Extraordinary Fondness of the Athenians for the Entertainments of the Stage. Emulation of the Poets in disputing the Prizes in those Representations. A short Idea of Dramatic Poetry.

No people ever expressed so much ardour and eagerness for the entertainments of the theatre as the Greeks, and especially the Athenians.

The reason is obvious: as no people ever demonstrated such extent of genius, nor carried so far the love of eloquence and poesy, taste for the sciences, justness of sentiments, elegance of ear, and delicacy in all the refinements of language. A poor woman, who sold herbs at Athens, discovered Theophrastus to be a stranger, by a single word which he affectedly made use of in expressing himself.(173) The common people got the tragedies of Euripides by heart. The genius of every nation expresses itself in the people's manner of pa.s.sing their time, and in their pleasures. The great employment and delight of the Athenians were to amuse themselves with works of wit, and to judge of the dramatic pieces, that were acted by public authority several times a year, especially at the feasts of Bacchus, when the tragic and comic poets disputed for the prize.

The former used to present four of their pieces at a time; except Sophocles, who did not think fit to continue so laborious an exercise, and confined himself to one performance, when he disputed the prize.

The state appointed judges, to determine upon the merit of the tragic or comic pieces, before they were represented in the festivals. They were acted before them in the presence of the people; but undoubtedly with no great preparation. The judges gave their suffrages, and that performance, which had the most voices, was declared victorious, received the crown as such, and was represented with all possible pomp at the expense of the republic. This did not, however, exclude such pieces, as were only in the second or third cla.s.s. The best had not always the preference; for what times have been exempt from party, caprice, ignorance, and prejudice?

aelian(174) is very angry with the judges, who, in one of these disputes, gave only the second place to Euripides. He accuses them of judging either without capacity, or of suffering themselves to be bribed. It is easy to conceive the warmth and emulation, which these disputes and public rewards excited amongst the poets, and how much they contributed to the perfection, to which Greece carried dramatic performances.

The dramatic poem introduces the persons themselves, speaking and acting upon the stage: in the epic, on the contrary, the poet only relates the different adventures of his characters. It is natural to be delighted with fine descriptions of events, in which ill.u.s.trious persons and whole nations are interested; and hence the epic poem had its origin. But we are quite differently affected with hearing those persons themselves, with being the confidents of their most secret sentiments, and auditors and spectators of their resolutions, enterprises, and the happy or unhappy events attending them. To read and see an action, are quite different things; we are infinitely more moved with what is acted, than with what we merely read. Our eyes as well as our minds are addressed at the same time.

The spectator, agreeably deceived by an imitation so nearly approaching life, mistakes the picture for the original, and thinks the object real.

This gave birth to dramatic poetry, which includes tragedy and comedy.

To these may be added the satiric poem, which derives its name from the satyrs, rural G.o.ds, who were always the chief characters in it; and not from the "satire," a kind of abusive poetry, which has no resemblance to this, and is of a much later date. The satiric poem was neither tragedy nor comedy, but something between both, partic.i.p.ating of the character of each. The poets, who disputed the prize, generally added one of these pieces to their tragedies, to allay the gravity and solemnity of the one, with the mirth and pleasantry of the other. There is but one example of this ancient poem come down to us, which is the _Cyclops_ of Euripides.

I shall confine myself upon this head to tragedy and comedy; both which had their origin amongst the Greeks, who looked upon them as fruits of their own growth, of which they could never have enough. Athens was remarkable for an extraordinary appet.i.te of this kind. These two poems, which were for a long time comprised under the general name of tragedy, received there by degrees such improvements, as at length raised them to their highest perfection.

The Origin and Progress of Tragedy. Poets who excelled in it at Athens; aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.

There had been many tragic and comic poets before Thespis; but as they had made no alterations in the original rude form of this poem, and as Thespis was the first that made any improvement in it, he was generally esteemed its inventor. Before him, tragedy was no more than a jumble of buffoon tales in the comic style, intermixed with the singing of a chorus in praise of Bacchus; for it is to the feasts of that G.o.d, celebrated at the time of the vintage, that tragedy owes its birth.

La tragedie, informe et grossiere en na'ssant, N'etoit qu'un simple chur, ou chacun en dansant, Et du dieu des raisins entonnant les louanges, S'efforcoit d'attirer de fertiles vendanges.

La, le vin et la joie eveillant les esprits, Du plus habile chantre un bouc etoit le prix.

Formless and gross did tragedy arise, A simple chorus, rather mad than wise; For fruitful vintages the dancing throng Roar'd to the G.o.d of grapes a drunken song: Wild mirth and wine sustain'd the frantic note, And the best singer had the prize, a goat.(175)

Thespis made several alterations in it, which Horace describes after Aristotle, in his _Art of Poetry_. The first(176) was to carry his actors about in a cart, whereas before they used to sing in the streets, wherever chance led them. Another was to have their faces smeared over with wine-lees, instead of acting without disguise, as at first. He also introduced a character among the chorus, who, to give the actors time to rest themselves and to take breath, repeated the adventures of some ill.u.s.trious person; which recital, at length, gave place to the subjects of tragedy.

Thespis fut le premier, qui barbouille de lie, Promena par les bourgs cette heureuse folie, Et d'acteurs mal oines chargeant un tombereau, Amusa les pa.s.sans d'un spectacle nouveau.(177)

First Thespis, smear'd with lees, and void of art, The grateful folly vented from a cart; And as his tawdry actors drove about, The sight was new, and charm'd the gaping rout.

(M1) Thespis lived in the time of Solon.(178) That wise legislator, upon seeing his pieces performed, expressed his dislike, by striking his staff against the ground; apprehending that these poetical fictions and idle stories, from mere theatrical representations, would soon become matters of importance, and have too great a share in all public and private affairs.

(M2) It is not so easy to invent, as to improve the inventions of others.

The alterations Thespis made in tragedy, gave room for aeschylus to make new and more considerable of his own. He was born at Athens, in the first year of the sixtieth Olympiad. He took upon him the profession of arms, at a time when the Athenians reckoned almost as many heroes as citizens. He was at the battles of Marathon, Salamis, and Plataea, where he did his duty. (M3) But his disposition called him elsewhere, and put him upon entering into another course, where no less glory was to be acquired; and where he was soon without any compet.i.tors. As a superior genius, he took upon him to reform, or rather to create tragedy anew; of which he has, in consequence, been always acknowledged the inventor and father. Father Brumoi, in a dissertation which abounds with wit and good sense, explains the manner in which aeschylus conceived the true idea of tragedy from Homer's epic poems. The poet himself used to say, that his works were the remnants of the feasts given by Homer in the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_.

Tragedy therefore took a new form under him. He gave masks(179) to his actors, adorned them with robes and trains, and made them wear buskins.

Instead of a cart, he erected a theatre of a moderate elevation, and entirely changed their style; which from being merry and burlesque, as at first, became majestic and serious.

Eschyle dans le chur jetta les personages: D'un masque plus honnete habilla les visages: Sur les ais d'un theatre en public exhausse Fit paroitre l'acteur d'un brodequin chausse.(180)

From aeschylus the chorus learnt new grace: He veil'd with decent masks the actor's face, Taught him in buskins first to tread the stage, And rais'd a theatre to please the age.

But that was only the external part or body of tragedy. Its soul, which was the most important and essential addition of aeschylus, consisted in the vivacity and spirit of the action, sustained by the dialogue of the persons of the drama introduced by him; in the artful working up of the stronger pa.s.sions, especially of terror and pity, which, by alternately afflicting and agitating the soul with mournful or terrible objects, produce a grateful pleasure and delight from that very trouble and emotion; in the choice of a subject, great, n.o.ble, interesting, and contained within due bounds by the unity of time, place, and action: in short, it is the conduct and disposition of the whole piece, which, by the order and harmony of its parts, and the happy connection of its incidents and intrigues, holds the mind of the spectator in suspense till the catastrophe, and then restores him his tranquillity, and dismisses him with satisfaction.

The chorus had been established before aeschylus, as it composed alone, or next to alone, what was then called tragedy. He did not therefore exclude it, but, on the contrary, thought fit to incorporate it, to sing as chorus between the acts. Thus it supplied the interval of resting, and was a kind of person of the drama, employed either(181) in giving useful advice and salutary instructions, in espousing the party of innocence and virtue, in being the depository of secrets, and the avenger of violated religion, or in sustaining all those characters at the same time according to Horace.

The coryphaeus, or princ.i.p.al person of the chorus, spoke for the rest.

In one of aeschylus's pieces, called the _Eumenides_, the poet represents Orestes at the bottom of the stage, surrounded by the Furies, laid asleep by Apollo. Their figure must have been extremely horrible, as it is related, that upon their waking and appearing tumultuously on the theatre, where they were to act as a chorus, some women miscarried with the surprise, and several children died of the fright. The chorus at that time consisted of fifty actors. After this accident, it was reduced to fifteen by an express law, and at length to twelve.

I have observed, that one of the alterations made by aeschylus in tragedy, was the mask worn by his actors. These dramatic masks had no resemblance to ours, which only cover the face, but were a kind of case for the whole head, and which, besides the features, represented the beard, the hair, the ears, and even the ornaments used by women in their head-dresses.

These masks varied according to the different pieces that were acted. The subject is treated at large in a dissertation of M. Boindin's, inserted in the _Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres_.(182)

I could never comprehend, as I have observed elsewhere,(183) in speaking of p.r.o.nunciation, how masks came to continue so long upon the stage of the ancients; for certainly they could not be used, without considerably deadening the spirit of the action, which is princ.i.p.ally expressed in the countenance, the seat and mirror of what pa.s.ses in the soul. Does it not often happen, that the blood, according as it is put in motion by different pa.s.sions, sometimes covers the face with a sudden and modest blush, sometimes enflames it with the heat of rage and fury, sometimes retires, leaving it pale with fear, and at others diffuses a calm and amiable serenity over it? All these affections are strongly imaged and distinguished in the lineaments of the face. The mask deprives the features of this energetic language, and of that life and soul, by which it is the faithful interpreter of all the sentiments of the heart. I do not wonder, therefore, at Cicero's remark upon the action of Roscius.(184) "Our ancestors,"' says he, "were better judges than we are. They could not wholly approve even Roscius himself, whilst he performed in a mask."

(M4) aeschylus was in the sole possession of the glory of the stage, with almost every voice in his favour, when a young rival made his appearance to dispute the palm with him. This was Sophocles. He was born at Colonos, a town in Attica, in the second year of the seventy-first Olympiad. His father was a blacksmith, or one who kept people of that trade to work for him. His first essay was a masterpiece. (M5) When, upon the occasion of Cimon's having found the bones of Theseus, and their being brought to Athens, a dispute between the tragic poets was appointed, Sophocles entered the lists with aeschylus, and carried the prize against him. The ancient victor, laden till then with the wreaths he had acquired, believed them all lost by failing of the last, and withdrew in disgust into Sicily to king Hiero, the protector and patron of all the learned in disgrace at Athens. He died there soon after in a very singular manner, if we may believe Suidas. As he lay asleep in the fields, with his head bare, an eagle, taking his bald crown for a stone, let a tortoise fall upon it, which killed him. Of ninety, or at least seventy, tragedies, composed by him, only seven are now extant.

Nor have those of Sophocles escaped the injury of time better, though one hundred and seventeen in number, and according to some one hundred and thirty. He retained to extreme old age all the force and vigour of his genius, as appears from a circ.u.mstance in his history. His children, unworthy of so great a father, upon pretence that he had lost his senses, summoned him before the judges, in order to obtain a decree, that his estate might be taken from him, and put into their hands. He made no other defence, than to read a tragedy he was at that time composing, called _dipus at Colonos_, with which the judges were so charmed, that he carried his cause unanimously; and his children, detested by the whole a.s.sembly, got nothing by their suit, but the shame and infamy due to so flagrant ingrat.i.tude. He was twenty times crowned victor. Some say he expired in repeating his _Antigone_, for want of power to recover his breath, after a violent endeavour to p.r.o.nounce a long period to the end; others, that he died of joy upon his being declared victor, contrary to his expectation. The figure of a hive was placed upon his tomb, to perpetuate the name of Bee, which had been given him, from the sweetness of his verses: whence, it is probable, the notion was derived, of the bees having settled upon his lips when in his cradle. (M6) He died in his ninetieth year, the fourth of the ninety-third Olympiad, after having survived Euripides six years, who was not so old as himself.

(M7) The latter was born in the first year of the seventy-fifth Olympiad, at Salamis, whither his father Mnesarchus and mother c.l.i.to had retired when Xerxes was preparing for his great expedition against Greece. He applied himself at first to philosophy, and, amongst others, had the celebrated Anaxagoras for his master. But the danger incurred by that great man, who was very near being made the victim of his philosophical tenets, inclined him to the study of poetry. He discovered in himself a genius for the drama, unknown to him at first; and employed it with such success, that he entered the lists with the great masters of whom we have been speaking. His works(185) sufficiently denote his profound application to philosophy. They abound with excellent maxims of morality; and it is in that view that Socrates in his time, and Cicero long after him,(186) set so high a value upon Euripides.

One cannot sufficiently admire the extreme delicacy expressed by the Athenian audience on certain occasions, and their solicitude to preserve the reverence due to morality, virtue, decency, and justice. It is surprising to observe the warmth with which they unanimously reproved whatever seemed inconsistent with them, and called the poet to an account for it, notwithstanding his having a well-founded excuse, as he had given such sentiments only to persons notoriously vicious, and actuated by the most unjust pa.s.sions.

Euripides had put into the mouth of Bellerophon a pompous panegyric upon riches, which concluded with this thought: "Riches are the supreme good of the human race, and with reason excite the admiration of the G.o.ds and men." The whole theatre cried out against these expressions; and he would have been banished directly, if he had not desired the sentence to be respited till the conclusion of the piece, in which the advocate for riches perished miserably.

He was in danger of incurring serious inconveniences from an answer he puts into the mouth of Hippolytus. Phaedra's nurse represented to him, that he had engaged himself under an inviolable oath to keep her secret. "My tongue, it is true, p.r.o.nounced that oath," replied he, "but my heart gave no consent to it." This frivolous distinction appeared to the whole people, as an express contempt of the religion and sanct.i.ty of an oath, that tended to banish all sincerity and good faith from society and the intercourse of life.

Another maxim(187) advanced by Eteocles in the tragedy called the _Phnicians_, and which Caesar had always in his mouth, is no less pernicious: "If justice may be violated at all, it is when a throne is in question; in other respects, let it be duly revered." It is highly criminal in Eteocles, or rather in Euripides, says Cicero, to make an exception in that very point, wherein such violation is the highest crime that can be committed. Eteocles is a tyrant, and speaks like a tyrant, who vindicates his unjust conduct by a false maxim; and it is not strange that Caesar, who was a tyrant by nature, and equally unjust, should lay great stress upon the sentiments of a prince whom he so much resembled. But what is remarkable in Cicero, is his falling upon the poet himself, and imputing to him as a crime the having advanced so pernicious a principle upon the stage.

Lycurgus, the orator,(188) who lived in the time of Philip and Alexander the Great, to reanimate the spirit of the tragic poets, caused three statues of bra.s.s to be erected, in the name of the people, to aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides; and having ordered their works to be transcribed, he appointed them to be carefully preserved amongst the public archives, from whence they were taken from time to time to be read; the players not being permitted to represent them on the stage.

The reader expects, no doubt, after what has been said relating to the three poets, who invented, improved, and carried tragedy to its perfection, that I should point out the peculiar excellencies of their style and character. For that I must refer to father Brumoi, who will do it much better than it is in my power. After having laid down, as an undoubted principle, that the epic poem, that is to say Homer, pointed out the way for the tragic poets; and having demonstrated, by reflections drawn from human nature, upon what principles and by what degrees this happy imitation was conducted to its end, he goes on to describe the three poets above mentioned, in the most lively and brilliant colours.

Tragedy took at first from aeschylus its inventor, a much more lofty style than the _Iliad_; that is, the _magnum loqui_ mentioned by Horace. Perhaps aeschylus, who had a full conception of the grandeur of the language of tragedy, carried it too high. It is not Homer's trumpet, but something more. His pompous, swelling, gigantic diction, resembles rather the beating of drums and the shouts of battle, than the n.o.ble harmony of the trumpets. The elevation and grandeur of his genius would not permit him to speak the language of other men, so that his Muse seemed rather to walk in stilts, than in the buskins of his own invention.

Sophocles understood much better the true excellence of the dramatic style: he therefore copies Homer more closely, and blends in his diction that honeyed sweetness, from whence he was denominated "the Bee," with a gravity that gives his tragedy the modest air of a matron, compelled to appear in public with dignity, as Horace expresses it.

The style of Euripides, though n.o.ble, is less removed from the familiar; and he seems to have affected rather the pathetic and the elegant, than the nervous and the lofty.

As Corneille, says father Brumoi in another place, after having opened to himself a path entirely new and unknown to the ancients, seems like an eagle towering in the clouds, from the sublimity, force, unbroken progress, and rapidity of his flight; and, as Racine, in copying the ancients in a manner entirely his own, imitates the swan, that sometimes floats upon the air, sometimes rises, then falls again with an elegance of motion, and a grace peculiar to herself; so aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, have each of them a particular characteristic and method. The first, as the inventor and father of tragedy, is like a torrent rolling impetuously over rocks, forests, and precipices; the second resembles a ca.n.a.l,(189) which flows gently through delicious gardens; and the third a river, that does not follow its course in a continued line, but loves to turn and wind his silver wave through flowery meads and rural scenes.

This is the character which father Brumoi gives of the three poets, to whom the Athenian stage was indebted for its perfection in tragedy.

aeschylus(190) drew it out of its original chaos and confusion, and made it appear in some degree of l.u.s.tre; but it still retained the rude unfinished air of things in their beginning, which are generally defective in point of art and method. Sophocles and Euripides added infinitely to the dignity of tragedy. The style of the first, as has been observed, is more n.o.ble and majestic; of the latter, more tender and pathetic; each perfect in their way. In this diversity of character, it is difficult to decide which is most excellent. The learned have always been divided upon this head; as we are at this day, with respect to the two poets of our own nation,(191) whose tragedies have made our stage ill.u.s.trious, and not inferior to that of Athens.

I have observed, that the tender and pathetic distinguishes the compositions of Euripides, of which Alexander of Pherae, the most cruel of tyrants, was a proof. That barbarous man, upon seeing the _Troades_ of Euripides acted, found himself so moved with it, that he quitted the theatre before the conclusion of the play, professing that he was ashamed to be seen in tears for the distress of Hecuba and Andromache, who had never shown the least compa.s.sion for his own citizens, of whom he had butchered such numbers.

When I speak of the tender and pathetic, I would not be understood to mean a pa.s.sion that softens the heart into effeminacy, and which, to our reproach, is almost alone, or at least more than any other pa.s.sion received upon our stage, though rejected by the ancients, and condemned by the nations around us of greatest reputation for their genius, and taste for the sciences and polite learning. The two great principles for moving the pa.s.sions amongst the ancients, were terror and pity.(192) And, indeed, as we naturally refer every thing to ourselves, or our own particular interest, when we see persons of exalted rank or virtue sinking under great evils, the fear of the like misfortunes, with which we know that human life is on all sides invested, seizes upon us, and from a secret impulse of self-love we find ourselves sensibly affected with the distresses of others: besides which, the sharing a common nature(193) with the rest of our species, makes us sensible to whatever befalls them. Upon a close and attentive inquiry into those two pa.s.sions, they will be found the most deeply inherent, active, extensive, and general affections of the soul; including all orders of men, great and small, rich and poor, of whatever age or condition. Hence the ancients, accustomed to consult nature, and to take her for their guide in all things, with reason conceived terror and compa.s.sion to be the soul of tragedy; and that those affections ought to prevail in it. The pa.s.sion of love was in no estimation amongst them, and had seldom any share in their dramatic pieces; though with us it is a received opinion, that they cannot be supported without it.