1. Aetolia is in fact not a polis but a territory, whose cities were, at the time of middle and new comedy, associated in a league. Plautus, however, appears to be thinking of Aetolia as a town: cf. Aetolia haec est, 94. Whether the same name stood in the Greek original there is no way of knowing. The text of Plautus used throughout is Lindsay, W. M., T. Macci Plauti Comoediae (Oxford, 1959Google Scholar) 2 vols.

2. For the grim record, one may consult Volkmann, Hans, Die Massenversklavungen der Einwohner eroberter Städte in der hellenistisch-romischen Txit (Mainz, 1961Google Scholar).

3. Eleanor Winsor Leach provides an elegant summary of two tendencies in the criticism of our play in her article, ‘Ergasilus and the Ironies of the Captivi’, Class. et Med. 30 (1969) 268Google Scholar, which is worth reproducing here: ‘Lessing’s famous analysis of the comedy defended its capacity for moral inspiration as a merit sufficient to excuse structural defects. Later discussions tend to follow one of two lines of thought. Those critics most sympathetic to the emotional, or tragicomic aspects of the piece — Arnaldi, Abel, della Corte — have written appreciatively of the human dilemma of its characters and the noble tone of its sentiments, of the captives’ devotion to each other and Hegio’s mourning for his lost sons. In these discussions structural problems are touched upon lightly, if at all. Other critics — Ernout, Lejay, Hough and Taladoire — who give greater attention to the effectiveness of such traditional comic devices as intrigue, deception and surprise, have emphasized dramatic flaws: unwieldy contrivance, improbable motivation, inconsistencies in character and action, excessive verbosity. Thus the play has been termed either a humane masterpiece or a dramatic failure. …’ van, G.Viljoen, N., in ‘The Plot of the Captivi of Plautus’, Acta Classica 6 (1963) 38–63Google Scholar, reviews various efforts to reconstruct the Greek model for the play through the analysis of inconsistencies or infelicities in Plautus’ version; he concludes that there is insufficient evidence to determine whether Plautus or his source must be held to account for the few lapses or peculiarities in dramatic technique which scholarship, rather than an engaged audience, may find troublesome.

4. There are analogous economies in Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus, whose form bears some resemblance to that of the Captivi. The Oedipus, too, is a play of discovery, and its action may be said to fall broadly into two main movements. In the first, Oedipus’ investigation is narrowly focused on the identity of the murderer of Laius, while subsequently this inquiry is subsumed under the search for his own identity. That the slave who survived the attack on Laius’ party should be the very man entrusted to expose the infant Oedipus, and that the Corinthian messenger who delivers the news of Polybus’ death should also be the herdsman who received the rescued Oedipus, are two among several striking improbabilities by which the principal action of the play — the discovery — is advanced. See Waldock’s, A. J. A. discussion of Sophocles’ ‘finesse’ in Sophocles the Dramatist (Cambridge, 1966) 160–166Google Scholar.

5. For example, cf. Terence’s Andria 209–211, where the slave Davus meditates aloud: ‘I’m not sure what to do, to help Pamphilus or obey the old man. If I abandon him, I have fears for his life. But if I assist him, there’s the menace of the other one, who is hard to deceive.’ Erich Segal has emphasized the similarities between the Captivi and other Plautine comedies in connection with Philocrates’ and Tyndarus’ inversion of roles: ‘… the Captivi may be seen to display typically Plautine features, for its entire plot centers about the exchange of roles between master and man. … If the Captivi is at all different from the rest of the plays, it is because of the unusually ironic context in which the commonplace “language of inversion” is spoken. At times there is nothing unique about it at all. …’ (Roman Laughter [Cambridge, Mass., 19681 114–115). Segal’s remarks certainly illuminate the conventions that lie behind the sassy banter in act 2, scene 2 (esp. lines 266–292), as well as Philocrates’ extreme dependency upon Tyndarus, to which Segal specifically refers (lines 238, 444–445). But the theme of the play is to be found, I believe, not in the presence of such commonplace devices, but precisely in the ‘unusually ironic context’, which it is the purpose of this paper to explore.

6. Grimal, Pierre, ‘Le modele et la date des Captivi de Plaute’, Latomus 101 (1969) 394–414Google Scholar, finds evidence of Stoic philosophy behind these and other ethical pronouncements in the play (see esp. pp. 395–398); I am inclined rather to view them as cases of paratragic moralizing.

7. The translation is that of Dover, K. J., Greek Popular Morality in the Time of Plato and Aristotle (Oxford, 1974) 280Google Scholar; text in Peek, W., ed., Griechische Versin-schriften (Berlin, 1955Google Scholar), vol. 1, no. 630.

8. Varro, On Agriculture 1.17: instrument genus vocale; cf. Aristotle Politics 1.4.1253b32 (OCT): ‘The slave is an animate article of property’ (ktema ti emp-suchon).

9. Francesco della Corte, Da Sarsina a Roma (Florence, 1967) 252Google Scholar, calls attention to the ‘scarsa adesione alia verisimiglianza’ which critics have complained of in the play, and raises the question: ‘Troppo credulo Hegio prima, troppo severo dopo? Tale mobilita dei caratteri umani, per il risentimento, per la beffa subita.’ On the cruelty of Hegio, cf. pp. 256–257. See also Leach (above, note 3), who explains: ‘The anxiousness and inconsistency of Hegio are also the result of assuming a new role: that of slave trader’ (280).

10. Cf. Grimal (above, note 6) 397–398, who cites Quintilian 12.1.38 for the principle, accepted even by the Stoics (quod Stoicorum quoque asperrimi confitentur: this does not mean, as Grimal takes it, that the idea is specifically Stoic), that under certain circumstances telling a lie may be a praiseworthy course of action.

11. The general character of the distinction in moral principles which informs the tension between Hegio and Tyndarus is described with exemplary clarity by the British sociologist Morris Ginsberg in an essay entitled, ‘On the Diversity of Morals’ (in Essays in Sociology and Social Philosophy [Baltimore, 1968] 240–241Google Scholar), well worth quoting in extenso. The first of the six kinds of variations which Ginsberg finds significant he calls ‘Variations in the range of persons to whom moral rules are held to be applicable’. He illustrates this category as follows: ‘Firstly, there seems to be general agreement that within the primary group there is everywhere what Tylor called a “natural solidarity”, i.e., a measure of mutual forbearance, helpfulness and trust. Elementary duties, positive and negative, arising out of this solidarity are thus found to be everywhere recognized. On the other hand, the rules do not apply outside the group. As Tylor pointed out, “a man knew his duty to his neighbour, but all men were not his neighbours”, or, as T. H. Green later put it, “It is not the sense of duty to a neighbour, but the practical answer to the question, ‘Who is my neighbour?’ that has varied”. Tylor remarks that “In this simple contrast between one’s own people and strangers, the student will find a clue to the thought of right and wrong running through ancient history, and slowly passing into a larger and nobler view”. Some, indeed, like Boas, are led by these facts to deny the reality of any fundamental change in moral ideas. All that has happened, it is asserted, is that the same fundamental duties have been gradually extended to larger groups. But this hardly does justice to the history of moral universalism and especially to the ideas of equality and the intrinsic value of the individual as such. The quantitative extension of moral rules to wider groups is parallel with a change in the conception of the human person himself. It was a startling thing to say that free men and slaves have a common nature: natura communis est. This was not obvious to Aristotle and I think that A. J. Carlyle was right in asserting, with reference to Cicero’s summary of the principle of equality, that ‘There is no change in political theory so startling in its completeness as the change from the theory of Aristotle’s to a passage such as this [Cic. De legg. 1.10.29–1.12.33]”’. The change, as we shall see below, was not, of course, so sudden as Ginsberg suggests, but his analysis loses none of its force for that.

12. Attempts to attribute the original to a specific date or author have not met with success. Most recently Grimal (above, note 6) has put forward the name of Poseidippus, arguing from alleged resemblances between the Captivi and the Curculio. This evidence is tenuous in the extreme. In a further argument, Grimal proposes that the panhellenism of the Captivi looks back to the program of Aratus of Sicyon to cement an alliance between the Aetolian and Achaean leagues. ‘On peut concevoir que Poseidippos ait tente de reconcilier le public acheen avec l’idee d’une alliance etolienne. Telle etait bien la politique menee par Aratos, dont il nous a semble que Poseidippos s’etait fait I’avocat’ (411). I cannot refrain from pointing out that Aratus is an unfortunate choice for the role Grimal wants him to play. To be sure, he understood the need for a powerful alliance among the weaker communities (Grimal cites Plutarch Aratus 24.5); but Grimal neglects to mention that Aratus had also the distinction according to Plutarch (28.4) of being the first to violate the privilege of safe-conduct which had been traditionally granted contestants in panhellenic games. Grimal continues: ‘Comme Hegion, Aratos renvoie sans rancon dans leur cite les hommes libres prisonniers.’ The reference is to Plut. Arat. 24.4, a propos Aratus’ invasion of Attica. But Grimal suppresses the final clause, which explains Aratus’ intention that the Athenians should thereby be moved to revolt (against Antigonus). Nor does Grimal take note of the fact that Aratus not only reduced the population of Mantineia to slavery, but went so far as to abolish its very name. For this, Plutarch says, there was no fair or necessary pretext, and the general opinion was that the Achaeans had not behaved in a Greek way (hellênikôs, 45.4–6).

13. Thucydides 2.40–43. That there were contradictory currents in Athens may be illustrated by the fact that Pericles in 451 had proposed the law restricting Athenian citizenship to the offspring of two citizen parents.

14. Herodotus 8.144.2–3; cf. Immerwahr’s, Henry R. discussion of Herodotus on Athens and panhellenism in Form and Thought in Herodotus (Cleveland, 1966) 210–225Google Scholar, 234–235. I believe that the approaching war in Greece must have given special point to the tentative aspirations toward Hellenic unity which Herodotus describes.

15. There is an excellent, concise review of the tradition of panhellenism and its role in the plays of Menander by Webster, T. B. L., Studies in Menander (Manchester, 1950) 22–25Google Scholar. Cf. also the section on Menander in Baldry, H. C., The Unity of Mankind in Greek Thought (Cambridge, 1965CrossRefGoogle Scholar). Baldry does not appreciate the significance of the Epicurean and Stoic views, because he is committed to positive or sentimental assertions of human brotherhood. Hence his opening words on the Epicureans: ‘At the opposite pole to Theophrastus’ assertion of the natural kinship of the human race stands the doctrine of Epicurus and his followers, who show the growing strength of the idea of the unity of mankind by the vigour with which they reject it’ (147). But the radical individualism of Epicurean philosophy, at which Baldry bristles, denies any principle of identity to mankind save membership in the species; it is this perception, and not Theophrastus’ abstract intimations of a relationship between all living creatures (pp. 142–143), that challenges the parochialism of the polis.

16. Republic 469B–471C; cf. Adam’s notes ad loc.

17. The two surviving ancient comedies built upon this form are Plautus’ Aulularia and Menander’s Dyscolus.

18. Tyndarus takes a desperate line of defense against Aristophontes’ revelations: he attempts to persuade Hegio that Aristophontes is mad. The scene is not without dramatic irony, as when Hegio inquires, ‘Have you been a free man?’ and Tyndarus replies (truthfully, though he does not know it), ‘I have’ (628). Aristophontes, while he is correct about Tyndarus’ identity on one level — he is not Philocrates — is mistaken on another. Since his claim to sanity is based on his ability to make the proper distinctions, to recognize master and slave, the secret of Tyndarus’ identity throws into some confusion the ordinary criteria of rationality. Thus, the absurd accusation of insanity serves here, as in many comedies, to reflect the social ambiguities on which the dramatic tension is based.

19. The chief function of Ergasilus is to provide a coarse and comic symbol or echo of the fortunes of Hegio’s family. With the capture of Philopolemus, he is reduced to meager fare at the table of Hegio, while all his former providers give him the cold shoulder. Correspondingly, when Philopolemus is finally brought home, Hegio grants him license to a perpetual feast (897), a prodigal iteration of the festive repast which commonly marks the restoration of community at the conclusion of a comedy. Naturally, then, Ergasilus’ attachment to Hegio and his son has something to do with his belly. Early in the play he tells Hegio that he is wasting away with grief, shrivelling, aging, melting to nothing, all skin and bones on account of his — skinniness (133–135)! Hegio responds in a serious vein, marvelling that a stranger (alienus, 146) should take the loss of Philopolemus so hard: ‘What then may a father feel, for he was my one and only?’ ‘A stranger?’ asks Ergasilus. ‘Me, a stranger? Don’t ever say it Hegio, don’t even think it. To you he was one and only, to me he was even oner and onlier than that (unico magis unicus, 147–150).’ This is silly banter, of course, but behind it, I think, there may be a point that bears on the theme of the play. Ergasilus’ claim is a materialistic parody of the grounds of affiliation, and undercuts the force of Hegio’s sentimental attachment to his son.

20. Cf. 426–427, Philocrates (as Tyndarus): lovem supremum testem laudo, Hegio,/ me infidelem non futurum Philocrati (‘I swear by almighty Jupiter, Hegio, that I will not be unfaithful to Philocrates’).

21. On a very general level, the issue of the Captivi may be subsumed under the problem of the right treatment of a captured enemy. Two popular Roman tales illustrate the extreme alternatives. The first is the story of Regulus’ torture at the hands of the Carthaginians after the defeat of his army in Africa in the first Punic War. Regulus himself, according to the tradition, persuaded the Senate not to ransom the captives. The second is the famous magnanimity of Pyrrhus after the battle of Heraclea, when he ventured to restore the Roman prisoners without ransom. Pyrrhus’ grand gesture was recorded with eloquent embellishment by Ennius in the sixth book of his Annals (frr. 194–201 Vahlen). The destruction of Regulus is best known from Horace Odes 3.5. The story goes back at least to the second century, and is probably historical, despite the silence of Polybius; cf. the full discussion by Kornhardt, Hildegard, ‘Regulus und die Cannaegefangenen’, Hermes 82 (1954) 85–123Google Scholar.

22. Leach (above, note 3) 293.

23. Nevertheless, the dignity of the characters is to a degree compromised by this easy resort to coincidence. ‘How petty a thing is man’ (homunculi quanti sunt, 51), exclaims the prologue.

24. Knox, Bernard, ‘Euripidean Comedy’, in Cheuse, Alan and Koffler, Richard, The Rarer Action (New Brunswick, N.J., 1970) 87Google Scholar.

25. Leach (above, note 3) 286; cf. 295–296. I should like to express my appreciation to Dorothy and Howard Koonce, Eleanor Winsor Leach, and Catherine Rhorer for their comments and criticisms.