Mox trahitur manibus regum fortuna retortis;
Esseda festinant, pilenta, petorrita, naves:
Captivum portatur ebur, captiva Corinthus[358].”
This sort of show was not confined to the afterpiece or entertainment, but was introduced in the finest tragedies, which were represented with such pomp and ostentation as to destroy all the grace of the performance. A thousand mules pranced about the stage in the tragedy of Clytemnestra; and whole regiments, accoutred in foreign armour, were marshalled [pg 225]in that of the Trojan Horse[359]. This taste, so fatal to the genuine excellence of tragedy or comedy, was fostered and encouraged by the Ædiles, who had the charge of the public Shows, and, among others, of the exhibitions at the theatre. The ædileship was considered as one of the steps to the higher honours of the state; and those who held it could not resort to surer means of conciliating the favour of their fellow-citizens, or purchasing their future suffrages, than by sparing no expense in the pageantry of theatrical amusements.
The language, also, of the Romans, however excellent in other respects, was at least in comparison with Greek, but ill suited to the expression of earnest and vivid emotion. It required an artful and elaborate collocation of words, and its construction is more forced and artificial than that of most other tongues. Hence passion always seemed to speak the language with effort; the idiom would not yield to the rapid transitions and imperfect phrases of impassioned dialogue.
Little attention, besides, was paid to critical learning, and the cultivation of correct composition. The Latin muse had been nurtured amid the festivities of rural superstition; and the impure mixture of licentious jollity had so corrupted her nature, that it long partook of her rustic origin. Even so late as the time of Horace, the tragic drama continued to be unsuccessful, in consequence of the illiberal education of the Roman youth; who, while the Greeks were taught to open all the mind to glory, were so cramped in their genius by the love of gain, and by the early infusion of sordid principles, that they were unable to project a great design, or conduct it to perfection. The consequence was, that the “ærugo et cura peculi” had so completely infected the Roman dramatists, that lucre was the sole object of their pains. Hence, provided they could catch popular applause, and secure a high price from the magistrates who superintended theatrical exhibitions, they felt indifferent to every nobler view, and more worthy purpose:—
“Gestit enim nummum in loculos demittere; post hoc
Securus, cadat, an recto stet fabula tale[360].”
But, above all, the low estimation in which the art of poetry was held, must be regarded as a cause of its little progress during the periods of the republic: “Sero igitur,” says Cicero, “a nostris, poetæ vel cogniti vel recepti. Quo minus igitur [pg 226]honoris erat poetis, eo minora studia fuerunt[361].” The earliest poets of Rome had not the encouragement of that court favour which was extended to Chaucer in England, to Marot and Ronsard in France, and to Dante by the petty princes of Italy. From Livius Andronicus to Terence, poetry was cultivated only by foreigners and freedmen. Scipio and Lælius, indeed, are said to have written some scenes in the plays of Terence; but they did not choose that anything of this sort should pass under their names. The stern republicans seem to have considered poetry as an art which captives and slaves might cultivate, for the amusement of their conquerors, or masters, but which it would be unsuitable for a grave and lofty patrician to practice. I suspect, the Romans regarded a poet as a tumbler or rope-dancer, with whose feats we are entertained, but whom we would not wish to imitate.
The drama in Rome did not establish itself systematically, and by degrees, as it did in Greece. Plautus wrote for the stage during the time of Livius Andronicus, and Terence was nearly contemporary with Pacuvius and Attius; so that everything serious and comic, good and bad, came at once, and if it was Grecian, found a welcome reception among the Romans. On this account every species of dramatic amusement was indiscriminately adopted at the theatre, and that which was most absurd was often most admired. The Greek drama acquired a splendid degree of perfection by a close imitation of nature; but the Romans never attained such perfection, because, however exquisite their models, they did not copy directly from nature, but from its representative and image.