of a crafty priesthood, who used the influence of their position for
their own temporal purposes. Prodigies were declared to have happened;
such as the talking of a cow, which was alleged to have "whispered low"
in a priest's ear; statues were said to have wept; and the tale was
listened to by those who believed that their augurs could, if they
pleased, get blood out of a stone.
In literature, though it is customary to speak of Roman characters as an
original form of letters, Rome had nothing new, but trusted to what was
already known; for she not only copied the vices of the Greeks, but took
a leaf out of their books in a more literal manner. She had no writers
of her own; but what literary food she possessed was supplied by those
translating cooks who make a hash of nearly everything they lay their
hands upon.
The earliest Roman dramatist is supposed to have been one Lucius
Andronicus, who had formerly been a slave, and who continued his slavish
propensities by a servile adaptation of Greek plays, instead of boldly
attempting an original production. Like many of the modern translators,
he was himself an actor in his own pieces; and it is declared by Livy
the historian, that he lost his voice by the frequency with which he was
encored by the audience. This statement seems to show that puffs were
not unknown when the Roman drama was in its very earliest stage; for the
assertion in question could scarcely have been true, since Cicero[59]
has told us that there was nothing worthy of being read or listened to
twice, in the plays of Lucius Andronicus.
The greatest comic writer of the period at which our history has
arrived, was Marcus Accius Plautus, of whose origin little is known; for
the Romans held their wits and humorists in such little respect, that as
long as they could raise a laugh, it mattered little who they were,
whence they sprung, or what became of them. It was not until after a
writer's death that any interest was felt in his life, and such was the
case with regard to Plautus, who has been the subject of more invention
than is to be found in all his comedies. Conjecture--the author of half
the history, and three-fourths of the biography, which the world
possesses--describes Plautus as a low-born fellow, made of the very
commonest clay, moulded by one of Nature's awkwardest journeymen into a
misshapen lump, and whose angular deformities constituted his chief
points of humour. Having made a little money as a dramatist, he is said
to have embarked it in the baking business; some would say that he might
make his own puffs; but his shop failed, and as the public would not, he
of course could not, get his bread at it. He next entered the service of
a miller and master baker, where he attempted, in grinding corn, to turn
at once the handle of a mill and an honest penny. Even in the bakehouse
he was unable to forget the flowery path of literature; and while
watching the bread, he managed to inscribe on different rolls no less
than three comedies. Of these he made sufficient to enable him to quit
the oven, which was incapable of warming his imagination; and taking
lodgings in Rome, he resumed the life of a dramatist.
What Plautus may have wanted in originality, he made up for by
industry, there being still extant twenty of his plays, and he was,
according to some, the author of one hundred pieces.
The mantle of Plautus--supposing the dramatist to have died with a coat
to his back--may be said to have fallen on Terentius Afer, or Terence.
He is believed to have been born at Carthage, and to have been the slave
of a Roman senator; for his biographers--who, by the way, were writers
themselves--will not hazard the supposition that one of their own order
could have been the son of a gentleman. Terentius, however, got into
what is usually termed the best society, which had the usual effect of
the "best society" on a literary man; for it took what it could never
compensate him for--his time; it led him into idle and extravagant
habits, and thus brought him, where it will inevitably leave him, if it
once gets him there--to ruin. His fashionable friends carried their
patronage so far, as to tax his reputation as well as his means, and
even claimed a share in the credit of his writings, declaring the best
part of them to be their own, though they suffered Terentius to affix
his name to them.
Scipio Africanus, who stands convicted of fraud and embezzlement in a
former chapter,[60] had the effrontery to say, or allow it to be said,
that he had written portions of the plays in question, or, at least,
contributed some of the jokes; but we have nothing to support the claim,
except the fact that he might, perhaps, have made a pun, as he is known
to have picked the public pocket. The following anecdote, related by his
biographer, Donatus, or Suetonius--for the learned are at issue, and
have long been stumbling over the two styles--may afford some idea of
the treatment to which authors were submitted in the age we are writing
of. Having completed his play of "Andria," Terence was desirous of
getting it licensed, and applied to the Ædiles, who referred him to
Cæcilius, for an opinion on the manuscript. The critic being at dinner,
desired the dramatist to take a seat on a low stool, and read his piece,
so that Cæcilius might, at the same time, swallow his meal, and digest
the new comedy. Terence had read but a few verses, when the critic
declared he could not continue selfishly putting good things into his
own mouth, while so many good things were coming from the mouth of his
visitor. He was requested to put the comedy away until after the dinner,
which he was invited to share; and, having done so, the play was
finished over a glass or two of wine, which increased the enthusiasm
with which the author read, and the critic listened. Both were delighted
with each other. Their better acquaintance was drunk; success to the
comedy was drunk; their healths were drunk together; and, ultimately,
Cæcilius and Terence were drunk separately as well as jointly, before
the termination of the evening.
The plays of Terence, though of Greek origin, were moulded after a
fashion of his own, and what little of the material he borrowed was
almost immaterial to the value of his productions. He received for one
of them "The Eunuchus," no less than 8000 sesterces (about £64), which
was, in those days, the largest sum that had ever been paid for a five
act comedy. After having been successful for some years, he embarked,
according to some authorities, for Greece--as our dramatists embark
occasionally for Boulogne--to lay in a new stock of pieces for future
translation. Other authorities assert that he went to Asia, taking a
number of translations with him, and was never heard of again, the ship
having been sunk, perhaps, by the weight of his too heavy manuscripts.
[Illustration: Terence reading his Play to Cæcilius.]
Among the writers of the period, we must not forget to mention Ennius, a
Calabrian, who gave lessons in Greek to the patrician youths, at a small
lodging on the Aventine. He is regarded as the father of Latin poetry;
but Latin poetry could profit little from the paternal care of one whose
devotion to the bottle rendered his own care of himself frequently
impossible. His productions are of a very fragmentary kind; and, indeed,
his habits of intemperance prevented him from making any sustained
effort. He was the boon companion of several patricians, who helped him
to ruin when alive, and gave him a monument at his death;--one of them
(Scipio Africanus) accommodating the poet with a place in his tomb, so
that the patron might literally go down to posterity with the man of
genius.
While on the subject of the drama, as represented at Rome in the days of
Plautus and Terence, we may refer to the fact that masks were worn by
the actors, which gave to a theatrical performance some absurd and not
very interesting features. There were several sets of masks among the
properties of a regular theatre, beginning with that of the first tragic
old man, which had a quantity of venerable white worsted attached to it
for hair, with cheeks as chalky as grief and tears, strong enough to
have washed out the fastest colour, might be supposed to have rendered
them. The mask of the second tragic old man was less pale than that of
the first, for he was not supposed to have attained to that universal
privilege of aged heroism,--a countenance sicklied o'er with a pale coat
of whitewash. The mask of the tragic young man, or youthful hero, was
remarkable for its luxuriant head of hair, which, from the earliest days
of the drama to the present hour, seems to be accepted as the stage
indication of a noble character. The tragic masks for slaves embraced
some interesting varieties, including a sharp nose, intended to be
indicative of many a blow from fortune's hand,--a sunken eye, to bespeak
a sorry look-out,--and, occasionally, long white hair, quite straight,
which was supposed to convey the idea of the party having seen better
days, though the analogy is difficult, unless the lankiness of the locks
may be held to show that a favourable turn has in vain been waited for.
The mask of a tragic lady had all those signs of a genuine female in
distress which are even to this day required on the stage, where long
black hair, in terribly straightened circumstances, is the emblem of an
anxious mind, which has long been a stranger to curl-papers. When
insanity, as well as anguish, had to be represented by the mask, the
hair was undivided in the centre, but floated in wild profusion, as if
the wearer had gone through a great deal, and as if, whatever she had
gone through, her hair had caught in the middle of.
The classical mask of the first comic old man was drawn excessively mild
and benevolent, to indicate that propensity for scattering purses among
the poor, and bestowing his daughter, with some millions of sesterces,
on young Lucius, which were the probable attributes of the Greek and
Latin stage veteran. There was also the mask of the testy old man, who
was represented perfectly bald, as if he was always taking something or
other into his head which had torn all the hair out of it. The masks for
comic young men had the ordinary characteristics of stage humour,
including red hair, pug noses, broad lips, and raised eyebrows, which
are in these days supplied from those recognised sources of dramatic
drollery, the burnt cork, the gum-pot, and the paint-box.
We might enumerate a long list of different masks, without introducing
any variety, for they were very nearly the same; but we have shown
enough to prove that the classical taste for which so many clamour
without knowing what they talk about, was very little, if at all, above
the modern standard. Some authorities[61] assert that masks were not
worn in the earliest representations of the Roman drama; but some of the
oldest MS. of Terence contain figures of the required masks, just as a
play of the present day has prefixed to it a list of the costumes of the
characters. The admirers of the classical may be grieved and astonished
to hear that the taste, for the restoration of which they so much pine,
took greater delight in the deadly games of the Circus, than in the
lively representations of men and manners.
[Illustration: Light Comedy Man of the Period.]
Historical literature was in a very humble condition, and had much, or
indeed all, the prolixity, with little of the accuracy, of a modern
report for a newspaper. It is, however, hardly fair to judge the authors
severely for writings which we have never seen, and are never likely to
see; for they have never come down to us, except in scraps--the result
of the various cuttings-up they have encountered at the hands of
Polybius and other critics. For the same reason, we are unable to praise
conscientiously the "Origines" of Cato, which has long ago been lost,
and we are unwilling to adopt the "opinions of the press," which have
too often been at the disposal of the member of a clique, or of the
purchaser of a puffing paragraph. Oratory always was, and always will
be, an important art, except in those countries which are so excessively
republican and free, that the people are free for every imaginable or
imaginary purpose, except to do as they please, and to say what they
think proper. The Romans took the art of rhetoric from the Greeks, but
even a good thing is distasteful if forced where it is not asked; and,
when the Athenians sent three professed orators as propagandists of
their art to Rome, the foreign agitators were ordered--very properly--to
quit the city.
As lawyers, the early Romans are entitled to high praise, and they
evinced their prudence by making juris-prudence an essential part of
their ordinary studies. The Roman youth were required to get the Twelve
Tables by heart, or rather, by head, which was supposed to be
sufficiently furnished when the whole of the Twelve Tables alluded to
were crammed into it.
The science of Medicine was not in very high repute among the early
Romans, and physic was, commercially speaking, in very little demand, so
that it would have been a mere drug if brought into the market. The
aristocratic families generally expected one of their slaves to know
something of the healing process, as they usually did of other arts or
trades; and a surgical operation, like a gardening operation, or any
piece of merely manual labour, was frequently entrusted to the hands of
a simple bondsman. Physic was scarcely known in Rome as a distinct
pursuit, until the year of the City 534 (B.C. 219), when the Greek
physician Archagathus opened a shop with an extensive stock, and an
establishment of baths; the expense of which would have plunged him into
hot water, had not the public come forward to make him a present of his
premises. The shops of the doctors were lounging places for the idle,
who are always the most profitable patients; for there is no ailing so
troublesome as that of having nothing to do, and abundance of time to do
it in. The Romans had made little advance in art, though they professed
to show their love for it by robbing other nations of their treasures.
On the same principle, the pickpocket, who pilfers a handkerchief, might
ask credit for being attracted by the beauty of its design; and the
knave who walks away with a set of silver spoons might pretend to be
actuated by a desire to patronise their pattern or their workmanship.
Rome, indeed, can scarcely be said to have introduced the arts from
Greece, but merely to have introduced a few of the articles on which the
arts had employed themselves.
Commerce was looked down upon for a long period as a degrading pursuit;
but from the time of the Second Punic War, the equites, with a total
disregard of equity, began lending out money at exorbitant interest.
Though they would not condescend to trade for gain, they were prepared
to pocket the profits of usury. They would also purchase corn at a low
price abroad, and sell it at a dear rate at home; for they understood
and practised all the tricks of the tradesman, though they sneered at
and repudiated his position. The slave trade was also carried on to a
vast extent by the higher classes, and even Cato is said to have done a
little in that way himself, notwithstanding the stiffness of his
notions, and the alleged purity of his morals. The patrician principle
seemed to be, that the same thing which would be blamable on a small
scale, was excusable when practised on a broad basis--that to sell a
little was degrading, but to sell a great deal was no disgrace at all;
and by a parity of reasoning, they must have held, that so far from its
being the same thing whether to be hanged for a sheep or a lamb, it
would only be the smaller depredator who would deserve any punishment
whatever.
Robbery had greatly augmented the public wealth; but individuals were
wretchedly poor, with the exception of the few who had had a hand in the
pockets of the conquered nations. Slaves were brought in such numbers to
Rome, that at length they would hardly fetch a price; and so many were
brought from Sardinia, who were constantly being put up, knocked down at
nothing, bought in, and left on hand, that "Sardians to sell!" passed
into a proverb to express an unsaleable article. In vain were the poor
creatures prepared to do as they were bid, for no one would give them a
bidding. The Greek captives fetched a higher price, for they were many
of them accomplished men, and became tutors, music-masters, or teachers
of painting, in the families of their purchasers. Among the hostages
brought to Rome, was Polybius the historian, who got so good a living by
giving lessons, that though he had been brought to Rome against his
will, he solicited the privilege of remaining there. His "Universal
History," in forty books, was a work that ought to be, and would have
been, in every gentleman's library, but for the unfortunate fact of its
having been nearly all lost: and we may judge of the excellence of the
whole, from the knowledge that though what remains of the work is very
good, by far the best part of it is missing.
FOOTNOTES:
[56] P. Cornelius Scipio gave no better answer than this to a charge of
having embezzled a sum amounting to 36,000_l._ sterling.
[57] _Vide_ "The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria," by Dennis.
[58] De Re rustica.
[59] Brut., c. 18
[60] Chapter xix., p. 202.
[61] Diomedes, iii., p. 486, ed. Putsch.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.
WARS AGAINST PERSEUS. THE THIRD PUNIC WAR. SIEGE AND DESTRUCTION OF
CARTHAGE, AND DITTO DITTO OF CORINTH.
Philip of Macedon bad been from time to time waging war with Rome; but
the wages of the troops were so exhausting to his means, that he was
driven to a hollow peace by his empty pockets. He had agreed to confine
his dominion within a certain space; but, as his ambition had no bounds,
he would not be content that his territory should have any limits. He
accordingly fought with and thrashed the Thracians, who sent ambassadors
to Rome for the purpose of showing him up, as it were, to their common
master. Rome punished him by ordering him to keep within bounds; and
threatened, that if he should be found venturing out of bounds, he
should be severely punished. Philip muttered something about seeking
justice elsewhere--a threat of paulo-post-future revenge which is common
with those who, being engaged in a dispute, have got decidedly the worst
of it.
His prospects of ulterior measures were, however, sufficiently remote to
induce him to attempt an arrangement through the intervention of his son
Demetrius. The latter had been educated in Rome, and of course had a
thorough understanding of the Roman character. He succeeded in his
mission, but he obtained his end in a less agreeable sense; for his
existence was brought to a close by treachery. Some designing persons
fomented a feeling of jealousy between himself and his elder brother,
Perseus, who poisoned the mind of Philip with such fatal effect, that he
caused the poisoning--not merely mental, but physical--of his son
Demetrius. When the wretched parent discovered that he had been duped,
he became so uneasy in his mind, that he went quite out of it, and died
at the age of three-score, unable to meet the heavy score that he had
run up against himself in the court of his own conscience.
Perseus was hailed by the Romans as king; but all their hailing could
not render his reign prosperous. He endeavoured to cement his power by a
marriage with the daughter of Antiochus Epiphanes, for Perseus thought
that the aid he would derive from the match, would render him more than
a match for his enemies. He gave his sister to Prusias of Bithynia, in
the hope that the latter, having married into the family, would feel
himself wedded to its interests. Avarice was, however, the ruin of
Perseus; for he did not understand the true use of the purse, which he
used his utmost exertions to fill, and then held its strings with
parsimonious stringency. He had promised to pay his allies, but their
zeal in his cause subsided when they were left without their subsidies.
Eumenes of Pergamus being among others seized with a panic, went to Rome
to ask advice, and on his return nearly lost his life on the highway, by
some persons who attacked him in a very low manner. He was passing a
narrow footpath near Delphi--from which it would appear that he had
walked at least a portion of the way--when some persons concealed in the
rocks, hurled down several large blocks of granite, which though not
causing his death, brought him within a stone's throw of it. Several
huge pieces having fallen upon him, something struck him that all was
not right; and he was revolving the affair in his mind, when he found
himself rolling down the precipice. He was picked up nearly lifeless,
but though very much jammed, he was preserved; and though almost dashed
to pieces, he was sufficiently collected, in a few days, to be enabled
to go home, by another road, to Asia. It was said that Perseus had had a
hand in this disgraceful affair; but he declared that even if he had
wished for the death of Eumenes, he would not have been guilty of making
such a desperate push for it.
This circumstance gave an impetus to the hostilities between Rome and
Perseus, who was driven by the Consul Paulus Æmilius to a place called
Pydna, where the two armies came to such very close quarters, that their
cavalry were compelled to go halves in the same stream of water. A Roman
horse happened to be drinking, when, startled by his own shadow, and not
giving himself time for reflection, which would have shown him the cause
of his alarm, he ran away into the camp of the enemy. The animal, though
goaded on by nothing but the spur of the moment, continued his flight;
and some Roman soldiers running after him into the enemy's camp, were
speedily followed by so many more, that, though they had come after
their own horse, they began attacking the foot of the enemy.
The battle was commenced under such unfavourable circumstances, that
Æmilius, the Roman leader, thinking it all lost, declared that it was
all one to him what became of him. He manifested his grief by tearing
his robe to show how much he was cut up; and beating his foot
impatiently on the ground, he stamped himself for ever as a man without
strength of mind, in a case where fortitude was required. The Roman
cavalry beginning to bear down successfully, the Consul began to bear
up; and the tide of fortune being turned, the Macedonians were,
according to those grave authorities--which never mince matters, though
always mincing men--cut, as usual, to pieces. Perseus flew to Pella; but
having omitted to close the gates after him, he was shut out from all
chance of escape had he remained in the place, and he went on,
therefore, to Amphipolis. There he attempted to address the inhabitants
on his own behalf; but he shed so many tears, that he drowned his own
voice, and choked his own utterance. He had hoped to rouse the
inhabitants by going to the country with a cry; but he damped their
enthusiasm with a flood of tears, when they had been looking for a flow
of eloquence.