are witnesses to the despair into which its effects are likely to plunge him; at the same moment he falls into one of his dreadful convulsions before their eyes, and if this spectacle calls forth no remarkable expression of sympathy on their part, it may, at least, compel them to reflect on what may be the consequences of their conduct, —to respect the affliction with which the sufferer is overwhelmed, and to abstain from adding to it by their treachery. This is what the spectator looks for; and his expectation is not disappointed by the noble Neoptolemus. Had Philoctetes succeeded in disguising his sufferings, he would have confirmed Neoptolemus in his treacherous intentions. But the agony which renders him incapable of all dissimulation, highly necessary as it appears to him, at the same time forbids his future fellow-traveller to repent of the promise he has given to bear him away from the desert island. Philoctetes, all nature himself, restores Neoptolemus also to nature. This change is admirably managed, and is the more touching from the circumstance of its being brought about by the operation of purely human feelings. Here again the French poet has recourse to the influence of a pair of fine eyes, to which he attributes a share in this revolution of feeling.*—But let us think no more of this unworthy parody. The same artifice of combining in the breasts of the by-standers another affection along with the sympathy excited by the shrieks of the sufferer, has also been employed by Sophocles in his Trachiniæ. The suffering of Hercules is not an exhausting pain; it drives him even to madness, under the influence of which he pants after revenge. He has already seized Lichas, during his fit of phrensy, and dashed him against the rocks. The Chorus is composed of females, in order to give a more natural effect to the dread and horror with which they are seized. This circumstance, and the suspense occasioned by the doubt as to whether a Deity will come to the assistance of Hercules, or whether he is. doomed to sink under the weight of his misfortunes, constitute the general feature of the Acte ii., sc. iii. "De mes déguisemens que penserait Sophie?" says the son of Achilles. dramatic interest, to which the sympathy excited by the spectacle of the hero's sufferings gives but a slight additional shade. No sooner is the final issue determined by reference to the oracle, than Hercules becomes tranquil, and admiration of his resolution takes the place of all other emotions. In comparing the suffering Hercules, however, with the suffering Philoctetes, it must always be borne in mind that the former was a demi-god, while the latter was simply a man. The one is not ashamed of his tears and lamentations, while the other naturally feels humiliated that the mortal should so far triumph over the immortal part of his nature, as to compel him to weep and wail" like a tender maiden."* We moderns are no believers in demi-gods, yet the least important hero among us is expected to feel and act like one. Whether it be possible for the actor to carry his imitation of the shriekings and writhings of pain to the extent of illusion, I shall not pretend * Trach. v. 1073-74. ὅσις, ὡσε παρθένος, βέβρυχα κλαίων. to determine. If I were even satisfied that my own countrymen are incapable of it, I should next wish to ascertain whether a Garrick has not attained that perfection; and should even he have failed to do so, I must still continue to be of opinion that the declamatory art and dramatic effect, among the ancients, exhibited a degree of finished excellence of which it is totally impossible for us to form any idea. FIFTH SECTION. Of the Laocoon of Virgil, and the sculptured Group of the same Subject.—It seems more probable that the Artist imitated Virgil, than that the latter took the Group for his Model. It is the opinion of some antiquarian connoisseurs that the group of Laocoon, though the work of Greek artists, was executed in the time of the Emperors, and this conjecture they ground on the belief that the Laocoon of Virgil furnished the model for it. Of those learned writers who have entertained this opinion, I shall mention only Bartolomeo Marliani,* among the more ancient, and Montfaucon, among the moderns. They were, doubtless, struck with the coincidence which exists between the work of the Artist and the Poet's description, and it * See Note 11, end of volume. |