introduced a personage, who patiently received blows while talking of
dethroning emperors and distributing crowns. The part was first exhibited
in _Le Brave_, by Baif, acted in 1567; but there is no character which
comes so near to the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, as that of Chasteaufort
in Cyrano Bergerac’s _Pedant Joué_. In general, the French captains have
more rodomontade and solemnity, with less buffoonery, than their Italian
prototypes. The captain Matamore, in Corneille’s _Illusion Comique_,
actually addresses the following lines to his valet:—
“II est vrai que je rêve, et ne saurois resoudre,
Lequel des deux je dois le premier mettre en poudre,
Du grand Sophi de Perse, ou bien du grand Mogol.”
And again—
“Le seul bruit de mon nom renverse les murailles,
Defait les escadrons, et gagne les batailles;
D’un seul commandement que je fais aux trois Parques,
Je depeuple l’état des plus heureux monarques.”
Corneille’s Matamore also resembles the Miles Gloriosus, in his
self-complacency on the subject of personal beauty, and his belief that
every woman is in love with him. Pyrgopolinices declares—
“Miserum esse pulchrum hominem nimis.”
And in like manner, Matamore—
“Ciel qui sais comme quoi j’en suis persecuté.
Un peu plus de repos avec moins de beaute.
Fais qu’un si long mepris enfin la desabuse.”
Scarron, who was nearly contemporary with Corneille, painted this
character in Don Gaspard de Padille, the _Fanfaron_, as he is called, of
the comedy _Jodelet Duelliste_. Gaspard, however, is not a very important
or prominent character of the piece. Jodelet himself, the valet of Don
Felix, seems intended as a burlesque or caricature of all the braggarts
who had preceded him. Having received a blow, he is ever vowing vengeance
against the author of the injury in his absence, but on his appearance,
suddenly becomes tame and submissive.
The braggart captains of the old English theatre have much greater merit
than the utterers of these nonsensical rhapsodies of the French stage.
Falstaff has been often considered as a combination of the characters of
the parasite and Miles Gloriosus; but he has infinitely more wit than
either; and the liberty of fiction in which he indulges, is perhaps
scarcely more than is necessary for its display. His cheerfulness and
humour are of the most characteristic and captivating sort, and instead of
suffering that contumely with which the parasite and Miles Gloriosus are
loaded, laughter and approbation attend his greatest excesses. His
boasting speeches are chiefly humorous; jest and merriment account for
most of them, and palliate them all. It is only subsequent to the robbery
that he discovers the traits of a Miles Gloriosus. Most of the ancient
braggarts bluster and boast of distant wars, beyond the reach of knowledge
or evidence—of exploits performed in Persia and Armenia—of storms and
stratagems—of falling pell-mell on a whole army, and putting thousands to
the sword, till, by some open and apparent fact, they are brought to shame
as cowards and liars; but Falstaff’s boasts refer to recent occurrences,
and he always preserves himself from degradation by the address with which
he defies detection, and extricates himself from every difficulty. His
character, however, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, has some affinity to
the captains of the Roman stage, from his being constantly played on in
consequence of his persuasion that women are in love with him. The
swaggering Pistol in _King Henry IV._, is chiefly characterized by his
inflated language, and is, as Doll calls him, merely “a fustian rascal.”
Bessus, in Beaumont and Fletcher’s _King and No King_, is said by Theobald
to be a copy of Falstaff; but he has little or none of his humour. Bessus
was an abusive wretch, and so much contemned, that no one called his words
in question; but, afterwards, while flying in battle, having accidentally
rushed on the enemy, he acquired a reputation for valour; and being now
challenged to combat by those whom he had formerly traduced, his great aim
is to avoid fighting, and yet to preserve, by boasting, his new character
for courage. However fine the scene between Bessus and Arbaces, at the
conclusion of the third act, the darker and more infamous shades of
character there portrayed ought not to have been delineated, as our
contemptuous laughter is converted, during the rest of the play, or, on a
second perusal, into detestation and horror. Bobadil, in Ben Jonson’s
_Every Man in his Humour_, has generally been regarded as a copy of the
Miles Gloriosus; but the late editor of Jonson thinks him a creation _sui
generis_, and perfectly original. “The soldiers of the Roman stage,” he
continues, “have not many traits in common with Bobadil. Pyrgopolinices,
and other captains with hard names, are usually wealthy—all of them keep
mistresses, and some of them parasites—but Bobadil is poor. They are
profligate and luxurious—but Bobadil is stained with no inordinate vice,
and is so frugal, that a bunch of radishes, and a pipe to close the
orifice of his stomach, satisfy all his wants. Add to this, that the
vanity of the ancient soldier is accompanied with such deplorable
stupidity, that all temptation to mirth is taken away, whereas Bobadil is
really amusing. His gravity, which is of the most inflexible nature,
contrasts admirably with the situations into which he is thrown; and
though beaten, baffled, and disgraced, he never so far forgets himself as
to aid in his own discomfiture. He has no soliloquies, like Bessus and
Parolles, to betray his real character, and expose himself to unnecessary
contempt: nor does he break through the decorum of the scene in a single
instance. He is also an admirer of poetry, and seems to have a pretty
taste for criticism, though his reading does not appear very extensive;
and his decisions are usually made with somewhat too much promptitude. In
a word, Bobadil has many distinguishing traits, and, till a preceding
braggart shall be discovered, with something more than big words and
beating, to characterize him, it may not be amiss to allow Jonson the
credit of having depended on his own resources.” The character of the
braggart captain was continued in the Bernardo of Shadwell’s _Amorous
Bigot_, and Nol Bluff, in Congreve’s _Old Bachelor_. These are persons who
apparently would destroy every thing with fire and sword; but their
mischief is only in their words, and they “will not swagger with a Barbary
hen, if her feathers turn back with any show of resistance.” The
braggarts, indeed, of modern dramatists, have been universally represented
as cowardly, from Spampana down to Captain Flash. But cowardice is not a
striking attribute of the Miles Gloriosus of Plautus, at least it is not
made the principal source of ridicule as with the moderns. We have
instead, a vain conceit of his person, and his conviction that every woman
is in love with him.
This feature in the character of the Miles Gloriosus, produces a principal
part in the intrigue of this amusing drama, which properly commences at
the second act, and is said, in a prologue there introduced, to have been
taken from the Greek play Αλαζων. While residing at Athens, the captain
had purchased from her mother a young girl, (whose lover was at that time
absent on an embassy,) and had brought her with him to his house at
Ephesus. The lover’s slave entered into the captain’s service, and, seeing
the girl in his possession, wrote to his former master, who, on learning
the fate of his mistress, repaired to Ephesus. There he went to reside
with Periplectomenes, a merry old bachelor, who had been a friend of his
father, and now agreed to assist him in recovering the object of his
affections. The house of Periplectomenes being immediately adjacent to
that of the captain, the ingenious slave dug an opening between them; and
the keeper, who had been intrusted by the captain with charge of the
damsel, was thus easily persuaded by her rapid, and to him unaccountable,
transition from one building to the other, that it was a twin sister,
possessing an extraordinary resemblance to her, who had arrived at the
house of Periplectomenes. Afterwards, by a new contrivance, a courtezan is
employed to pretend that she is the wife of Periplectomenes, and to
persuade the captain that she is in love with him. To facilitate this
amour, he allows the girl, whom he had purchased at Athens, to depart with
her twin sister and her lover, who had assumed the character of the master
of the vessel in which she sailed. The captain afterwards goes to the
house of Periplectomenes to a supposed assignation, where he is seized and
beat, but does not discover how completely he had been duped, till the
Athenian girl had got clear off with her lover.
This play must, in the representation, have been one of the most amusing
of its author’s productions. The scenes are full of action and bustle,
while the secret communication between the two houses occasions many
lively incidents, and forms an excellent _jeu de theatre_.
With regard to the characters, the one which gives title to the play is,
as already mentioned, quite extravagant; and no modern reader can enjoy
the rodomontade of the Miles Gloriosus, or his credulity in listening with
satisfaction to such monstrous tales of his military renown and amorous
success. Flattery for potential qualities may be swallowed to any extent,
and a vain man may wish that others should be persuaded that he had
performed actions of which he is incapable; but no man can himself hearken
with pleasure to falsehoods which he knows to be such, and which in the
recital are not intended to impose upon others. Pleusides, the lover in
this drama, is totally insipid and uninteresting, and we are not impressed
with a very favourable opinion of his mistress from the account which is
given of her near the beginning of the play:—
“Os habet, linguam, perfidiam, malitiam, atque audaciam,
Confidentiam, confirmitatem, fraudolentiam:
Qui arguet se, eum contra vincat jurejurando suo.
Domi habet animum falsiloquum, falsificum, falsijurium.”
The principal character, the one which is best supported, and which is
indeed sustained with considerable humour, is that of Periplectomenes, who
is an agreeable old man, distinguished by his frankness, jovial
disposition, and abhorrence of matrimony. There is one part of his
conduct, however, which I wish had been omitted, as it savours too much of
cunning, and reminds us too strongly of Ben Jonson’s Volpone. Talking of
his friends and relations, he says—
—— “Me ad se, ad prandium, ad cœnam vocant.
Ille miserrimum se retur, minimum qui misit mihi.
Illi inter se certant donis; ego hæc mecum mussito:
Bona mea inhiant: certatim dona mittunt et munera.”
I have often thought that the character of Durazzo, in Massinger’s
_Guardian_, was formed on that of Periplectomenes. Like him, Durazzo is a
jovial old bachelor, who aids his nephew Caldoro in his amour with
Calista. When the lover in Plautus apologizes to his friend for having
engaged him in an enterprize so unsuitable to his years, he replies—
“Quid ais tu? itane tibi ego videor oppido Acheronticus,
Tam capularis; tamne tibi diu vita vivere?
Nam equidem haud sum annos natus præter quinquaginta et quatuor,
Clare oculis video, pernix sum manibus, sum pedes mobilis.”
In like manner Durazzo exclaims—
“My age! do not use
That word again; if you do, I shall grow young,
And swinge you soundly. I would have you know,
Though I write fifty odd, I do not carry
An almanack in my bones to predeclare
What weather we shall have; nor do I kneel
In adoration at the spring, and fall
Before my doctor.” ——
Periplectomenes boasts of his convivial talents, as also of his amorous
disposition, and his excellence at various exercises—
“Et ego amoris aliquantum habeo, humorisque meo etiam in corpore:
Nequedum exarui ex amœnis rebus et voluptariis.
* * * *
Tum ad saltandum non Cinædus magis usquam saltat quam ego.”
This may be compared with the boast of Durazzo—
“Bring me to a fence school,
And crack a blade or two for exercise;
Ride a barbed horse, or take a leap after me,
Following my hounds or hawks, and, (by your leave,)
At a gamesome mistress, you shall confess
I’m in the May of my abilities.”
It may be perhaps considered as a confirmation of the above conjecture
concerning Massinger’s imitation of Plautus, that the cook in the
_Guardian_ is called Cario, which is also the name of the cook of
Periplectomenes.
There is, however, a coincidence connected with this drama of Plautus,
which is much more curious and striking than its resemblance to the
_Guardian_ of Massinger. The plot of the _Miles Gloriosus_ is nearly the
same with the story of the _Two Dreams_ related in the _Seven Wise
Masters_, a work originally written by an Indian philosopher, long before
the Christian æra, and which, having been translated into Greek under the
title of _Syntipas_, became current during the dark ages through all the
countries of Europe, by the different names of _Dolopatos_, _Erastus_, and
_Seven Wise Masters_,—the frame remaining substantially the same, but the
stories being frequently adapted to the manners of different nations. In
this popular story-book the tale of the Two Dreams concerns a knight, and
a lady who was constantly confined by a jealous husband, in a tower almost
inaccessible. Having become mutually enamoured, in consequence of seeing
each other in dreams, the knight repaired to the residence of the husband,
by whom he was hospitably received, and was at length allowed to build a
habitation on his possessions, at no great distance from the castle in
which his wife was inclosed. When the building was completed, the knight
secretly dug a communication under ground, between his new dwelling and
the tower, by which means he enjoyed frequent and uninterrupted interviews
with the object of his passion. At length the husband was invited to an
entertainment prepared at the knight’s residence, at which his wife was
present, and presided in the character of the knight’s mistress. During
the banquet the husband could not help suspecting that she was his wife,
and in consequence he repaired, after the feast was over, to the tower,
where he found her sitting composedly in her usual dress. This, and his
confidence in the security of the tower, the keys of which he constantly
kept in his pocket, dispelled his suspicions, and convinced him that the
Beauty who had done the honours of the knight’s table, had merely a
striking resemblance to his own lovely consort. Being thus gradually
accustomed to meet her at such entertainments, he at last complied with
his friend’s request, and kindly assisted at the ceremony of the knight’s
marriage with his leman. After their union, he complacently attended them
to the harbour, and handed the lady to the vessel which the knight had
prepared for the elopement. This story also coincides with Le Chevalier a
la Trappe, one of the Fabliaux of the Norman Trouveurs(252), with a tale
in the fourth part of the Italian _Novellino_ of Massuccio Salernitano,
and with the adventures of the _Vieux Calender_, in Gueulette’s _Contes
Tartares_.
_Mercator_—is one of the plays for which Plautus was indebted to Philemon,
the contemporary and the successful rival of Menander, over whom he
usually triumphed by the theatrical suffrages, while contending for the
prize of comedy. The Roman critics unanimously concur in representing
these popular decisions as unjust and partial. But Quintilian, while he
condemns the perverted judgment of those who preferred Philemon to
Menander, acknowledges that he must be universally admitted to have
merited the next place to his great rival.—“Qui ut pravis sui temporis
judiciis Menandro sæpe prælatus est, ita consensu tamen omnium meruit
credi secundus(253).”
An interesting account of Philemon is given in the _Observer_, by
Cumberland, who has also collected the strange and inconsistent stories
concerning the manner of his death. He is represented to us as having been
a man of amiable character, and cheerful disposition, seldom agitated by
those furious passions which distracted the mind of Menander. He lived to
the extraordinary age of a hundred and one, during which long period he
wrote ninety comedies. Of these, the critics and grammarians have
preserved some fragments, which are generally of a tender and sentimental,
sometimes even of a plaintive cast. Apuleius, however, informs us, that
Philemon was distinguished for the happiest strokes of wit and humour, for
the ingenious disposition of his plots, for his striking and well managed
discoveries, and the admirable adaptation of his characters to their
situations in life(254). To judge by the Latin Mercator, imitated or
translated from the Εμπορος of Philemon, it is impossible not to consider
him as inferior to those other Greek dramatists from whom Plautus borrowed
his _Amphitryon_, _Aulularia_, _Casina_, and _Miles Gloriosus_; yet it
must be recollected, that those are the best comedies which suffer most by
a transfusion into another language. The English Hypocrites and Misers
would indeed be feeble records of the genius of Moliere. Of one point,
however, we may clearly judge, even through the mist of translation.
Notwithstanding what is said by Apuleius concerning the purity of
Philemon’s dramas, in none of the plays of Plautus is greater moral
turpitude represented. A son is sent abroad by his father, with the view
of reclaiming him from the dissolute course of life which he had followed.
The youth, however, is so little amended by his travels, that he brings a
mistress home in the ship with him. The father, seeing the girl, falls in
love with her. His son, in order to conceal his passion, proposes to sell
its object, but engages one of his acquaintances to purchase her for him.
By some mismanagement, she is bought by a friend whom the father had
employed for this purpose, and is carried, as had been previously
arranged, to the purchaser’s house. The friend’s wife, however, being
jealous of this inmate, her husband is obliged to explain matters for her
satisfaction, and the old debauchee, in consequence, incurs, before the
conclusion of the comedy, merited shame and reproach.
An old libertine may be a very fit subject for satire and ridicule, but in
this play there is certainly too much latitude allowed to the debaucheries
of youth. The whole moral of the drama is contained in three lines near
the conclusion:—
“Neu quisquam posthac prohibeto adolescentem filium
Quin amet, et scortum ducat; quod bono fiat modo:
Si quis prohibuerit, plus perdet clam, quam si præhibuerit palam.”
Nothing can be more ridiculous than the delays and trifling of the persons
in this piece, under circumstances which must naturally have excited their
utmost impatience. Examples of this occur in the scene which occupies
nearly the whole of the first act, between Charinus and his slave
Acanthio, and the equally tedious dialogue in the fifth act between
Eutychus and Charinus.
The _Mercator_ of Plautus is the origin of _La Stiava_, an Italian comedy
by Cecchi; and in the second scene of the second act, there are two lines
which have a remarkable resemblance to the conclusion of the celebrated
speech of Jaques, “All the world’s a stage,” in _As you Like it_.
“Senex cum extemplo est jam nec sentit, nec sapit.
Aiunt solere eum rursum repuerascere.”
_Mostellaria_,—which the English translator of Plautus has rendered the
Apparition,—represents a young Athenian, naturally of a virtuous
disposition, who, during the absence of his father on a trading voyage, is
led into every sort of vice and extravagance, partly by his inordinate
love for a courtezan, and partly by the evil counsels of one of his
slaves, called Tranio. During an entertainment, which the youth is one day
giving in his father’s mansion, he is suddenly alarmed by the accounts
which Tranio brings, of the unexpected return of the old man, whom he had
just seen landing near the harbour. At the same time, however, the slave
undertakes to prevent his entering the house. In prosecution of this
design he there locks up his young master and his guests, and, on the
approach of the old gentleman, gravely informs him that the house was now
shut up, in consequence of being haunted by the apparition of an
unfortunate man, long since murdered in it by the person from whom it had
been last purchased. Tranio has scarcely prevailed on the father to leave
the door of the dwelling, when they unluckily meet a money-lender, who had
come to crave payment of a large debt from the profligate son; but the
ingenious slave persuades the father, that the money had been borrowed to
pay for a house which was a great bargain, and which his son had bought in
place of that which was haunted. A new dilemma, however, arises, from the
old gentleman’s asking to see the house: Tranio artfully obtains leave
from the owner, who being obliged to go to the Forum, nothing is said on
this occasion with regard to the sale. He examines the house a second time
along with the owner, but Tranio had previously begged him, as from
motives of delicacy, to say nothing concerning his purchase; and the whole
passes as a visit, to what is called a Show-house. The old man highly
approves of the bargain; but at length the whole deception is discovered,
by his accidentally meeting an attendant of one of his son’s companions,
who is just going into the haunted house to conduct his master home from
that scene of festivity. He has thus occasion to exercise all his patience
and clemency in forgiveness of the son by whom he has been almost ruined,
and of the slave by whom he had been so completely duped.