The only English imitation of the _Eunuchus_ is _Bellamira, or the Mistress_, an unsuccessful comedy by Sir Charles Sedley, first printed in 1687. In this play the scene lies in London, but there is otherwise hardly any variation in the incidents; and there is no novelty introduced, except Bellamira and Merryman's plot of robbing Dangerfield, the braggart captain of the piece, an incident evidently borrowed from Shakspeare's Henry IV.

_Heautontimorumenos_. The chief plot of this play, which I think on the whole the least happy effort of Terence's imitation, and which, of all his plays, is the most foreign from our manners, is taken, like the last-mentioned drama, from Menander. It derives its Greek appellation from the voluntary punishment inflicted on himself by a father, who, having driven his son into banishment by excess of severity, avenges him, by retiring to the country, where he partakes only of the hardest fare, and labours the ground with his own hands. The deep parental distress, however, of Menedemus, with which the play opens, forms but an inconsiderable part of it, as the son, Clinia, returns in the second act, and other incidents of a comic cast are then interwoven with the drama.

The plan of c.l.i.topho's mistress being brought to the house both of Menedemus and his neighbour Chremes, in the character of Clinia's mistress, has given rise to some amusing situations: but the devices adopted by the slave Syrus, to deceive and cheat the two old men, are too intricate, and much less ingenious than those of a similar description in most other Latin plays. One of his artifices, however, in order to melt the heart of Chremes, by persuading him that c.l.i.topho thinks he is not his son, has been much applauded; particularly the preparation for this stratagem, where, wisely concluding that one would best contribute to the imposition who was himself deceived, he, in the first place, makes c.l.i.topho believe that he is not the son of his reputed father.

Terence himself, in his prologue, has called this play _double_, probably in allusion to the two plots which it contains. Julius Scaliger absurdly supposes that it was so termed because one half of the play was represented in the evening, and the other half on the following morning(307). It has been more plausibly conjectured, that the original plot of the Greek play was simple, consisting merely of the character of the Self-tormentor Menedemus, the love of his son Clinia for Antiphila, and the discovery of the real condition of his mistress; but that Terence had added to this single fable, either from his own invention, or from some other Greek play, the pa.s.sion of c.l.i.topho for Bacchis, and the devices of the slave in order to extract money from old Chremes(308).

These two fables are connected by the poet with much art, and form a double intrigue, instead of the simple argument of the Greek original.

Diderot has objected strongly to the princ.i.p.al subject which gives name to this play, and to the character of the self-tormenting father. Tragedy, he says, represents individual characters, like those of Regulus, Orestes, and Cato; but the chief characters in comedy should represent a cla.s.s or species, and if they only resemble individuals, the comic drama would revert to what it was in its infancy.-"Mais on peut dire," continues he, "que ce pere la n'est pas dans la nature. Une grande ville fourniroit a peine dans un siecle l'example d'une affliction aussi bizarre." It is observed in the _Spectator_(309), on the other hand, that though there is not in the whole drama one pa.s.sage that could raise a laugh, it is from beginning to end the most perfect picture of human life that ever was exhibited.

There has been a great contest, particularly among the French critics, whether the unities of time and place be preserved in _Heautontimorumenos_. In the year 1640, Menage had a conversational dispute, on this subject, with the Abbe D'Aubignac, with whom he at that period lived on terms of the most intimate friendship. The latter, who contended for the strictest interpretation of the unities, first put his arguments in writing, but without his name, in his "Discours sur la troisieme comedie de Terence; contre ceux qui pensent qu'elle n'est pas dans les regles anciennes du poeme dramatique." Menage answered him in his "Reponse au discours," &c.; and, in 1650, he published both in his _Miscellanea_, without leave of the author of the _Discours_. This, and some disrespectful expressions employed in the _Reponse_, gave mortal offence to the Abbe, who, in 1655, wrote a reply to the answer, ent.i.tled "Terence Justifie, &c. contre les Erreurs de Maistre Gilles Menage, Avocat en Parlement." This designation of _Maistre_, proved intolerable to the feelings of Menage. Hearing that the tract was full of injurious expressions, he declared publicly and solemnly, that he never would read it; but being afterwards urged to peruse it by some good-natured friends, he consulted the casuists of the Sorbonne, and the College of Jesuits, on the point of conscience; and having at last read it with their approval, he wrote a full reply, which was not published till after the death of his opponent.

In these various tracts, it was maintained by the Abbe, that unity of time was most strictly preserved in the _Heautontimorumenos_, as a less period than twelve hours was supposed to pa.s.s during the representation, the longest s.p.a.ce to which, by the rules of the drama, it could be legitimately prolonged. Of course he adduces arguments and citations, tending to restrict, as far as possible, the period of the dramatic action. In the third scene of the second act, it is said _vesperascit_, and in the first scene of the third act, _Luciscit hoc jam_. Now the Abbe, giving to the term _vesperascit_ the signification, "It is already night,"

was of opinion, that the action commenced as late as seven or eight in the evening, when Menedemus returned to Athens from his farm; that the scene of the drama is supposed to pa.s.s during the Pithgia, or festivals of Bacchus, held in April, at which season not more than nine hours intervened between twilight and dawn; that the festival continued the whole night, and that none of the characters went to bed, so that the continuity of action was no more broken than the unity of time. Menage, on the other hand, contended that at least fifteen hours must be granted to the dramatic action, but that this extension implied no violation of the dramatic unities, which, according to the precepts of Aristotle, would not have been broken, even if twenty-four hours had been allotted. He successfully shews, however, that fifteen hours, at least, must be allowed. According to him, the play opens early in the evening, while Menedemus is yet labouring in his field. The festivals were in February; and he proves, from a minute examination, that the incidents which follow after it is declared that _luciscit_, must have occupied fully three hours. Some of the characters, he thinks, retired to rest, but no void was thereby left in the action, as the two lovers, Bacchis, and the slaves, sat up arranging their amorous stratagems. Madame Dacier adopted the opinion of Aubignac, which she fortified by reference to a wood engraving in a very ancient MS. in the Royal Library, which represents Menedemus as having quitted his work in the fields, and as bearing away his implements of husbandry.

The poet being perhaps aware that the action of this comedy was exceptionable, and that the dramatic unities were not preserved in the most rigid sense of the term, has apparently exerted himself to compensate for these deficiencies by the introduction of many beautiful moral maxims: and by that purity of style, which distinguishes all his productions, but which shines, perhaps, most brightly in the _Heautontimorumenos_.

That part of the plot of this comedy, where c.l.i.topho's mistress is introduced as Clinia's mistress, into the house of both the old men, has given rise to Chapman's comedy, _All Fooles_, which was first printed in 1605, 4to., and was a favourite production in its day. In this play, by the contrivance of Rynaldo, the younger son of Marc Antonio, a lady called Gratiana, privately married to his elder brother Fortunio, is introduced, and allowed to remain for some time at the house of their father, by persuading him that she is the wife of Valerio, the son of one of his neighbours, who had married her against his parent's inclination, and that it would be an act of kindness to give her shelter, till a reconciliation could be effected. By this means Fortunio enjoys the society of his bride, and Valerio, her pretended husband, has, at the same time, an admirable opportunity of continuing his courtship of Bellonora, the daughter of Marc Antonio.

_Adelphi_.-The princ.i.p.al subject of this drama is usually supposed to have been taken from Menander's _Adelphoi_; but it appears that Alexis, the uncle of Menander, also wrote a comedy, ent.i.tled _Adelphoi_; so that perhaps the elegant Latin copy may have been as much indebted to the uncle's as to the nephew's performance, for the delicacy of its characters and the charms of its dialogue. We are informed, however, in the prologue, that the part of the drama in which the music girl is carried off from the pander, has been taken from the _Synapothnescontes_ of Diphilus. That comedy, though the version is now lost, had been translated by Plautus, under the t.i.tle of _Commorientes_. He had left out the incidents, however, concerning the music girl, and Terence availed himself of this omission to interweave them with the princ.i.p.al plot of his delightful drama-"Minus existimans laudis proprias scribere quam Graecas transferre."

The t.i.tle, which is supposed to be imperfect, is derived from two brothers, on whose contrasted characters the chief subject and amus.e.m.e.nt of the piece depend. Demea, the elder, who lived in the country, had past his days in thrift and labour, and was remarkable for his severe penurious disposition. Micio, the younger brother, was, on the contrary, distinguished by his indulgent and generous temper. Being a bachelor, he had adopted aeschinus, his brother's eldest son, whom he brought up without laying much restraint on his conduct. Ctesipho, the other son of Demea, was educated with great strictness by his father, who boasted of the regular and moral behaviour of this child, which, as he thought, was so strongly contrasted with the excesses of him who had been reared under the charge of his brother. aeschinus at length carries off a music girl from the slave-merchant, in whose possession she was. Hence fresh indignation on the part of Demea, and new self-congratulation on the system of education he had pursued with Ctesipho: Hence, too, the deepest distress on the part of an unfortunate girl, to whom aeschinus had promised marriage; and also of her relations, at this proof of his alienated affections. At last, however, it is discovered that aeschinus had run off with the music girl, for the sake, and at the instigation, of his brother Ctesipho. The play accordingly concludes with the union of aeschinus and the girl to whom he was betrothed, and the total change of disposition on the part of Demea, who now becomes so complete a convert to the system of Micio, that he allows his son to retain the music girl as his mistress.

The plot of the _Adelphi_ may thus be perhaps considered as double; but the interest which aeschinus takes in Ctesipho's amour, combines their loves so naturally, that they can hardly be considered as distinct or separate; and the details by which the plot is carried on, are managed with such infinite skill, that the intrigue of at least four acts of the _Adelphi_ is more artfully conducted than that of any other piece of Terence. At the commencement of the play, Micio summons his servant Storax, whom he had sent to find out aeschinus; but as the servant does not appear, Micio concludes that the youth had not yet returned from the place where he had supped on the preceding evening, and is in consequence overwhelmed with all the tender anxiety of a father concerning an absent son. This alarm gives us some insight into the character of the young man, and explains the interest Micio takes in his welfare, without shewing too plainly the art and design of the author. His uneasiness, by naturally leading him to reflect on the situation of the family, and the doubtful part he had himself acted, brings in less awkwardly than usual one of those long soliloquies, in which the domestic affairs of the speaker are explained by him for the sake of the audience. Demea is then introduced, having just learned, on his arrival in the city, that aeschinus had carried off the music girl. His character and predominant feelings are finely marked in the account which he gives of this outrage, dwelling on every minute particular, and exaggerating the offences of aeschinus. This pa.s.sage, too, acquires additional zest and relish, on a second perusal of the play, when it is known that the son so much commended is chiefly in fault. The grief of the mother of the girl, who was betrothed to aeschinus, and the honest indignation of her faithful old servant Geta, are highly interesting. The interview of Micio with his adopted son, after he had discovered the circ.u.mstances of this connection, is eminently beautiful.

His delicate reproof for the young man's want of confidence, in not communicating to him the state of his heart-the touches of good humour, mildness, and affection, which may be traced in every line of Micio's part of the dialogue, as well as the natural bursts of pa.s.sion, and ingenuous shame, in aeschinus, are perhaps more characteristic of the tender and elegant genius of Terence, than any other scene in his dramas. But the triumph of comic art, is the gradation of Demea's anger and distresses-his perfect conviction of the sobriety of his son, who, he is persuaded by Syrus, had shewn the utmost indignation at the conduct of aeschinus, and had gone to the country in disgust, when in fact he was at that moment seated at a feast-then his perplexity on not finding him at the farm, and his learning that aeschinus, having violated a free citizen, was about to be married to her, though she had no portion. Even his meeting Syrus intoxicated augments his rage, at the general libertinism and extravagance of the family. At length the climax of events is finally completed, by discovering that the music girl had been carried off for the sake of his favourite son, and by finding him at a carousal with his brother's dissolute family.

With this incident the fable naturally concludes, and it is perhaps to be regretted that Terence had not also ended the drama with the third scene of the fifth act, where Demea breaks in upon the entertainment. The conversion of Demea, indeed, with which the remaining scenes are occupied, grows out of the preceding events. He had met, during the course of the play, with many mortifications-his anger, complaints, and advice, had been all neglected and slighted-he had seen his brother loved and followed, and found himself shunned; but such a change in long-confirmed habits could hardly have been effected in so short a period, or by a single lesson, however striking and important. His complaisance, too, is awkward, and his generosity is evidently about to run into profusion.

But if all this be an impropriety, what shall we say of the gross absurdity of Micio, a bachelor of sixty-five, marrying an old woman, the mother of aeschinus' bride, (and whom he had never seen but once,) merely out of complaisance to his friends, who seemed to have no motive in making the request, except that she was quite solitary, had n.o.body to care for her, and was long past child-bearing-

-- "Parere jam diu haec per annos non potest: Nec, qui eam respiciat, quisquam est; sola est."

Micio had all along been represented as possessed of so much judgment, good sense, and knowledge of the world, that this last piece of extravagance destroys the interest we had previously felt in the character. Donatus, who has given us some curious information in his excellent commentary on Terence, with regard to the manner in which he had altered his comedies from the original Greek, says, that in the play of Menander, the old Bachelor has no reluctance at entering into a state of matrimony.-"Apud Menandrum, Senex de nuptiis non gravatur." The English translator of Terence thinks, that the Latin poet, by making Micio at first express a repugnance to the proposed match, has improved on his model; but it appears to me, that this only makes his unbounded complaisance more improbable and ridiculous. Indeed the incongruity and inconsistence of the concluding scenes of the _Adelphi_, have been considered so great, that a late German translator of Terence has supposed that they did not form a component part of the regular comedy, but were in fact the _Exodium_, a sort of afterpiece, in which the characters of the preceding play were usually represented in grotesque situations, and with overcharged colours(310).

So much for the plot of the _Adelphi_, and the incidents by which the conclusion is brought about. With regard to the characters of the piece, aeschinus is an excellent delineation of the elegant ease and indifference of a fine gentleman. In one scene, however, he is represented as a lover, full of tenderness, and keenly alive to all the anxieties, fears, and emotions of the pa.s.sion by which he is affected. In the parts of Demea and Micio, the author has violated the precept of Horace with regard to a dramatic character:

-- "Servetur ad imum Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet."

During four acts, however, the churlishness of Demea is well contrasted with the mildness of Micio, whose fondness and partiality for his adopted son are extremely pleasing. "One great theatrical resource," says Gibbon, "is the opposition and contrast of characters which thus display each other. The severity of Demea, and easiness of Micio, throw mutual light; and we could not be so well acquainted with the misanthropy of Alceste, were it not for the fashionable complaisant character of Philinte(311)."

Accordingly, in the modern drama, we often find, that if one of the lovers be a gay companion, the other is grave and serious; like Frankly and Bellamy, in the _Suspicious Husband_, or Absolute and Faulkland in the _Rivals_. Yet in the _Adelphi_, the contrast, perhaps, is too direct, and too constantly obtruded on the attention of the audience. It has the appearance of what is called ant.i.thesis in writing, and, in the conduct of the drama, has the same effect as that figure in composition. Diderot, in his _Essay on Dramatic Poetry_, also objects to these two contrasted characters, that, being drawn with equal force, the moral intention of the drama is rendered equivocal; and that we have something of the same feeling which every one has experienced while reading the _Misanthrope_ of Moliere, in which we can never tell whether Alceste or Philinte is most in the right, or, more properly speaking, farthest in the wrong.-"On diroit,"

continues he, "au commencement du cinquieme acte des _Adelphes_, que l'auteur, embara.s.se du contraste qu'il avoit etabli, a ete contraint d'abandonner son but et de renverser l'interet de sa piece. Mais qu'est il arrive: c'est qu'on ne scait plus a qui s'interesser; et qu'apres avoit ete pour Micion contre Demea, on finit sans savoir pour qui l'on est. On desireroit presque un troisieme pere qui tint le milieu entre ces deux personnages, et qui en fit connoitre le vice."

It is not unlikely, however, that this sort of uncertainty was just the intention of Terence, or rather of Menander. It was probably their design to show the disadvantages resulting from each mode of education pursued, and hence, by an easy inference, to point out the golden mean which ought to be preserved by fathers; for, if Demea be unreasonably severe, the indulgence of Micio is excessive, and his connivance at the disorders of Ctesipho, which he even a.s.sisted him to support, is as reprehensible, as the extraordinary sentiment which he utters at the commencement of the comedy:-

"Non est flagitium, mihi crede, adolescentulum Scortari, neque potare; non est: neque fores effringere."

This, though the breaking doors was an ordinary piece of gallantry, is, it must be confessed, rather loose morality. But some of the sentiments in the drama are equally remarkable for their propriety, and the knowledge they discover of the feelings and circ.u.mstances of mankind; as,

"Omnes, quibus res sunt minus secundae, magis sunt, nescio quomodo, Suspiciosi: ad contumeliam omnia accipiunt magis; Propter suam impotentiam se semper credunt negligi."

And afterwards,-

"Ita vita 'st hominum, quasi, quum ludas tesseris; Si illud, quod maxime opus est jactu, non cadit, Illud, quod cecidit forte, id arte ut corrigas.

Nunquam ita quisquam bene subducta ratione ad vitam fuit, Quin res, aetas, usus, semper aliquid adportet novi, Aliquid moneat, ut illa, quae te scire credas, nescias; Et quae tibi putaris prima, in experiundo repudies."

A play possessing so many excellencies as the _Adelphi_, could scarcely fail to be frequently imitated by modern dramatists. It has generally been said, that Moliere borrowed from the _Adelphi_ his comedy _L'Ecole des Maris_, where the brothers Sganarelle and Ariste, persons of very opposite dispositions, bring up two young ladies intrusted to their care on different systems; the one allowing a proper liberty-the other, who wished to marry his ward, employing a constant restraint, which, however, did not prevent her from contriving to elope with a favoured lover. The chief resemblance consists in the characters of the two guardians-in some of the discussions, which they hold together on their opposite systems of management-and some observations in soliloquy on each other's folly. Thus, for example, Demea, the severe brother in Terence, exclaims:

-- "O Jupiter, Hanccine vitam! hoscine mores! hanc dementiam!

Uxor sine dote veniet: intus Psaltria est: Domus sumptuosa: adolescens luxu perditus: Senex delirans. Ipsa, si cupiat, Salus, Servare prorsus non potest hanc familiam(312)."

In like manner, Sganarelle, the corresponding character in Moliere:-

"Quelle belle famille! un vieillard insense!

Une fille maitresse et coquette supreme!

Des valets impudents! Non, la Sagesse meme N'en viendroit pas a bout, perdroit sens et raison, A vouloir corriger une telle maison(313)."

Indeed, were it not for the minute resemblance of particular pa.s.sages, I would think it as likely, that Moliere had been indebted for the leading idea of his comedy to the second tale of the eighth night of Straparola, an Italian novelist of the sixteenth century, from whom he unquestionably borrowed the plot of his admirable comedy, _L'Ecole des Femmes_. The princ.i.p.al amus.e.m.e.nt, however, in the _Ecole des Maris_, which consists of Isabelle complaining to her guardian, Sganarelle, of her lover, Valere, has been suggested by the third novel, in the third day of Boccaccio's _Decameron_.

A much closer imitation of the _Adelphi_ than the _Ecole des Maris_ of Moliere may be found in the _Ecole des Peres_, by Baron, author of the _Andrienne_. The genius of this celebrated actor seems to have been constrained by copying from Terence, which has deprived his drama of all air of originality, while, at the same time, his alterations are such as to render it but an imperfect image of the _Adelphi_. It were, therefore, to be wished, that he had adhered more closely to the Roman poet, or, like Moliere, deviated from him still farther. His exhibition of Clarice and Pamphile, the mistresses of the two young men, on the stage, has no better effect than the introduction of Glycerium in his _Andrienne_. The characters of Telamon and Alcee are so altered, as to preserve neither the strength nor delicacy of those of Micio and Demea; while the change of disposition, which the severe father undergoes in the fifth act, has been neither rejected nor retained: He accedes to the proposals for his children's happiness, but his complaisance is evidently forced and sarcastic; and he ultimately, in a fit of bad humour, breaks off all connection with his family:

"J'abandonne les Brus, les Enfans, et le Frere; Je ne saurois deja les souffrir sans horreur, Et je les donne tous au diable de bon cur."

Diderot had evidently his eye on the characters of Micio and Demea in drawing those of M. d'Orbesson and Le Commandeur, in his _Comedie Larmoyante_, ent.i.tled _Le Pere de Famille_. The scenes between the Pere de Famille and his son, St Albin, who had long secretly visited Sophie, an unknown girl in indigent circ.u.mstances, seem formed on the beautiful dialogue, already mentioned, which pa.s.ses between Micio and his adopted child.

The _Adelphi_ is also the origin of Shadwell's comedy, the _Squire of Alsatia_. Spence, in his _Anecdotes_(314), says, on the authority of Dennis the critic, that the story on which the _Squire of Alsatia_ was built, was a true fact. That the whole plot is founded on fact, I think very improbable, as it coincides most closely with that of the _Adelphi_.

Sir William and Sir Edward Belfond are the two brothers, while Belfond senior and junior correspond to aeschinus and Ctesipho. The chief alteration, and that to which Dennis probably alluded, is the importance of the part a.s.signed to Belfond senior; who, having come to London, is beset and cozened by all sorts of bankrupts and cheats, inhabitants of Alsatia, (Whitefriars,) and by their stratagems is nearly inveigled into a marriage with Mrs Termagant, a woman of infamous character, and furious temper. The part of Belfond junior is much less agreeable than that of aeschinus. His treatment of Lucia evinces, in the conclusion, a hard-hearted infidelity, which we are little disposed to pardon, especially as we feel no interest in his new mistress, Isabella. On the whole, though the plots be nearly the same, the tone of feeling and sentiment are very different, and the English comedy is as remote from the Latin original, as the grossest vulgarity can be from the most simple and courtly elegance. The _Squire of Alsatia_, however, took exceedingly at first as an occasional play. It discovered the cant terms, that were before not generally known, except to cheats themselves; and was a good deal instrumental towards causing the great nest of villains in the metropolis to be regulated by public authority(315).

In c.u.mberland's _Choleric Man_, the chief characters, though he seems to deny it in his dedicatory epistle to Detraction, have also been traced after those of the _Adelphi_. The love intrigues, indeed, are different; but the parts of the half-brothers, Manlove and Nightshade, (the choleric-man,) are evidently formed on those of Micio and Demea; while the contrasted education, yet similar conduct, of the two sons of Nightshade, one of whom had been adopted by Manlove, and the father's rage on detecting his favourite son in an amorous intrigue, have been obviously suggested by the behaviour of aeschinus and Ctesipho.

The philanthropic speeches of Micio have been a constant resource both to the French dramatists and our own, and it would be endless to specify the various imitations of his sentiments. Those of Kno'well, in Ben Jonson's _Every Man in his Humour_, have a particular resemblance to them. His speech, beginning-

"There is a way of winning more by love(316),"

is evidently formed on the celebrated pa.s.sage in Terence,-

"Pudore et liberalitate liberos," &c.

_Hecyra_-Several of Terence's plays can hardly be accounted comedies, if by that term be understood, dramas which excite laughter. They are in what the French call the _genre serieux_, and are perhaps the origin of the _comedie larmoyante_. The events of human life, for the most part, are neither deeply distressing nor ridiculous; and, in a dramatic representation of such incidents, the action must advance by embarra.s.sments and perplexities, which, though below tragic pathos, are not calculated to excite merriment. Diderot, who seems to have been a great student of the works of Terence, thinks the _Hecyra_, or Mother-in-law, should be cla.s.sed among the serious dramas. It exhibits no buffoonery, or tricks of slaves, or ridiculous parasite, or extravagant braggart captain; but contains a beautiful and delightful picture of private life, and those distresses which ruffle "the smooth current of domestic joy." It was taken from a play of Apollodorus; but, as Donatus informs us, was abridged from the Greek comedy,-many things having been represented in the original, which, in the imitation, are only related. In the _Hecyra_, a young man, called Pamphilus, had long refused to marry, on account of his attachment to the courtezan Bacchis. He is at length, however, constrained by his father to choose a wife, whose gentleness and modest behaviour soon wean his affections from his mistress. Pamphilus being obliged to leave home for some time, his wife, on pretence of a quarrel with her mother-in-law, quits his father's house; and Pamphilus, on his return home, finds, that she had given birth to a child, of which he supposed that he could not have been the father. His wife's mother begs him to conceal her disgrace, which he promises; and affecting extraordinary filial piety, a.s.signs as his reason for not bringing her home, the capricious behaviour of which she had been guilty towards his mother. That lady, in consequence, offers to retire to the country.

Pamphilus is thus reduced to the utmost perplexity; and all plausible excuses for not receiving his wife having failed, his father suspects that he had renewed his intercourse with Bacchis. He, accordingly, sends for that courtezan, who denies the present existence of any correspondence with his son; and, being eager to clear the character as well as to secure the happiness of her former lover, she offers to confirm her testimony before the family of the wife of Pamphilus. During the interview which she in consequence obtains, that lady's mother perceives on her hand a ring which had once belonged to her daughter, and which Bacchis now acknowledges to have received from Pamphilus, as one which he had taken from a girl whom he had violated, but had never seen. It is thus discovered by Pamphilus, that the lady to whom he had offered this injury before marriage was his own wife, and that he himself was father of the child to whom she had just given birth.

The fable of this play is more simple than that of Terence's other performances, in all of which he had recourse to the expedient of double plots. This, perhaps, was partly the reason of its want of success on its first and second representations. When first brought forward, in the year 589, it was interrupted by the spectators leaving the theatre, attracted by the superior interest of a boxing-match, and rope-dancers. A combat of gladiators had the like unfortunate effect when it was attempted to be again exhibited, in 594. The celebrated actor, L. Ambivius, encouraged by the success which he had experienced in reviving the condemned plays of Caecilius, ventured to produce it a third time on the stage(317), when it received a patient hearing, and was frequently repeated. Still, however, most of the old critics and commentators speak of it as greatly inferior to the other plays of Terence. Bishop Hurd, on the contrary, in his notes on Horace, maintains, that it is the only one of his comedies which is written in the true ancient Grecian style; and that, for the genuine beauty of dramatic design, as well as the nice coherence of the fable, it must appear to every reader of true taste, the most masterly and exquisite of the whole collection. Some scenes are doubtless very finely wrought up,-as that between Pamphilus and his mother, after he first suspects the disgrace of his wife, and that in which it is revealed to him by his wife's mother. The pa.s.sage in the second scene of the first act, containing the picture of an amiable wife, who has succeeded in effacing from the heart of her husband the love of a dissolute courtezan, has been highly admired. But, notwithstanding these partial beauties, and the much-applauded simplicity of the plot, there is, I think, great want of skilful management in the conduct of the fable; and if the outline be beautiful, it certainly is not so well filled up as might have been expected from the taste of the author. In the commencement, he introduces the superfluous part of Philotis, (who has no concern in the plot, and never appears afterwards,) merely to listen to the narrative of the circ.u.mstances and situation of those who are princ.i.p.al persons in the drama. It is likewise somewhat singular, that Pamphilus, when told by the mother of the injury done to his wife, should not have remembered his own adventure, and thus been led to suspect the real circ.u.mstances. This communication, too, ought, as it probably did in the Greek original, to have formed a scene between Pamphilus and his wife's mother; but, instead of this, Pamphilus is introduced relating to himself the whole discourse which had just pa.s.sed between them. At length, the issue of the fable is disclosed by another long soliloquy from the courtezan. Indeed, all the plays of Terence abound in soliloquies very inartificially introduced; and there is none of them in which he has so much erred in this way as in the _Hecyra_. The wife of Pamphilus, too, the character calculated to give most interest, does not appear at all on the stage; and the whole play is consumed in contests between the mother-in-law and the two fathers. The characters of these old men,-the fathers of Pamphilus and his wife,-so far from being contrasted, as in the _Adelphi_, have scarcely a shade of difference. Both are covetous and pa.s.sionate; very ready to vent their bad humour on their wives and children, and very ready to exculpate them when blamed by others. The uncommon and delicate situation in which Pamphilus is placed, exhibits him in an interesting and favourable point of view. He wishes to conceal what had occurred, yet is scarcely able to dissemble.

Parmeno, the slave of Pamphilus, a lazy inquisitive character, is humorously kept, through the whole course of the play, in continual employment, and total ignorance. Sostrata's mild character, and the excellent behaviour of Bacchis, show, that in this play, Terence had attempted an innovation, by introducing a good mother-in-law, and an honest courtezan, whose object was to acquire a reputation of not resembling those of her profession. It appears from the Letters of Alciphron and from Athenaeus, that there actually was a Greek courtezan of the name of Bacchis, distinguished from others of her cla.s.s, in the time of Menander, by disinterestedness, and comparative modesty of demeanour.

This circ.u.mstance, added to the fact of Menander having written a play, ent.i.tled _Glycerium_, (which was the name of his mistress,) leads us to believe that the Greek comedies sometimes represented, not merely the general character of the courtezan, but individuals of that profession; and that probably the Bacchis of Apollodorus, and his imitator Terence, may have been the courtezan of this name, who rejected the splendid offers of the Persian Satrap, to remain the faithful mistress of the poor Meneclides(318).

_Phormio_-like the last mentioned play, was taken from the Greek of Apollodorus, who called it _Epidicazomenos_. Terence named it _Phormio_, from a parasite whose contrivances form the groundwork of the comedy, and who connects its double plot. In this play two brothers had gone abroad, each leaving a son at home, one of whom was called Antipho, and the other Phaedria, under care of their servant Geta. Antipho having fallen in love with a woman apparently of mean condition, in order that he might marry her, yet at the same time possess a plausible excuse to his father for his conduct, persuades Phormio to a.s.sume the character of her patron. Phormio accordingly brings a suit against Antipho, as her nearest of kin, and he, having made no defence, is ordained in this capacity, according to an Athenian law, to marry the supposed orphan. About the same time, Phaedria, the other youth, had become enamoured of a music girl; but he had no money with which to redeem her from the slave merchant. The old men, on their return home, are much disconcerted by the news of Antipho's marriage, as it had been arranged between them that he should espouse his cousin.

Phormio, at the suggestion of Geta, avails himself of this distress, in order to procure money for redeeming Phaedria's music girl. He consents to take Antipho's wife home to himself, provided he gets a portion with her, which being procured, is immediately laid out in the purchase of Phaedria's mistress. After these plots are accomplished, it is discovered that Antipho's wife is the daughter of his uncle, by a woman at Lemnos, with whom he had an amour before marriage, and that she had come to Athens during his absence in search of her father. This is found out at the end of the third act, but the play is injudiciously protracted, after the princ.i.p.al interest is exhausted, with the endeavours of the old men to recover the portion which had been given to Phormio, and the dread of Chremes lest the story of his intrigue at Lemnos should come to the knowledge of his wife. The play accordingly languishes after the discovery, notwithstanding all the author's attempts to support the interest of the piece by the force of pleasantry and humour.

The double plot of this play has been said to be united, by both hingeing on the part of the parasite. But this is not a sufficient union either in tragedy or comedy. I cannot, therefore, agree with Colman, "that the construction of the fable is extremely artful," or that "it contains a vivacity of intrigue perhaps even superior to that of the Eunuch, _particularly in the catastrophe_. The diction," he continues, with more truth, "is pure and elegant, and the first act as chastely written as that of the _Self-Tormentor_ itself. The character of Phormio is finely separated from that of Gnatho, and is better drawn than the part of any parasite in Plautus. Nausistrata is a lively sketch of a shrewish wife, as well as Chremes an excellent draught of a hen-pecked husband, and more in the style of the modern drama than perhaps any character in ancient comedy, except the miser of Plautus. There are also some particular scenes and pa.s.sages deserving of all commendation, as the description of natural and simple beauty in the person of Fannia, and that in which Geta and Phaedria try to inspire some courage into Antipho, overwhelmed by the sudden arrival of his father(319)."