this excellent man, it is no wonder that he soon became the delight and ornament of his country; and, what perhaps is a more solid honour to him, he contracted an early friendship with Socrates, who was twelve years younger than himself, and survived him almost six years; this friendship, formed on the firmest principles of virtue and wisdom, and cemented by a similarity of manners and studies, continued indissoluble. These studies form the history of his life from the eighteenth to the seventy-second year of his age, during which time he composed seventy-five tragedies, frequently retiring to his native Salamis, and there indulging his melancholy muse in a rude and gloomy cavern. His reputation was now so illustrious, that Archelaus, king of Macedonia, invited him to his court: this monarch to his many royal virtues added a fondness for literature and the muses, and had drawn to him from Greece many who excelled in the polite arts, particularly those who were eminent for their learning, philosophers and poets. Euripides, after much and earnest invitation, at length complied with the king's request, and went to Pella, where he was received with every mark of esteem and honour. Archelaus knew how to value a man of modesty and learning, a lover of truth and virtue; but he particularly admired the disinterestedness, the amiable candour, and gentleness of manners, which distinguished Euripides, and made him worthy of the liberality, the esteem, and affection of such a king. In this court at this time, among many other eminent men, were Agatho, an excellent tragic poet, an honest and agreeable man, a friend and admirer of Euripides, Timotheus the famous musician, and Zeuxis the celebrated painter: in this society Euripides lived happy, beloved, and honoured, and died lamented in the third year after his coming to Macedonia, and the seventy-fifth year of his age. Archelaus mourned for him as for a near relation, buried him among the kings of Macedonia, and erected a magnificent monument to his memory. The news of his death was brought to Athens as Sophocles was about to exhibit one of his tragedies; he appeared in mourning, and made his actors come on the stage without crowns: this great poet had long been the intimate friend of Euripides; he was then in the ninetieth year of his age, and died about the end of this year. The Athenians immediately sent ambassadors to Archelaus, requesting his permission to remove the bones of Euripides into his own country; this the king and the Macedonians firmly refused; as they could not obtain his ashes, they raised a cenotaph to their poet in the way that led from the city to the Piraeus.- -The learned reader will not find, nor will he expect to find, any thing new in this short account; nothing can be added to the elaborate diligence of Dr. Barnes, but much may be retrenched. Of the origin of the Greek Drama, and its perfection under the three great masters, Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, enough has been said in the preface to the translation of Eschylus, where their comparative merit is stated and accounted for. Euripides was to Eschylus what a Raffaelle was to Michael Angelo: in Eschylus all is inspiration; his genius is bold and fiery; his ideas are vast and sublime; his persons are a superior order of beings: Euripides owed more to study, but it was chiefly the study of nature; his genius is bright and glowing; his images are vivid and a See and admire the President's Discourse delivered in the Royal Academy, December 10, 1772. deeply impressed; his characters designed with propriety, and supported with dignity: but he is chiefly distinguished from all other writers by the purity and copiousness of his moral sentiinents, and his irresistible power in moving the tender passions; for the first he was indebted to his education under Prodicus and Anaxagoras, and his friendship with Socrates; the latter he drew from his own heart; what he felt warmly, he painted pathetically; like our own Spenser, He steep'd in tears the piteous lines he wrote, If we may with reason and truth form this judgment of the drama of Euripides, we must be surprised and sorry to find a very respectable critic expressing himself in these words, "Greek tragedies are more active than sentimental; they contain many sensible reflections on morals, manners, and upon life in general; but no sentiments except what are plain and obvious. The subjects are of the simplest kind, such as give rise to the passions of hope, fear, love, hatred, envy, and revenge, in their most ordinary exertions: no intricate nor delicate situation to occasion any singular emotion; no gradual swelling and subsiding of passion; and seldom any conflict between different passions. I would not however be understood as meaning to depreciate Greek tragedies. They are indeed wonderful productions of genius, considering that the Greeks at that period were but beginning to emerge from roughness and barbarity into a taste for literature. The compositions of Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, must have been highly relished among a people who had no idea of any thing more perfect. We judge by comparison, and every work is held to be perfect that has no rival. It ought at the same time to be kept in view, that it was not the dialogue which chiefly enchanted the Athenians, nor variety in the passions represented, nor perfection in the actors, but machinery and pompous decoration, joined with exquisite music. That these particulars were carried to the greatest height, we may with certainty conclude from the extravagant sums bestowed upon them: the exhibiting a single tragedy was more expensive to the Athenians than their fleet or their army in any single campaign." Sketches of the History of Man, vol. i. p. 141. Let it not be deemed pedantry, or an affectation of admiring the writers of ancient Greece, but impartial justice, to observe, that if the Greek tragedies were more active than sentimental, those great poets perfectly knew their province; for tragedy, as Aristotle' defines it, is the imitation of an action. The simplicity of the subject constitutes one of their principal excellencies; and from that simple subject to give rise to the passions, is a proof of their power: whether these passions were called forth only in their most ordinary exertions, whether no delicate situation occasioned any singular emotion, whether there is no gradual swelling and subsiding of passion, no conflict between different passions, the English reader will be able to determine from reading any one of these tragedies, particularly the impassioned characters of Phædra and Medea, and probably will be enchanted with the dialogue and the variety in the passions represented. The age which produced, besides these tragic poets, Pindar, Simonides, Prodicus, Anaxagoras, the accomplished Pericles, Socrates, and ν Ἔσιν οὖν τραγῳδία μίμησις πράξεως, &c. Περὶ Ποιητικῆς, κεφ. ε'. Agaua enim dicitur, quia est pentinòv iv tã dgav. Vossii Instit. Poetic. lib. ii. c. 1. с many other great men, could not be but beginning to emerge from roughness and barbarity into a taste for literature; Athens was rather at that time advanced to its highest perfection in all the polite arts: it is not a proof of the barbarism of that people, that they had no idea of any thing more perfect than the compositions of Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides; if it is, the barbarism yet remains. That the music which accompanied these tragedies was so exquisite as some imagine, "who have formed a romantic idea of ancient music upon the exaggerated accounts of its effects, which they have read in old authors," will not be readily allowed; "with all the simplicity of their music, the poets themselves being able to set their own pieces, and to sing them so well to the satisfaction of the public, is to a perfect judge a certain proof that their music had not only fewer difficulties, but fewer excellencies than the modern." Their machinery and decoration were indeed magnificent; but it must not be supposed that the exhibiting a single tragedy was more expensive to the Athenians than their fleet or their army in any single campaign; the authority of Demosthenes will probably be thought decisive; he says that the Athenians expended more money upon the Panathenæan and Dionysian feasts, than upon any one of their naval expeditions. In Philipp. I. The Panathenæa continued several days, and consisted of various entertainments, races both of men and horses, gymnastic exercises, musical contests, pyrric dances, a naumachium, pompous processions, and at the end a costly sacrifice, at which the whole assembly was feasted dramatic exhibitions made but one part of these expensive shows, and in these each poet who с Dr. Burney's Dissertation on the Music of the Ancients, p. 168. |