Chapter IV: Part 4

Ennius afterwards invokes a great number of the Gods, and then proceeds to the history of the Alban kings. The dream of the Vestal Virgin Ilia, which announced her pregnancy by Mars, and the foundation of Rome, is related in verses of considerable beauty and smoothness, by Ilia to her sister Eurydice.—

“Talia commemorat lacrumans, exterrita somno;
‘Euridica prognata, pater quam noster amavit,
Vivens vita meum corpus nunc deserit omne.
Nam me visus homo polcer per amœna salicta
Et ripas raptare, locosque novos: ita sola
Post illa, germana soror, errare videbar;
Tardaque vestigare, et quærere, neque posse
Corde capessere: semita nulla pedem stabilibat.
Exin compellare pater me voce videtur
Heis verbis—O gnata, tibi sunt antegerendæ
Ærumnæ; post ex fluvio fortuna resistet.
Hæc pater ecfatus, germana, repente recessit;
Nec sese dedit in conspectum corde cupitus:
Quamquam multa manus ad cœli cærula Templa
Tendebam lacrumans, et blanda voce vocabam.
Vix ægro tum corde meo me somnus reliquit(187).’”

In these lines there is considerable elegance and pathos; and the contest which immediately succeeds between Romulus and Remus for the sovereignty of Rome, is as remarkable for dignity and animation:

“Curanteis magnâ cum curâ, concupienteis
Regnei, dant operam simul auspicio, augurioque:
Hinc Remus auspicio se devovet, atque secundam
Solus avem servat: at Romolus polcer in alto
Quærit Aventino, servans genus altivolantum.
Omnis cura vireis, uter esset Endoperator.
Exspectant, veluti consol, quom mittere signum
Volt, omneis avidei spectant ad carceris oras,
Qua mox emittat picteis ex faucibus currus.
Sic exspectabat populus, atque ore timebat
Rebus, utrei magnei victoria sit data regnei.
Interea Sol albus recessit in infera noctis:
Exin Candida se radiis dedit icta foras lux:
Et simol ex alto longe polcerrima præpes
Læva volavit avis: simol aureus exoritur sol.
Cedunt ter quatuor de cælo corpora sancta
Avium, præpetibus sese, polcreisque loceis dant.
Conspicit inde sibei data Romolus esse priora,
Auspicio regni stabilita scamna, solumque(188).”

The reigns of the kings, and the contests of the republic with the neighbouring states previous to the Punic war, occupy the metrical annals to the end of the sixth book(189), which concludes with the following noble answer of Pyrrhus to the Roman ambassadors, who came to ransom the prisoners taken from them by that prince in battle:—

“Nec mî aurum posco, nec mî pretium dederitis;
Nec cauponantes bellum, sed belligerantes;
Ferro, non auro, vitam cernamus utrique,
Vosne velit, an me regnare Hera; quidve ferat sors
Virtute experiamur; et hoc simol accipe dictum:
Quorum virtutei belli fortuna pepercit,
Horumdem me libertatei parcere certum est:
Dono ducite, doque volentibus cum magneis Dîs(190).”

Cicero, in his _Brutus_, says, that Ennius did not treat of the first Punic war, as Nævius had previously written on that subject(191); to which prior work Ennius thus alludes:—

“Scripsere alii rem,
Versibus, quos olim Faunei, vatesque canebant.”

P. Merula, however, who edited the fragments of Ennius, is of opinion, that this passage of Cicero can only mean that he had not entered into much detail of its events, as he finds several lines in the seventh book, which, he thinks, evidently apply to the first Carthaginian war, particularly the description of naval preparations, and the building of the first fleet with which the Carthaginians were attacked by the Romans. In some of the editions of Ennius, the character of the friend and military adviser of Servilius, generally supposed to be intended as a portrait of the poet himself(192), is ranged under the seventh book:—

“Hocce locutus vocat, quicum bene sæpe libenter
Mensam, sermonesque suos, rerumque suarum
Comiter impertit; magna quum lapsa dies jam
Parte fuisset de parvis summisque gerendis,
Consilio, induforo lato, sanctoque senatu;
Cui res audacter magnas, parvasque, jocumque
Eloqueret, quæ tincta maleis, et quæ bona dictu
Evomeret, si quid vellet, tutoque locaret.
Quocum multa volup ac gaudia clamque palamque.
Ingenium cui nulla malum sententia suadet,
Ut faceret facinus; lenis tamen, haud malus; idem
Doctus, fidelis, suavis homo, facundus, suoque
Contentus, scitus, atque beatus, secunda loquens in
Tempore commodus, et verborum vir paucorum.
Multa tenens antiqua sepulta, et sæpe vetustas
Quæ facit, et mores veteresque novosque tenentem
Multorum veterum leges, divumque hominumque
Prudentem, qui multa loquive, tacereve possit.
Hunc inter pugnas compellat Servilius sic(193).”

The eighth and ninth books of these Annals, which are much mutilated, detailed the events of the second Carthaginian war in Italy and Africa. This was by much the most interesting part of the copious subject which Ennius had chosen, and a portion of it on which he would probably exert all the force of his genius, in order the more to honour his friend and patron Scipio Africanus. The same topic was selected by Silius Italicus, and by Petrarch for his Latin poem _Africa_, which obtained him a coronation in the Capitol. “Ennius,” says the illustrious Italian, “has sung fully of Scipio; but, in the opinion of Valerius Maximus, his style is harsh and vulgar, and there is yet no elegant poem which has for its subject the glorious exploits of the conqueror of Hannibal.” None of the poets who have chosen this topic, have done full justice to the most arduous struggle in which two powerful nations had ever engaged, and which presented the most splendid display of military genius on the one hand, and heroic virtue on the other, that had yet been exhibited to the world. Livy’s historical account of the second Punic war possesses more real poetry than any poem on the subject whatever.

The tenth, eleventh, and twelfth books of the Annals of Ennius, contained the war with Philip of Macedon. In the commencement of the thirteenth, Hannibal excites Antiochus to a war against the Romans. In the fourteenth book, the Consul Scipio, in the prosecution of this contest, arrives at Ilium, which he thus apostrophizes:

“O patria! O divûm domus Ilium, et incluta bello
Pergama!”

Several Latin writers extol the elegant lines of Ennius immediately following, in which the Roman soldiers, alluding to its magnificent revival in Rome, exclaim with enthusiasm, that Ilium could not be destroyed;

“Quai neque Dardaneeis campeis potuere perire,
Nec quom capta capei, nec quom combusta cremari(194);”

a passage which has been closely imitated in the seventh book of Virgil:

“Num Sigeis occumbere campis,
Num capti potuere capi: num incensa cremavit
Troja viros?”

The fifteenth book related the expedition of Fulvius Nobilior to Ætolia, which Ennius himself is said to have accompanied. In the two following books he prosecuted the Istrian war; which concludes with the following animated description of a single hero withstanding the attack of an armed host:—

“Undique conveniunt, velut imber, tela Tribuno.
Configunt parmam, tinnit hastilibus umbo,
Æratæ sonitant galeæ: sed nec pote quisquam
Undique nitendo corpus discerpere ferro.
Semper abundanteis hastas frangitque, quatitque;
Totum sudor habet corpus, moltumque laborat;
Nec respirandi fit copia præpete ferro.
Istrei tela manu jacientes sollicitabant.
Occumbunt moltei leto, ferroque lapique,
Aut intra moeros, aut extra præcipi casu(195).”

The concluding, or eighteenth, book seems to have been in a great measure personal to the poet himself. It explains his motive for writing:—

—— “Omnes mortales sese laudarier optant;” ——

and he seemingly compares himself to a Courser, who rests after his triumphs in the Olympic games:—

“Sic ut fortis Equus, spatio qui sæpe supremo
Vicit Olumpiaco, nunc senio confectus quiescit(196).”

Connected with his Annals, there was a poem of Ennius devoted to the celebration of the exploits of Scipio, in which occurs a much-admired description of the calm of Evening, where the flow of the versification is finely modulated to the still and solemn imagery:—

“Mundus cœli vastus constitit silentio,
Et Neptunus sævus undeis aspereis pausam dedit:
Sol equeis iter repressit unguleis volantibus,
Constitere amneis perenneis—arbores vento vacant(197).”

With this first attempt at descriptive poetry in the Latin language, it may be interesting to compare a passage produced in the extreme old age of Roman literature, which also paints, by nearly the same images, the profound repose of Nature:—

—— “Tacet omne pecus, volucresque feræque,
Et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos;
Nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror
Æquoris, et terris maria acclinata quiescunt.”

Horace, in one of his odes, strongly expresses the glory and honour which the Calabrian muse of Ennius had conferred on Scipio by this poem, devoted to his praise:

“Non incendia Carthaginis impiæ,
Ejus qui domita nomen ab Africa
Lucratus rediit, clarius indicant
Laudes quam Calabræ Pierides(198).”

The historical poems of Ennius appear to have been written without the introduction of much machinery or decorative fiction; and whether founded on ancient ballads, according to one opinion(199), or framed conformably to historical truth, according to another(200), they were obviously deficient in those embellishments of imagination which form the distinction between a poem and a metrical chronicle. In the subject which he had chosen, Ennius wanted the poetic advantages of distance in place or of time. It perhaps matters little whether the ground-work of a heroic poem be historical or entirely fictitious, if free scope be given for the excursions of fancy. But, in order that it may sport with advantage, the event must be remote in time or in place; and if this rule be observed, such subjects as those chosen by Camoens or Tasso admit of as much colouring and embellishment as the _Faery Queen_. It is in this that Lucan and Voltaire have erred; and neither the soaring genius of the one, nor brilliancy of the other, could raise their themes, splendid as they were, from the dust, or steep the mind in those reveries in which we indulge on subjects where there is no visible or known bound to credulity and imaginings. Still the Annals of Ennius, as a national work, were highly gratifying to a proud ambitious people, and, in consequence, continued long popular at Rome. They were highly relished in the age of Horace and Virgil; and, as far down as the time of Marcus Aurelius, they were recited in theatres and other public places for the amusement of the people(201). The Romans, indeed, were so formed on his style, that Seneca called them _populus Ennianus_—an Ennian race,—and said, that both Cicero and Virgil were obliged, contrary to their own judgment, to employ antiquated terms, in compliance with the reigning prejudice(202). From his example, too, added to the national character, the historical epic became in future times the great poetical resource of the Romans, who versified almost every important event in their history. Besides the _Pharsalia_ of Lucan, and _Punica_ of Silius Italicus, which still survive, there were many works of this description which are now lost. Varro Atacinus chose as his subject Cæsar’s war with the Sequani—Varius, the deeds of Augustus and Agrippa—Valgius Rufus, the battle of Actium—Albinovanus, the exploits of Germanicus—Cicero, those of Marius, and the events of his own consulship.

We have already seen Ennius’s imitation of the Greeks in his tragedies and satires; and even in the above-mentioned historical poems, though devoted to the celebration of Roman heroes and subjects exclusively national, he has borrowed copiously from the Greek poets, and has often made his Roman consuls fight over again the Homeric battles. Thus the description of the combat of Ajax, in the 16th Book of the Iliad, beginning Αιας δ’ ουκετ’ ἐμιμνε, has suggested a passage, above quoted, from the fragments of the Istrian war; and the picture of a steed breaking from his stall, and ranging the pastures, is imitated from a similar description, in the 6th Book of the Iliad—

“Et tunc sicut Equus, qui de præsepibus actus,
Vincla sua magneis animeis abrumpit, et inde
Fert sese campi per cœrula, lætaque prata;
Celso pectore, sæpe jubam quassat simul altam:
Spiritus ex animâ calidâ spumas agit albas(203).”

Homer’s lines are the following:—

“Ὡς δ’ ὁτε τις στατος ἱππος, ακοςησας επι φατνῃ
Δεσμον απορρηξας θειει πεδιοιο κροαινων,
Ἐιωθως λουεσθαι εὐρρειος ποταμοιο,
Κυδιοων· ὑψου δε καρη ἐχει, αμφι δε χαιται
Ὡμοις αισσονται. ὁ δ’ αγλαιηφι πεποιθως,
Ριμφα ἑ γουνα φερει μετα τ’ ἠθεα και νομον ιππων(204).”

In order to afford an opportunity of judging of Ennius’s talents for imitation, I have subjoined from the two poets, who carried that art to the greatest perfection, corresponding passages, which are both evidently founded on the same Greek original—

“Qualis, ubi abruptis fugit præsepia vinclis,
Tandem liber, Equus, campoque potitus aperto;
Aut ille in pastus armentaque tendit equarum,
Aut, assuetus aquæ perfundi flumine noto,
Emicat, arrectisque fremit cervicibus alte
Luxurians; luduntque jubæ per colla, per armos(205).”

The other parallel passage is in Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered—

“Come Destrier, che dalle reggie stalle,
Ove al uso dell’ arme si riserba,
Fugge, e libero alfin, per largo calle
Va tra gli armenti, o al fiume usato, o all’ erba;
Scherzan sul collo i crini, e sulle spalle:
Si scuote la cervice alta e superba:
Suonano i pie nel corso, e par ch’avvampi,
Di sonori nitriti empiendo i campi(206).”

To these parallel passages may be added a very similar, though perhaps not a borrowed description, from the earliest production of the most original of all poets, in which the horse of Adonis breaks loose during the dalliance of Venus with his master:—

“The strong-necked steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.
Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girts he breaks asunder,
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder.
His ears up-prick’d, his braided hanging mane,
Upon his compass’d crest, now stands an end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send.
His eye which glisters scornfully, like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire(207).”

The poem of Ennius, entitled _Phagetica_, is curious,—as one would hardly suppose, that in this early age, luxury had made such progress, that the culinary art should have been systematically or poetically treated. All that we know, however, of the manner in which it was prepared or served up, is from the _Apologia_ of Apuleius. It was, which its name imports, a didactic poem on eatables, particularly fish, as Apuleius testifies.—“Q. Ennii _edes_ phagetica, quæ versibus scripsit, innumerabilia piscium genera enumerat, quæ scilicet curiose cognorat.” It is well known, that previous to the time of Ennius, this subject had been discussed both in prose and verse by various Greek authors(208), and was particularly detailed in the poem of Archestratus the Epicurean—

“—— The bard
Who sang of poultry, venison, and lard,
Poet and cook ——”

It appears from the following passage of Apuleius, that the work of Ennius was a digest of all the previous books on this subject,—“Alios etiam multis versibus decoravit, et ubi gentium quisque eorum inveniatur, ostendit qualiter assus, aut jussulentus optime sapiat; nec tamen ab eruditis reprehenditur.” The eleven lines which remain, and which have been preserved by Apuleius, mention the places where different sorts of fish are found in greatest perfection and abundance—

“Brundusii Sargus bonus est; hunc, magnus erit si,
Sume: Apriclum piscem scite, primum esse Tarenti;
Surrentei fac emas Glaucum,” &c.

Another poem of Ennius, entitled _Epicharmus_, was so called because it was translated from the Greek work of Epicharmus, the Pythagorean, on the Nature of Things, in the same manner as Plato gave the name of _Timæus_ to the book which he translated from Timæus the Locrian. This was the same Epicharmus who invented Greek comedy, and resided in the court of Hiero of Syracuse. The fragments of this work of Ennius are so broken and corrupted, that it is impossible to follow the plan of his poem, or to discover the system of philosophy which it inculcated. It appears, however, to have contained many speculations concerning the elements of which the world was primarily composed, and which, according to him, were water, earth, air, and fire(209); as also with regard to the preservative powers of nature. Jupiter seems merely to have been considered by him as the air, the clouds, and the storm:

“Isteic is est Jupiter, quem dico, Græci vocant
Aera; quique ventus est, et nubes, imber postea,
Atque ex imbre frigus; ventus post fit, aer denuo:
Istæc propter Jupiter sunt ista, quæ dico tibei,
Qui mortales urbeis, atque belluas omneis juvat(210).”

This system, which had been previously adopted by the Etruscans, and had been promulgated in some of the Orphic hymns, nearly corresponds with that announced by Cato, in Lucan’s _Pharsalia_—

“Jupiter est quodcunque vides, quocunque moveris;”

and is not far different from the Spinozism, in Pope’s Essay on Man—

“Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
Lives through all life, extends through all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent.”

Ennius, however, whose compositions thus appear to have been formed entirely on Greek originals, has not more availed himself of these writings than Virgil has profited by the works of Ennius. The prince of Latin Poets has often imitated long passages, and sometimes copied whole lines, from the Father of Roman Song. This has been shown, in a close comparison, by Macrobius, in his _Saturnalia_(211).

ENNIUS, Book 1.
“Qui cœlum versat stellis fulgentibus aptum.”
VIRGIL, Book 6.
“Axem humero torquet stellis ardentibus aptum.”
ENNIUS, 1.
“Est locus Hesperiam quam mortales perhibebant.”
VIRGIL, 1.
“Est locus Hesperiam Graii cognomine dicunt.”
ENNIUS, 12.
“Unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem;
Non ponebat enim rumores ante salutem.
Ergo postque magisque viri nunc gloria claret(212).”
VIRGIL, 6.
“Unus qui nobis cunctando restituis rem.”
ENNIUS, 5.
“Quod per amœnam urbem leni fluit agmine flumen.”
VIRGIL, 2.
“Inter opima virum leni fluit agmine Tybris.”
ENNIUS, 1.
“Hei mihi qualis erat quantum mutatus ab illo.”
VIRGIL, 2.
“Hei mihi qualis erat! quantum mutatus ab illo.”
ENNIUS.
—— “Postquam discordia tetra
Belli ferratos postes portasque refregit(213).”
VIRGIL, 7.
“Impulit ipsa manu portas, et cardine verso
Belli ferratos rupit Saturnia postes.”

In the longer passages, Virgil has not merely selected the happiest thoughts and expressions of his predecessor, but in borrowing a great deal from Ennius, he has added much of his own. He has thrown on common images new lights of fancy; he has struck out the finest ideas from ordinary sentiments, and expunged all puerile conceits and absurdities.

Lucretius and Ovid have also frequently availed themselves of the works of Ennius. His description of felling the trees of a forest, in order to fit out a fleet against the Carthaginians, in the seventh book, has been imitated by Statius in the tenth book of the _Thebaid_. The passage in his sixth satire, in which he has painted the happy situation of a parasite, compared with that of the master of a feast, is copied in Terence’s Phormio(214). The following beautiful lines have been imitated by innumerable poets, both ancient and modern:

“Jupiter hic risit, tempestatesque serenæ
Riserunt omnes risu Jovis omnipotentis(215).”

Near the commencement of his _Annals_, Ennius says,

“Audire est operæ pretium, procedere recte
Qui rem Romanam Latiumque augescere vultis;”

which solemn passage has been parodied by Horace, in the second satire of the first book:

“Audire est operæ pretium, procedere recte
Qui mœchis non vultis, ut omni parte laborent.”

Thus it appears that Ennius occasionally produced verses of considerable harmony and beauty, and that his conceptions were frequently expressed with energy and spirit. It must be recollected, however, that the lines imitated by Virgil, and the other passages which have been here extracted from the works of Ennius, are very favourable specimens of his taste and genius. Sometimes poems, which have themselves been lost, and of which only fragments are preserved, in the citations of contemporary or succeeding authors, are now believed to have been finer productions than they perhaps actually were. It is the best passages which are quoted, and imitated, and are thus upborne on the tide of ages, while the grosser parts have sunk and perished in the flood. We are in this manner led to form an undue estimate of the excellence of the whole, in the same manner as we doubtless conceive an exaggerated idea of the ancient magnificence of Persepolis or Palmyra, where, while the humble dwellings have mouldered into dust, the temples and pyramids remain, and all that meets the eye is towering and majestic. A few, however, even of the verses of Ennius which have been preserved, are very harsh, and defective in their mechanical construction; others are exceedingly prosaic, as,

“Egregie cordatus homo Catus Ælius Sextus;”

and not a few are deformed with the most absurd conceits, not so much in the idea, as in a jingle of words and extravagant alliteration. The ambiguity of the celebrated verse,

“Aio te Æacida Romanos vincere posse,”

may be excused as oracular, but what can be said for such lines as,

“Haud doctis dictis certantes sed maledictis.
O Tite tute Tate tibi tanta tyranne tulisti.
Stultus est qui cupida cupiens cupienter cupit.”

This species of conceit was rejected by the good taste of subsequent Latin poets, even in the most degraded periods of literature; and I know no parallel to it, except in some passages of Sidney’s Arcadia. Nothing can be a greater mistake, than to suppose that false taste and jingle are peculiar to the latter ages of poetry, and that the early bards of a country are free from _concetti_.

On the whole, the works of Ennius are rather pleasing and interesting, as the early blossoms of that poetry which afterwards opened to such perfection, than estimable from their own intrinsic beauty. To many critics the latter part of Ovid’s observation,

“Ennius ingenio maximus—arte rudis,”

has appeared better founded than the first. Scaliger, however, has termed him, “Poeta antiquus magnifico ingenio: Utinam hunc haberemus integrum, et amisissemus Lucanum, Statium, Silium Italicum, _et tous ces garcons la_(216).” Quintilian has happily enough compared the writings of Ennius to those sacred groves hallowed by their antiquity, and which we do not so much admire for their beauty, as revere with religious awe and dread(217). Hence, if we cannot allow Ennius to be crowned with the poetical laurel, we may at least grant the privilege conceded to him by Propertius—

“Ennius hirsutâ cingat sua tempora quercu.”

Politian, in his _Nutricia_, has recapitulated the events of the life of Ennius, and has given perhaps the most faithful summary of his character, both as a man and a poet—

“Bella horrenda tonat Romanorumque triumphos,
Inque vicem nexos per carmina degerit annos:
Arte rudis, sed mente potens, parcissimus oris,
Pauper opum, fidens animi, morumque probatus,
Contentusque suo, nec bello ignarus et armis.”

But whatever may have been the merits of the works of Ennius, of which we are now but incompetent judges, they were at least sufficiently various. Epic, dramatic, satiric, and didactic poetry, were all successively attempted by him; and we also learn that he exercised himself in lighter sorts of verse, as the epigram and acrostic(218). For this novelty and exuberance it is not difficult to account. The fountains of Greek literature, as yet untasted in Latium, were to him inexhaustible sources. He stood in very different circumstances from those Greek bards who had to rely solely on their own genius, or from his successors in Latin poetry, who wrote after the best productions of Greece had become familiar to the Romans. He was placed in a situation in which he could enjoy all the popularity and applause due to originality, without undergoing the labour of invention, and might rapidly run with success through every mode of the lyre, without possessing incredible diversity of genius.

The above criticisms apply to the poetical productions of Ennius; but the most curious point connected with his literary history is his prose translation of the celebrated work of Euhemerus, entitled, Ἱερα Αναγραφη. Euhemerus is generally supposed to have been an inhabitant of Messene, a city of Peloponnesus. Being sent, as he represented, on a voyage of discovery by Cassander, King of Macedon, he came to an island called Panchaia, in the capital of which, Panara, he found a temple of the Tryphilian Jupiter, where stood a column inscribed with a register of the births and deaths of many of the gods. Among these, he specified Uranus, his sons Pan and Saturn, and his daughters Rhea and Ceres; as also Jupiter, Juno, and Neptune, who were the offspring of Saturn. Accordingly, the design of Euhemerus was to show, by investigating their actions, and recording the places of their births and burials, that the mythological deities were mere mortal men, raised to the rank of gods on account of the benefits which they had conferred on mankind,—a system which, according to Meiners and Warburton, formed the grand secret revealed at the initiation into the Eleusinian mysteries(219). The translation by Ennius, as well as the original work, is lost; but many particulars concerning Euhemerus, and the object of his history, are mentioned in a fragment of Diodorus Siculus, preserved by Eusebius. Some passages have also been saved by St. Augustine; and long quotations, have been made by Lactantius, in his treatise _De Falsa Religione_. These, so far as they extend, may be regarded as the truest and purest sources of mythological history, though not much followed in our modern _Pantheons_.

Plutarch, who was associated to the priesthood, and all who were interested in the support of the vulgar creed, maintained, that the whole work of Euhemerus, with his voyage to Panchaia, was an impudent fiction; and, in particular, it was urged, that no one except Euhemerus had ever seen or heard of the land of Panchaia(220): that the Panchaia Tellus had indeed been described in a flowery and poetical style, both by Diodorus Siculus and Virgil—

“Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pinguis arenis(221).”

but not in such a manner as to determine its geographical position.

The truth, however, of the relation contained in the work of Euhemerus, has been vindicated by modern writers; who have attempted to prove that Panchaia was an island of the Red Sea, which Euhemerus had actually visited in the course of his voyage(222). But whether Euhemerus merely recorded what he had seen, or whether the whole book was a device and contrivance of his own, it seems highly probable that the translation of Ennius gave rise to the belief of many Roman philosophers, who maintained, or insinuated, their conviction of the mortality of the gods, and whose writings have been so frequently appealed to by Farmer, in his able disquisition on the prevalence of the Worship of Human Spirits.

It is clear, that notwithstanding their observance of prodigies and religious ceremonies, there prevailed a considerable spirit of free-thinking among the Romans in the age of Ennius. This is apparent, not merely from his translation of Euhemerus, and definition of the nature of Jupiter, in his _Epicharmus_, but from various passages in dramas adapted for public representation, which deride the superstitions of augurs and soothsayers, as well as the false ideas entertained of the worshipped divinities. Polybius, too, who flourished shortly after Ennius, speaks of the fear of the gods, and the inventions of augury, merely as an excellent political engine, at the same time that he reprehends the rashness and absurdity of those who were endeavouring to extirpate such useful opinions(223).

The dramatic career which had been commenced by Livius Andronicus and Ennius, was most successfully prosecuted by

PLAUTUS,

who availed himself, still more even than his predecessors, of the works 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.”

The _Amphitrion_ of Moliere was published in 1668, so that Dryden, in his 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—