W'i 



The German Student.— No. XIX. 



[June 1, 



same effect, had not the same soul, was 

 not (l>e same thing — was but a puppet- 

 sliow, an imitatiou, a statue, iu which 

 none but the devoutest heads could 

 discover the animating spirit. Let us 

 pass immediately to the new Athenians 

 of Europe, and 1 think this will appear 

 evident. As for the Romans, they 

 were either too skilful, too stupid, or 

 too wild and intemperate, to erect a 

 theatre quite iu the Greek taste. 



it is impossible to ape the Greek 

 theatre more exactly and perfectly than 

 has been done in France. I (lo not 

 mean merely with regard to the thea- 

 trical rules which have been attributed 

 to good Aristotle, such as unity of time, 

 place, and action, connection of scenes, 

 probability of fable, &c. ; but I really 

 ask whether any thing in the world 

 cansurj)ass that smooth classical thing, 

 which the Corneilles, the Racines, and 

 the Voltaires, have given us, that string 

 of fine scenes and dialogues, verses and 

 rhymes, that measured exactness, that 

 decorum, brilliancy, and rotundity, 

 &c. ■? Not only the author of this 

 paper doubts thereon, but all the ad- 

 mirers of Voltaire and of the French, 

 still more these noble Athenians them- 

 selves, have already denied, and will 

 continue to denj', the possibility of any 

 thing superior. And as for resem- 

 blance, when the statue is hoisted upon 

 the pedestal, they are in the right, and 

 must gain partisans every day the 

 fonder we grow of the regular and the 

 smooth. 



Nevertheless an irresistible inward 

 sentiment must oblige the most pas- 

 sionate admirer of the French theatre 

 (if he has felt the Greek dramatist) to 

 confess, that these are not Greek tra- 

 gedies, have nothing of the aim, end, 

 effect, or essence of the Greek drama. 

 1 will not examine whether they really 

 observe Aristotle's rules as they pretend 

 to do (a thing against which Lessing has 

 lately raised some terrible doubts) but 

 take it for granted, and yet their drama 

 is not the same with the Grecian. Why 

 not ? Because inwardly it is totally 

 different, it has nothing of the action, 

 manners, language, aim — What signi- 

 fies then the external likeness? Does 

 any body believe that one of the great 

 Corneille's heroes is a Roman or a 

 French hero ? They are Spanish he- 

 roes worthy of a Sancho, gallant, ad- 

 venturously brave, generous, amorous 

 or cruel heroes, consequently dramatic 

 fictions, which would be laughed at 

 off the stage, and which at that time 



were for France at least half as foreign 

 as they are now entirely so. Racine 

 speaks the language of feeling I True ! 

 according to this resemblance once ad- 

 mitted, nothing surpasses him; but 

 else I know not what feeling expresses 

 itself so. Tliey are paintings of feeling 

 by a third strange hand, very seldom 

 or never the primitive unadorned emo- 

 tions of the soul endeavouring at, 

 and at last finding utterance. Vol- 

 taire's finished verse, its form, contents, 

 imagery, brilliancy, wit, philosophy — 

 is it not charming poetry ? Most un- 

 doubtedly, the mostpeifect imaguiable, 

 and was I a Frenchman, I should de- 

 spair of ever making a single verse 

 after Voltaire : but perfect or not per- 

 fect, it is certainly no verse for the 

 theatre ; for the actiim, language, 

 manners, passions, aim of any other 

 than the French drama, it would be 

 affected, false, antithetic, nonsensical ; 

 and the end and aim of the whole is 

 certainly no Greek, no tragic aim. To 

 bring a fine piece or a fine action upon 

 the stage; to have fine speeches or a 

 fine and useful philosophy repeated in 

 fine verses by a number of elegant 

 well-dressed ladies and gentleman ; to 

 mix them all in a history which by 

 resembling a representation, attracts 

 the attention ; to have all that per- 

 formed by a number of well-exercised 

 ladies and gentlemen, who very com- 

 placently really take a deal of pains 

 with the declamation, with the majestic 

 sentences, with attaining the exterior 

 of sentiment ; all that may produce 

 very excellent effects, serve for a living 

 lecture, for exercise in expression, in 

 attitude and decorum, for a painting 

 of good or even heroic manners, and 

 lastly, for a complete academy of na- 

 tional wisdom and decency in living 

 and dying, and (to pass over all other 

 side-aims) may be beautiful, forma- 

 tive, instructive, excellent, but by no 

 means have any thing of the end and 

 aim of the Greek stage. 



And what was this aim? Aristotle 

 tells us, and the subject has been 

 enough dispiited upon — nothing more 

 nor less than a certain tearing of the 

 heart, an affecting of the soul on cer- 

 tain sides and to a certain degree, — iu 

 short, a kind of illusion, which indeed 

 no French piece ever produced or will 

 produce ; and conseciuently (call it as 

 excellent and as useftil as you please) 

 it is no Greek drama, no Sophoclean 

 tragedy. As a puppet very like, but 

 without spirit, life, nature, truth — with- 

 out 



