friends and relatives, who previously assembled at her father’s house. It is to the absence of the bride’s train, and of the musicians who usually assembled before her door, and attended her to her new habitation, that Davus alludes, when he says, that he could perceive no company in the house, or before the door. For further information respecting the marriages of the Greeks and Romans, vide Notes 70, 75, 76, 117, 118, 148, 149, 181.

NOTE 117.

Every thing is quite still and quiet.

Cecrops, the first king of Athens, seems to have been the reputed founder of marriage-ceremonies among the Greeks: the Athenians accounted it so dishonourable to grow old in a single state, that their laws peremptorily required, that all the αὐτοκράτορες, στρατηγοὶ, πολέμαρχοι, and ταξίαρχοι, who were the principal military officers, also the ἄρχοντες and ἱεροφύλακες, or chief priests, as well as the archons and other chief magistrates, should be chosen from the married men only.

Numerous ceremonies were always performed at Grecian marriages, many of which were performed at the house of the bride, and in procession from it: it is exceedingly well managed by Terence, that Davus should discover Simo’s stratagem, by finding Chremes’ house “quite still and quiet,” because the house of a bride was generally full of noisy company. The following extracts from a learned writer on antiquities will afford some valuable information respecting the Greek marriages.

“The Athenian virgins were presented to Diana before it was lawful for them to marry. This ceremony, which was performed at Brauron, an Athenian borough, was called ἀρκτεία. There was also another custom for virgins, when they became marriageable, to present certain baskets, full of little curiosities, to Diana, to obtain permission to leave her train, and to change their state of life. Indeed we find Diana concerned in the preparatory solemnities before all marriages; for a married state being her aversion, it was thought necessary for all who entered upon it, to ask her pardon for dissenting from her. The ancient Athenians paid the same honour to Heaven and Earth, which were believed to have a particular concern in marriages, of which they were thought a proper emblem. (Procl. in Timæ. Platon. Comment. 5.) The fates and graces being supposed to join, and afterwards to preserve the tie of love, were partakers of the same respect. (Pol. lib. III. cap. 3.) Before the marriage could be solemnized, the other gods were consulted, and their assistance also implored by prayers and sacrifices. When the victim was opened, the gall was taken out and thrown behind the altar, as being the seat of anger and revenge, and therefore the aversion of all the deities who superintended the affairs of love. The married persons, with their attendants, were richly adorned, according to their rank. The house, in which the nuptials were celebrated, was also decorated with garlands. (Hierocl. in Frag. περὶ γάμον; Stob. Serm. 186, Senec. Thebaid. v. 507;) a pestle was tied upon the door, (Poll. lib. III. cap. 3. seg. 37;) and a maid carried a sieve, (Id. ibid.) the bride herself bearing φρύγετον, φρύγετρον, or φρύγητρον, which was an earthen vessel, in which barley was parched, (Poll. lib. I. cap. 12. seg. 246; Hesych.) and which was intended to signify her obligation to attend to the business of a family. The bride was usually conducted in a chariot from her father’s to her husband’s house in the evening. She was placed in the middle, her husband sitting on one side, and, on the other, one of his most intimate friends, who was called πάροχος. They were sometimes accompanied by bands of musicians and dancers, (Hom. Il. σʹ. v. 491.) The song with which they were entertained on the road was called ἁρμάτειον μέλος, from ἅρμα, the coach in which they rode, and the axle-tree of which they burned as soon as they arrived at the end of their journey; thereby signifying that the bride was never to return to her father’s house. The day of the bride’s leaving her father was celebrated in the manner of a festival, which was distinct from the nuptial solemnity, which was kept at the bride-groom’s house, and began at evening, the usual time of the bride’s arrival.”—Robinson’s Archæologia Græca.

Matronam nullam: Some commentators think that matrona and pronuba have a similar meaning; but though it is clear that both those words were used to describe females who attended the bride at a Roman marriage, I am inclined to believe that they have each a distinct signification. The Latin poets used matrona as a name for all married women without distinction: thus, Horace evidently speaks of wives in general, when he says,

because married women only were allowed to wear the stola, a large robe which covered the person from head to foot. Matrons were distinguished as follows, matronas appellabant, quibus stolas habendi jus erat: those only were called matrons, whose rank entitled them to wear the stola, (Alex. ab. Alex. lib. 5. cap. 18.) as women of inferior rank wore the instita. The pronubæ were always chosen from those women who had been married only once; and it appears that a bride had several pronubæ to attend her, but only one matrona. Terence says nullam matronam, whereas the pronubæ were spoken of as being four or five in number. I think it not unlikely that the first in rank of the pronubæ was chosen to preside over the rest of the bridemaids, and to attend immediately on the person of the bride, whence she was called matrona pronubarum, the chief of the bridemaids. Servius thinks that matrona was used to designate a woman who had one child: and thus distinguished from the mater-familias who had several. But Aulus Gellius is of opinion that all married women were called matronæ, whether they had any children or not. Thus Ovid, speaking of Hersilia, the wife of Romulus, who had no offspring, calls her matrona.

Nonnius supports Gellius in this opinion.

Nil tumulti. Terence here compares guests, called together in a hurry, to soldiers raised on any sudden emergency of great importance. As no marriage had been thought of till that day, if Chremes had invited any guests, they could have had scarcely an hour’s notice; Davus, therefore, aptly calls such a hasty assemblage tumultus, which word was used to signify a very quick muster of soldiers on any pressing occasion, when all that took arms were called tumultuarii. (Vide Liv. I. 37, 35.) Numerous allusions of this kind, which abound in the writings of Terence, cannot be happily preserved in a translation.

NOTE 120.

Besides all this, as I was returning, I met Chremes’ servant, who was carrying home some herbs, and as many little fishes for the old man’s supper, as might have cost an obolus.

What a supper for a man of fortune! as we must suppose Chremes to have been, since he could give Glycera and Philumena each a dowry of ten talents. The Athenians were remarkable, even to a proverb, for their extreme frugality. To tell a person that he lived ἀττικηρῶς or like an Athenian, was to tell him in other words that he lived penuriously. The food of the common people was very coarse; being such as they could procure at a slight expense. Mάζα, a very common food among them, was a mixture of meal, salt, water, and oil: and another, called μυττωτὸν, was a composition of garlick, eggs, and milk. Many of those who drank water, drank it warm; as the water of the hot fountains, (of which there are many in Greece,) was reckoned highly restorative. This simple diet, however, soon gave place to greater delicacies, and, in Greece, as in all other countries, refinement and luxury kept pace with each other. For the value of an obolus, see the table of money in Note 208. An obolus worth of food was, probably, as much as would furnish a coarse meal for one person. Plutarch tells us, that the Athenian women were forbidden, by law, to travel with more food than could be purchased with an obolus: this harsh law must have been formed with a view to prevent them from making any long stay abroad. Vide Notes 71, 103.

NOTE 121.

If you do not use all your endeavours to gain the support of the old man’s friends, you will be no nearer your wishes than ever.

Nisi vides, nisi senis amicos oras, ambis. The meaning of ambis in this line is very equivocal; ambire means to solicit, and also to run round. Some commentators give ambis the same sense with oras: but that makes Davus’s speech incomplete. I have seen an attempt to support this reading by making Pamphilus speak the word ambis, with which he breaks in upon Davus. The learned reader will judge what degree of attention ought to be paid to this reading; I have adopted that which seemed to me to be most agreeable to the sense. If frustra had been added, the line would have been more intelligible. Ambit has much the same meaning in the following passage,

“Locum, quo me Dea texerat inscius ambit.”—Ovid.

Terence here alludes to the Athenian law, which compelled all sojourners in Athens to choose a patron and protector: we must suppose that Glycera had neglected that ceremony after Chrysis’ death. Davus insinuates that it would afford Simo a sufficient pretext to drive her from the city. If a suit at law, called ἀποστασίου δίκη, was instituted against a sojourner in the before-mentioned circumstances: all the offender’s property was confiscated to public use.

Banishment, among the Athenians, was of three kinds, 1. φυγὴ, temporary exile, the length of which was fixed by the judges. 2. Ὀστρακισμὸς, ten years’ banishment, during which the exile was allowed to receive the proceeds of his estate. 3. ἀειφυγία, perpetual banishment. The last kind was chiefly inflicted on murderers, the second on men, who grew so extremely popular and powerful as to endanger the security of a republican government. Mr. Cooke thinks, with Dr. Bentley, that “the original of this passage should be read, eam eiciat oppido,” instead of eam ejiciat oppido: he supports this reading by the following quotation,

Tityre, pascentes a flumine reice capellas.—Virgil.

where the measure determines the spelling.

“In the three manuscript copies of Terence, in the possession of Dr. Mead, two of them have eiciat; and what is worthy the reader’s notice, that which has ejiciat is written in the manner of prose.”

NOTE 124.

Therefore, do not let the fear of his changing his mind prevent you from following my advice.

It is impossible to ascertain, beyond a doubt, what Terence meant to express by these lines, and the most ingenious critics have differed entirely respecting their true signification. Some think this sentence should be interpreted thus: Be careful not to discontinue your visits to Glycera, lest Chremes should think you have broken off your connexion with her, and change his mind in consequence, and resolve to give you his daughter. In short, don’t quit your intrigue, and reform, lest Chremes should hear of it, and give you Philumena: among those who read the words in this sense, the most eminent are Bernard, Echard, M. Baron, the authors of the old Paris edition of 1671, and of the old English edition with notes. At the head of those who have adopted a contrary interpretation are Cooke, Colman, and Madame Dacier, who translate the lines thus, Let not the fear of Chremes’ changing his mind, and resolving to give you his daughter, make you hesitate in doing this, i. e., in telling your father that you’ll marry. I have adopted the latter translation, which seems more pertinent to the subject on which Davus and Pamphilus were conversing. The word hæc, moreover, usually refers to something immediately present, as was the topic of Pamphilus consenting to the marriage to deceive Simo. Terence, I think, if he had intended to allude to the visits, letters, &c., to Glycera, would have used the word isthæc. I conclude this note with the opinion of Madame Dacier respecting this passage, which that learned lady translates as follows:—

“Car que Chremès ne veuille pas vous donner sa fille, cela est hors de doute. Gardez vous donc bien que la crainte qu’il ne change de sentiment, et ne veuille que vous soyez bon gendre, ne vous fasse changer quelque chose au conseil que je vous ai donné.

This passage is extremely difficult. I have been obliged to take a little latitude to make it clear. I shall explain the words literally: Nec tu ea causa minueris hæc quæ facis, ne is mutet suam sententiam. This is the construction, nec tu minueris hæc quæ facis, ea causa ne is mutet suam sententiam. Change not your intention to do what you are going to do; that is to say, what I advise you to do: ea causa; on this pretext; ne is mutet suam sententiam; that you fear lest Chremes should change his mind: minuere, to diminish, is used for to change, as in the Stepmother,

NOTE 125.

As to the hopes you indulge, that no man will give his daughter to you, on account of this imprudent connexion that you have formed; I will soon convince you of their fallacy.

We must not suppose, that the sentiments of Pamphilus were really such as Davus here insinuates: this would be representing him as an unblushing profligate; who, because he was disinclined to marriage, wished his character to be so very black, that no reputable family in Athens would admit him as a son-in-law: for this is the sense of what Davus says, though I have rather softened his expression. Whoever attentively peruses what Simo says of his son, (in Act I. Scene I.) must perceive how inconsistent such a wish must be with the character of Pamphilus. Madame Dacier observes very aptly on a similar expression of Sosia, “les valets prennent toujours tout du mauvais côte, slaves always look on the dark side of every thing. In respect to the before-mentioned passage, I am rather inclined to the opinion of a late ingenious commentator, who speaks of it as follows:

“Mr. Davus talks here as if he did not know what to say. In my humble opinion, these four lines are no ornaments to the scene:

Here are poor sentiments in pure Latin, which is more than once the case in our poet. The speech closes better with tibi jure irasci non queat.”—Cooke.

NOTE 126.

Pamphilus. But we must take care that he knows nothing of the child, for I have promised to bring it up.

Davus. Is it possible!

An allusion is here made to the exposure of children, for an account of which, see Note 93.

Pamphilus, in this sentence, says pollicitus sum: there is very great force in this expression, which cannot be gracefully expressed in English. Pollicitatio, writes a learned commentator, magnarum rerum est promissio, means the promise of something of great consequence. It signifies also something promised over and over again, after great persuasion and entreaty.

Id propterea nunc hunc venientem sequor.

Dr. Bentley thinks that this line ought to be omitted as spurious, because the word hunc refers to Pamphilus, who had not quitted the stage at all, from the time of Charinus’ departure until that moment: and, therefore, what Byrrhia says about following him thither must be nonsense. This passage is made very clear by Madame Dacier, who shews that Id propterea is the commencement of another sentence, and makes hunc refer to Simo, instead of Pamphilus. The lines ought to be read thus,

Some commentators make this speech come from Davus; but it certainly is more natural from Byrrhia: because, by the word dread, he expresses a suspense about what the answer might be, which Davus could not feel, because he and his master had previously agreed upon it.

Hem! obmutui! quid dixit!

I think this reading seems more consistent than that which is usually printed, where obmutuit comes from Davus: as Byrrhia might well be supposed to express surprise at Pamphilus’s answer, which was directly different from what Pamphilus and Charinus had previously agreed on.

The dialogue of this scene is carried on too unconnectedly, as Mr. Colman observes.

“Donatus remarks on this scene between Byrrhia, Simo, Pamphilus, and Davus, that the dialogue is sustained by four persons, who have little or no intercourse with each other: so that the scene is not only in direct contradiction to the precept of Horace excluding a fourth person, but is also otherwise vicious in its construction. Scenes of this kind are, I think, much too frequent in Terence, though, indeed, the form of the ancient theatre was more adapted to the representation of them than the modern. The multiplicity of speeches aside is also the chief error in his dialogue; such speeches, though very common in dramatic writers, ancient and modern, being always more or less unnatural. Myrtle’s suspicions, grounded on the intelligence drawn from Bevil’s servant, are more artfully imagined by the English poet, than those of Charinus, created by employing his servant as a spy on the actions of Pamphilus.”—Colman.

NOTE 130.

Byrrhia. (aside.) From what I hear, I fancy my master has nothing to do but to provide himself with another mistress as soon as possible.

Herus, quantum audio, uxore excidit.

“This expression is extremely elegant; excidere uxore means to lose all hope of obtaining the woman he courted, Excidere lite, to lose a cause, is a similar phrase. This mode of expression is in imitation of the Greeks, who used ἐκπιπτεῖν in the same sense.”—Madame Dacier.

Terence, undoubtedly, was extremely happy in the choice of his words; and his expressions are frequently so terse and nervous, that they cannot be translated but by a circumlocution which very much diminishes their grace: the following are words of that description which occur in this play,

“Liberaliter, conflictatur, familiariter, invenustum, indigeas, pollicitus, excidit, lactasses, ingeram, in proclive, produceres, conglutinas, illicis, attentus.”

NOTE 131.

Byrrhia. Well, I’ll carry him an account of what has passed. I suppose I shall receive an abundance of bad language in return for my bad news.

Renunciabo, ut pro hoc malo mihi det malum.

There is a jest in the Latin, which it is impossible to preserve in a translation: it turns on the word malum, which was used at Rome to signify the punishment inflicted on a slave, who played his part badly on the stage: as the inferior characters in a Roman play were personated by slaves. Thus, Byrrhia means to say, I shall rehearse my part so little to my master’s satisfaction, that I am sure to be punished. The writings of Terence abound with allusions of different kinds. It is not improbable that Terence acquired a taste for dramatic writing, by frequenting the stage in his youth, before he obtained his liberty: as slaves were employed in the theatres in considerable numbers. It is remarkable that several very eminent Latin and Greek writers were originally slaves; Terence, Cæcilius, Æsop, Diocles, Rhianus, Epictetus, Tyrannion, and (as some say) Plautus, were all elevated from a servile station. A celebrated writer remarks on this subject as follows:—

“Of the politest and best writers of antiquity, several were slaves, or the immediate descendants of slaves. But all the difficulties occasioned by their low birth, mean fortune, want of friends, and defective education, were surmounted by their love of letters, and that generous spirit, which incites,

Byrrhia’s whole speech, from which the before-mentioned line was taken, has been thus altered by the learned French writer mentioned in Notes 72 and 112. Vide Note 133.

The original lines are as follows,

M. Baron has lengthened this scene considerably: and makes a trial of repartee between Simo and Davus: one passage in which I think the ancient is surpassed by the modern, particularly deserves to be recorded.

This is the last passage in this play that has been altered by the learned French writer, whom I have already cited several times. He has varied the lines as follows,

Altered from the following,

I have now completed my extracts of the alterations made by this very learned and judicious writer, of various passages in our author, which might sound somewhat harsh to a delicate ear. I cannot but think that these alterations are worthy of the attention of the editors of Latin classics, who might adopt them with advantage in those editions of Terence, which are intended to be introduced into schools. It is impossible to be too cautious respecting those writings which are placed in the hands of youth: that work, perhaps, has the greatest merit, which can be submitted to their perusal most unreservedly.

“Virtutem doctrina paret.”—Horace.

I shall conclude this subject with an extract from that inestimable Tractate of Education, addressed by Milton to Mr. Samuel Hartlib: after various instructions to those who superintend the studies of youth, he observes, “Either now, or before this, they may have easily learnt, at any odd hour, the Italian tongue; and soon after, but with wariness and good antidote, it would be wholesome enough to let them taste some choice comedies, Greek, Latin, or Italian. Those tragedies, also, that treat of household matters, as Trachiniæ, Alcestis, and the like.”

The words virum fortem in this passage do not mean a brave man, but a noble, well-bred, or honourable man. Latin authors sometimes used fortis in that sense. Thus, Ovid, speaking of Polyxena, says,

The Romans used virtus also in a similar manner to signify virtue, bravery, and nobleness. The Greek word καλὸς was of the same signification with the Latin fortis: it meant sometimes a brave, sometimes a virtuous man. Menander employs τα καλα in this sense,

This is admirably contrived by our author. Pamphilus is a youth of so open and ingenuous a disposition, that he cannot attempt to practise the slightest deceit upon his father, without a visible uneasiness and sadness in his demeanour. Terence conducts this affair in a manner infinitely more natural than does Sir R. Steele; who makes young Bevil counterfeit an eagerness to attend the lady his father designs for him, that is rather inconsistent with strict ingenuousness. But Terence has shewn wonderful art in his portraiture of Pamphilus’s behaviour in this scene: he asks his father no questions; he is silent and spiritless; and sedulously avoids mentioning any thing connected with his marriage, or his intended bride, and, as Mr. Colman ingeniously suggests, Pamphilus’s dissimulation may find some palliations in the artful instigations of Davus.

Instead of referring the reader to the Table of Money in Note 208, for the value of the drachma, I purpose to enter more at large, in this place, into a subject that has so much occupied the attention of the learned. The drachma, (δραχμὴ,) it is generally agreed, was equal to three scruples, six oboli, (ὀβολὸς,) and eighteen siliqua, (κέρατιον). Pliny, Valerius Maximus, and Strabo, believed the Attic drachma and the Roman denarius to be equivalent. But, if we admit of the correctness of this estimation, it affords us no certain information, as authors can agree as little on the value of the denarius, as on that of the drachma. Kennett computes the Roman denarius at 7d. 2qrs.; Greaves, Arbuthnot, and Adams, at 7d. 3q.; Tillemont at 11d., and, in the Philosophical Transactions, (Vol. LXI., Part II., Art. 48.) they estimate the denarius at 8d. 1½q.

Mr. Raper makes the Attic drachm worth 9d. ²⁸⁶⁄₁₀₀₀. Greaves reckons it equal to 67 grains, which, supposing silver to be sold at 5s. per ounce, fixes the drachm at 8d. 1½qr. Dr. Arbuthnot computes it 6d. 3qr. ¹³⁶⁸⁄₄₇₀₄. Others fix the Attic talent at 187l. 10s., and the drachm at 7d. 2qrs., or the eighth part of an ounce of silver. If we take the mean of these computations, we may suppose the Attic drachm to have been equal to 8d.; the Eginean to 13d. 3 qrs.; the insular to 16d.; and the drachm of Antioch, to 48d. The learned Madame Dacier speaks of the Attic drachm thus: “la drachme Attique valait à peu près cinq sols.” No person, I think I may venture to assert, was ever more habitually correct than Madame D.

Donatus thinks, that the force of quoque in this line is as follows: He (Pamphilus) is much to blame for his childish petulance in taking offence at so trifling a circumstance: and you (Simo) ALSO are to blame for having made so sparing a provision for your son’s wedding supper. Terence has managed the whole circumstance very artfully: Simo intending to deceive Pamphilus and Davus, had provided to the amount of ten drachms, which was sixty times more than the expense of Chremes’ supper, which cost but an obolus, (vide Note 120,) and accounts for what he said to Sosia, Act I. Scene I. (vide Note 60.) But we are meant to suppose, that his frugality would not allow him to support the deceit by purchasing a plentiful wedding supper, which, among the Athenian citizens of rank, was a most expensive entertainment. (Vide Herodot. B. 1. C. 133. Arrian, B. 7. C. 26.)

Simo is supposed to overhear this speech of Davus. Vide Note 210.

The whole of the second act (as well as the first) has been preserved in Baron’s Andrienne, without alteration.

In the Conscious Lovers, the second act varies considerably. Instead of the scene between Davus and his master, Indiana and Isabella are introduced, and afterwards Indiana and Bevil: but both these scenes are entirely barren of incident. Bevil protects Indiana, as Pamphilus protects Glycera; but the former is on the footing of a protector only, and remains an undeclared lover until the fifth act.

Terence has wrought up the second act of this play with the utmost art and caution: a particular beauty in the pieces written by this great poet appears in the judicious disposition of his incidents, and in his so industriously concealing his catastrophe until the proper time for its appearance. This is a circumstance of great importance in dramatic writing, to which some authors pay too little attention. An ingenious critic of the last age has pointed out a very extraordinary instance of a total deficiency of art in this respect, where both the plot and the catastrophe are completely revealed in the very title. This piece is Venice Preserved, or the Plot Discovered, which is, in other respects, a very fine production. How much such a title as this must deaden the interest that an audience would otherwise feel from their suspense! This is a point which admits of no argument.

“Vestibulum ante ipsum, primoque in limine FINIS Scribitur.”——

The circumstance of a female officiating as a medical attendant is of some importance. Caius Hyginus, a learned Spaniard, and the freedman of Augustus Cæsar, mentions in his “Mythological Fables” an ancient Athenian law, prohibiting women from the practice of physic: this prohibition was productive of great inconvenience in many cases, and afterwards repealed; when free women were suffered to practise midwifery. To ascertain the date of this repeal, would afford us some guide to fix on the times, when the scenes described in this play were supposed to happen, and the manners of which both Menander and Terence meant to portray.

I have taken the liberty of following the example of Bernard, Echard, and most of the French translators, in softening the word Glycerium, which, to an English ear, sounds masculine enough for the name of Cæsar or of Alexander. But, for a female’s name,

Nam quod peperisset jussit tolli.

Vide Notes 93, 126. When circumstances would not allow the father of an infant to take it up from the ground himself, if he intended to preserve it, he commissioned some friend to perform the ceremony for him. This is the meaning of jussit tolli in this passage. Vide Pitis Dict., Art. Expositio, and Athenæ. B. 10.

NOTE 142.

Simo.—O Jupiter! what do I hear? it is all over if what she says be truth!—is he so mad? a foreigner too!

I imagine that in this passage, Terence meant Simo to call Glycera a foreigner merely, and not a woman of light character, which peregrina sometimes means, (vide Note 82.) Madame Dacier translates the words ex peregrina by “quoi d’une étrangère? c’est à dire d’une courtisane, car comme je l’ai remarqué ailleurs, on donnoit le nom d’étrangères à toutes les femmes debauchées: et je crois qu’ils avoient pris cela des Orientaux; car on trouve étrangère en ce sens là dans les livres du Vieux Testament.” But peregrina will hardly bear this interpretation in this particular passage, because we must suppose that Simo had not that opinion of Glycera’s character; for he himself (Act I. Scene I.) says, that her appearance was “so modest and so charming, that nothing could surpass it.” Simo, however, had sufficient reason for exclamation; supposing that he considered Glycera merely as a person who was not a native of Athens. The Athenian laws were rigorously strict in prohibiting a citizen from contracting a marriage with any woman who was not a citizen: if such a marriage was contracted, and the parties impeached and convicted, the husband was fined very heavily, in proportion to his property; the wife sold for a slave; and any person who was proved to have used any species of deceit to induce the Athenian to form this forbidden connexion, was punished with the worst kind of infamy, which included the loss of his liberty and of his estate. The first of these punishments was called ζημία, the second δουλεία, and the third ἀτιμία. If Simo, therefore, supposed that Glycera was not a citizen, and believed Pamphilus to be her husband, his apprehensions appear very natural.

Though Juno was sometimes called Lucina, Diana is the goddess here called Juno Lucina. Diana received the appellation of Juno, (as I apprehend,) because she was considered by the ancients as presiding over women in child-birth: and might, therefore, very properly be termed Juno, the guardian genius of women; as Junones was the usual name for those spirits who were supposed to be the protectors of women, as the genii were thought to be the guardians of men: (vide Note 106.) Catullus addressing Diana, calls her expressly by the names Juno Lucina:

Cicero also confirms the assertion of Catullus, “Ut apud Græcos Dianam eamque Luciferam, sic apud nostros Junonem Lucinam invocant.” As the Greeks call upon Diana Lucifera, so we call upon the same goddess by the names of Juno Lucina. Diana was almost universally worshipped in Greece, where many magnificent temples were erected in her honour: amongst which, was that of Ephesus, reckoned one of the wonders of the world. Of this magnificent structure, the ruins may now be seen near Ajasalouc in Natolia. The temple was purposely burned by Eratorastus, who adopted this mode of perpetuating his name. The Greek festivals celebrated in honour of their imaginary deities were almost innumerable: and those dedicated to Diana, shew the high estimation in which she was held. A surprising number of festivals were celebrated in honour of this goddess, in various parts of Greece. The following are the names of the chief of those held in Athens,

Τεσσαρακοστὸν, Μουνυχία, Θαργήλια, Λιμνατίδια, Ἀρτεμίσια, Βραυρώνια, Ἐλαφηβόλια. Vide Athen., Δειπνοσο, B. 14.

Another allusion to the drama: Simo compares Davus’s supposed plot to a comedy, and Davus the contriver of it he calls magister, which was the title of the person who instructed the actors in their parts, or perhaps the title of the author. Simo accuses Davus of bringing forward his catastrophe too soon, and asks him whether the actors in his piece (discipuli) had forgotten their parts.

Ancient dramatic writers were very strict in adhering to their rules of composition.

According to Vossius, the ancients divided a comedy into three parts: 1. protasis, 2. epitasis, 3. catastrophe. The protasis occupied Act I., and was devoted to the explanation of the argument. The epitasis took up Act II. III. IV., contained the incidents, and wrought up the mind to a degree of interest, taking care to leave it in doubt; which brought on the catastrophe, which unravelled and cleared up the whole; and is defined by Scaliger thus, “conversio negotii exagitati in tranquillitatem non expectatam:” a sudden changing of the hurry and bustle of action into unexpected tranquillity. The same learned critic adds a fourth part to the before-mentioned three, which he calls catastasis, and places immediately before the catastrophe: he defines the catastasis as follows, “vigor ac status fabulæ, in qua res miscetur in ea fortunæ tempestate, in quam subducta est:” that liveliness and issue of the plot, in which the various incidents are mixed up in such a commotion of fortune as to be in a proper state to be brought down to the catastrophe.

This is an allusion to the games which were exhibited among the ancients with a view to entertain the people; and also to create in them a spirit of emulation in glorious actions. Games, both in Greece and Rome, constituted a part of religious worship; they were divided into three classes, 1. what the Romans called ludi equestres, or horse, and chariot-races; 2. ludi agonales, or combats of gladiators and others, and also of beasts; 3. ludi scenici et musici, or dramatic exhibitions of all kinds, music, dancing, &c. The chief games among the Greeks were, 1. the Olympic, dedicated to Jupiter; 2. the Pythian, to Apollo; 3. the Nemæan, to Hercules; 4. the Isthmian, to Neptune; 5. the games celebrated at the observation of the Eleusinian mysteries, in honour of Ceres and Proserpine: 6. the great Panathenæa, dedicated to Minerva. Those who obtained the victory in these games, were universally distinguished; and their success reflected glory on their family, and even on the cities from whence they came; part of the wall of which was thrown down to admit them in triumph on their return. Those Athenians who were conquerors in the Olympic games, were afterwards (at their own option,) maintained at the public charge, and enjoyed various extraordinary privileges. Among the Romans, the principal games were, 1. the Ludi Romani, dedicated to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva; 2. the Sæculares, to the deities and the fates; 3. the Consuales, to Neptunus Equestris; 4. the Capitolini, to Jupiter Capitolinus. The Romans celebrated their games chiefly in the Circus Maximus; which, as a place of entertainment, was magnificently extensive. Pliny asserts that it would contain one quarter of a million of spectators; and more modern authors have augmented that number to 380,000.

Though I have followed the common reading in this passage, as it is not a point of any importance, I think it doubtful whether Terence meant Lesbia to speak of the mother or the child, when she said the words fac ut lavet, as the Greeks practised a remarkable ceremony on new-born infants, in order to strengthen them. A mixture of water, oil, and wine, was made in a vessel kept for the purpose, which they called λουτρὸν and χύτλος, and, with this liquid, they washed the children; as some think, they wished to try the strength of the infant’s constitution, which, if weak, yielded to the powerful fumes of the wine, and the children fell into fits. I imagine that this was done, when it was the question if an infant should be exposed, as puny, sickly children sometimes were. (Vide Note 93.)

Dr. Bentley reads falso in Davus’s speech; and Cooke thinks it should be altogether omitted. I have followed the old English edition in supposing the word in question to be spoken ironically, which is certainly consistent with the usual style of conversation between Simo and Davus.

NOTE 148.

Now, finding that the marriage preparations are going forwards in our house, she sends her maid to fetch a midwife.

This is a very subtle contrivance. Davus intends that the birth of Pamphilus’s child shall be reported to Chremes to alarm him, (as we see Act V. Scene I. page 82,) and, therefore, that Simo may not suspect him, he persuades him that Glycera is contriving to spread reports of Pamphilus’s engagements to her. M. Baron has entirely omitted the incident of the birth of the child. He introduces Sosia again to fill up the chasm. In a scene between Simo, Davus, and Chremes, the latter is induced to renew his consent to the marriage, by overhearing a conversation between Simo and Davus; in which, as in the original, the slave invents a tale that Pamphilus and Glycera are at variance.

Sir R. Steele varies the third act altogether; he makes it turn wholly on the underplot, of which the chief personages are Lucinda, and her two lovers Myrtle and Cimberton: the latter is a pedantic coxcomb, and added to the original characters by the English poet.

NOTE 149.

And to provide a child at the same time, thinking that unless you should see a child, the marriage would not be impeded.

Moventur, in this passage, does not mean to move forward: but signifies to move back with disturbance, to hinder, or to disorder, and is used instead of perturbantur. Moveo is very unfrequently though sometimes employed in this sense. I shall cite one passage from Horace, where it has the same meaning as in the before-mentioned line from Terence.

Terence uses an expression in the beginning of this scene that has been a source of discussion among the critics. It is in the following line,

“Atque haud scio AN quæ dixit sint vera omnia.”

I have selected from a very long note on this passage, by an eminent writer, the following extracts, which will afford, I trust, a satisfactory elucidation of the line in question.

“Atque haud scio an quæ dixit sint vera omnia: this seems, at first sight, to signify, I do not know if all that he has told me be truth; but, in the elegance of the Latin expression, however, haud scio an, means the same as fortasse (perhaps) as if he had said haud scio an non. Thus, in the Brothers, A. IV. S. V. v. 33. Qui infelix haud scio an illam misere non amat: which does not mean, I do not know whether he loves her, but, on the contrary, I do not know that he does not love her. Also, in Cicero’s Epistles, B. IX. L. 13., Istud quidem magnum, atque haud scio an maximum; this is a great thing, and perhaps the greatest of all, or, I do not know but it is the greatest of all. And, also, in his Oration for Marcellus, when he said that future ages would form a juster estimate of Cæsar’s character than could be made by men of his own times; he says, Servis iis etiam indicibus qui multis post sæculis de te judicabunt, et quidem haud scio, an incorruptius quam nos. There are numberless examples of this kind in the writings of Cicero, and I know that there are some which make for the opposite side of the question, as in his book on “Old Age,” speaking of a country life, he says, Atque haud scia an ulla possit esse beatior vita. But, it is my opinion, that these passages have been altered by some person who did not understand that mode of expression, and that it ought to be, Atque haud scio an nulla possit esse beatior vita.” The Author of the old Translation of Terence. Printed 1671. Paris.

Terence frequently has this construction: the two following sentences are of similar difficulty: they both occur in this play:

“Jubeo Chremetem (saluere)”: the last word is not spoken, because the speaker is interrupted by Simo. It is necessary to observe that jubeo does not always signify to command, but sometimes means to wish, to desire, especially when the speaker’s wish is afterwards verbally expressed; according to what Donatus observes on this passage, “Columus animo, jubemus verbis.”—Old Paris Edition.

Terence has portrayed Chremes as a very amiable character; he is mild and patient, and the most benevolent sentiments issue from his lips. It was necessary, as Donatus observes, to represent Chremes with this temper, for, had he been violent and headstrong, he could not have been supposed to seek Simo, and afterwards renew his consent, which is a very important incident, upon which the remainder of the epitasis entirely hinges. The Chremes of Sir R. Steele (Sealand) has all the worth of Terence’s original, but is deficient in that polish of manners which renders the Latin character so graceful.

In this sentence I have followed the Latin grammatical construction; and I believe it is also allowable in English, in such a case as this, to choose at pleasure either the antecedent or the subsequent for the nominative case. Very few sentences from profane writers have (I imagine) been more frequently repeated than Amantium iræ amoris integratio est, an observation which is undeniably just. This sentence has been repeatedly imitated.

As by Seneca,

And also by Ovid,

NOTE 153.

Simo.—Yet the most serious mischief, after all, can amount but to a separation, which may the gods avert.

The Athenian laws permitted citizens to divorce their wives on very trivial pretences; but compelled them, at the same time, to give in a memorial to the archons, stating the grounds on which the divorce was desired. A citizen might put away his wife, without any particular disgrace being attached to either the husband or the wife; and when the divorce was by mutual consent, the parties were at liberty to contract elsewhere. He who divorced his wife, was compelled to restore her dowry, though he was allowed to pay it by instalments: sometimes it was paid as alimony, nine oboli each month.

For a very flagrant offence, a wife, by the Athenian laws, might divorce her husband: if the men divorced, they were said ἀποπέμπειν, or ἀπολεύειν, to send away their wives: but if the women divorced, they were said ἀπολείπειν, to quit their husbands. (Vide Potter’s Arch. Græc., Vol. II. B. IV. C. 12.)

Terence artfully makes Simo use the word discessio instead of divortium, or discidium, or repudium: which means the worst kind of divorce. Discessio, among the Romans, was nearly the same as a separation among us: by separation, I mean what our lawyers call divorce a mensa et thoro; which does not dissolve the marriage; and which they place in opposition to divorce a vinculo matrimonii; which is a total divorce. In the earlier ages of the Roman Republic, the wife had no option of divorcing her husband: but it was afterwards allowed, as we see in Martial.

An Athenian bride was conveyed to her bridegroom’s house in the evening by torchlight, attended by her friends: vide Notes 116, 117, 118, 119. Various singular customs prevailed among the Athenians at their marriages: when the bride entered her new habitation, quantities of sweetmeats were poured over her person: she and her husband also ate quinces, and the priests who officiated at marriages (vide St. Basil, Hom. 7, Hexame.) first made a repast on grasshoppers, (τέττιγες, cicadæ,) which were in high esteem among the Athenians, who wore golden images of this insect in their hair, and, on that account, were called τέττιγες. Grasshoppers were thought to have originally sprung from the earth; and, for that reason, were chosen as the symbol of the Athenians, who pretended to the same origin.

NOTE 154ᴮ.

I have been fearful that you would prove perfidious, like the common herd of slaves, and deceive me in this intrigue of Pamphilus.

Ego dudum non nil veritus sum.

Donatus makes a remark on the style of this sentence, which deserves attention, “gravis oratio ab hoc pronomine (ego) plerumque inchoatur,” a speech which begins with the pronoun ego is generally grave and serious: to which some commentator has added the following remark respecting the before-mentioned passage from Terence, “Est autem hoc principium orationis Simonis à benevolentia per antithesin.” The remarks of Donatus and Nonnius on the style of our author, are generally very acute and ingenious. Scaliger, Muretus, and Trapp, may be added to the critics before mentioned. The learned writer last named has composed a treatise in Latin “De Dramate,” which contains many very valuable hints relative to dramatic writing.

There is a play upon words here, which I have endeavoured to preserve in the English. The Latin is as follows. Davus. Occidi. Simo. Hem! quid dixisti? Davus. Optume inquam factum. If the requisite similarity of sound was preserved in this pun, it may be conjectured that the Latin i was not pronounced very differently from the i of the modern Italians. Vide Note 92.

The epithet furcifer (rascal) is of singular derivation; and, though it was an appellation of great reproach in the times of Terence, yet, in later ages of the Roman Republic, it bore a very different signification. The name of furcifer, which was originally given to slaves, took its rise from the Roman custom of punishing a slave who had committed any flagrant offence, by fastening round his neck a heavy piece of wood, in the shape of a fork, and thence called furca; this occasioned the delinquent to be afterwards called furcifer, (furcam ferre.) Three modes of punishment by the furca were practised at Rome: 1. ignominious, 2. penal, 3. capital. In the first, the criminal merely carried the furca on his shoulders for a short period; in the second, he wore the furca, and was whipped round the Forum; in the third, after having been tied to a large furca, somewhat like a modern gallows, he was beaten to death. Slaves were treated more severely by the Romans than by the Athenians, who were celebrated for their mild and gentle behaviour to that class of persons. The furca was afterwards employed in a very different manner; and, from a badge of disgrace, was changed to a serviceable implement. Caius Marius, nearly a hundred years after Terence composed this play, introduced the use of the furca among his soldiers. It was employed to carry baggage and other requisites; and, in use, somewhat resembled a modern porter’s knot, hence, the word furculum or ferculum, became an expression to signify a burden, or any thing carried in the hand: and sometimes, also, the various courses brought to table, as in Horace,

“My father reads this passage thus, en quo fretus sum, that is, the rascal on whom I relied,” &c.

Madame Dacier.

If an error has been insinuated into the text in this passage, it can scarcely be of sufficient importance to render an alteration essential: the correction suggested by Madame Dacier, is not so decidedly superior to the usual mode of reading the lines, as to compensate for the inconvenience which must be occasioned by a general variation of the text.

This alludes to the Athenian custom of questioning supposed criminals, either before sentence was passed, or while they were under the torture, to the following effect: What have you deserved? and, according to the tenor of the reply, they augmented or diminished the punishment: vide Nonni. Miscel., B. 2. It was also customary, at Athens, when the punishment was not fixed by the laws, but was left to the discretion of the judges, that the condemned person was required to state what injury he thought his adversary had suffered from him; and the answer, when delivered upon oath, was called διαμοσία; by which the final sentence was in some measure regulated.

Terence, in the composition of these lines, has admirably succeeded in expressing the sense by the sounds and measure of his verse, and the very lines seem as angry (if I may be allowed to use such an expression) as Charinus, who is to speak them, is supposed to be. The whole speech is written with a great deal of fire and spirit; and represents, in a very lively manner, the impatient bursts of indignation, and the broken periods which issue from the mouth of an enraged and disappointed person, during the first transports of his anger. The ancients particularly studied this poetical beauty; and many of them have reached a degree of excellence scarcely inferior to that of the moderns. Terence has as eminently distinguished himself by his success in this ornament to composition as he has by his other excellencies: as familiar verse, his compositions are extremely harmonious.

Mr. Pope has described the poetical embellishment before mentioned in a most inimitable poem, which at once explains and exemplifies his meaning.

Virgil was particularly successful in his endeavours to impart this ornament to his composition. The following lines are reckoned by the critics to be a beautiful specimen of his ability in this species of verse.

NOTE 160.

Those men have characters of the very worst description, who make a scruple to deny a favour; and are ashamed, or unwilling to give a downright refusal at first; but who, when the time arrives. &c.

This is one of those beautiful passages which prove Terence to have been so able a delineator of character. How faithful a picture does he here draw of this particular species of weakness! A man is asked a favour which he knows it is out of his power to compass, and yet feels a repugnance to candidly avow it: he cannot bear to witness the uneasiness of the disappointed person, and, from a kind of false shame, he misleads him with a promise which he cannot perform. To detect those lurking impulses which almost escape observation, though they influence the actions: to describe with force and elegance, and convince the mind of a feeling of which it was before scarcely conscious, is an effort of genius worthy of a Terence.

NOTE 161.

If any one tell me, that no advantage will result from it: I answer this, that I shall poison his joy: and even that will yield me some satisfaction.

This sentiment has been imitated by the first of dramatists in his Othello: he has expanded it into a greater number of lines, which are extremely beautiful.

The soliloquy of Charinus, (of which the lines I have cited in the commencement of this Note form a part,) is one of the best written in the plays of our author: it is exactly of the kind recommended by the Duke of Buckingham.

A soliloquy is introduced with most success, when the speaker of it is supposed to be deliberating with himself on doubtful subjects: but, when narration is to be introduced, it is brought forward with more advantage in the shape of a dialogue between the speaker and his confidant. But a skilful dramatist can often employ a preferable method to either of those I have just named, for the disposition of narration. Papias lays it down as an absolute rule for the composition of soliloquies, that they must be deliberations only.

Sir R. Steele, in his play, called the Conscious Lovers, does not represent Myrtle as comporting himself in his disappointment with the moderation observed by Charinus. He challenges Bevil: though the duel is afterwards prevented by the patience and forbearance of the latter, who communicates to his angry friend a letter which he had received from Lucinda, expressive of her favourable thoughts of Myrtle. The ingenious author of the Conscious Lovers imagined, no doubt, that to an English audience, Charinus’s easy resignation of his mistress to Pamphilus would appear tame and unnatural. In nothing do the manners of the ancients and the moderns differ more widely than in their respective behaviour in cases of private injury, real or imagined. Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, duelling was totally unknown. Alexander and Pyrrhus, Themistocles, Leonidas, and Epaminondas, the Scipios and Hannibal, Cæsar and Pompey, all men whose fame will never be surpassed, and a countless number of the heroes of antiquity, would have scorned to draw their swords in a private quarrel. It was reserved for Christians, to introduce and countenance this barbarous practice; which ought to be the shame of civilized humanity. Barbarous, however, it can scarcely with justice be called: for those nations whose unpolished manners caused them to be termed barbarians, were never known to have adopted it; nor has a single instance occurred, where men, in a state of uncultivated nature, have been known to sacrifice a brother’s life in the mortal arbitration of a private quarrel. Duelling was originally practised among northern nations. Those who wish to entertain just ideas on this subject cannot do better than to consult A Discourse on Duelling, by the Rev. Thomas Jones, A.M., Trinity College, Cambridge.

Eneco and enico are thought by some critics to have been exactly similar in signification; but eneco generally means to kill, as in Plautus angues enecavit: whereas enico signifies only to teaze, or to torment; as in the passage in Terence before mentioned. Vide Horace Ep., B. I. Ep. 7. L. 87.

NOTE 164.

Literally, a noise is made on the inside of Glycera’s door. As all the street-doors in Athens opened towards the street, it was customary to knock loudly on the inside, before the door was thrown open, lest, by a sudden and violent swing, the heavy barrier should injure any of the passengers. The Greeks called this ceremony ψοφεῖν θυραν. All the doors of the Romans opened inwards, unless (which rarely happened) a law was passed to allow any particular person to open his door towards the street. This was considered a very great honour, and never conferred but as a reward for very eminent services.

In Sparta, a law prevailed that no instrument but a kind of saw should be employed in making the doors of the houses; this regulation was intended to prevent luxury, and wasteful expense. Both in Athens and Rome, the first room within the door was made extremely large, and highly ornamented. This room was called aula by the Romans, and, by the Greeks αὐλὴ. Here were placed the trophies gained by the master of the house, and by his family. In later and more luxurious ages, the doors were made of more costly materials, sometimes they formed them of metal, either iron or brass; sometimes also ivory was used for this purpose, or scarce and curious kinds of wood.