Two brothers raise their sons with opposite methods — one strict, one permissive. The question is which approach produces a better man. Terence's last and most thoughtful play.
Start ReadingA poet on the attack before a single character has spoken. Terence has borrowed a scene from Diphilus — one that Plautus left on the table — and transplanted it word for word. His enemies call this theft. He calls it good judgement. As for the charge that aristocrats help him write: he wears it as his highest honour. The men who assist him are the men who serve the Roman people in war and peace. He's naming names, and he's not apologising. Micio has not slept. His adopted son Aeschinus is not home. Into this worry walks his brother Demea — a farmer, a disciplinarian, and a man who has heard that Aeschinus has broken into a house and dragged out a woman. What follows is the argument that drives the entire play: is it better to raise children with an open hand or a closed fist? Micio believes in trust, conversation, generosity. Demea believes in fear. Neither of them knows what their sons are actually doing.
Aeschinus has seized a music-girl from the slave-dealer Sannio — but not for himself. His brother Ctesipho, the farmer's son who is supposed to be a model of virtue, is desperately in love with her. Sannio threatens lawsuits. Syrus the slave talks him into accepting half the price by pointing out that his ship for Cyprus leaves tomorrow. Ctesipho arrives, dizzy with gratitude. Two brothers keeping one secret. Their father must never find out.
The longest act, and the one where every thread pulls tighter. Sostrata — the mother of the girl Aeschinus has promised to marry — hears about the music-girl and concludes he has abandoned her daughter. Old Hegio is summoned as protector and goes straight to Demea with the truth. Meanwhile Syrus, improvising at speed, convinces Demea that Ctesipho was at the abduction only to lecture his brother on morality, and that the good son has already gone back to the farm. Demea nearly weeps with pride. His son has never been to the farm.
Syrus, now enjoying himself, sends Demea on an increasingly absurd route across the city to find Micio — past the warehouse, through the colonnade, down to the bakery. Demea trudges every step of it. Meanwhile Micio has learned the truth about Pamphila and goes to Sostrata with his full consent for the marriage. Aeschinus, who has spent the act convinced he has lost everything, is handed his future by the uncle who raised him. Demea's approach produced a liar. Micio's approach produced a man who is loved. That is the lesson — or so it seems.
Demea discovers everything. Ctesipho is in Micio's house with the music-girl. Syrus is drunk. Every person he trusted has lied to him, and every belief he held about his sons has been wrong. What happens next is the most debated scene in Roman comedy. Demea does not rage. He transforms. He becomes magnificently generous — praising everyone, promising everything, opening wallets that are not his. He forces Micio into marrying Sostrata. He frees Syrus and his wife. He gives Hegio a farm. And then he turns to the audience and asks: is this what you want? A father who buys love? Because that is all his brother has ever done. Kindness purchased with money is not kindness. Terence ends the play and walks away. He does not tell you who is right.