imitation of Plautus’s _Amphitryon_, which first appeared in 1690, had an
opportunity of also availing himself of the French piece. But, even with
this assistance, he has done Plautus less justice than his predecessor. He
has sometimes borrowed the scenes and incidents of Moliere; but has too
frequently given us ribaldry in the low characters, and bombast in the
higher, instead of the admirable grace and liveliness of the French
dramatist. His comedy commences earlier than either the French or Latin
play. Phœbus makes his appearance at the opening of the piece. The first
arrival of Jupiter in the shape of Amphitryon is then represented,
apparently in order to introduce Phædra, the attendant of Alcmena,
exacting a promise from her mistress, before she knew, who had arrived,
that they should that night be bed-fellows as usual since Amphitryon’s
absence. To this Phædra, Dryden has assigned an amour with Mercury, to the
great jealousy of Sosia’s wife, Bromia; and has mixed up the whole play
with pastoral dialogues and _rondeaus_, to which, as he informs us in his
dedication, “the numerous choir of fair ladies gave so just an applause.”
The scenes of a higher description are those which have been best managed.
The latest editor, indeed, of the works of Dryden, thinks that in these
parts he has surpassed both the French and Roman dramatist. “The sensation
to be expressed,” he remarks, “is not that of sentimental affection, which
the good father of Olympus was not capable of feeling; but love of that
grosser and subordinate kind, which prompted Jupiter in his intrigues, has
been expressed by none of the ancient poets in more beautiful verse, than
that in which Dryden has clothed it, in the scenes between Jupiter and
Alcmena.” Milbourne, who afterwards so violently attacked the English
poet, highly compliments him on the success of this effort of his dramatic
muse—
“Not Phœbus could with gentler words pursue
His flying Daphne; not the morning dew
Falls softer, than the words of amorous Jove,
When melting, dying, for Alcmena’s love.”
The character, however, of Alcmena is, I think, less interesting in the
English than in the Latin play. She is painted by Plautus as delighted
with the glory of her husband. In the second scene of the second act,
after a beautiful complaint on account of his absence, she consoles
herself with the thoughts of his military renown, and concludes with an
eulogy on valour, which would doubtless be highly popular in a Roman
theatre during the early ages of the Republic—
—— “Virtus præmium est optimum,
Virtus omnibus rebus anteit profecto.
Libertas, salus, vita, res, parenteis,
Patria, et prognati tutantur, servantur:
Virtus omnia in se habet; omnia adsunt bona, quem pen’est virtus.”
Dryden’s Alcmena is represented as quite different in her sentiments: She
exclaims, on parting with Jupiter,
“Curse on this honour, and this public fame!
Would you had less of both, and more of love!”
Lady M. W. Montague gives a curious account, in one of her letters, of a
German play on the subject of Amphitryon, which she saw acted at
Vienna.—“As that subject had been already handled by a Latin, French, and
English poet, I was curious to see what an Austrian author could make of
it. I understand enough of that language to comprehend the greatest part
of it; and, besides, I took with me a lady that had the goodness to
explain to me every word. I thought the house very low and dark; but the
comedy admirably recompensed that defect. I never laughed so much in my
life. It began with Jupiter falling in love out of a peep-hole in the
clouds, and ended with the birth of Hercules. But what was most pleasant
was, the use Jupiter made of his metamorphosis; for you no sooner saw him
under the figure of Amphitryon, but, instead of flying to Alcmena with the
raptures Dryden puts into his mouth, he sends for Amphitryon’s tailor, and
cheats him of a laced coat, and his banker of a bag of money—a Jew of a
diamond ring, and bespeaks a great supper in his name; and the greatest
part of the comedy turns upon poor Amphitryon’s being tormented by these
people for their debts. Mercury uses Sosia in the same manner; but I could
not easily pardon the liberty the poet had taken of larding his play with
not only indecent expressions, but such gross words as I do not think our
mob would suffer from a mountebank.”
In nothing can the manners of different ages and countries be more
distinctly traced, than in the way in which the same subject is treated on
the stage. In Plautus, may be remarked the military enthusiasm and early
rudeness of the Romans—in the _Marito_ of L. Dolce, the intrigues of the
Italians, and the constant interposition of priests and confessors in
domestic affairs—in Dryden, the libertinism of the reign of Charles the
Second—and in Moliere, the politeness and refinement of the court of
Louis.
_Asinaria_, is translated from the Greek of Demophilus, a writer of the
Middle comedy. The subject is the trick put on an ass-driver by two
roguish slaves, in order to get hold of the money which he brought in
payment of some asses he had purchased from their master, that they might
employ it in supplying the extravagance of their master’s son. The old
man, however, is not the dupe in this play: On the contrary, he is a
confederate in the plot, which was chiefly devised against his wife, who,
having brought her husband a great portion, imperiously governed his house
and family. By this means the youth is restored to the possession of a
mercenary mistress, from whom he had been excluded by a more wealthy
rival. The father stipulates, as a reward for the part which he had acted
in this stratagem, that he also should have a share in the favours of his
son’s mistress; and the play concludes with this old wretch being detected
by his wife, carousing at a nocturnal banquet, a wreath of flowers on his
head, with his son and the courtezan. It would appear, from the concluding
address to the spectators, that neither the moral sense of the author, nor
of his audience, was very strong or correct, as the bystanders on the
stage, so far from condemning these abandoned characters, declare that the
most guilty of the three had done nothing new or surprising, or more than
what was customary:
“_Grex._ Hic senex, si quid, clam uxorem, suo animo fecit volup,
Neque novum, neque mirum fecit, nec secus quam alii solent:
Nec quisqua’st tam in genio duro; nec tam firmo pectore,
Quin ubi quicquam occasionis sit, sibi faciat bene.”
Lucilius, while remarking in one of his fragments, that the Chremes of
Terence had preserved a just medium in morals by his obliging demeanour
towards his son, had ample grounds for observing, that the Demænetus of
Plautus had run into an extreme—
“Chremes in medium, in summum ire Ademænetus(231).”
However exceptionable in point of morals, this play possesses much comic
vivacity and interest of character. The courtezan and the slaves are
sketched with spirit and freedom, and the rapacious disposition of the
female dealer in slave-girls, is well developed.
It is curious that this immoral comedy should have been so frequently
acted in the Italian convents. In particular, a translation in _terza
rima_ was represented in the monastery of St Stefano at Venice, in
1514(232). It was not of a nature to be often imitated by modern writers,
but Moliere, who has borrowed so many of the plots of other plays of
Plautus, has extracted from this drama several situations and ideas.
Cleæreta, in the third scene of the first Act of the _Asinaria_, gives, as
her advice, to a gallant—
“Neque ille scit quid det, quid damni faciat: illi rei studet;
Vult placere sese amicæ, vult mihi, vult pedissequæ,
Vult famulis, vult etiam ancillis; et quoque catulo meo
Sublanditur novus amator.”
In like manner, in the _Femmes Savantes_, Henriette, while counselling
Clitandre to be complaisant, says—
“Un amant fait sa cour ou s’attache son cœur,
Il veut de tout le monde y gagner la faveur;
Et pour n’avoir personne a sa flamme contraire,
Jusqu’au chien du logis il s’efforce de plaire.”
_Aulularia_.—It is not known from what Greek author this play has been
taken; but there can be no doubt that it had its archetype in the Greek
drama. The festivals of Ceres and Bacchus, which in their origin were
innocent institutions, intended to celebrate the blessings of harvest and
vintage, having degenerated by means of priestcraft, became schools of
superstition and debauchery. From the adventures and intrigues which
occurred at the celebration of religious mysteries, the comic poets of
Greece frequently drew the incidents of their dramas(233), which often
turned on damsels having been rendered, on such occasions, the mothers of
children, without knowing who were the fathers. In like manner, the
intrigue of the _Aulularia_ has its commencement in the daughter of Euclio
being violated during the celebration of the mysteries of Ceres, without
being aware from whom she had received the injury. The _Aulularia_,
however, is principally occupied with the display of the character of a
Miser. No vice has been so often pelted with the good sentences of
moralists, or so often ridiculed on the stage, as avarice; and of all the
characters that have been there represented, that of the miser in the
_Aulularia_ of Plautus, is perhaps the most entertaining and best
supported. Comic dramas have been divided into those of intrigue and
character, and the _Aulularia_ is chiefly of the latter description. It is
so termed from _Aula_, or _Olla_, the diminutive of which is _Aulula_,
signifying the little earthen pot that contained a treasure which had been
concealed by his grandfather, but had been discovered by Euclio the miser,
who is the principal character of the play. The prologue is spoken by the
_Lar Familiaris_ of the house; and as the play has its origin in the
discovery of a treasure deposited under a hearth, the introduction of this
imaginary Being, if we duly consider the superstitions of the Romans, was
happy and appropriate. The account given by the _Lar_ of the successive
generations of misers, is also well imagined, as it convinces us that
Euclio was a genuine miser, and of the true breed. The household god had
disclosed the long-concealed treasure, as a reward for the piety of
Euclio’s daughter, who presented him with offerings of frankincense and of
wine, which, however, it is not very probable the miser’s daughter could
have procured, especially before the discovery of the treasure. The story
of the precious deposit, of which the spectators could not possibly have
been informed without this supernatural interposition, being thus related,
we are introduced at once to the knowledge of the principal character,
who, having found the treasure, employs himself in guarding it, and lives
in continual apprehension, lest it should be discovered that he possesses
it. Accordingly, he is brought on the stage driving off his servant, that
she may not spy him while visiting this hoard, and afterwards giving
directions of the strictest economy. He then leaves home on an errand very
happily imagined—an attendance at a public distribution of money to the
poor. Megadorus now proposes to marry his daughter, and Euclio comically
enough supposes that he has discovered something concerning his newly
acquired wealth; but on his offering to take her without a portion, he is
tranquillized, and agrees to the match. Knowing the disposition of his
intended father-in-law, Megadorus sends provisions to his house, and also
cooks, to prepare a marriage-feast, but the miser turns them out, and
keeps what they had brought. At length his alarm for discovery rises to
such a height, that he hides his treasure in a grove, consecrated to
Sylvanus, which lay beyond the walls of the city. While thus employed, he
is observed by the slave of Lyconides, the young man who had violated the
miser’s daughter. Euclio coming to recreate himself with the sight of his
gold, finds that it is gone. Returning home in despair, he is met by
Lyconides, who, hearing of the projected nuptials between his uncle and
the miser’s daughter, now apologizes for his conduct; but the miser
applies all that he says concerning his daughter to his lost treasure.
This play is unfortunately mutilated, and ends with the slave of Lyconides
confessing to his master that he has found the miser’s hoard, and offering
to give it up as the price of his freedom. It may be presumed, however,
that, in the original, Lyconides got possession of the treasure, and by
its restoration to Euclio, so far conciliated his favour, that he obtained
his daughter in marriage. This conclusion, accordingly, has been adopted
by those who have attempted to finish the comedy in the spirit of the
Latin dramatist. It is completed on this plan by Thornton, the English
translator of Plautus, and by Antonius Codrus Urceus, a professor in the
University of Bologna, who died in the year 1500. Urceus has also made the
miser suddenly change his nature, and liberally present his new son-in-law
with the restored treasure.
The restless inquietude of Euclio, in concealing his gold in many
different places—his terror on seeing the preparations for the feast, lest
the wine brought in was meant to intoxicate him, that he might be robbed
with greater facility—his dilemma at being obliged to miss the
distribution to the poor—are all admirable traits of extreme and habitual
avarice. Even his recollection of the expense of a rope, when, in despair
at the loss of his treasure, he resolves to hang himself, though a little
overdone, is sufficiently characteristic. But while the part of a
confirmed miser has been comically and strikingly represented in these
touches, it is stretched in others beyond all bounds of probability. When
Euclio entreats his female servant to spare the cobwebs—when it is said,
that he complains of being pillaged if the smoke issue from his house—and
that he preserves the parings of his nails—we feel this to be a species of
hoarding which no miser could think of or enjoy(234).
One of the earliest imitations of the _Aulularia_ was, _La Sporta_, a
prose Italian comedy, printed at Florence in 1543, under the name of
Giovam-Battista Gelli, but attributed by some to Machiavel. It is said,
that the great Florentine historian left this piece, in an imperfect
state, in the hands of his friend Bernardino di Giordano of Florence, in
whose house his comedies were sometimes represented, whence it passed into
the possession of Gelli, a writer of considerable humour, who prepared it
for the press; and, according to a practice not unfrequent in Italy at
different periods, published it as his own production(235). The play is
called _Sporta_, from the basket in which the treasure was contained. The
plot and incidents in Plautus have been closely followed, in so far as was
consistent with modern Italian manners; and where they varied, the
circumstances, as well as names, have been adapted by the author to the
customs and ideas of his country. Euclio is called Ghirorgoro, and
Megadorus, Lapo; the former being set up as a satire on avarice, the
latter as a pattern of proper economy.
The principal plot of _The case is altered_, a comedy attributed to Ben
Jonson, has been taken, as shall be afterwards shown from the _Captivi_ of
Plautus; but the character of Jaques is more closely formed on that of
Euclio, than any miser on the modern stage. Jaques having purloined the
treasure of a French Lord Chamont, whose steward he had been, and having
also stolen his infant daughter, fled with them to Italy. The girl, when
she grew up, being very beautiful, had many suitors; whence her reputed
father suspects it is discovered that he possesses hidden wealth, in the
same manner as Euclio does in the scene with Megadorus. We have a
representation of his excessive anxiety lest he lose this treasure—his
concealment of it—and his examination of Juniper, the cobbler, whom he
suspects to have stolen it; which corresponds to Euclio’s examination of
Strobilus. Most other modern dramatists have made their miser in love; but
in the breast of Jaques all passions are absorbed in avarice, which is
exhibited to us not so much in ridiculous instances of minute domestic
economy, as in absolute adoration of his gold:
“I’ll take no leave, sweet prince, great emperor!
But see thee every minute, king of kings!”
It is thus he feasts his senses with his treasure: and the very ground in
which it is hidden is accounted hallowed:
“This is the palace, where the god of gold
Shines like the sun of sparkling majesty!”
But the most celebrated imitation of the _Aulularia_ is Moliere’s _Avare_,
one of the best and most wonderful imitations ever produced. Almost
nothing is of the French dramatist’s own invention. Scenes have been
selected by him from a number of different plays, in various languages,
which have no relation to each other; but every thing is so well
connected, that the whole appears to have been invented for this single
comedy. Though chiefly indebted to Plautus, he has not so closely followed
his original as in the _Amphitryon_. One difference, which materially
affects the plots of the two plays and characters of the misers, is, that
Euclio was poor till he unexpectedly found the treasure. He was not known
to be rich, and lived in constant dread of his wealth being discovered.
When any thing was said about riches, he applied it to himself; and when
well received or caressed by any one, he supposed that he was ensnared.
Harpagon, on the other hand, had amassed a fortune, and was generally
known to possess it, which gives an additional zest to the humour, as we
thus enter into the merriment of his family and neighbours; whereas the
penury of Euclio could scarcely have appeared unreasonable to the
bystanders, who were not in the secret of the acquired treasure. Moliere
has also made his miser in love, or at least resolved to marry, and amuses
us with his anxiety, in believing himself under the necessity of giving a
feast to his intended bride; which is still better than Euclio’s
consternation at the supper projected by his intended son-in-law. Euclio
is constantly changing the place where he conceals his casket; Harpagon
allows it to remain, but is chiefly occupied with its security. The idea,
however, of so much incident turning on a casket, is not so happily
imagined in the French as in the Latin comedy; since, in the latter, it
was the whole treasure of which the miser was possessed, and there was at
that time no mode of lending it out safely and to advantage. Harpagon
gives a collation, but orders the fragments to be sent back to those who
had provided it; Euclio retains the provisions, which had been procured at
another’s expense. From the restraint imposed by modern manners, and the
circumstance of Harpagon being known to be rich, Moliere has been forced
to omit the amusing dilemmas in which Euclio is placed with regard to his
attendance on the distributions to the poor. In recompense, he has
wonderfully improved the scene about the dowry, as also that in which the
miser applies what is said concerning his daughter to his lost treasure;
and, on the whole, he has displayed the passion of avarice in more of the
incidents and relations of domestic life than the Latin poet. Plautus had
remained satisfied with exhibiting a miser, who deprived himself of all
the comforts of life, to watch night and day over an unproductive
treasure; but Moliere went deeper into the mind. He knew that avarice is
accompanied with selfishness, and hardness of heart, and falsehood, and
mistrust, and usury; and accordingly, all these vices and evil passions
are amalgamated with the character of the French miser.
The _Aulularia_ being a play of character, I have been led to compare the
most celebrated imitations of it rather in the exhibition of the miserly
character than in the incidents of the piece. Many of the latter which
occur in the _Avare_, have not been borrowed from Plautus, yet are not of
Moliere’s invention. Thus he has added from the _Pedant Joué_ of Cyrano
Bergerac that part of the plot which consists in the love of the miser and
his son for the same woman, as also that which relates to Valere, a young
gentleman in love with the miser’s daughter, who had got into his service
in disguise, and who, when the miser lost his money, which his son’s
servant had stolen, was accused by another servant of having purloined it.
Moliere’s notion of the miser’s prodigal son borrowing money from a
usurer, and the usurer afterwards proving to be his father, is from _La
Belle Plaideuse_, a comedy of Bois-Robert. In an Italian piece, _Le Case
Svaligiate_, prior to the time of Moliere, and in the harlequin taste,
Scapin persuades Pantaloon that the young beauty with whom he is
captivated returns his love, that she sets a particular value on old age,
and dislikes youthful admirers, whence Pantaloon is induced to give his
purse to the flatterer. Frosine attacks the vanity of Harpagon in the same
manner, but he, though not unmoved by the flattery, retains his money.
Moliere has availed himself of a number of other Italian dramas of the
same description for scattered remarks and situations. The name of
Harpagon has been suggested to him by the continuation of Codrus Urceus,
where Strobilus says that the masters of the present day are so
avaricious, that they may be called Harpies or Harpagons:
“Tenaces nimium dominos nostra ætas
Tulit, quos Harpagones vocare soleo.”
I do not know where Moliere received the hint of the _denouement_ of his
piece. The conclusion of the _Aulularia_, as already mentioned, is not
extant, but it could not have been so improbable and inartificial as the
discovery of Valere and Marianne for the children of Thomas D’Alburci,
who, under the name of Anselme, had courted the miser’s daughter.
Shadwell, Fielding, and Goldoni, enjoyed the advantage of studying
Moliere’s Harpagon for their delineations of Goldingham, Lovegold, and
Ottavio. In the miser of Shadwell there is much indecency indeed of his
own invention, and some disgusting representations of city vulgarity and
vice; but still he is hardly entitled to the praise of so much originality
as he claims in his impudent preface.—“The foundation of this play,” says
he, “I took from one of Moliere’s, called L’Avare, but that having too few
persons, and too little action for an English theatre, I added to both so
much, that I may call more than half of this play my own; and I think I
may say, without vanity, that Moliere’s part of it has not suffered in my
hands. Nor did I ever know a French comedy made use of by the worst of our
poets that was not bettered by them. It is not barrenness of art or
invention makes us borrow from the French, but laziness; and _this_ was
the occasion of my making use of _L’Avare_.”
Fielding’s _Miser_, the only one of his comedies which does him credit, is
a much more agreeable play than Shadwell’s. The earlier scenes are a close
imitation of Moliere, but the concluding ones are somewhat different, and
the _denouement_ is perhaps improved. Mariana is in a great measure a new
character, and those of the servants are rendered more prominent and
important than in the French original.
The miser Ottavio, in Goldoni’s _Vero Amico_, is entirely copied from
Plautus and Moliere. In the Italian play, however, the character is in a
great measure episodical, and the principal plot, which gives its title to
the piece, and corresponds with that of Diderot’s _Fils Naturel_, has been
invented by the Italian dramatist.