There was no want of such poets in Latium.  Latin “strolling minstrels” or “ballad-singers” (-grassatores-, -spatiatores-) went from town to town and from house to house, and recited their chants (-saturae-(4)), gesticulating and dancing to the accompaniment of the flute.  The measure was of course the only one that then existed, the so-called Saturnian.(5) No distinct plot lay at the basis of the chants, and as little do they appear to have been in the form of dialogue.  We must conceive of them as resembling those monotonous —­sometimes improvised, sometimes recited—­ballads and -tarantelle-, such as one may still hear in the Roman hostelries.  Songs of this sort accordingly early came upon the public stage, and certainly formed the first nucleus of the Roman theatre.  But not only were these beginnings of the drama in Rome, as everywhere, modest and humble; they were, in a remarkable manner, accounted from the very outset disreputable.  The Twelve Tables denounced evil and worthless song-singing, imposing severe penalties not only upon incantations but even on lampoons composed against a fellow-citizen or recited before his door, and forbidding the employment of wailing-women at funerals.  But far more severely, than by such legal restrictions, the incipient exercise of art was affected by the moral anathema, which was denounced against these frivolous and paid trades by the narrowminded earnestness of the Roman character.  “The trade of a poet,” says Cato, “in former times was not respected; if any one occupied himself with it or was a hanger-on at banquets, he was called an idler.”  But now any one who practised dancing, music, or ballad-singing for money was visited with a double stigma, in consequence of the more and more confirmed disapproval of gaining a livelihood by services rendered for remuneration.  While accordingly the taking part in the masked farces with stereotyped characters, that formed the usual native amusement,(6) was looked upon as an innocent youthful frolic, the appearing on a public stage for money and without a mask was considered as directly infamous, and the singer and poet were in this respect placed quite on a level with the rope-dancer and the harlequin.  Persons of this stamp were regularly pronounced by the censors(7) incapable of serving in the burgess-army and of voting in the burgess-assembly.  Moreover, not only was the direction of the stage regarded as pertaining to the province of the city police—­a fact significant enough even in itself—­but the police was probably, even at this period, invested with arbitrary powers of an extraordinary character against professional stage-artists.  Not only did the police magistrates sit in judgment on the performance after its conclusion—­on which occasion wine flowed as copiously for those who had acquitted themselves well, as stripes fell to the lot of the bungler—­but all the urban magistrates were legally entitled to inflict bodily chastisement and imprisonment on any actor at any