 | The Brothers |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter MICIO.Ho, Storax! —Æschinus did not return
Last night from supper; no, nor any one
Of all the slaves, who went to see for him.
—'Tis commonly,—and oh how truly!—said,
If you are absent, or delay, 'twere best
That should befal you, which your wife denounces,
Or which in anger she calls down upon you,
Than that which kindest parents fear.—Your wife,
If you delay, or thinks that you're in love,
Or lov'd, or drink, or entertain yourself,
Taking your pleasure, while she pines at home.
—And what a world of fears possess me now!
Lest he take cold, or fall, or break a limb!
—Gods, that a man should suffer any one
To wind himself so close about his heart,
As to grow dearer to him than himself!
And yet he is not my son, but my brother's,
Whose bent of mind is wholly different.
I, from youth upward even to this day,
Have led a quiet, and serene, town-life;
And, as some reckon fortunate, ne'er married.
He, in all points the opposite of this,
Has past his days entirely in the country
With thrift, and labour; married; had two sons.
The elder boy is by adoption mine;
I've brought him up; kept; lov'd him as my own;
Made him my joy, and all my soul holds dear,
Striving to make myself as dear to him.
I give, o'erlook, nor think it requisite
That all his deeds should be controul'd by me,
Giving him scope to act as of himself;
So that the pranks of youth, which other children
Hide from their fathers, I have us'd my son
Not to conceal from me. For whosoe'er
Hath won upon himself to play the false one,
Will do the same with less remorse to others;
And 'tis, in my opinion, better far
To bind your children to you by the ties
Of gentleness and modesty, than fear.
And yet my brother don't accord in this,
Nor do these notions, nor this conduct please him.
Oft he comes open-mouth'd—Why how now, Micio?
Why do you ruin this young lad of our's?
Why does he wench? why drink? and why do you
Allow him money to afford all this?
You let him dress too fine. 'Tis idle in you.
—'Tis hard in him, unjust, and out of reason.
And he, I think, deceives himself indeed,
Who fancies that authority more firm
Founded on force, than what is built on friendship;
For thus I reason, thus persuade myself:
He who performs his duty, driven to't
By fear of punishment, while he believes
But if he hopes for secrecy, returns
To his own ways again: But he whom kindness,
Him also inclination makes your own:
He burns to make a due return, and acts,
Present or absent, evermore the same.
'Tis this then is the duty of a father.
To make a son embrace a life of virtue,
Rather from choice, than terror or constraint.
Here lies the mighty difference between
A father and a master. He who knows not
How to do this, let him confess he knows not
How to rule children.—But is this the man,
Whom I was speaking of? Yes, yes, 'tis he.
He seems uneasy too, I know not why,
And I suppose, as usual, comes to wrangle.
Storax! non rediit has nocte a cœnâ Æschinus. Some consider Micio as asking a question in these words, but they are mistaken. He calls Storax; and finding he does not answer, concludes that neither Æschinus, nor any of his servants are come home. Donatus.
Qui advorsum ierant. The servants, who went to meet their masters, and defend them home, were called Adversitores. Donatus.
These sentiments are adopted by Ben Jonson in his Every Man in his Humour, where they are put into the mouth of old Knowell.
And urging of the modesty, than fear:
Force works on servile natures, not the free.
He that's compell'd to goodness, may be good;
But 'tis but for that fit: where others, drawn
By softness and example, get a habit.
Then if they stray, but warn them; and the same
They shou'd for virtue have done, they'll do for shame.
There are several fine passages in this speech, and good observations on human life; yet it is too long a soliloquy. Cooke.
SCENE II.
Enter DEMEA.Micio.
Demea, I'm glad to see you well.
Demea.
Oho!
Micio.
But you appear uneasy: What's the matter?
Demea.
Is it a question, when there's Æschinus
To trouble us, what makes me so uneasy?
Micio.
I said it wou'd be so.—What has he done?
Demea.
What has he done? a wretch, whom neither ties
Of shame, nor fear, nor any law can bind!
For not to speak of all his former pranks,
What has he been about but even now?
Micio.
What has he done?
Demea.
Burst open doors, and forc'd
His way into another's house, and beat
The master and his family half-dead;
And carried off a wench whom he was fond of.
The whole town cries out shame upon him, Micio.
I have been told of it a hundred times
Since my arrival. 'Tis the common talk.—
And if we needs must draw comparisons,
Does not he see his brother, thrifty, sober,
Attentive to his business in the country?
I say all this to Him, to You I say it.
You are his ruin, Micio.
Micio.
How unjust
Is he, who wants experience! who believes
Nothing is right, but what he does himself!
Demea.
Why d'ye say that?
Micio.
Because you, Demea,
Judge wrongly of these matters. 'Tis no crime
For a young man to wench, or drink.—'Tis not,
Believe me!—nor to force doors open.—This
If neither you nor I have done, it was
That poverty allow'd us not. And now
You claim a merit to yourself, from that
Which want constrain'd you to. It is not fair.
For had there been but wherewithall to do't,
We likewise should have done thus. Wherefore You,
Were you a man, would let your younger son,
Now, while it suits his age, persue his pleasures;
Rather than, when it less becomes his years,
When, after wishing long, he shall at last
Be rid of you, he should run riot then.
Demea.
Oh Jupiter! the man will drive me mad.
Is it no crime, d'ye say, for a young man
Micio.
Nay, nay; do but hear me,
Nor stun me with the self same thing for ever!
Your elder son you gave me for adoption:
He's mine then, Demea; and if he offends,
'Tis an offence to me, and I must bear
The burden. Does he treat? or drink? or dress?
'Tis at my cost.—Or wench? I will supply him,
While 'tis convenient to me; when 'tis not,
His mistresses perhaps will shut him out.
Or torn a coat? it shall be mended. I,
Thank heaven, have enough to do all this,
And 'tis as yet not irksome.—In a word,
Or cease, or chuse some arbiter between us:
I'll prove that you are more in fault than I.
Demea.
Ah, learn to be a father; learn from those,
Who know what 'tis to be indeed a parent!
Micio.
By nature you're his father, I by counsel.
Demea.
You! do you counsel any thing?
Micio.
Nay, nay;
If you persist, I'm gone.
Demea.
Is't thus you treat me?
Micio.
Must I still hear the same thing o'er and o'er?
Demea.
It touches me.
Micio.
And me it touches too.
But, Demea, let us each look to our own;
Let me take care of one, and mind you t'other.
For to concern yourself with both, appears
As if you'd redemand the boy you gave.
Demea.
Ah, Micio!
Micio.
So it seems to me.
Demea.
Well, well;
Let him, if 'tis your pleasure, waste, destroy,
If henceforth I e'er say one word—
Micio.
Again?
Angry again, good Demea?
Demea.
You may trust me.
Do I demand him back again I gave you?
—It hurts me. I am not a stranger to him.
—But if I once oppose—Well, well, I've done.
You wish I should take care of One. I do
Take special care of him; and he, thank heav'n,
Is as I wish he should be: which your ward,
I warrant, shall find out one time or other.
I will not say ought worse of him at present.
[Exit.
The Poet has in this place improved on Menander, in representing Demea as more ready to wrangle with his brother, than to return his compliments. Donatus.
The character and passion of Demea is finely marked in the account which he gives of the riot; in which he dwells on every minute particular, endeavouring to multiply and exaggerate the offences of Æschinus, and concealing every palliating circumstance. Donatus.
There is much humour in this passage, when it appears that the son so much commended is the most in fault. Donatus.
The mild character of Micio is contrasted by Tully to that of a furious, severe father, as drawn by the famous comick poet Cæcilius. Both writers are quoted in the oration for Cælius, in the composition of which it is plain that the orator kept his eye pretty constantly on our poet.—The passages from Cæcilius contain all that vehemence and severity, which, as Horace tells us, was accounted the common character of the stile of that author.
Nunc demum mihi animus ardet, nunc meum cor cumulatur irâ.
—O infelix, O scelus!—
Egone quid dicam? egone quid velim? quæ tu omnia tuis fœdis factis facis, ut nequidquam velim.
Cur te in istam vicinitatem meretriciam contulisti? cur illecebris cognitis non refugisti? cur alienam ullam mulierem nosti? dide ac dissice, per me licebit. Si egebis, tibi dolebit: mihi sat est, qui ætatis quod reliquum est, oblectem meæ.
Now my soul burns, now my heart swells with anger.—Oh wretch, oh monster!—
What can I say? what can I wish? when you
By your vile deeds make all my wishes vain?
Why did you go into that neighbourhood?
Why, knowing her allurements, not avoid them?
And why maintain an intercourse so vile?
—Spend, squander, dissipate, I give you leave.
If want o'ertakes you, you alone will feel it:
For my remains of life I've yet enough.
Fortasse excludetur foras. I once understood this passage thus: perhaps I may turn him out of doors: but on further consideration I think the sense which I have followed more agreeable to the character of Micio. The fondness he expresses in this sentiment is very remarkable: he does not absolutely say, Æschinus's mistresses will turn him out of doors, excludetur foras, but fortasse excludetur foras, PERHAPS they MAY turn him out of doors. He is so extremely partial to his adopted son, that he thinks his mistresses would certainly caress him, even though he made them no presents. This expression fortasse has an admirable effect, as was observed by Donatus. Dacier.
SCENE III.
MICIOalone.
Though what he says be not entirely true,
There's something in it, and it touches me.
But I dissembled my concern with him,
Because the nature of the man is such,
And even thus I scarce can teach him patience.
But were I to inflame, or aid his anger,
I were as great a madman as himself.
Yet Æschinus, 'tis true, has been to blame.
What wench is there he has not lov'd? to whom
He has not made some present?—And but lately
(Tir'd, I suppose, and sick of wantonness)
He told me he propos'd to take a wife.
I hop'd the hey-day of the blood was over,
And was rejoyc'd: but his intemperance
Breaks out afresh.—Well, be it what it may,
I'll find him out; and know it instantly,
If he is to be met with at the Forum.
[Exit.
Terence seems inclined to favour the part of mild fathers. He represents Micio as affected at his son's irregularities; lest, if he should appear wholly unmoved, he might seem to corrupt his son, rather than to treat him with a proper indulgence. Wherefore, through all his moderation, he still betrays a fatherly emotion. Donatus.
The art of Terence in preparing his incidents is wonderful. He contrives that even ignorant persons shall open the plot: as in the present instance, which gives us to understand that Æschinus had mentioned to Micio his intentions of taking a wife, though he had not entered into particulars. This naturally leads us to the ensuing part of the fable, without forestalling any of the circumstances. Donatus.
| The Brothers | |