the masculine and vigorous atticism of this srcastic comedian, to whom the father paid the same regard as Alexander to Homer, that of putting his works under his pillow, that he might read them at night before he slept, and in the morning as soon as he awaked. GENERAL CONCLUSION ΤΟ BRUMOY'S GREEK THEATRE, SUMMARY OF THE FOUR ARTICLES TREATED OF IN THIS DISCOURSE. But it would be tedious to draw out to the reader that which he will already have perceived better than myself. I have no design to anticipate his reflections; and therefore shall only sketch the picture, which he must finish by himself: he will pursue the subject farther, and form to himself a view of the common and domestic life of the Athenians, of which this kind of comedy was a picture, with some aggravation of the features: he will bring within his view all the customs, manners, and vices, and the whole character of the people of Athens. By bringing all these together, he will fix in his mind an indelible idea of a people in whom so many contrarieties were united, and who, in a manner that I. Thus I have given a faithful extract of the can scarce be expressed, connected nobility with remains of Aristophanes. That I have not the cast of Athens, wisdom with madness, rage shown them in their true form, I am not afraid for novelty with a bigotry for antiquity, the that any body will complain. I have given an politeness of a monarchy with the roughness of a account of every thing, as far as it was consis-republic, refinement with coarseness, indepentent with moral decency. No pen, however dence with slavery, haughtiness with servile cynical or heathenish, would venture to produce compliance, severity of manners with debauchin open day the horrid passages which I have put out of sight; and instead of regretting any part that I have suppressed, the very suppression will easily show to what degree the Athenians were infected with licentiousness of imagination and corruption of principles. If the taste of antiquity allows us to preserve what time and barbarity have hitherto spared, religion and virtue III. The government of Athens makes a fine at least oblige us not to spread it before the eyes part of the ancient comedy. In most states the of mankind. To end this work in a useful man-mystery of government is confined within the ner, let us examine in a few words the four particulars which are most striking in the eleven pieces of Aristophanes. CHARACTER OF ANCIENT COMEDY. II. The first is the character of the ancient comedy, which has no likeness to any thing in nature. Its genius is so wild and strange, that it scarce admits a definition. In what class of comedy must we place it? It appears to me to be a species of writing by itself. If we had Phrynicus, Plato, Eupolis, Cratinus, Ameipsins, and so many other celebrated rivals of Aristophanes, of whom all that we can find are a few fragments scattered in Piutarch, Athenæus, and Suidas, we might compare them with our poet, settle the general scheme, observe the minuter differences, and form a complete notion of their comic stage. But for want of all this we can fix only on Aristophanes, and it is true that he may be in some measure sufficient to furnish a tolerable judgment of the old comedy; for if we believe him, and who can be better credited? he was the most daring of all his brethren, the poets, who practised the same kind of writing. Upon this supposition we may conclude, that the comedy of those days consisted in an allegory drawn out and continued; an allegory never very regular, but often ingenious, and almost always carried beyond strict propriety, of satire keen and biting, but diversified, sprightly, and unexpected; so that the wound was given before it was perceived. Their points of satire were thunderbolts, and their wild figures, with their variety and quickness, had the effect of lightning. Their imitation was carried even to resemblance of persons, and their common entertainments were a parody of rival poets joined, if I may so express it, with a parody of manners and habits. ery, a kind of irreligion with piety. We shall do this in reading, as in travelling through different nations we make ourselves masters of their characters by combining their different appearances, and reflecting upon what we sec. THE GOVERNMENT OF THE ATHENIANS. walls of the cabinets; even in commonwealths it does not pass but through five or six heads, who rule those that think themselves the rulers. Oratory dares not touch it, and comedy still less. Cicero himself did not speak freely upon so nice a subject as the Roman commonwealth; but the Athenian eloquence was informed of the whole secret, and searches the recesses of the human mind, to fetch it out and expose it to the people. Demosthenes, and his contemporaries, speak with a freedom at which we are astonished, notwithstanding the notion we have of a populat government; yet at what time but this did comedy adventure to claim the same rights with civil eloquence? The Italian comedy of the last age, all daring as it was, could for its boldness come into no competition with the ancient. It was limited to general satire, which was sometimes carried so far, that the malignity was overlooked in an attention to the wild exaggeration, the unexpected strokes, the pungent wit, and the malignity concealed under such wild flights as became the character of Harlequin. But though it so far resembled Aristophanes, our age is yet at a great distance from his, and the Italian comedy from his scenes. But with respect to the liberty of censuring the government, there can be no comparison made of one age of comedy with another. Aristophanes is the only writer of this kind, and is for that reason of the highest value. A powerful state set at the head of Greece, is the subject of his merriment, and that merriment is allowed by the state itself. This appears to us an inconsistency; but it is true that it was the interest of the state to allow it, though not always without inconveniency. It was a restraint upon the ambition and tyranny of single men, a matter of great importance to a people so very jealous of their liberty. Cieor, Alcibiades, Lamachus, and many other generals and magistrates, were kept under by fear of the comic strokes of a poet so little cautious as Aristophanes. He was once indeed in danger of paying dear for his wit. He professed, as he tells us himself, to be of great use by his writings to the state; and rated his merit so high as to complain that he was not rewarded. But, under pretence of this public spirit, he spared no part of the public conduct; neither was government, councils, revenues, popular assemblies, secret proceedings in judicature, choice of ministers, the government of the nobles, or that of the people, spared. A single glance upon "Lysistra," and the "Female Orators," must raise astonishment when the Athenian policy is set below the schemes of women, whom the author makes ridiculous for no other reason than to bring contempt upon their husbands, who held the helm of government. The "Wasps," is written to expose the madness of people for lawsuits and litigations; and a multitude of iniquities are laid open. This is what in general may be drawn from the reading Aristophanes. The sagacity of the readers will go farther: they will compare the different forms of government by which that tumultuous people endeavoured to regulate or increase the democracy, which forms were all fatal to the state, because they were not built upon lasting foundations, and had all in them the principles of destruction. A strange contrivance it was to perpetuate a state by changing the just proportion which Solon had wisely settled between the nobles and the people; and by opening a gate to the skilful ambition of those who had art or courage enough to force themselves into the government by means of the people, whom they flattered with protections that they might more certainly crush them. THE TRAGIC POETS RALLIED. The " Acharnians," the "Peace," and the "Birds," are eternal monuments of the boldness of the poet, who was not afraid of censuring the government for the obstinate continuance of a ruinous war, for undertaking new ones, and feeding itself with wild imaginations, and running to destruction as it did for an idle point of IV. Another part of the works of Aristohonour. phanes are his pleasant reflections upon the Nothing can be more reproachful to the Athe-most celebrated poets: the shafts which he lets nians than his play of the "Knights," where he fly at the three heroes of tragedy, and particurepresents, under an allegory that may be easily larly at Euripides, might incline the reader to seen through, the nation of the Athenians as an believe that he had little esteem for those great old doting fellow tricked by a new man, such as men; and that probably the spectators that apCleon and his companions, who were of the plauded him were of his opinion. This conclusame stamp. sion would not be just, as I have already shown by arguments, which, if I had not offered them, the reader might have discovered better than 1. But that I may leave no room for objections, and prevent any shadow of captiousness, I shall venture to observe, that posterity will not consider Racine as less a master of the French stage, because his plays were ridiculed by parodies. Parody always fixes upon the best pieces, and was more to the taste of the Greeks than to ours. At present, the high theatres give it up to stages It may easily be gathered, that notwithstand- of an inferior rank; but in Athens, the comic ing the wise laws of Solon, which they still pro- theatre considered parody as its principal ornafessed to follow, the government was falling into ment, for a reason which is worth examining, decay, for we are not to understand the jest of The ancient comedy was not like ours, a remote Aristophanes in the literal sense. It is plain and delicate imitation; it was the art of gross that the corruption, though we should suppose minickry, and would have been supposed to have it but half as much as we are told, was very missed its aim, had it not copied the mien, the great, for it ended in the destruction of Athens, walk, the dress, the motions of the face of those which could scarce raise its head again, after it whom it exhibited. Now parody is an imitation had been taken by Lysander. Though we con- of this kind; it is a change of serious to bursider Aristophanes as a comic writer who deals lesque, by a slight variation of words, inflection in exaggeration, and bring down his stories to of voice, or an imperceptible art of mimickry. their true standard, we still find that the funda- Parody is to poetry as a mask to a face. As the mentals of their government fail in almost all tragedies of Eschylus, of Sophocles, and of the essential points. That the people were Euripides, were much in fashion, and were inveigled by men of ambition; that all the coun-known by memory to the people, the parodies cils and decrees had their original in factious upon them would naturally strike and please, combinations; that avarice and private interest when they were accompanied by the grimaces animated all their policy to the hurt of the of a good comedian, who mimicked with archpublic; that their revenues were ill managed, ness a serious character. Such is the malignity their allies improperly treated; that their good of human nature; we love to laugh at those citizens were sacrificed, and the bad put in places; whom we esteem most, and by this make ourthat a mad eagerness for judicial litigation took selves some recompense for the unwilling houp all their attention within, and that war was mage which we pay to merit. The parodies inade without, not so much with wisdom and upon these poets made by Aristophanes, cught precaution, as with temerity and good luck; that to be considered rather as encomiums than the love of novelty and fashion in the manner of satires. They give us occasion to examine managing the public affairs, was a madness uni- whether the criticisms are just or not in themversally prevalent; and that Melanthius says in selves: but what is more important, they afford Plutarch, the republic of Athens was continued no proof that Euripides or his predecessors only by the perpetual discord of those that wanted the esteem of Aristophanes or his age. smanaged its affairs. This remedied the dishc- The statues raised to their honour, the respect nour by preserving the equilibrium, and was paid by the Athenians to their writings, and the kept always in action by eloquence and comedy. [ careful preservation of those writings themselves, are immortal testimonies in their favour, and make it unnecessary for me to stop any longer upon so plausible a solution of so frivolous an objection. FREQUENT RIDICULE OF THE GODS. V. The most troublesome difficulty, and that which, so far as I know, has not yet been cleared to satisfaction, is the contemptuous manner in which Aristophanes treats the gods. Though I am persuaded in my own mind that I have found the true solution of this question, I am not sure that it will make more impression than that of M. Boivin, who contents himself with saying, that every thing was allowed to the comic poets; and that even Atheism was permitted to the licentiousness of the stage that the Athenians applauded all that made them laugh; and believed that Jupiter himself laughed with them at the smart sayings of a poet. Mr. Collier, an Englishman, in his remarks upon their stage, attempts to prove that Aristophanes was an open Atheist. For my part, I am not satisfied with the account either of one or the other, and think it better to venture a new system, of which I have already dropt some hints in this work. The truth is, that the Athenians professed to be great laughers; always ready for merriment on whatever subject. But it cannot be conceived that Aristophanes should, without punishment, publish himself an Atheist, unless we suppose that Atheism was the opinion likewise of the spectators, and of the judges commissioned to examine the plays; and yet this cannot be suspected of those who boasted themselves the most religious nation, and naturally the most superstitious of all Greece. How can we suppose those to be Atheists who passed sentence upon Diagoras, Socrates, and Alcibiades, for impiety? These are glaring inconsistencies. To say, like M. Boivin, for the sake of getting clear of the difficulty, that Alcibiades, Socrates, and Diagoras attacked religion seriously, and were therefore not allowed, but that Aristophanes did it in jest, or was authorised by custom, would be to trifle with the difficulty, and not to clear it. Though the Athenians loved merriment, it is not likely that if Aristophanes had professed Atheism, they would have spared him more than Socrates, who had as much life and pleasantry in his discourses, as the poet in his comedies. The pungent raillery of Aristophanes, and the fondness of the Athenians for it, are therefore not the true reason why the poet was spared when Socrates was condemned. I shall now solve the question with great brevity. The true answer to this question is given by Plutarch in his treatise of reading of the poets. Plutarch attempts to prove that youth is not to be prohibited the reading of the poets; but to be cautioned against such parts as may have bad effects. They are first to be prepossessed with this leading principle, that poetry is false and fabulous. He then enumerates at length the fables which Homer and other poets have invented about their deities; and concludes thus: "When therefore there is found in poetical compositions any thing strange and shocking, with respect to gods, or demigods, or concerning the virtue of any excellent and renowned characters, he that should receive these fictions as truth, would be corrupted by an erroneous opinion: but he that always keeps in his mind the fables and allusions which it is the business of poetry to contrive, will not be injured by these storics, nor receive any ill impressions upon his thoughts, but will be ready to censure himself, if at any time he happens to be afraid, lest Neptune in his rage should split the earth, and lay open the infernal regions." Some pages afterwards, he tells us, "That religion is a thing difficult of comprehension, and above the understanding of poets; which it is," says he, "necessary to have in mind when we read their fables." The Pagans therefore had their fables, which they distinguished from their religion: for no one can be persuaded that Ovid intended his Metamorphoses as a true representation of the religion of the Romans. The poets were allowed their imaginations about their gods, as things which have no regard to the public worship. Upon this principle, I say, as I said before, there was amongst the Pagans two sorts of religion: one a poetical, and a real religion : one practical, the other theatrical: a mythology for the poets, a theology for use. They had fables, and a worship, which, though founded upon fables, was yet very different. Diagoras, Socrates, Plato, and the philosophers of Athens, with Cicero, their admirer, and the other pretended wise men of Rome, are men by themselves. These were the Atheists with respect to the ancients. We must not therefore look into Pluto, or into Cicero, for the real religion of the Pagans, as distinct from the fabulous. These two authors involve themselves in the clouds, that their opinions may not be discovered. They durst not openly attack the real religion; but destroyed it by attacking fable. To distinguish here with exactness the agree ment or difference between fable and religion, is not at present my intention: it is not easy to show with exactness what was the Athenian notion of the nature of the gods whom they wor shipped. Plutarch himself tells us, that this was a thing very difficult for the philosophers. It is sufficient for me that the mythology and theology of the ancients were different at the bottom; that the names of the gods continued the same; and that long custom gave up one to the caprices of the poets, without supposing the other affected by them. This being once settled upon the authority of the ancients themselves, I am no longer surprised to see Jupiter, Minerva, Neptune, Bacchus, appear upon the stage in the comedy of Aristophanes; and at the same time receiving incense in the temples of Athens. This is, in my opinion, the most reasonable account of a thing so obscure; and I am ready to give up my system to any other, by which the Athenians shall be made more consistent with themselves; those Athenians who sat laughing at the gods of Aristophanes, while they condemned Socrates for having appeared to despise the gods of his country. THE MIMI AND PANTOMIMES. VI. A word is now to be spoken of the Mimi, which had some relation to comedy. This appel lation was, by the Greeks and Romans, given to certain dramatic performances, and to the actors that played them. The denomination sufficiently * See St. Paul upon the subject of the Ignoto Deo. shows, that their art consisted in imitation and buffoonery. Of their works, nothing, or very little, is remaining: so that they can only be considered by the help of some passages in authors: from which little is to be learned that deserves consideration. I shall extract the substance, as I did with respect to the chorus, without losing time, by defining all the different species, or producing all the quotations, which would give the reader more trouble than instruction. He that desires fuller instructions may read Vossius, Vaiois, Saumaises, and Gataker, of whose compilations, however learned, I should think it shame to be the author. 3 mimes; these were at least so far preferable to the former, that they gave no offence to the ears They spoke only to the eyes: but with such art of expression, that without the utterance of a single word, they represented, as we are told, a complete tragedy or comedy, in the same manner as dumb Harlequin is exhibited on our the atres. These Pantomimes among the Greeks first mingled singing with their dances; afterwards, about the time of Livius Andronicus, the songs were performed by one part, and the dances by another. Afterwards, in the time of Augustus, when they were sent for to Rome, for the diversions of the people, whom he had The Mini had their original from comedy, of enslaved, they played comedies without songs which at its first appearance they made a part; or vocal utterance; but by the sprightliness, for their minic actors always played and exhi-activity, and efficacy of their gestures; or, as bited grotesque dances in the comedies. The Sidonius Apollinaris, expresses it, clausis faucijealousy of rivalship afterwards broke them off bus, et, loquente gestu, they not only exhibited from the comic actors, and made them a com- things and passions, but even the most delicate pany by themselves. But to secure their recep-distinctions of passions, and the slightest cirtion, they borrowed fron comedy all its drollery, wildness, grossness, and licentiousness. This amusement they added to their dances, and they produced what are now called farces, or burlettas. These farces had not the regularity or delicacy of comedies; they were only a succession of single scenes contrived to raise laughter; formed or unravelled without order and without connexion. They had no other end but to make the people laugh. Now and then there might be good sentences, like the sentences of P. Syrus, that are yet left us: but the ground-work was low comely; and any thing of greater dignity drops in by chance. We must however imagine, that this odd species of the drama rose at length to somewhat a higher character, since we are told that Plato the philosopher laid the Mimi of Sophron under his pillow, and they were found there after his death. But in general we may say with truth, that it always discovered the ineanness of its original, like a false pretension to nobility, in which the cheat is always disco-matter, one may know what to admit as certain, vered through the concealinent of fictitious splendour. These Mimi were of two sorts, of which the length was different, but the purposes the same. The Mimi of one species was short; those of the other long, and not quite so grotesque. These two kinds were subdivided into many species, distinguished by the dresses and characters, such as show drunkards, physicians, men, and women. Thus far of the Greeks. The Romans having borrowed of them the more noble shows of tragedy and comedy, were not content till they had their rhapsodies. They had their Planipedes, who played with flat soles, that they might have the more agility; and their Sannions, whose heads were shaved, that they might box the better. There is no need of naming here all who had a name for these diversions among the Greeks and Romans. I have said enough, and perhaps too much, of this abortion of comedy, which drew upon itself the contempt of good men, the censures of the magistrates, and the indignation of the fathers of the church.* Another set of players were called Panto *It is the licentiousness of the Mini and Pantomimes, against which the censure of the Holy Fathers particuJarly breaks out, as against a thing irregular and inde. cent, without supp sing it much connected with the cause of religio..." cumstances of facts. We must not however imagine, at least in my opinion, that the Pantomimes did literally represent regular tragedies or comedies by the mere motions of their bodies. We may justly determine, notwithstanding all their agility, that their representations would at last be very incomplete: yet we may suppose, with good reason, that their action was very lively; and that the art of imitation went great lengths, since it raised the admiration of the wisest men, and made the people mad with eagerness. Yet when we read that one Hylus, the pupil of one Pylades, in the time of Augustus, divided the applauses of the people with his master, when they represented Edipus, or when Juvenal tells us, that Bathillus played Leda, and other things of the same kind, it is not easy to believe that a single man, without speaking a word, could exhibit tragedies or comedies, and make starts and bounds supply the place of vocal articulation. Notwithstanding the obscurity of this whole or how far a representation could be carried by dance, posture, and grimace. Among these artificial dances, of which we know nothing but the names, there was as early as the time of Aristophanes some extremely indecent. These were continued in Italy from the time of Augustus, long after the emperors. It was a public mischief, which contributed in some measure to the decay and ruin of the Roman empire. To have a due detestation of those licentious entertainments, there is no need of any recourse to the fathers; the wiser Pagans tell us very plainly what they thought of them. I have made this mention of the Mimi and Pantomimes, only to show how the most noble of public spectacles were corrupted and abused, and to conduct the reader to the end through every road, and through all the by-paths of human wit, from Homer and Eschylus to our own time. WANDERINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND IN THE BIRTH AND PROGRESS OF THEATRICAL REPRESENTA- VII. That we may conclude this work by applying the principle laid down at the begin ning, and extend it through the whole, I desire the reader to recur to that point where I have represented the human mind as beginning the course of the drama. The chorus was first a of Aristophanes, become licentious and petulant, taking airs to herself which the magistrates were obliged to crush. Menander reduced her to bounds, taught her at once gayety and politeness, and enabled her to correct vice, without shocking the offenders. Plautus, among the Romans, to whom we must now pass, united the earlier and the later comedy, and joined buffoonery with delicacy. Terence, who was better instructed, received comedy fron: Menander, and surpassed his original, as he endeavoured to copy it. And lastly, Moliere produced a new species of comedy, which must be placed in a class by itself, in opposition to that of Aristophanes, whose manner is likewise peculiar to himself. hyian to Bacchus, produced by accident; art Drought it to perfection, and delight made it a public diversion. Thespis made a single actor play before the people; this was the beginning of theatrical shows. Eschylus, taking the idea of the Iliad and Odyssey, animated, if I may so express it, the epic poem, and gave a dialogue in place of simple recitation; puts the whole into action, and sets it before the eyes, as if it was a present and real transaction: he gives the chorus an interest in the scenes, contrives habits of dignity and theatrical decorations. In a word, he gives birth to tragedy; or, more properly, draws it from the bosom of the epic poem. She made her appearance sparkling with graces, and displayed such majesty as gained every heart at the first view. Sophocles considers her more But such is the weakness of the human mind, nearly, with the eyes of a critic, and finds that that when we review the successions of the she has something still about her rough and drama a third time, we find genius falling from swelling: he divests her of her false ornaments, its height, forgetting itself, and led astray by the teaches her a more regular walk, and more love of novelty, and the desire of striking out familiar dignity. Euripides was of opinion, new paths. Tragedy degenerated in Greece that she ought to receive still more softness and from the time of Aristotle, and in Rome after tenderness; he teaches her the new art of pleas- Augustus. At Rome and Athens comedy proing by simplicity, and gives her the charms of duced Mimi, pantomimes, burlettas, tricks, and graceful negligence; so that he makes her stand farces, for the sake of variety; such is the chain suspense, whether she appears most to advan-racter, and such the madness of the mind of man. tage in the dress of Sophocles sparkling with gems, or in that of Euripides, which is more simple and modest. Both indeed are elegant; but the elegance is of different kinds, between which no judgment as yet has decided the prize of superiority. We can now trace it no farther; its progress among the Greeks is out of sight. We must pass at once to the time of Augustus, when Apollo and the Muses quitted their ancient residence in Greece, to fix their abode in Italy. But it is vain to ask questions of Melpomene; she is obstinately silent, and we only know from strangers her power among the Romans. Seneca endeavours to make her speak; but the gaudy show with which he rather loads than adorns her, makes us think that he took some phantom of Melpomene for the muse herself. It is satisfied with having made great conquests, and gives them up to attempt others, which are far from answering its expectation, and only enable it to discover its own folly, weakness, and deviations. But why should we be tired with standing still at the true point of perfection when it is attained? If eloquence be wearied, and forgets herself awhile, yet she soon returns to her former point; so will it happen to our theatres if the French Muses will keep the Greek models in their view, and not look with disdain upon a stage, whose mother is nature, whose soul is pas sion, and whose art is simplicity: a stage, which, to speak the truth, does not perhaps equal ours in splendour and elevation, but which excels it in simplicity and propriety, and equals it at least in the conduct and direction of those passions which may properly affect an honest man and a christian. Another flight, equally rapid with that to Rome, must carry us through thousands of years, For my part, I shall think myself well recomfrom Rome to France. There in the time of pensed for my labour, and shall attain the end Louis XIV. we see the mind of man giving which I had in view, if I shall in some little meabirth to tragedy a second time, as if the Greek sure revive in the minds of those who purpose to tragedy had been utterly forgot. In the place run the round of polite literature, not an immoof Eschylus, we have our Rotrou. In Corneille derate and blind reverence, but a true taste of we have another Sophocles, and in Racine a antiquity; such a taste as both feeds and polishes second Euripides. Thus is tragedy raised from the mind, and enriches it by enabling it to apher ashes, carried to the utmost point of great-propriate the wealth of foreigners, and to exert ness, and so dazzling that she prefers herself to herself. Surprised to see herself produced again in France in so short a time, and nearly in the same manner as before in Greece, she is disposed to believe that her fate is to make a short transition from her birth to her perfection, like the goddess that issued from the brain of Jupiter. If we look back on the other side to the rise of comedy, we shall see it hatched by Margites from the Odyssey of Homer, in imitation of her elde. t sister; but we see her, under the conduct * Eschylus, in my opinion, as well as the other poets his contemporaries. retained the chorus, not merely because it was the fashion, but because examining tragedy to the bottom they found it not rational to conceive, that an action great and splendid, like the revolution of a state, could pass without witnesses. its natural fertility in exquisite productions; such a taste as gave the Racines, the Molieres, the Boileaus, the Fontames, the Patras, the Pe lissons, and many other great geniuses of the last age, all that they were, and all that they will always be; such a taste as puts the seal of immortality to those works in which it is discovered; a taste so necessary, that without it we may be certain that the greatest powers of nature will long continue in a state below them selves; for no man ought to allow himself to be flattered or seduced by the example of some men of genius, who have rather appeared to despise this taste than to despise it in reality. It is true that excellent originals have given occasion, without any fault of their own, to very bad copies. No man ought severely to ape either the |