Act 5 — Scene VIII.

Scene VIII.

Pamphilus, Charinus, Davus.

Davus. Where is Pamphilus?

Pam. Davus.

Davus. Who is that?

Pam. ’Tis I.

Davus. Oh, Pamphilus!

Pam. You do not know what has happened to me.

Davus. No: but I know perfectly well what has happened to me.

Pam. And so do I.

Davus. This happens according to custom, that you should learn my evil fortune before I hear of your good fortune.

Pam. My dear Glycera has discovered her parents.

Davus. Oh! glorious news!

Char. (aside.) What says he?

Pam. Her father is our intimate friend!

Davus. His name?

Pam. Chremes.

Davus. I’m transported with joy.

Pam. There is now no impediment to our marriage[213].

Char. (aside.) This man is [214]dreaming of what he wishes when awake.

Pam. Then, Davus, as for the child——

Davus. Ah, Sir! say no more—you are one of the chief favourites of the gods!

Char. (aside.) I am restored to life if these things be true. I will speak to them.

Pam. Who is that? Ah! Charinus, you come in a most auspicious hour.

Char. I wish you joy.

Pam. How! have you heard then that——

Char. I have heard all: and let me conjure you, my friend, to think of me amidst your happiness. Chremes is now your own: and will, I am very sure, consent to any thing you request of him.

Pam. I will not be unmindful of your happiness, I assure you: and, as it would be tedious for us to wait their coming out, accompany me now to my Glycera. Do you, Davus, go home, and order some of our people hither, to [215]remove her to our house. Why do you loiter? Go: don’t lose a moment.

Davus. I am going. (To the spectators.) [216]You must not expect their coming out: she will be betrothed within: where all will be concluded. Farewell: and clap your hands[217].

[218]END OF THE FIFTH ACT.

NOTES.

NOTES.

The history of the life of Terence is enveloped in more obscurity than might have been expected, considering his many eminent qualities, and the times in which he lived. Suetonius’s account is not very comprehensive; it is, however, the best which has reached us, and indeed the only one at all to be depended on. Caius Suetonius Tranquillus, a correct and impartial biographer, was secretary to the Emperor Adrian: and enjoyed the friendship of Pliny the younger: he flourished about A.D. 115.

This appellation was conferred on the poet by his patron Terentius Lucanus: his true name is unknown, even conjecture is silent on this subject. Slaves, who received their freedom, usually bore the name of the person who manumitted them: sometimes also, during their slavery, they were called by the name of their master. Terentius Lucanus does not appear to have been a person of any particular note; as he is never mentioned but as the friend and patron of Terence, to whom he is indebted for rescuing his name from oblivion.

“Rome could never boast of a more accurate historian than Lucius Fenestella; he was likewise a very learned antiquarian. He lived at about the end of the reign of Augustus, or the beginning of that of Tiberius: and wrote many things; particularly Annals: none of his works are now extant.” Madame Dacier.

NOTE 4.

Terence was born after the conclusion of the second Punic war, and died before the commencement of the third.

The second Punic war ended 201 B. C. in the year of Rome 553: and the third commenced 150 B. C. in the year of Rome 604, about three years before the destruction of Carthage. Terence was born 189 B. C., which was 12 years after the termination of the second Punic war, and he died at the age of 36, three years before the beginning of the third Punic war. If we suppose Terence to have been a freeborn Carthaginian, it is very difficult to account for his being a slave at Rome; because the Romans could not have taken him prisoner in war, as they were at peace with the Carthaginians during the whole of his life. Neither is it probable that he was made a prisoner, and sold to the Romans either by the Numidians, or by the Gætulians, as his perfect knowledge of the Latin and Greek languages, at twenty-five years of age, is a most forcible reason for believing that he was removed to Rome in extreme youth: long before he could have been able to undergo the fatigue attendant on a military life. I can solve this difficulty in no other way than by supposing, either that the parents of Terence were themselves slaves at Carthage, and consequently he also was the property of their master; (as the children of slaves shared the fate of their parents;) or that he was sold to the Carthaginians by the Numidians, or by the Gætulians. In either of these cases, it is by no means improbable that during the peace which followed the second Punic war, Terence might in his infancy have been sold by his Carthaginian master to one of those Romans who visited Carthage during the peace.

Numidia and Gætulia, or Getulia, at the time of Terence’s birth, formed a part of the dominions of the celebrated African prince Masinissa, who so eminently distinguished himself as the firm and faithful ally of the Roman Republic: and as the formidable enemy of the Carthaginians. Numidia was situated S.W. of the territories of Carthage; and is now that part of Southern Barbary, known by the name of Biledulgerid. Gætulia (the boundaries of which were afterwards regulated by Marius) was a most extensive country, and lay S.W. of Numidia: it is now very little known, and reaches from the south of Barbary, or the country of Dates, across the Great Desert or Sahara, almost as far south as the river Niger. It may be conjectured that the northern region only of this vast country was subject to the control of King Masinissa.

Publius Cornelius Scipio Æmilianus Africanus Numantinus was the son of Paulus Æmilius, whose conquest of Macedonia procured him the title of Macedonicus. The young Æmilius was adopted (during the life of his father) by the son of the conqueror of Hannibal, Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus, whose name he afterwards bore (in conformity with the established custom): and it is not a little remarkable, that the appellation of Africanus which the son of Æmilius then acquired by adoption, he afterwards claimed in his own right, as the destroyer of Carthage. The title of Numantinus was conferred on this hero, as a tribute to his valour and conduct in the war against the inhabitants of Numantia, who were totally destroyed with their city, after a long and desperate resistance. Scipio was born in the year of Rome 569, and died in the year 624. Some persons have been misled by a singular coincidence of circumstances relative to the two Scipios, into a belief that it was the elder of the two who honoured Terence with his friendship. The error is evident, as the death of the first Scipio Africanus took place before Terence was ten years of age. The elder Scipio honoured with his particular regard Caius Lælius, who obtained the consulship in the year of Rome 563: the connexion between them was cemented by the strict ties of a virtuous friendship. It is a circumstance worthy of remark, that the chosen intimate of the younger Africanus was also called Caius Lælius.

Caius Lælius, whose virtues procured him the appellation of Sapiens, or the Wise, is supposed to have been the son of the Lælius who enjoyed the friendship of the elder Scipio. Caius Lælius Sapiens was the senior Consul or Consul Prior in the year of Rome 613. Cicero’s treatise “De Amicitiâ,” in which he represents Lælius discoursing on the nature and delights of a pure and delicate friendship, is a monument of the attachment of Scipio and Lælius, worthy of them and of himself.

Those who have read Suetonius in the original, will perceive that I have passed by an imputation recorded by that writer, against Scipio, Lælius, and our author: the refined delicacy by which the sentiments of those eminent persons were distinguished, ought to protect them from so disgusting and degrading a suspicion.

Licinius Portius, a Latin poet, who flourished about the year of Rome 610: he excelled as an epigrammatist. Fragments only of his writings now remain.

Publius Furius, an eminent statesman, was the intimate friend of Scipio and Lælius: he received the surname of Philus or the Lover. Furius was elected the Consul Prior in the year of Rome 617.

There were in Latium two towns called Alba, each of which were situated on the borders of a lake.

Alba Longa, now called Albano, was built by Ascanius, and distant 16 miles from Rome. Alba Fucentis, situated about three times that distance from the capital, on lake Fucinus, is now known by the name of Celano. The Albanian mountain, where Scipio, Lælius, or Furius probably possessed a villa, was in the immediate vicinity of Alba Longa. Portius might have alluded to Terence accompanying his friends to the Latinæ Feriæ, or Latin games, which were celebrated by the Consuls on the Alban mountain on the 27th of April.

Stymphalus, a town of Arcadia, was situated about 25 miles S.W. of Corinth, on the borders of a lake of the same name, which is said to have been infested by a species of Harpies, who were called Stymphalides. A festival called ΣΤΥΜΦΑΛΙΑ was celebrated at Stymphalus in honour of Diana, who on that account received the appellation of Stymphalia.

All plays, previous to their appearance on the Roman stage, were submitted to the perusal of the Ædiles, who chose from the number offered them those which (in their judgment) were best suited for representation: they were bound by oath to an impartial decision.

Many have supposed Cæcilius the poet to have been the person meant in this passage: this is a manifest error; as that poet died five or six years before the representation of this play. Others read Acilius, who was one of the Ædiles for the year in which the Andrian was exhibited: this would be a plausible reading, but for one circumstance, which must be considered as an insurmountable objection to it, viz.—The Gens Acilia (of which Acilius was a member) was a plebeian family: consequently, Acilius must have been a plebeian Ædile, whereas the inspection of the Roman plays was the office of the Curule Ædiles: who, in the time of Terence, were chosen from the Patrician families.

The Cœna of the Romans (their principal meal) was usually taken at three o’clock in the afternoon: when they partook of it, instead of sitting in the modern manner, they reclined on couches which were placed round the table in the form of the letter C; a space was left unoccupied that the slaves in placing and removing the dishes might not incommode the guests. The number of the couches was generally limited to three; each of which was occupied sometimes by four, but usually by only three persons. The body was raised, and supported by the left arm; the feet of him who reclined at the upper end of the couch lay at the back of the person next him: (though prevented from touching his clothes by cushions placed between them) and the feet of the second at the back of the third. To place more than three guests on one couch was accounted both mean and vulgar. Cicero notices this in his oration against Piso, “Græci stipati, quini in lectulis, sæpe plures,” speaking of “five, and often a greater number crowded together on one small couch.” The Romans indulged themselves with couches only at supper: no ceremony was observed at their other meals, which were taken sitting or standing, alone or in company, as inclination prompted. In the earlier ages both Romans and Greeks sat upright at their meals: Homer expressly mentions (in Odyss. B. 10.) “ἥμεθα δαινύμενοι,” “we sat feasting;” also Virgil. Æn. 7. v. 176.

Volcatius Sedigitus, a miscellaneous writer and poet, mentioned in very high terms by the younger Pliny, flourished in the reign of one of the 12 Cæsars: the exact time is unknown. His works are entirely lost, with the exception of a few verses; amongst them are the following, in which he classes ten of the most eminent Latin comic poets.

“Madame Dacier very well observes, that Volcatius has injured the reputation of his own judgment, and not the fame of Terence, by this injudicious arrangement.” Terence yields to none of the above.

This circumstance is so much the more extraordinary, as a play was seldom exhibited on the Roman stage oftener than on four or five occasions, before it was laid aside; and new pieces were usually provided for every festival: with what enthusiastic applause then, must the Eunuch have been received, when the audience with the loudest acclamations, called for a second representation of this admirable comedy on the same day! It is necessary to explain that the actors had sufficient time to repeat their performance, as dramatic entertainments were usually frequented by the Romans, not in the evening as among the moderns, but in the course of the day, and generally previous to the hour of their principal repast.

Eight thousand sesterces were equal to 64l. 11s. 8d. sterling. The Romans reckoned their money by sesterces: the sestertius, which was a brass coin, worth 1. d. 3 qrs. ¾, must not be confounded with the sestertium, which was no coin, but money of account, and equal in value to one thousand sesterces.

Marcus Terentius Varro was born at Rome in the year of the city 632; at the time of the sedition of Caius Gracchus. Varro was the intimate friend of Pompey: and obtaining the consulship in the year 680, had the mortification to find the efforts of himself and his colleague, inadequate to suppress the insurrection of Spartacus, whose successes at the head of the rebellious gladiators, alarmed all Rome. The military occupations of Varro did not prevent his close attention to literature: his writings were very voluminous; and those of them which remain are deservedly in high estimation.

The chief of those railers, and the arch-enemy of Terence, was the Luscius Lanuvinus to whom Volcatius in his list of poets assigns the ninth place;—and the same person whom Donatus designates by the name of Lucius Lavinius. Luscius was not singular in this imputation against our author. Valgius and others seem to consider Terence but the mere nominal author of the six pieces which bear his name. That Scipio and Lælius assisted him with their advice, is highly probable, and his vanity might feel flattered by the insertion among his own writings, of short passages of their composition; but when we call to mind, that Africanus and his friend, two persons of the most refined delicacy and taste, distinguished by their friendship, and selected as a companion in their hours of retirement and relaxation, a freedman! a man whose rank was infinitely inferior to their own; we must naturally suppose that those eminent persons courted the society of Terence, as admirers of his extraordinary genius, and elevation of sentiment. As they could not have become thoroughly acquainted with our author’s engaging qualifications, but from his dramatic compositions, it is most probable that the Andrian at least, was published, before he was honoured with the intimacy of either Scipio, Lælius, or Furius. Indeed there can be but little doubt that the success of this play, (which he wrote when he was too little known, perhaps, to receive assistance from any one,) was the means of drawing him from the obscurity of his low rank, and of obtaining the notice and approbation of the great men of his age, and their patronage for his future productions.

The oration alluded to by Suetonius was written by Memmius to defend himself against a charge of bribery. The Memmii were a plebeian family, though several of them attained to the highest dignities. Quintus was nearly related to the Caius Memmius who was assassinated by Lucius Apuleius Saturninus: and is supposed to have been the son of the Memmius to whom Lucretius dedicated his celebrated poem, “De Rerum naturâ.” Vide Cicero in Catilin. and Florus, B. 3., c. 16.

Cornelius Nepos, a celebrated biographer of the Augustan age, was born on the banks of the Po, which he quitted in his youth; and, attracted by the splendour and pleasures of a gallant and polite court, removed to Rome, where his talents and taste for literature procured him the friendship of Cicero, and many other eminent persons. Of all his much-admired writings nothing remains but his “Lives of the most illustrious Greeks and Romans.”

Puteoli, or, as it is now called, Puzzoli, was much frequented by the Romans for the sake of its hot-wells: being at a convenient distance from the capital, not more than a day’s journey. It is now become comparatively inconsiderable, while Naples, in its vicinity, has grown into importance. Puzzoli, however, still affords some attraction to the curious; as there are the ruins of a temple of Jupiter Apis, or Serapis, to be seen there. This town was originally called Dicearchea: named, probably, after Dice, a daughter of Jupiter.

The Roman ladies were allowed to exercise extraordinary authority on this day, on which they celebrated the festival called Matronalia, instituted in gratitude to Mars, who permitted a termination of the war between the Romans and Sabines; in which the women were particularly concerned. The privileges allowed to ladies on the first of March, were, I believe, confined to the matrons, in commemoration of the successful interference of the married women, in the year 749, B. C., which put an end to the war between the Romans and the Sabines, who had taken up arms to revenge the rape of their women by the Romans, at a festival to which Romulus had invited them. (Vide Note 28.)

Little is known of Santra, but that he was cotemporary with Cicero, and author of some biographical Memoirs, and “A Treatise on the Antiquity of Words,” which are now entirely lost. His family, probably, were plebeians, and of no great note.

Santra’s argument is of no force: for when Terence published the Andrian, in the year of Rome 587, at twenty-seven years of age, Scipio was eighteen, and might, at that age, have been perfectly capable of assisting Terence; for, independent of his excellent education, on which his father had bestowed infinite care and pains, he was possessed of a very superior genius: and nature had united in him all the fine qualities of his father, and of his grandfather by adoption, Scipio the Great. Velleius Paterculus wrote his eulogium as follows, “Publius Scipio Æmilianus inherited the virtues of his grandfather Publius Africanus, and of his father Lucius Paulus, excelled all his cotemporaries in wit and learning, and in all the arts of war and peace; and, in the course of his whole life never did, said, or thought, any thing, but what was worthy of the highest praise.”

“We have seen princes in France, who, at the age of eighteen, were capable of assisting a poet, as well with respect to the conduct and arrangement of his subject; as in what related to the manners, the diction, and the thoughts. Menander published his first piece at twenty years of age. It is clear, then, that there have been persons of eighteen, capable of assisting a poet. It appears, moreover, that the enemies of Terence did not publish this imputation against him till the latter years of his life, for the poet complains of it only in the prologues to the Self-tormentor and the Brothers: the first of which was played three years, and the last but one year before his death. When the first appeared, he was thirty-one, and Scipio twenty-two: and when the last was published, he was thirty-four, and Scipio was twenty-five.”—Madame Dacier.

Cneus Sulpicius Galba, surnamed Gallus, was by no means the least illustrious member of the noble family of the Sulpicii, and filled the office of Consul for the year in which the Andrian was acted. The first of the Sulpicii took the name of Galba, from his diminutive stature, that word signifying “a small insect;” and the name was afterwards assumed by several of his descendants.

The Ludi Consulares and Ludi Consuales were probably the same, as we have no account of the institution of any games particularly in honour of the Consuls, to be celebrated either at their entering on, or resigning their office; for the Latinæ Feriæ, though superintended particularly by the Consuls, and a part of their office, were not called Consular Games. The Consual, or Consular Games were instituted on the following occasion. Romulus, the first king of Rome, had no sooner assumed the government of the small band of adventurers who were the ancestors of that illustrious race of heroes, who long held all the nations of the earth in subjection, than he found his kingdom in danger of being totally destroyed in its birth; as none of the inhabitants of the neighbouring states were willing to form a matrimonial alliance with his subjects; many of whom were refuged criminals and exiled foreigners. To obtain wives for his people, he was compelled to have recourse to a stratagem, which Plutarch describes as follows: “He (Romulus) circulated a report that he had discovered, concealed under ground, the altar of a certain god, whom they called Consus, the God of counsel, whose proper appellation is Neptunus Equestris, or Neptune, the inventor of riding; for, except at horse-races, when it is exposed to sight, this altar is kept covered in the great circus; and, it was said, that it was not improperly concealed, because all counsels ought to be kept secret and hidden. Romulus, having found the altar, caused proclamation to be made, that, on an appointed day, a magnificent sacrifice would be offered; and public games and shows exhibited, which were to be open to all who should choose to attend them. Upon this, great numbers went there. The king, dressed in a purple robe, was seated on high, surrounded by the chief patricians: he was to arise, take up his robe, and throw it over him, as a signal for the attack: his subjects, with ready weapons, kept their eyes intently fixed upon their sovereign; and, when the sign was given, they drew their swords with a shout, and seized, and carried off the daughters of the Sabines, who fled, without offering resistance.”—Plutarch.

The games which were instituted on this singular occasion were afterwards celebrated annually on the 12th of the calends of September, and considered to be an imitation of the Olympian Games of the Greeks. The Consuales, being celebrated in the Circus were sometimes called Circenses. The conduct of the Romans in the before-mentioned circumstances, and that of the Benjamites in a like predicament is so uniformly similar, that whoever attentively compares them, cannot think it very improbable that Romulus derived the idea of his stratagem from that passage of Jewish history. Vide Judges, C. 21.

If the accuracy of Plutarch may be depended on, Santra must have been mistaken in supposing Quintus Fabius Labeo to be still living at the time of the Andrian’s publication, or for several years before its appearance. This conclusion is deduced from the following circumstances: Quintus Fabius Maximus, whose prudent method of delaying a battle, and harassing his enemy, (in his campaigns against Hannibal,) procured him the surname of Cunctator, or Delayer, enjoyed the dignity of the consulship five several times: he was first chosen in the year of Rome 525, and, supposing that he obtained that office in what Cicero calls suo anno, his own year, that is, as soon as he had attained the age required by law, Fabius must then have been forty-three years of age, and, as he died in his one hundredth year, he could not have been alive after the year 582. Quintus Fabius Labeo, who was the son of this hero, died (Plutarch informs us) some years before his father; and, consequently, could not have assisted Terence, even in his first play, the Andrian, which did not appear till the year of Rome 587. That Quintus Fabius Maximus Cunctator was the father of Quintus Fabius Labeo can admit of no doubt, though some authors who have mentioned them have omitted to notice their relationship. Plutarch expressly informs us, that the son of Quintus Fabius Maximus was of consular dignity, and, with the exception of the Cunctator, Quintus Fabius Labeo was the only Fabius whose name appears on record as consul, from the year of Rome 521 to the year 611.

Madame Dacier thinks that the person here meant was Caius Popilius Lænas, who shared the consular government with Publius Ælius Ligur in the year of Rome 581; but that learned and celebrated lady assigns no reason why we should suppose either Suetonius or Santra to have been incorrect in affirming Marcus the brother of Caius to have been the reputed assistant of Terence. Marcus was a man of high reputation, and eminent abilities: the following anecdote, related by Velleius Paterculus, (Book I. Chap. 10.) will afford some idea of the resolute decision of his character. “The king of Syria, Antiochus Epiphanes, (or the illustrious) was at that time besieging Ptolemy, king of Egypt. Marcus Popilius Lænas was sent ambassador to Antiochus, to desire him to desist: he delivered his message; the king replied that he would consider of it; upon which Popilius drew a circle round him in the sand on which they stood, and told him, that he insisted on his final answer before he quitted that circumscribed space. This resolute boldness prevailed, and Antiochus obeyed the Roman mandate.”

Marcus Popilius Lænas was the junior Consul for the year of Rome 580: the name of his colleague was Lucius Posthumius Albinus.

Those who had filled the office of consul were afterwards always called consulares, of Consular dignity; those who had been Prætors were styled Prætorii, of Prætorian dignity; in a similar manner the Censors took the title of Censorii, the Quæstors of Quæstorii, and the Ædiles of Ædilitii, though it does not appear that they were very strict in taking precedence accordingly.

If any Latin writer called Quintus Consentius ever existed, all traces are lost both of his compositions and of his history; even the name of his family is unknown. It is possible that instead of Consentius, Cn. Sentius may be the person meant in this passage. Several of the Sentii were authors of some celebrity.

Menander was born at Athens, 345 B. C., and educated with great care by Theophrastus the peripatetic, whose labours must have been amply repaid, when he witnessed the proficiency of his pupil, who distinguished himself by successful dramatic compositions before he had attained his 21st year. With the exception of a few fragments, his works are entirely lost. Comedy was invented at Athens, and divided into three kinds; the old, the middle, and the new. The old comedy was that in which both the names and the circumstances were real; the middle, was where the circumstances were true, but the names disguised. To these two kinds, Menander had the glory of adding a third, which was called the new comedy, where both the plot and the characters were wholly fictitious. His style is said to have been elegant, and his ideas and sentiments refined. Dion Chrysostom considers his writings to be an excellent model for orators. This great poet wrote from 100 to 108 plays; from which Terence took four of his, viz., his Andrian, Eunuch, Self-tormentor, and Brothers. Menander obtained a poetical prize, eight several times; his chief competitor was called Philemon.

Leucadia, or as it is now called Santa Maura, or Lefcathia, is an island about 50 miles in circumference, in that part of the Mediterranean which was known among the ancients by the name of the Ionian sea. This island was rendered famous by one of its promontories called Leucas, and Leucate, which overhangs the sea at a very considerable perpendicular height: a leap from this promontory into the water beneath, was reckoned among the Greeks as an infallible cure for unhappy lovers of either sex, and most of those who made the experiment, found their love, and all the rest of their cares effectually terminated by this wise step. The famous poetess Sappho perished in this leap. Vide The Spectator, Nos. 223, 227, 233.

This was in the year of Rome 594, and about 7 years after the appearance of our author’s first play. As his last production, The Brothers had been published but one year before this period; this circumstance alone, is sufficient to decide the degree of credit which ought to be accorded to the absurd report of Terence having translated 108 plays from Menander.

The Romans were divided into three classes. 1. The Patricians, or nobility. 2. The Equites, or knights. 3. The Plebeians, or the commons: that is, all who were not included in the two first ranks. The Equites, or knights, were in fact the Roman cavalry, as they usually had no other: though all of them were men of fortune; it being required by law (at least under the Emperors, if not before) that each Eques at his enrolment should possess 400 sestertia: a sum equal to between 3,000l. and 4,000l. sterling: a person worth double that sum might be chosen senator. Each knight was provided with a horse, and a gold ring, at the public expense; and at a general review, which took place every five years, the Censor was empowered ignominiously to deprive of his horse, and degrade from his rank, any knight who by disgraceful conduct had proved himself unworthy of his dignity.

The jugerum, or Roman acre, contained 28,800 feet; consequently, Terence’s estate must have been equal to rather more than 13 English acres: and (as a garden) must have been of considerable value: land in Italy, especially in the vicinity of the capital, bearing a high price; though not so high as in the reign of Trajan, who passed a law that every candidate for an office should hold a third part of his property in land. The Romans were particularly partial to gardens; to improve and beautify them, they bestowed great care, and expended large sums of money; some of these gardens were of vast extent, and most magnificently embellished with statues, paintings, aqueducts, &c., as were those of Cæsar and Sallust.

The ancient Roman villas were built with extraordinary magnificence, according to those descriptions of them which have reached modern times, and are not unworthy of attention. The great pleasure the Romans took in their villas, and gardens adjoining, may be seen in the writings of many of the most eminent among them; Varro, Cicero, Pliny, Cato, and others, have described these delightful retirements in a particular manner. In the villas of the richest, were concentred all the attractions that art or nature could be made to yield; and magnificence was every where blended with convenience. For the site of a villa of this description they chose the centre of a fine park, well stocked with game and fish: the building was generally lofty; (nearly 100 feet in height) for the advantage of an extensive view; as the cœnatio where the family met at meals was selected in the upper story. The villa was divided into two parts, called urbana and rustica: the first contained the chambers used by the family and guests, together with the places of amusement and refreshment; as the baths, terraces, &c. The villa rustica was that part allotted to the slaves and domestics, who were extremely numerous. Those who wish for a minute description of the habits and manners of the Romans, in the country, may be fully gratified by consulting the following writers on the subject; Varro and Cato de re rustica; Dickson on Roman agriculture; and the works of Columella, and Dionysius Halicarnasseus.

Lucius Afranius, a comic writer, was contemporary with Terence, and elevated himself into notice, by his imitations of that favourite poet, and of his great prototype Menander. Fragments of the compositions of Afranius are still extant: in his work quoted by Suetonius he probably gave a poetical description of the festival called Compitalia, or Compitalitia, and mentioned Terence as the author of comedies, which had been represented at that festival.

The Compitalia or Compitalitia were originally ceremonies, (for nothing could be more improperly denominated festivals) of a nature at once extraordinary, disgusting and barbarous. It was never possible to ascertain where, or by whom, they were first instituted; though it is generally agreed that they were revived by Servius Tullius, the sixth king of Rome, who first introduced the observance of them among his subjects about the year 200. They were celebrated in honour of the goddess Mania, and of the Lares, who were supposed to be her offspring. The Lares were the household gods of the Romans, and placed in the innermost recesses of their houses. These household gods were small images of their ancestors, which they always kept wrapped in dog’s skin, (which was intended for an emblem of watchfulness) as being for the protection of the house and its inhabitants. They were also called the Manes of their forefathers, from Mania. It was pretended, that on consulting an oracle respecting the religious means to be employed for ensuring domestic security, the oracular response commanded that Heads should be sacrificed for Heads, meaning, that as divine vengeance required the lives of the culprits, the people should offer the heads of others instead of their own, and accordingly the Compitalia were instituted on this occasion, and human victims were on this preposterous pretence sacrificed with a sow, to ensure family safety. The Romans, however, had too much good sense to suffer a long continuance of this diabolical folly: and they threw off the yoke of the tyrannical Tarquin, and this obnoxious custom at the same time. Lucius Junius Brutus abolished the sacrifice of human beings; and as the oracle required the offering of heads, he fulfilled its commands by substituting the heads of onions and poppies. They afterwards made figures of wool, which they suspended at their doors, imprecating all misfortunes on the images, instead of themselves. Slaves were allowed their liberty during the celebration of the Compitalia; and with freedmen officiated as priests on the occasion. Being rendered harmless by Brutus’ convenient interpretation of the oracle, the Compitalia were continued till the reigns of the emperors. The word Compitalia is by some derived from Compita, crossways, because during the ceremonies, the statues of the Lares were placed in a spot where several streets met, and crowned with flowers. I think it not improbable that the original name was Capitalia, from capita, heads, because heads were the requisite offerings.

Cneus Nævius flourished about the year 500, and acquired great fame by some successful comedies which are now lost: he offended Lucius Cæcilius Metellus, a man of great power, and consular dignity, by whose influence the unfortunate poet was banished to Africa, where he died. Volcatius assigns to Nævius the third place.

Marcus Accius Plautus was a native of Sarsina, a town of Umbria, near the Adriatic sea, and died at Rome, 182 B. C., at the age of forty, leaving behind him a literary reputation which very few, of any age or county, have ever been able to equal. Of those who refused to allow Plautus the title of the First comic poet of Rome, scarcely any have disputed his right to be second in the list, where Terence holds the first place: some critics, indeed, have gone so far as to prefer Plautus, even to Terence himself; but Volcatius Sedigitus, whose judgment did Terence great injustice, makes Plautus second only to Cæcilius. The saying of Ælius Stilo is worthy of being recorded; “Musas Plautino sermone locuturas fuisse, si Latinè loqui vellent,” that if the Muses wished to speak in Latin, they would speak in the language of Plautus. This celebrated man wrote 27 or 28 comedies, which, notwithstanding the change of manners, kept possession of the stage for nearly 500 years; and were performed with applause as late as the reigns of Carus and Numerian. Only 20 of them are now extant. The following is the poet’s epitaph, written (as is supposed) by Varro, though Pietro Crinito affirms it to be the production of Plautus himself, of whom Crinito has written a biographical account.

Cæcilius Statius was born in Gaul, and raised himself into eminence, from the condition of a slave, by his poetical talents: he died at Rome five or six years before the Andrian was first published. Volcatius gives Cæcilius the first place: Horace draws a sort of comparison between him and Terence in the following line,

Quintilian tells us, “Cæcilium veteres laudibus serunt.” The ancients resounded the praises of Cæcilius.—Also Varro, “Pathè vero, Cæcilius facile moverat.” That Cæcilius knew how to interest the passions.

Cæcilius wrote more than 30 comedies, now lost.

Publius Licinius Tegula, a comic poet, flourished during the second Punic war. Aulus Gellius mentions him by the name of Caius Licinius Imbrex, author of a comedy called Neæra, but there can be little doubt but that Imbrex, and the Tegula above-mentioned were the same person.

“Cicero wrote a poem, to which he affixed the title of λειμων, a Greek word signifying a meadow; he gave it this name, probably, because, as meadows are filled with various kinds of flowers, his work was a numerous collection of flowers (of literature) affording an agreeable variety. This poem, it seems, consisted entirely of panegyrics on illustrious persons. Nothing can be more erroneous than a supposition that these verses were the forgery of some grammarian: the Latin is too elegant, and they are too finely written, to allow us to suppose them a spurious production; and if Cicero had never written any lines inferior to these; his fame as a poet, might have equalled his fame as an orator. Ausonius had these verses in his mind, when he wrote

What is still more remarkable, Cæsar commences his lines on Terence, in Cicero’s words, Tu quoque, &c., for there is not the least doubt but that Cæsar undertook this work, merely with a view to irritate, and to contradict Cicero.”

Madame Dacier.

The name of Cicero is too well known, to need any further mention here; suffice it to say, that this great orator was totally unsuccessful in his poetical attempts, the chief fault of which was want of harmony in the measure: it may be remarked of Cicero, that very frequently his prose was written with the music of verse, and his verse with the roughness of prose.

The poem, of which these lines formed a part, is entirely lost; what remains of it, however, proves Julius Cæsar to have been no mean poet, but he seems to have excelled in every art of war and peace;—

If the lines quoted by Suetonius were written in ridicule of Cicero, they are another proof in support of an opinion that has been very prevalent, that the orator was not very high in the good graces of Cæsar, whose dislike of him may be easily traced to Marc Antony, Cæsar’s intimate and favourite companion, and the most inveterate enemy of Cicero.

The Megalesian games were celebrated annually at Rome, in the beginning of April, with solemn feasts, in honour of Cybele, otherwise called Rhea, the mother of the gods. Opinions vary as to their duration, some fixing it at six days, and others at not more than one. Originally instituted in Phrygia, these ceremonies were introduced at Rome, during the second Punic war, when the statue of the goddess was carried thither from Pessinus. They consisted chiefly of scenic sports; and women danced before this statue, which was held so sacred, that no servant was allowed to approach it, or to take any part in the games. They were called Megalesian, from the Greek words, μεγαλη, great, Cybele being known by the name of the Great Goddess, and Ευαλωσια, another name of Cybele, as presiding over husbandry. The festival ΘΕΣΜΟΦΟΡΙΑ, celebrated in Athens, Sparta, and Thebes, in honour of the same goddess resembled in many circumstances the Roman Megalesia; the Latins appear to have adopted partially, on various occasions, the religious ceremonies of the Greeks, particularly in their imitation of certain of the solemnities which were observed at the Eleusinian mysteries.

The Curule Ædiles, created in the year of Rome 388, were at first elected from among the patricians. These magistrates were appointed to inspect all public edifices, (whence their name) to fix the rate of provisions, to take cognizance of disorders committed within the city, and to examine weights and measures: but their chief employment was to procure the celebration of the various Roman games, and to exhibit comedies and shews of gladiators; on which account, though inferior in rank to the Consuls, they precede them in the title of this play. The Ædilate was an honourable office, and a primary step to higher dignities in the republic. Curule magistrates were those who were entitled to use the sella curulis, viz., the consuls, prætors, curule ædiles, and censors: this chair was called curulis, because those privileged to use it, always carried it in their chariots, to and from the tribunals at which they presided. Tacitus informs us in his annals (Book XIII. Chap. XXX.) that in the year 809, the power of the Ædiles, both curule, and plebeian, was very much circumscribed; that their salary was regulated anew; and limits fixed, as to the sum they were allowed to impose as a fine.

Son of the Consul for the year 564, and great grandson of the illustrious Servius Fulvius Pætinus Nobilior, the companion of Regulus; Pætinus was consul in the year 498. Marcus Fulvius obtained the consulate eight years after his Ædilate: the name of his colleague was Cneus Cornelius Dolabella. It is probable that this branch of the Fulvian family assumed the agnomen of Nobilior, to distinguish themselves as nobiles from the rest of the Fulvii, who might not have had any claim to that title. None but those, and the posterity of those, who had borne some curule office, (vide note 48) were nobiles, or nobles. The nobiles possessed the exclusive right of making statues of themselves; which were carefully preserved by their posterity, and usually carried in procession on solemn occasions: they painted the faces of these images

This person was doubtless distinguished by another appellation which is not set down in the title to this play: under the name of Glabrio, there is no account of him extant. As Glabrio does not appear to have been the name of any Gens, or family in Rome, it was probably the Agnomen of Marcus only, and not common to his kindred.

These were the principal actors of their company, but otherwise persons of little note; for contrary to the customs of Greece, where men of the highest rank thought it no degradation to appear on the stage; the actors at the Roman theatres were not treated with that consideration to which persons of talent, who furnish the public with a polite and rational amusement, united with instruction, have a just and undeniable claim. However unjust the Romans might have been in this particular, they made an exception in favour of transcendent merit; as in the case of the admirable Roscius, though the mention made of this favourite performer by his friend Cicero, shews the truth of the foregoing remark. “Cum artifex ejusmodi sit, ut solus dignus videatur esse qui in scenâ spectetur; tum vir ejusmodi fuit, ut solus dignus videatur qui non accedat;” so excellent an actor, that he only seemed worthy to tread the stage, and yet so noble a man, that he seemed to be the very last person that ought to appear there. Though the Roman actors were not allowed their due privileges as citizens, yet some of the most eminent were often very great favourites with the people, and created so much interest among them, that (as Suetonius tells us) the parties of rival performers disputing for precedence, have proceeded so far as to terminate the quarrel in bloodshed. Turpio and Attilius were actors of the first class, and were said (vid. Terence Phorm:) agere primas partes, because they always personated the principal characters in the piece.

Præneste was a town of Latium, about twenty-four miles from Rome, and founded by Cæculus, as we are told by Virgil, B. 7.

Præneste was deemed a place of military importance, from its situation, and Cicero (in Catal.) tells us that Catiline, when foiled in his attempt to seize the capital, endeavoured to make himself master of Præneste. This town was particularly celebrated for very cold springs, which were held in high esteem, as Strabo assures us, and Horace mentions the circumstance in one of his odes.

Flutes were called in Latin tibiæ, because they were made of the shank or shin-bone of some animal, until the discovery of the art of boring flutes, when they began to use wood,

“Longave multifori delectat tibia buxi.”—Ovid.

The manner in which these instruments were played on the stage, and the distinction of right- and left-handed flutes, has never been ascertained with any degree of certainty: few subjects have more obstinately baffled the researches of the learned. The most perspicuous detail of all that the moderns are acquainted with respecting the ancient flutes, is written by the learned Madame Dacier, part of which is quoted in the Preface to this Translation.

All Terence’s comedies were of this class, which was called Palliatæ, viz., plays in which the scene was laid in Greece. The class, called Togatæ, were pieces entirely Roman. The palliatæ were generally new comedies, of which Menander was the inventor; but Pacuvius wrote the middle, and Livius Andronicus the old comedy. (Vide Note 33.) In the age in which Terence wrote his comedies, the Romans were some degrees less advanced in the refinements of civilization, than the Greeks. But little more than a century before, Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, thought them worthy of no better epithet than that of “barbarians” in comparison with his own subjects, who were not themselves the most polished nation in the world. The Romans, therefore, omitted no opportunity of improving the manners and perfecting the education of their youth, by sending them to mix with the Greeks, and to unite themselves to the disciples of those Grecian sages, who, as far as the light of reason, unassisted by divine revelation, could penetrate, dispelled the clouds of ignorance, and taught their followers that happiness and wisdom can be attained only by the virtuous. It was, doubtless, on this account, that Terence chose Greece as the scene of his comedies, which he intended should portray to the Romans the manners, customs, and characters of those whom they often held up as a pattern of polished refinement, worthy the imitation of the rising generation.

It is to this, doubtless, that we must attribute Terence’s choice of Athens in preference to Rome as the scene of his plays; as, particularly, in the comedy which the critics call the comedy of intrigue, the best judges agree that the scene is preferably laid in that country in which it is meant to be performed. But the comedies of Terence were more of that description which Dr. Blair denominates the comedy of character, and preferable to what he calls the comedy of intrigue, because “it exhibits the prevailing manners which mark the character of the age in which the scene is laid. Incidents should afford a proper field for the exhibition of character: the action in comedy, though it demands the poet’s care in order to render it animated and natural, is a less significant and important part of the performance than the action in tragedy; as, in comedy, it is what men say, and how they behave, that draws our attention, rather than what they perform or what they suffer.”

The consuls, the chief magistrates of the Roman republic were first created at the expulsion of the kings in the year 244: they were two in number, and chosen annually. The consuls were the head of the Senate, which they assembled and dismissed at pleasure, though it was not their exclusive privilege, as a dictator, his master of the horse, the prætors, military tribunes, and even the tribunes of the people, might also, on certain occasions, assemble the Senate. The consuls, however, were the supreme judges of all differences; they commanded the armies of the republic, and, during their consulate, enjoyed almost unbounded power, which could only be checked by the creation of a dictator, to whom the consuls were subordinate. It was requisite that every candidate for the consulship should be forty-three years of age, and that he should previously have discharged the functions of Prætor, Ædile, and Quæstor. The consuls were always patricians till the year 388, when, by the influence of their tribunes, the people obtained a law, that henceforth one of them should be a plebeian. The ensigns of consular dignity were twelve guards, called lictors, (who bore the fasces,) and a robe, fringed with purple, worn by these magistrates, during their consulate. The names of the consuls are mentioned in the title of this play, merely to fix its date, as the Roman method of reckoning their years was by the names of the consuls. This custom continued for 1,300 years. Marcus Claudius Marcellus was the grandson of the great Marcellus, slain in the year 545; for Caius Sulpicius Galba, vide Note 27.

Madame Dacier grounds on the first line of this Prologue an opinion, that the Andrian was not Terence’s first play: but, if that learned and justly-celebrated lady had attentively considered the relation the sixteen following lines of the Prologue bear to the first, she could not have made this deviation from her usual extreme accuracy. Whether the Andrian was, or was not, our Author’s first production, is a question of more curiosity than real importance: it has, however, undergone some discussion among the learned; and, in my opinion, it may be clearly ascertained by an attentive perusal of the Prologue to the Andrian, and learned and unlearned are equally competent to decide upon it. Let us now examine the proof. The first seven lines inform us, that “when the poet began to write, he thought he had only to please the people, but that he finds it far otherwise; as he is obliged to write a Prologue to answer the objections of an older bard.”

If we stop here, it is natural enough to conclude, that in the Prologue to the Andrian, he is alluding to censures passed on some former play. But, if we look at the next nine lines we see that in the prologue to the Andrian, he repels a censure not passed on any former production, but on the Andrian itself. Listen, says he, to their objections, which are, in short, that in the composition of this very Andrian, he has made a confused mixture of two of Menander’s plays. What allusion is made to any former writings? None: the snarling criticisms of the older bard were directed only against the Andrian. I imagine that the case was thus: Terence wrote the Andrian, and procured its representation, probably without any Prologue, (which was sometimes dispensed with, as we see in Plautus,) the play, and its author, were, probably, cried down and abused by this older bard and his admirers, who might envy the visible superiority of Terence, who afterwards composed the Prologue in question, to answer their objections. The reader is referred for further proof, to Suetonius’s Life of Terence, a translation of which is prefixed to this play.

According to Donatus, the name of this older bard was Lucius Lavinius: but there can be little doubt but that name is a corruption of Luscius Lanuvinus, the arch-enemy of Terence, whom he handles so roughly in his Prologue to the Eunuch. Luscius was a poet of considerable talent. Volcatius gives him the ninth place,

The Perinthian (a fine comedy now lost) was so called from Perinthus, a town of Thrace, the name of which was afterwards changed to Heraclea, and that name is now corrupted to Herecli, or Erekli, its present appellation. Erekli is a town in the Turkish province of Romania, on the north of the sea of Marmora, and about sixty miles from Constantinople. It is a place of some consequence from its vicinity to the Turkish capital. For the Andrian, vide Note 69.

An account of Nævius has been given in Note 41, and of Plautus in Note 42. Ennius was the tenth comic poet of Rome, according to Volcatius, who says, “Antiquitatis causâ decimum addo Ennium.” If it be true that Ennius was but the tenth in poetical merit, the greatest glory of the nine who were above him, must have been the distinguished honour of excelling this highly extolled poet. Ennius was born in the year of Rome 515, and died in 585; though he obtained the privileges of a Roman citizen, he was, by birth, a Calabrian, as Ovid expressly tells us, and informs us, that his statue was placed on the tomb of the Scipios, because he had so nobly celebrated their renowned actions:

The reader cannot become acquainted with the enthusiastic admiration of the Romans for the brilliant performances of Ennius, better than by a perusal of some of the many and great encomiums passed on him by those who, though they lived after him, may be called his competitors for literary fame. Cicero calls him,

“Ingeniosus, poeta et auctor valde bonus.”—A man of great abilities and wit, and an admirable writer both of poetry and of prose. Horace also

Quintilian speaks of him thus, “Ennium sicut sacros vetustate lucos adoremus, in quibus grandia et antiqua robora jam non tantam speciem habent quam religionem.”—We revere Ennius, as we revere the groves, sacred for their antiquity, in which the great and ancient oaks are not reckoned precious for their beauty, but because they are consecrated to religious purposes.

Lucretius thus,

And, lastly, Ovid,

Ennius wrote tragedies, comedies, annals, &c., of which some fragments remain: he died of the gout, brought on by drinking. Horace tells us, that Ennius was in the habit of raising his imagination by large draughts of wine, when he intended to write a description of any warlike action.

What “those things” were, though a subject of no great importance, has been discussed with extreme diligence by various learned commentators, who have not a little differed in opinion. The idea of a French commentator, who supposed Simo to allude to furniture bought by him for his son’s wedding, is ridiculed by the learned Madame Dacier, who has herself suffered the same treatment under the hands of some of our English critics, for interpreting them in the sense I have adopted. That Simo should provide furniture for a marriage which he had but slight hopes of negotiating at that time, is not very probable. But Athenian slaves performed all domestic offices in their masters’ houses: and Sosia, even after he became a freedman might have practised cookery, in which, perhaps, he excelled. He uses the words “mea ars,” my art, and Simo answers him with “isthac arte,” that art, by which it is clear that he means some particular art. The word art has in English both a general and particular sense; but, in Latin, “ars” is generally used only in the latter.

“Rara quidem facie, sed rarior arte canendi.”—Ovid.

Again,

Sosia speaks in this character also at the end of the scene, “Sat est curabo,” curo, meaning to cook; he uses also more than once the word rectè, which is peculiarly a term of cookery, thus “rectiùs cœnare,” Plautus; and, at Rome, when patrons invited their clients or followers to supper, where a very plentiful banquet was always served up: the supper was particularly designated Cœna recta. The art of cookery, in Greece, was, in the earlier ages, far from being accounted degrading, and was, indeed, frequently practised by men very far above a servile station.

I mention this, lest those who are unacquainted with these customs, might object against our author, that Simo was guilty of an inconsistent condescension, in making a confidant of one who held an office of this nature.

Slaves, among the Greeks, formed a very considerable portion of the population of a city, and, in some places, were more numerous than the citizens themselves. In Athens, all domestic offices were performed by slaves, who were employed also in the capacities of tutors, scribes, stewards, overseers, and husbandmen, according to their respective talents: when a slave manifested great abilities, he was taught the art or science for which he seemed most fitted. Some were instructed in literature, and often so distinguished themselves by their writings, that they obtained their freedom. The slaves of the Athenians were either taken in war, or purchased, or reduced to slavery for some crime: they were divided into two classes: 1. those who were natives of some part of Greece, who had the privilege of redeeming themselves; who, if cruelly treated, might appeal to the archons, and change their master; and whose lives were not in their master’s power; 2. those slaves who were transported from barbarous nations, who were wholly at the disposal of their owners in every respect. The price of a slave varied according to his qualifications; some were worth about 10l. sterling, some were valued at 20l., and others much higher. The Athenians were celebrated for the gentleness with which they treated their slaves. Xenophon informs us, that they frequently spoiled them by excessive indulgence. Slaves were made free, if they rendered any essential service to the government; and frequently received their liberty as a reward for their fidelity and attachment to their master, and his family. For further information respecting the Athenian slaves, and remarks on their habits and manners, vide Notes 62, 63, 64, 68, 86, 88, 110, 131, 154ᴮ, 195, 196.

The ceremony of Ἀπελεύθερια, or giving a slave his liberty, was performed in Athens as follows, the slave kneeled down at the feet of his master, who struck him a slight blow, saying, “Be free;” or he took the slave before a magistrate, and there formally declared him at liberty. These ceremonies were extremely similar to those used by the Romans on the same occasion. The Greeks sometimes set their slaves at liberty in a public assembly, which Æschines describes as follows, Ἄλλοι δέ τινες ὑποκηρυξάμενοι, τοὺς αὑτῶν οἰκέτας ἀφίεσαν ἀπελευθέρους, μάρτυρας τῆς ἀπελευθερίας τοὺς Ἕλληνας ποιούμενοι.”—Others, when they had obtained silence by means of the heralds, gave their household slaves their liberty; and made the assembled Greeks witnesses of their manumission.

The same author mentions a very singular law, which stigmatized with infamy any person who should proclaim the freedom of a slave in the theatre. “Καὶ διαῤῥήδην ἀπαγορεύει μήτε οἰκέτην ἀπελευθεροῦν ἐν τῷ θεάτρῳ――――――――ἢ ἄτιμον εἶναι τὸν κήρυκα.”—And this law clearly forbids that any person shall manumit a slave in the theatre————-and decrees infamy to the herald who shall proclaim his freedom there.

Slaves were called οἰκέται, and πελάται, but, after they became free, received the appellation of ἀπελεύθεροι, and enjoyed all the privileges granted to the νόθοι, or illegitimate citizens, who were not admitted to all the rights of those whose parents were both freeborn Athenian citizens. It was usual for a freedman to continue with his master, who was called his προστατης, or patron; he was also allowed to choose a sort of guardian, who was called ἐπίτροπος.

An emancipated slave was bound to perform certain services for his former master: he was to assist him in any emergency to the utmost of his power: and, if he proved remiss in these duties, was liable to a severe punishment. No freedman could appear in a court of justice against his patron, either to give evidence in his own suit, or in that of another.

By the Athenian laws, any freedman convicted of ingratitude to his former master, was reduced a second time to a state of slavery: but, if a freedman was brought to a trial on a charge of this nature, and acquitted of it, he was declared τελέως ἐλεύθερος, perfectly free, and was then wholly released from all obligations of service to his former patron.

This is the initium narrationis, the first part of the narration, and, by far the longest: it is, in the original, inimitably beautiful. Scarcely any branch of dramatic writing is more difficult than narration, which, unless composed in that happy vein, attainable by so few, generally proves embarrassing to the actor, and tiresome to the auditors. The writings of Terence abound with narrations, a necessary consequence of his strict adherence to the unities. A judicious French writer, whose opinions (as a critic,) have ever been treated with deference, speaking of our author’s excellence in this branch of the drama, makes his eulogium in just and forcible terms.

“Terence is without a rival, especially in his narrations, which flow along with a smooth and even course, like a clear and transparent river. We see no parade of sentiment, no glare of obtrusive wit: no smart epigrammatical sentences, which Nicole and Rochefoucault only can make acceptable. When he applies a maxim, it is in so plain and familiar a manner, that it has all the simplicity of a proverb. He introduces nothing but what appertains to the subject. I have perused, and re-perused the writings of this poet with the greatest attention, and have laid them aside with the impression that there is not a scene too much in any play, nor a line too much in any scene.”

Diderot on dramatic poetry.

For further remarks on the narrations of the Andrian, vide Notes. Nos. 89. 95. 101. I shall postpone a continuance of observations on the very obvious inconvenience attendant on narrations; and pursue a remark made in the commencement of this note, respecting the source from which has flowed so many of these narrations, which require all the art and wit of a Terence to prevent them from seeming too prolix.

This source may be found in those irksome unities of time and place, those leaden fetters of dramatic genius, which, by chaining down the imagination and talents of many of the ancient, and even some of the modern, dramatic writers, have deprived the world of more, than the embellishments they may have given to composition can ever repay.

Terence, in all his works, in compliance with the reigning taste of his age, observed the unities of action, time, and place, with the most scrupulous exactness: and this observance is the chief reason that his comedies can never succeed on any modern stage. His plays are crowded with narratives, which, however beautifully written, will never yield that attraction to an audience, which they find in busy and lively action. He cannot bring on the stage what is supposed to happen in the next street, or adjoining house, it must therefore be related. All the story of the piece must be supposed to pass in a very few hours: all those events which cannot be imagined to take place in one day, and which, when represented to the spectators in the modern drama, are often of the greatest interest, must, by the law of the unity of time be related. Of what a scene, to instance one of many, has the unity of place robbed us in Terence’s Eunuch! where Laches (Act 5) rushes into the house of Thais. How many modern plays, in which the unities were preserved, ever kept the stage a month? None: if we except Ben Jonson’s “Silent Woman,” “The Adventures of Five Hours,” and a very few others; and it may well be doubted whether even our immortal Shakspeare himself, if he had shackled his genius with these rules, would not have been generally confined to the closet. The practice of that great poet, and of most of the modern dramatists of all countries; who have observed only (the rule of all stages, ancient and modern,) unity of action, is a tacit condemnation of the other two: and the fiat of Dr. Johnson speaks a yet plainer language. He has decided on the value of the unities in his preface to Shakspeare: and though what he has written respecting them is too long to be inserted here, the following extracts will not be unacceptable, as they shew the grounds on which it is assumed that dramatic writers ought, in general, to dispense with the unities of time and place.

“The critics hold it impossible, that an action of months or years can be possibly believed to pass in three hours. The spectator, who knows that he saw the first act at Alexandria, cannot suppose that he sees the next at Rome; he knows that he has not changed his place, and that the place cannot change itself; that what was a house can never become a plain; that what was Thebes, can never be Persepolis. Such is the triumphant language with which a critic exults over the miseries of an irregular poet; it is time, therefore, to tell him, that he assumes as an unquestionable principle, a position, which, while his breath is forming it into words, his understanding pronounces to be false. It is false, that any representation is mistaken for reality; that any dramatic fable, in its materiality was ever credible, or, for a single moment, was ever credited. The objection arising from the impossibility of passing the first hour at Alexandria, and the next at Rome, supposes that when the play opens, the spectator really imagines himself at Alexandria; and believes that his walk to the theatre has been a voyage to Egypt, and that he lives in the days of Antony and Cleopatra. Surely he that can imagine this may imagine more. He that can take the stage at one time for the Palace of the Ptolemies, may take it in half an hour for the promontory of Actium: delusion, if delusion be admitted, has no certain limitation. The truth is, that (judicious) spectators are always in their senses, and know from the first act to the last, that the stage is only a stage, and that the players are only players: and by supposition as place is introduced, time may be extended.” Dr. Johnson concludes this subject as follows; “He that, without diminution of any other excellence, shall preserve all the unities unbroken, deserves the like applause with the architect, who shall display all the orders of architecture in a citadel, without any deduction from its strength; but the principal beauty of a citadel is to exclude the enemy; and the greatest graces of a play are to copy nature, and instruct life.”

It is needless to add any thing to these arguments, as they must be deemed conclusive. The plays of our author are better calculated, perhaps, to please in the closet by his mode of writing, as it adds to perspicuity: Terence is, probably, the greatest practical champion for the three unities that ever did, or ever will, exist. His easy flowing narratives, judiciously divided, and introduced with so much art, as in some places to seem no narratives until they are concluded, remedy as much as possible the inconveniences attendant on this mode of writing.

In the Latin, postquam excessit ex Ephebis, after he was removed from the class of young men called ἔφηβοι.

All the Athenian citizens were publicly registered three several times. 1. In their infancy, on the second day of the festival ἀπατούρια, called ἀνάῤῥυσις. 2. When they were 18 years of age, they were registered on the third day of the ἀπατούρια, called κουρεῶτις, when they received the title of ἔφηβοι. 3. At 20 years of age, they were registered for the last time at the feast called βενδίδεια on the 19th of the month, Thargelion, when they were said to be admitted “among the men.” These ceremonies were used to prevent the intrusion of persons, who had no claim to the title of Athenian citizen, which was an honour, that even foreign kings thought worthy of their pursuit. Having quitted the class of the ἔφηβοι, Pamphilus, at the time mentioned by Simo, must have been 20 years of age.

Several schools of Philosophy were established at Athens, in which philosophers of different sects presided, and gave instructions to those of Athens, and of other countries, whose fortunes allowed them leisure to pursue studies of this nature. The buildings in which the philosophers delivered their lectures were provided at the public expense: they were called Gymnasia, and built in divisions, some for study called στοαὶ, and others for various exercises, as wrestling, pugilism, dancing, &c.; these were denominated παλαίστρα. The principal Gymnasia in Athens were the Lyceum, where Aristotle taught; the academy, in which Plato presided; and, lastly, the Cynosarges, which gave the name of Cynics to that sect of philosophers, founded in this place by Antisthenes. (vid. Plutarch’s Life of Themistocles).

Madame Dacier has elucidated this passage in an elegant and ingenious criticism, which clears Pamphilus from the charge of flattery which Sosia appears to insinuate against him. The sentence in the original runs thus: “namque hoc tempore obsequium amicos veritas odium parit.” “When Simo spoke of the obliging temper of his son, he intended to describe him as behaving with that complaisant politeness which is as remote as possible from flattery; the practice of which never requires of a man any thing inconsistent with the laws of truth and candour; otherwise he would have blamed his son, instead of praising him. But Sosia, following the example of people of his own rank, who always look on the dark side of every thing, takes this opportunity of censuring the manners of the age, by declaring that people were unwilling to hear the truth. Thus he mistakes obsequium, which really means an amiable mildness of manners, for assentatio, servile flattery, a vice which shows weakness of mind, and baseness of heart: and which renders those of our friends who practise it, more dangerous than even our enemies themselves. There is more ingenuity in this passage than appears at first sight.”

Madame Dacier.

For some further very valuable critical observations, the reader is referred to the preface to a translation of Phædrus’s fables, published at Paris, about the middle of the 17th century. Besides very able remarks on the Andrian, and the rest of Terence’s plays, the translator gives an ingenious comparison between fable and comedy; he also translated into French, three of Terence’s comedies, viz., The Andrian, The Brothers, and Phormio.

This island is situated in the Ægean sea, or, as it is now called, the Archipelago; it is distant from the Piræus, or port of Athens, about 500 of the stadia Olympica, or rather more than 50 English miles. It retains its original appellation. Bacchus seems to have been the reputed patron of this island; which was also called Antandros, and has been mistaken by some for the Antandros of Phrygia Minor, where Æneas built his fleet. Vide Ovid’s Meta. Book 13, l. 623 to 670.

The relations of unmarried women in Greece were bound by law to provide for them, either by seeing them married to some suitable person, or to furnish them with the means of support according to their rank in life; or if a woman had no near kindred, this duty devolved upon a guardian called κυριος. It is probable that this obligation extended equally to the paternal and maternal relations, though the latter generally acted only in case of the former becoming extinct. Terence warrants the supposition of relations on both sides, being compelled to act, as he uses the word cognatus, which signifies strictly a relation by the mother’s side, agnatus, on the contrary, is never employed but to designate a kinsman by the father’s side, though cognatus is often used as a common term for both; and such is its meaning in this passage: for if the law had been confined to the father’s relations, Terence would certainly have used agnatus, and thereby clearly designated the particular persons who were bound to observe it.

The Greek and Roman women led generally very domesticated lives, and passed a considerable portion of their time in spinning and weaving. The simple manners of the earlier ages obliged each family to depend, in a great measure, on itself, for the supply of its various wants, and the kings and heroes of antiquity, might doubly prize a mantle or a vest, wrought by the hands of those who were dearest to them. Wool was usually worn; but linen, though highly valued, seems to have been but rarely used. When the Greeks became more refined, this simplicity of manners among women of rank gave place to less laborious habits, and slaves were instructed in the art of spinning and weaving.

This passage has been elegantly and chastely softened by an ingenious French writer, who flourished about the year 1650. I shall subjoin in this, and other subsequent notes, the various alterations made by this judicious editor, together with the original passages: the lines he has introduced are beautifully written, and a close imitation of the style of Terence: I cannot doubt but they will be considered worthy of a perusal: they are a proof of a laudable delicacy, which was but too rarely to be met with in many of the poets of both England and France, in the 17th century.

The original passage runs thus:—

Which is altered by the French translator to the following:—

“At first she lived chastely, and penuriously, and laboured hard, managing with difficulty to gain a livelihood with the distaff and the loom: but soon after several lovers made their addresses to her, and as we are all naturally prone to idleness, and averse to labour, and as they made her promises of marriage, she was too negligent of her reputation, and admitted their visits oftener than was prudent.”

In the Latin, Certè captus est. Habet. Terence borrowed this expression (habet) from the amphitheatre at Rome, where men called gladiators, who were (for the chief part) captives and slaves, fought before the people: who looked with great delight on these combats, which often terminated in death to half the persons engaged. When a gladiator was wounded, the people exclaimed Habet, he has it, and thus the word was often used at Rome, in the sense adopted by Terence.

In the Latin symbolum dedit, he gave his ring as a token, or pledge. This phrase is an allusion to a custom which prevailed chiefly at Rome. When a party agreed to dine together at their own expense, or, in other words, to club together for an entertainment: each of the party gave his ring to him who had the care of providing the feast, as a symbol or token that he, the owner of the ring, was to join the company, and defray his share of the expense. Hence, he who paid nothing, was called asymbolus. Rings were also given in contracts instead of a bond: and used for tokens of various kinds. The Greeks also seem to have called rings by the same name, σύμβολα.

The word dowry, which is called, in Greek, προὶξ, or μείλια, or ἕδνα, originally meant the sum which a man gave to the family of the woman he married, and with which he might be said to purchase his wife: but, as the Greeks grew more refined, and also more wealthy, this custom was wholly abolished; and the dowry was given by the wife’s relations to the husband, to assist him in the maintenance of her and of her children. The dowries of women were, in Athens, considered a subject of great importance; and many laws were framed by the Athenian legislators, (particularly by Solon,) to provide for the well ordering of women’s fortunes. An heiress could be disposed of in marriage, only by her father, grandfather, or brother: if she had neither of these relations, the archons determined who was to be her husband; and it was held so important to keep her estate in the family, that at one time a law prevailed, that if an heiress had no children by her first husband, she was taken from him by the authority of the archons, and given to her nearest relation. A wife, who brought a fortune to her husband, was called γυνὴ; she who brought none παλλακὴ. Solon, apprehensive of mercenary unions, at one time, passed a law, that a woman should carry to her husband only some furniture, and four or five changes of dress. But this seems to have been little observed.

The large dowry which Simo says Chremes offered with Philumena, we may fairly suppose to have been twenty talents, as Chremes imagined he had but one daughter to portion off; when he had discovered Glycera, he gave her a dowry of ten talents; and we must suppose that he reserved as much more for Philumena. This will give us an idea of what the portions of the Athenian women usually were, and of the fortune of a citizen.

Twenty Greek talents were nearly equal to 5,000l. sterling, according to some authors, though writers differ widely as to the amount of the Attic talent; Dr. Arbuthnot makes it equal to 193l. 15s., Mr. Raper to 232l. 3s. It is agreed on all sides that the Attic talent consisted of 6,000 drachmæ; but the value of the drachma was never correctly ascertained. Vide the table of monies in Note 208.

The Athenian youth were not allowed to dispose of themselves in marriage without consulting their parents, who had almost unlimited authority over them: if they had no parents, guardians, called ἐπίτροποι, were appointed to control them.

But it does not appear that any particular ceremonies were used in Athens, in contracting a bride and bridegroom, previous to the day of marriage; and I rather imagine, Terence, in order to make the subject clear to his Roman auditors, alluded, by the word despondi, to the Roman custom of betrothing, called sponsalia, which they performed as follows:—

Some days before the wedding, the intended bride and bridegroom, with their friends, met together at the lady’s residence, and the parent or guardian of each (as I imagine) asked each other, Spondes? Do you betroth her or him? Then the other party answered, Spondeo, I do betroth, &c. Then the deeds were signed, the dowry agreed on, and the day appointed for the marriage.

Women were frequently hired on these occasions, to appear in the funeral procession as mourners, of whom Horace says,

NOTE 78.

She appeared more afflicted than the others who were there, and so pre-eminently beautiful, and of so noble a carriage, I approach.

To understand the full force of Simo’s remark, when he says how much he was struck with the contrast between Glycera and the rest of the mourners, it is necessary that the reader should be informed, that, in Athens, no woman under sixty years of age was allowed to appear at a funeral; except the relations of the deceased. Solon imposed this law upon the Athenians.

Literally, the women who were walking after the body. Though those women who were hired to follow a corpse, walked in procession, it was very usual in Greece, to attend funerals in carriages, and on horseback: but Chrysis, not being represented as a citizen, the ceremonies, in respect to the procession, must be supposed to be different. The interment of the dead was considered of such extreme importance throughout the whole of Greece, that to want the rites of sepulture, was deemed by the natives of that country, a much greater misfortune than even death itself. The Greeks (and many other nations) believed that the spirit of a person whose corpse was unburied, could never obtain admittance to the Elysian fields: their imaginary place of reward for virtuous men after death. Two different methods of disposing of the dead prevailed in Greece. The most ancient of the two (as is generally allowed,) was much the same as the modern practice, the corpse was interred in a coffin, and deposited in the earth. The other mode was to burn the body, and to preserve the ashes. The Athenians seem to have used both methods indiscriminately: their funerals were usually conducted by torch-light. On the third or fourth day after death, (though the time was varied according to circumstances,) the corpse was placed on a bier, with the feet towards the door; and an obolus put into its mouth, to defray the passage across the Styx: a certain form of words was then pronounced over the body, which was afterwards carried out, and followed by the mourners: those of the same sex as the deceased were to be nearest the corpse: when it was placed on the pile, and a second form of words recited over it, some one of the mourners, (usually the nearest relation,) applied a torch to the wood; and, if the deceased was of high rank, animals of various kinds, and sometimes even human victims, were slaughtered, and thrown into the flames. The ashes of the dead were collected from the extinguished pile into an urn, and with some further ceremonies deposited in a sepulchre. The Romans burned their dead in a similar manner. For a further mention of Greek funerals, vide Notes 77, 78, 80, 81.

Tombs, called by the Greeks τάφοι, or τύμβοι, which signify both the grave and the monument, were not allowed to be within the city of Athens, but were placed either in the public burial-place, or in private grounds belonging to the relatives of the deceased: it was not unusual to erect them by the road side at some distance from the city, whence the expression, so common on monuments, Siste Viator, Stay Traveller. The public burial-place of the Athenians was in that part of the Ceramicus situated beyond the city: it was very extensive. The other part of the Ceramicus contained the old forum, called ἀρχαία ἀγορὰ.

NOTE 81.

The corpse is placed on the pile, and quickly enveloped in flames; they weep; while the sister I was speaking of, rushed forward, in an agony of grief, toward the fire; and her imprudence exposed her to great danger.

An eminent English poet, Sir Richard Steele, has endeavoured to adapt Terence’s Andrian to the taste of an English audience, and has succeeded in that attempt, in his play, called The Conscious Lovers, as well as circumstances would permit. A French poet of equal eminence, Monsieur Baron, has made a similar attempt in French verse, and has met with equal success in his Andrienne: he has kept much closer to the original than has Sir Richard Steele; indeed, many scenes of the Andrienne are a literal version of Terence. I purpose to point out the most material changes which the two modern poets have made in the incidents: the bent of the dramatic taste of the nation of each, may be discovered, in some measure, from a comparison between the English, the French, and the Roman dramatist. M. Baron has not made any alteration in the scene at Chrysis’ funeral, where Simo discovers his son’s attachment to Glycera; but Sir R. Steele, has altered the mode of discovery to a quarrel at a masquerade; and his scene, though it may want the pathos of the original, yet displays the filial affection of Bevil, the English Pamphilus, in a very amiable light. Sir Richard has modernized the characters of Simo and Sosia in Sir John Bevil and Humphrey.

“Sir J. You know I was, last Thursday, at the masquerade: my son, you may remember, soon found us out. He knew his grandfather’s habit, which I then wore, and though it was in the mode of the last age, yet the maskers followed us, as if we had been the most monstrous figures in the whole assembly.

“Humph. I remember a young man of quality, in the habit of a clown, was particularly troublesome.

“Sir J. Right: he was too much what he seemed to be: he followed us, till the gentleman, who led the lady in the Indian mantle, presented that gay creature to the rustic, and bid him (like Cymon in the fable) grow polite, by falling in love, and let that worthy gentleman alone, meaning me. The clown was not reformed, but rudely offered to force off my mask; with that the gentleman, throwing off his own, appeared to be my son; and, in his concern for me, tore off that of the nobleman. At this, they seized each other, the company called the guards, and, in the surprise, the lady swooned away; upon which my son quitted his adversary, and had now no care but of the lady; when, raising her in his arms, ‘Art thou gone,’ cried he, ‘for ever?—Forbid it, Heaven!’—She revives at his known voice, and, with the most familiar, though modest gesture, hangs in safety over his shoulders weeping; but wept as in the arms of one before whom she could give herself a loose, were she not under observation. While she hides her face in his neck, he carefully conveys her from the company.”—Conscious Lovers.

Sir John Bevil makes the same trial of his son, as Simo of his: and young Bevil makes the same reply with Pamphilus. The only difference in the conduct of the plot in that part is, that Bevil is not apprized of his father’s stratagem by his own servant; but by Humphrey, which, as it shews a sort of half-treachery in him, is an inferior arrangement to that of the Latin poet.

The expression ξένα, peregrina, or strange woman, was generally used amongst eastern nations, to signify a woman of light character: it is very frequently employed in the Holy Writings in that sense. Vide Judges, chap. xi. ver. 2; Proverbs, chap. v. ver. 3. 10, 20. Thais, in the Eunuch, speaking of her mother, says,

Athenian citizens were not allowed to marry foreign women, even of reputation and virtue; this law was not strictly observed: the penalty for the violation of it was fixed at one thousand drachms. Simo mentions the epithet peregrina, as what Chremes said he had heard Glycera called; but does not himself drop the slightest hint against her, but, on the contrary, praises her modest demeanour; as he must have been well aware, that she did not deserve such an epithet, being her opposite neighbour, and having seen her abroad: ξέναι, or strange women, when they appeared in public, were obliged to wear striped dresses, to distinguish them from women of innocent conversation.

In the Latin, mala mens, malus animus. It is not easy to discriminate with accuracy the different meanings the Romans attached to mens and animus. Some think that animus meant the heart, and mens the faculty of thinking. Grotius has, in this passage, taken those words to signify conscience and judgment: but, I think it probable, that the word animus was usually employed when they spoke of the soul, and that mens was intended to express what we understand by the word mind, when we speak of greatness of mind, or littleness of mind. Animus was, perhaps, about equivalent to that elegant expression,—instinctus divinitatis.

“Here we take our last leave of Sosia, who is, in the language of the commentators, a protatick personage, that is, as Donatus explains it, one who appears only once in the beginning (the protasis) of the piece, for the sake of unfolding the argument, and is never seen again in any part of the play. The narration being ended, says Donatus, the character of Sosia is no longer necessary. He therefore departs, and leaves Simo alone to carry on the action. With all due deference to the ancients, I cannot help thinking this method, if too constantly practised, as I think it is in our author, rather inartificial. Narration, however beautiful, is certainly the deadest part of theatrical compositions: it is, indeed, strictly speaking, scarce dramatic, and strikes the least in the representation: and the too frequent introduction of a character, to whom a principal person in the fable is to relate in confidence the circumstances, previous to the opening of the play, is surely too direct a manner of conveying that information to the audience. Every thing of this nature should come obliquely, fall in a manner by accident, or be drawn as it were perforce, from the parties concerned, in the course of the action: a practice, which, if reckoned highly beautiful in epic, may be almost set down as absolutely necessary in dramatic poetry. It is, however, more adviseable, even to seem tedious, than to hazard being obscure. Terence certainly opens his plays with great address, and assigns a probable reason for one of the parties being so communicative to the other; and yet it is too plain that this narration is made merely for the sake of the audience, since there never was a duller hearer than Master Sosia, and it never appears, in the sequel of the play, that Simo’s instructions to him are of the least use to frighten Davus, or work upon Pamphilus. Yet even this protatick personage is one of the instances of Terence’s art, since it was often used in the Roman comedy, as may be seen even in Plautus, to make the relation of the argument the express office of the prologue.”—Colman.

Monsieur Baron does not dismiss Sosia here, but brings him on the stage again; once in the third act, and once in the fourth. Sir R. Steele introduces Humphrey again in the first act, and also in the fifth. We are told by Donatus, that in the Andrian and Perinthian of Menander, which are similar in the plot, the first scene is the same as in Terence, but that in the Perinthian, the old man consults with his wife instead of Sosia; and, in the Andrian he opens with a soliloquy.

It has been objected against many dramatic writers, that they are guilty of great neglect in first bringing their characters on the stage, without preparing the audience for their appearance, and acquainting them with their names; and sometimes it happens that an actor has been on the stage a considerable time, before the audience know whom he is meant to personate. Terence’s art is admirably shown in this particular; a new character scarcely ever appears on the stage after the first scene, before his name, and character, and perhaps what he may be expected to say or do, is announced to the audience. For example, in the Andrian, Act I. Scene I., Simo describes the occupation and character of Davus before he appears; and names him to the audience as he comes on the stage. In Act I. Scene III., Davus introduces Mysis: in Act I. Scene IV., Mysis prepares the audience for the appearance of Pamphilus: in Act III. Scene IV., Simo announces Chremes, and Mysis is the nomenclator of Crito in the last scene of the fourth Act. This rule of preparation for the next scene was called, among the ancients, παρασκευὴ.

Carnifex quæ loquitur. Carnifex, or carnufex, means literally an executioner: this was one of the most opprobrious epithets used by the Romans. Of all their public servants, the carnifex was the lowest in rank: his office extended only to crucifixion, which was never inflicted in Rome on any but those who were considered as the very worst of criminals. The person of the carnifex was held in such abhorrence, that he was never suffered to reside in Rome, and rarely (though sometimes) permitted to enter the city. Vide Cicero’s Oration for Rabirius. Carnifex means literally a butcher; and most of the writers of later ages have used it in that sense.

This is as much as to say, I am a plain man, I am no reader of riddles: because Œdipus, king of Thebes, was particularly celebrated for solving an enigma, which had long baffled the penetration of all the Thebans. Ancient writers relate the story thus: Europa, the sister of Cadmus, the first king of Thebes, having been carried off by Jupiter; Juno, in her jealousy, wreaked her vengeance on Europa’s family, and persecuted Cadmus and his descendants with the most inveterate hostility. During the reign of Creon, one of the successors of Cadmus, Juno sent to destroy Thebes, a dreadful monster, called Sphinx, which was described as having the face and voice of a woman, the wings of a dragon, the body of a dog, and the claws of a lion. This extraordinary monster dwelt in a cave, immediately in the neighbourhood of Thebes, and seizing every one that ventured to approach, proposed the following well-known riddle, “What walks in the morning on four legs, at noon on two, and at night on three?” Those who were unable to solve the enigma were instantly torn in pieces; and, as the Thebans were, in general, so remarkable for their slowness and sluggishness, that they were called “Theban pigs” by the rest of Greece, it may be readily believed that the monster’s question long remained unanswered. When the city was in danger of total demolition, Creon the king offered his daughter Jocasta, and his crown, to him who should solve the riddle, as the oracle declared that to be the only means of deliverance. This was at last accomplished by Œdipus, who replied, that it was man: who crawls in his childhood, walks upright in the vigour of his age, and who uses a crutch when he grows old: on hearing this answer, the Sphinx slew herself.