Even when the crowd was attentive, these meetings in the open air had their inconveniences. Apuleius was to speak in Carthage, and great was his reputation. The people crowded and pushed and hustled to get a front place. So far so good, for what can be pleasanter than to see one's fellow creatures suffocated in one's honor? Apuleius began in his finest tones, the lecture marched apace, the most striking point was reached, enthusiasm stood on tip-toe—when, alas for the vanity of human hopes! a pelting shower fell upon all this success, dampening eloquence, putting the excited audience to flight, and sending the orator home wet to the skin, with his triumph changed to disaster. [Footnote 69]
[Footnote 69: Apuleius, Florides.]
Accidents of this nature rarely occurred, at least to men of reputation like Apuleius, for addresses were usually delivered under cover in a hall. A suitable apartment was easily found by any one who could afford to hire one. Sometimes, too, a friend would kindly lend his house, as for instance Titinius Capito, who liked to render services of this kind. "His mansion," says Pliny, "belongs to all those who have addresses to deliver." A simple dining-room sufficed for the occasions when only a few persons were expected; but these were exceptional. [Footnote 70] The place of meeting being selected, seats and benches were placed for the audience. A stage was erected for the lecturer, raised above the public, so that none of his gestures might be lost, and that he might judge correctly of the effect produced. The audience consisted of men only, it being contrary to received customs that a woman should appear in a lecture room. But an ingenious plan was devised by which literary Roman ladies could enjoy the entertainment. One part of the hall was sometimes curtained off with draperies, and behind this shelter, a woman could listen at her ease, without wounding conventional ideas. [Footnote 71]
[Footnote 70: Tacitus, Dial. de Or. 9.]
[Footnote 71: Pliny the Younger Letters viii. 12, 21]
The lecture was announced several days in advance, and ceremonious invitations were issued to friends and personages of distinction. This precaution proved useful in securing an audience, and fulfilled at the same time a duty of politeness, the neglect of which implied indifference to the courteous usages of the time. While slaves were carrying invitations through the city, the host remained at home, and, in order to make his voice clearer and more flexible, enveloped his throat in woolen cloths, and imbibed soothing beverages.
The great day comes at last. The benches are filled. The lecturer only is wanting. He appears, and at sight of him a murmur of satisfaction passes round the hall. He takes the chair, often surrounded by his best friends, who sit beside him to encourage him with their presence and to enjoy his success. [Footnote 72] In order to appear in full lustre, he has arrayed himself in a new white toga, dressed his hair and beard carefully, and placed upon his finger a ring adorned with a precious stone. He unrolls a manuscript; utters a few modest phrases in apology for his temerity, asking of course the indulgence of the audience, but soliciting their justice also, since he seeks before all things an exact criticism, revealing the defects in his work, that he may correct them. This preamble being well received, he enters upon the discourse. In reading he tries to give effect to the words by a varied intonation of voice, by turns of his head and movement of his eyes. Soon faint cries of "Excellent perfect!" arise in various parts of the hall to charm his ear; but he feigns not to hear them. He pauses, remarking, "I am afraid all this bores you. Perhaps I ought to suppress a few passages, lest you should be wearied." But the audience are too polite to admit that a short lecture would not displease them. "Oh! no, no, skip nothing; we do not wish to lose a word." He proceeds, only to go through the same farce a little later. "I have already abused your patience; it is time to stop and release you from the remainder." "Read on, read on! it is charming to hear you." He reads to the end; the admiration grows, rises, bubbles over! where will it end? Thunders of applause follow, and the lecturer is inwardly overjoyed, but his modesty never deserts him. "Enough friends, enough!" he murmurs, "This is too much," Of course the transports are redoubled, and our lecturer returns home, believing himself a Virgil, a Sallust, or a Cicero.
[Footnote 72: Pliny the Younger, Letters, vi. 6.]
We have described here a successful lecture; but not always, it must be confessed, did the hero of the occasion carry away with him impressions so agreeable. Sometimes an author had to renounce the pleasure of reading his own composition, because of a weak or unpleasing voice, leaving the task of delivery to a reader, near whom he sat, accompanying the recitation with glance and gesture. [Footnote 73]