of the Greeks. The Old Greek comedy was excessively satirical, and
sometimes obscene. Its subjects, as is well known, were not entirely
fictitious, but in a great measure real; and neither the highest station,
nor the brightest talents, were any security against the unrestrained
invectives of the comic muse in her earliest sallies. Cratinus, Eupolis,
and Aristophanes, were permitted to introduce on the stage the
philosophers, generals, and magistrates of the state with their true
countenances, and as it were in _propria persona_; a license which seems,
in some measure, to have been regarded as the badge of popular freedom. It
is only from the plays of Aristophanes that we can judge of the spirit of
the ancient comedy. Its genius was so wild and strange, that it scarcely
admits of definition: and can hardly be otherwise described, than as
containing a great deal of allegorical satire on the political measures
and manners of the Athenians, and parodies on their tragic poets.
When in Athens the people began to lose their political influence, and
when the management of their affairs was vested in fewer hands than
formerly, the oligarchical government restrained this excessive license;
but while the poets were prohibited from naming the individuals whose
actions they exposed, still they represented real characters so justly,
though under fictitious appellations, that there could be no mistake with
regard to the persons intended. This species of drama, which comprehends
some of the later pieces of Aristophanes,—for example, his Plutus,—and is
named the Middle comedy, was soon discovered to be as offensive and
dangerous as the old. The dramatists being thus at length forced to invent
their subjects and characters, comedy became a general yet lively
imitation of the common actions of life. All personal allusion was
dropped, and the Chorus, which had been the great vehicle of censure and
satire, was removed. The new comedy was thus so different in its features
from the middle or the old, that Schlegel has been induced to think, that
it was formed on the model of the latest tragedians, rather than on the
ancient comedy(224). In the productions of Agathon, and even in some
dramas of Euripides, tragedy had descended from its primeval height, and
represented the distresses of domestic life, though still the domestic
life of kings and heroes. Though Euripides was justly styled by Aristotle
the most tragic of all poets, his style possessed neither the energy and
sublimity of Æschylus, nor the gravity and stateliness of Sophocles, and
it was frequently not much elevated above the language of ordinary
conversation. His plots, too, like the _Rudens_ of Plautus, often hinge on
the fear of women, lest they be torn from the shrines or altars to which
they had fled for protection; and what may be regarded as a confirmation
of this opinion is, that Euripides, who had been so severely satirized by
Aristophanes, was extravagantly extolled by Philemon, in his own age the
most popular writer of the new comedy.
While possessing, perhaps, both less art and fire than the old satirical
drama, produced in times of greater public freedom, the new comedy is
generally reputed to have been superior in delicacy, regularity, and
decorum. But although it represented the characters and manners of real
life, yet in these characters and manners—to judge at least from the
fragments which remain, and from the Latin imitations—there does not
appear to have been much variety. There is always an old father, a lover,
and a courtezan; as if formed on each other, like the Platonic and
licentious lover in the Spanish romances of chivalry. “Their plots,” says
Dryden, “were commonly a little girl, stolen or wandering from her
parents, brought back unknown to the city,—there got with child by some
one, who, by the help of his servant, cheats his father,—and when her time
comes to cry Juno Lucina, one or other sees a little box or cabinet which
was carried away with her, and so discovers her to her friends;—if some
god do not prevent it, by coming down in a machine, and taking the thanks
of it to himself. By the plot you may guess much of the characters of the
persons; an old father, who would willingly before he dies see his son
well married; a debauched son, kind in his nature to his mistress, but
miserably in want of money; and a servant, or slave, who has so much art
as to strike in with him, and help to dupe his father; a braggadocio
captain; a parasite; a lady of pleasure. As for the poor honest maid, on
whom the story is built, and who ought to be one of the principal actors
in the play, she is commonly mute in it. She has the breeding of the old
Elizabeth way: which was, for maids to be seen and not to be heard.”
Sometimes, however, her breeding appears in being heard and not seen; and
Donatus remarks, that invocations of Juno behind the scenes were the only
way in which the _severity_ of the _Comœdia palliata_ allowed young
gentlewomen to be introduced. Were we to characterize the ancient drama by
appellations of modern invention, it might be said, that the ancient
comedy was what we call a comedy of character, and the modern a comedy of
intrigue.
Nævius, while inventing plots of his own, had tried to introduce on the
Roman stage the style of the _old_ Greek comedy; but his dramas did not
succeed, and the fate of their author deterred others from following his
dangerous career. The government of Athens, which occupies a chief part in
the old comedy, was the most popular of all administrations; and hence not
only oratory but comedy claimed the right of ridiculing and exposing it.
The first state in Greece became the subject of merriment. In one play,
the whole body of the people was represented under the allegorical
personage of an old doting driveller; and the pleasantry was not only
tolerated but enjoyed by the members of the state itself. Cleon and
Lamachus could not have repressed the satire of Aristophanes, as the
Metelli checked the invectives of Nævius. Under pretence of patriotic
zeal, the Greek comic writers spared no part of the public
conduct,—councils, revenues, popular assemblies, judicial proceedings, or
warlike enterprizes. Such exposure was a restraint on the ambition of
individuals,—a matter of importance to a people jealous of its liberties.
All this, however, was quite foreign to the more serious taste, and more
aristocratic government, of the Romans, to their estimation of heroes and
statesmen, to their respect for their legitimate chiefs, and for the
dignity even of a Roman citizen. The profound reverence and proud
affection which they entertained for all that exalted the honour of their
country, and their extreme sensibility to its slightest disgrace, must
have interdicted any exhibition, in which its glory was humbled, or its
misfortunes held up to mockery. They would not have laughed so heartily at
the disasters of a Carthaginian, as the Athenians did at those of a
Peloponnesian or Sicilian war. The disposition which led them to return
thanks to Varro, after the battle of Cannæ, that he had not despaired of
the republic, was very different from the temper which excited such
contumelious laughter at the promoters of the Spartan war, and the
advisers of the fatal expedition to Syracuse(225). When the Roman people
were seriously offended, the Tarpeian rock, and not the stage, was the
spot selected for their vengeance.
Accordingly, Plautus found it most prudent to imitate the style of the new
comedy, which had been brought to perfection, about half a century before
his birth, by Menander. All his comedies, however, are not strictly formed
on this model, as a few partake of the nature of the middle comedy: not
that, like Nævius, he satirized the senators or consuls; but I have little
doubt that many of his _dramatis personæ_, such as the miser and braggart
captain, were originally caricatures of citizens of Athens. In borrowing
from the Greek, he did not, like modern writers of comedy who wish to
conceal their plagiarisms, vary the names of his characters, the scene of
action, and other external circumstances, while the substance of the drama
remained the same; on the contrary, he preserved every circumstance which
could tend to give his dramatic pieces a Greek air:—
“Atque hoc poetæ faciunt in comœdiis;
Omnes res gestas esse Athenis autumant,
Quo illud vobis Græcum videatur magis.”
Plautus was the son of a freedman, and was born at Sarsina, a town in
Umbria, about the year 525. He was called Plautus from his splay feet, a
defect common among the Umbrians. Having turned his attention to the
stage, he soon realized a considerable fortune by the popularity of his
dramas; but by risking it in trade, or spending it, according others, on
the splendid dresses which he wore as an actor, and theatrical amusements
being little resorted to, on account of the famine then prevailing at
Rome, he was quickly reduced to such necessity as forced him to labour at
a hand-mill for his daily support(226) an employment which at Rome, was
the ordinary punishment of a worthless slave. Many of his plays were
written in these unfavourable circumstances, and of course have not
obtained all the perfection which might otherwise have resulted from his
knowledge of life, and his long practice in the dramatic art.
Of the performances of Plautus, the first, in that alphabetical order in
which, for want of a better, they are usually arranged, is,
_Amphitryon_.—Personal resemblances are a most fertile subject of comic
incidents, and almost all nations have had their Amphitryon. The Athenians
in particular gladly availed themselves of this subject, as it afforded an
opportunity of throwing ridicule on the dull Bœotians. It is not certain,
however, from what Greek author the play of Plautus was taken. Being
announced as a tragi-comedy, some critics(227) have conjectured that it
was most probably imitated from an Amphitryon mentioned by Athenæus,(228)
which was the work of Rhinton, a poet of Tarentum, who wrote
mock-tragedies and tragi-comedies styled _Rhintonica_ or _Hilarotragœdiæ_.
M. Schlegel, however, alleges that it was borrowed from a play of
Epicharmus the Sicilian. The subjects indeed of the ancient Greek comedy,
particularly in the hands of Epicharmus, its inventor, were frequently
derived from mythology. Even in its maturity, these topics were not
renounced, as appears from the titles of several lost pieces of
Aristophanes and his contemporaries. Such fabulous traditions continued
sometimes to occupy the scenes of the middle comedy, and it was not till
the new was introduced that the sphere of the comic drama was confined to
the representation of private and domestic life. Euripides also is said to
have written a play entitled _Alcmena_, on the story of Amphitryon, but
how far Plautus may have been indebted to him for his plot cannot be now
ascertained. It is probable enough, however, that some of the serious
parts may have been copied from the _Alcmena_ of Euripides. The
catastrophe of Plautus’s _Amphitryon_ is brought about by a storm; and we
learn from the _Rudens_, another play of Plautus, that a tempest was
introduced by the Greek tragedian—
“Non ventus fuit, verum Alcmena Euripidis.”
The Latin play is introduced by a prologue which is spoken by the God
Mercury, and was explanatory to the audience of the circumstances
preceding the opening of the piece, and the situation of the principal
characters. The term _prologue_ has been very arbitrarily used. In one
sense it merely signified the induction to the dramatic action, which
informed the spectator of what was necessary to be known for duly
understanding it. Aristotle calls that part of a tragedy the prologue,
which precedes the first song of the chorus.(229) In the Greek tragedies,
the prologue was often a long introductory and narrative monologue.
Sophocles, however, so _dialogued_ this part of the drama, that it has no
appearance of a contrivance to instruct, but seems a natural conversation
of the _dramatis personæ_. Euripides, on the other hand, fell more into
the style of the formal narrative prologue, since, before entering on the
action or dialogue, one of the persons destined to bear a part in the
drama frequently explained to the audience, in a continued discourse, what
things seemed essential for understanding the piece. Sometimes, however,
in the Greek tragedies, the speaker of this species of prologue is not a
person of the drama. In general, these artificial prologues of explanatory
narration are addressed directly to the spectators, and hence approach
nearly to the prologue, in our acceptation of the term. The poets of the
ancient comedy, as we see from Aristophanes, usually adopted, like
Sophocles, the mode of explaining preliminary circumstances in the course
of the action, whence it has been considered that the old Greek comedies
have no prologue; and they certainly have none in the strict modern sense,
though the method of Euripides has been employed to a certain degree in
the _Wasps_ and _Birds_, in the former of which Xanthias, interrupting the
dialogue with Sosias, turns abruptly to the spectators, and unfolds the
argument of the fable. The poets of the middle and new comedy, while
departing from Aristophanes in many things, followed him in the form of
the prologue; and, as they improved in refinement, interwove still closer
the requisite exposition of the fable with its action. The Romans thus
found among the Greeks, prologues in a continued narrative, and prologues
where the exposition was mixed with the action. From these models they
formed a new species, peculiar to themselves, which is entirely separated
from the action of the drama, and which generally contains an explanation
of circumstances and characters, with such gentle recommendation of the
piece as suited the purpose of the author. We shall find that the Latin
prologues, dressed up in the form of narrative, sometimes preceded the
dramatic induction of the action, and at other times, as in the _Miles
Gloriosus_, followed it. The prologue of the _Mostellaria_ is on the plan
adopted by Aristophanes, and that of the _Cistellaria_ is conformable to
the practice of our own theatre. To other plays, such as the _Epidicus_
and _Bacchides_, there were originally no prologues, but they were
prefixed after the death of the author, in order to explain the reasons
for bringing them forward anew. It thus appears that in his prologues
Plautus approached nearer to Euripides than to those comic writers whom in
his argument and all other respects he chiefly followed. The prologues of
Terence, again, seldom announce the subject. In the manner of the Greeks,
his induction is laid in the first scene of the play, and the prologues
seem chiefly intended to acknowledge the Greek original of his drama, and
to explain matters personal to himself. They rather resemble the choruses
of Aristophanes, which in the _Wasps_ and other plays directly address the
audience in favour of the poet, and complain of the unjust reception which
his dramas occasionally experienced.
In the prologue to the _Amphitryon_, Plautus calls his play a
tragi-comedy(230); probably not so much that there is any thing tragical
in the subject, (although the character of Alcmena is a serious one,) as,
because it is of that mixed kind in which the highest as well as lowest
characters are introduced. The plot is chiefly founded on the well-known
mythological incident of Jupiter assuming the figure of Amphitryon,
general of the Thebans, during his absence with the army, and by that
means imposing on his wife Alcmena. The play opens while Jupiter is
supposed to be with the object of his passion. Sosia, the servant of
Amphitryon, who had been sent on before by his master, from the port to
announce his victory and approach, is introduced on the stage, proceeding
towards the palace of Amphitryon. While expressing his astonishment at the
length of the night, he is met, in front of his master’s house, by
Mercury, who had assumed his form, and who, partly by blows and threats,
and partly by leading him to doubt of his own identity, succeeds in
driving him back. This gives Jupiter time to prosecute his amour, and he
departs at dawn. The improbable story related by Sosia is not believed by
his master, who himself now advances towards his house, from which Alcmena
comes forth, lamenting the departure of her supposed husband; but seeing
Amphitryon, she expresses her surprise at his speedy return. The jealousy
of Amphitryon is thus excited, and he quits the stage, in order to bring
evidence that he had never till that time quitted his army. Jupiter then
returns, and Amphitryon is afterwards refused access to his own house by
Mercury, who pretends that he does not know him. At length Jupiter and
Amphitryon are confronted. They are successively questioned as to the
events of the late war by the pilot of the ship in which Amphitryon had
returned. As Jupiter also stands this test of identity, the real
Amphitryon is wrought up to such a pitch of rage and despair, that he
resolves to wreak vengeance on his whole family, and is provoked even to
utter blasphemies, by setting the gods at defiance. He is supposed
immediately after this to have been struck down by lightning, as, in the
next scene, Bromia, the attendant of Alcmena, rushes out from the house,
alarmed at the tempest, and finds Amphitryon lying prostrate on the earth.
When he has recovered, she announces to him that during the storm Alcmena
had given birth to twins:—
“_Amph._ Ain’ tu Geminos? _Brom._ Geminos. _Amph._ Dii me servent.”
Jupiter then, _in propria persona_, reveals the whole mystery, and
Amphitryon appears to be much flattered by the honour which had been paid
him.
In this play the jealousy and perplexity of Amphitryon are well portrayed,
and the whole character of Alcmena is beautifully drawn. She is
represented as an affectionate wife, full of innocence and simplicity, and
her distress at the suspicions of the real Amphitryon is highly
interesting. The English translator of Plautus has remarked the great
similarity of manners between her and Desdemona, while placed in similar
circumstances. Both express indignation at being suspected, but love for
their husbands makes them easily reconciled. The reader, however, feels
that Amphitryon and Alcmena remain in an awkward situation at the
conclusion of the piece. It must also be confessed, that the Roman
dramatist has assigned a strange part to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, at whose
festivals this play is said to have been usually performed; but, as
Voltaire has remarked, “Il n’y a que ceux qui ne savent point combien les
hommes agissent peu consequemment, qui puissent etre surpris, qu’on se
moqua publiquement au theatre des memes dieux qu’on adorait dans les
temples.”
Mistakes are a most fruitful subject of comic incident, and never could
there be such mistakes as those which arise from two persons being
undistinguishable: but then, in order to give an appearance of
verisimilitude on the stage, it was almost necessary that the play should
be represented with masks, which could alone exhibit the perfect
resemblance of the two Amphitryons and the two Sosias; and even with this
advantage, such errors, in order to possess dramatic plausibility, must
have been founded on some mythological tradition. The subject, therefore,
is but an indifferent one for the modern stage. Accordingly, Ludovico
Dolce, who first imitated this comedy in his play entitled _Marito_, has
grossly erred in transporting the scene from Thebes to Padua, and
assigning the parts of Jupiter and Amphitryon to Messer Muzio and
Fabrizio, two Italian citizens, who were so similar in appearance, that
the wife of one of them, though a sensible and virtuous woman, is deceived
night and day, during her husband’s absence, by the resemblance, and the
deception is aided by the still more marvellous likeness of their
domestics. In place of Jupiter appearing in the clouds, and justifying
Alcmena, the Italian has introduced a monk, called Fra Girolamo, who is
bribed to persuade the foolish husband that a spirit (Folletto) had one
night transported him to Padua, during sleep, which satisfactorily
accounts to him for the situation in which he finds his wife on his return
home.
These absurdities have been in a great measure avoided in the imitation by
Rotrou, who may be regarded as the father of the French drama, having
first exploded the bad taste which pervades the pieces of Hardy. His
comedy entitled _Les Deux Sosies_, is completely framed on the Amphitryon
of Plautus, only the prologue is spoken by the inveterate Juno, who
declaims against her rivals, and enumerates the labours which she has in
store for the son of Alcmena.
But by far the most celebrated imitation of Plautus is the _Amphitrion_ of
Moliere, who has managed with much delicacy a subject in itself not the
most decorous. He has in general followed the steps of the Roman
dramatist, but where he has departed from them, he has improved on the
original. Instead of the dull and inconsistent prologue delivered by
Mercury, which explains the subject of the piece, he has introduced a
scene between Mercury and Night, (probably suggested by the Dialogues of
Lucian between Mercury and the Sun on the same occasion,) in which Mercury
announces the state of matters while requesting Night to prolong her stay
on earth for the sake of Jupiter. At the commencement of the piece,
Plautus has made Sosia repeat to himself a very minute, though picturesque
account of the victory of the Thebans, as preparatory to a proper
description of it to Alcmena. This Moliere has formed into a sort of
dialogued soliloquy between Sosia and his Lantern, which rehearses the
answers anticipated from Alcmena, till the discourse is at length
interrupted by the arrival of Mercury, when the speaker has lost himself
among the manœuvres of the troops. In the Latin _Amphitryon_, Mercury
threatens Sosia, and he replies to his rodomontade by puns and quibbles,
which have been omitted by the French poet, who makes the spectators laugh
by the excessive and ridiculous terror of Sosia, and not by pleasantries
inconsistent with his feelings and situation. Moliere has copied from
Plautus the manner in which Sosia is gradually led to doubt of his own
identity: his consequent confusion of ideas has been closely imitated, as
also the ensuing scenes of the quarrel and reconciliation between Jupiter
and Alcmena. He has added the part of Cleanthes, the wife of Sosia,
suggested to him by a line put into the mouth of Sosia by Plautus—
“Quid me expectatum non rere amicæ meæ venturum.”
It was certainly ingenious to make the adventures of the slave a parody on
those of his master, and this new character produces an agreeable scene
between her and Mercury, who is little pleased with the caresses of this
antiquated charmer. On the other hand, the French dramatist has omitted
the examination of the double Amphitryons, and nearly introduces them in
the presence of two Thebans: Amphitryon brings his friends to avenge him,
by assaulting Jupiter, when that god appears in the clouds and announces
the future birth of Hercules. Through the whole comedy, Moliere has given
a different colour to the behaviour of Jupiter, from that thrown over it
by Plautus. In the Latin play he assumes quite the character of the
husband; but with Moliere he is more of a lover and gallant, and pays
Alcmena so many amorous compliments, that she exclaims,
“Amphitrion, en verité,
Vous vous moquez de tenir ce langage!”
Moliere evidently felt that Alcmena and Amphitryon were placed in an
awkward situation, in spite of the assurances of Jupiter—
“Alcmene est toute a toi, quelque soin qu’on employe;
Et ce doit a tes feux etre un objet bien doux,
De voir, que pour lui plaire, il n’est point d’autre voie,
Que de paraitre son epoux.
_Sosie_. Le seigneur Jupiter sait dorer sa pilule.”
In these, and several other lines, Moliere has availed himself of the old
French play of Rotrou. The lively expression of Sosia,
“Le veritable Amphitryon est l’Amphitryon ou l’on dine,”
which has passed into a sort of proverb, has been suggested by a similar
phrase of Rotrou’s Sosia—
“Point point d’Amphitryon ou l’on ne dine point;”
and the lines,
“J’etais venu, je vous jure,
Avant que je fusse arrivé,”
are nearly copied from Rotrou’s
“J’etais chez-nous avant mon arrivé;”
and Sosia’s boast, in the older French play,
“Il m’est conforme en tout—il est grand, il est fort,”
has probably suggested to Moliere the lines,
“Des pieds, jusqu’ a la tete il est comme moi fait,
Beau, l’air noble, bienpris, les manieres charmantes.”