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.