Of the EXCELLENCIES of the GREEK

and DEFECTS of the FRENCH DRA

MA.

In a LETTER to her Serene Highness the

MADAM,

Yount

Duchefs of MAINE.

TOU faw the conclufion of that admirable century, to whofe glory you contributed fo much, by your taste and, your example; that age which is the model of ours in many refpects, and in others a reproach, as it will be to all future ages. It was in thofe celebrated days, that the Condes, your ancestors, covered with victorious laurels, cultivated and encouraged, the arts; that a Boffuet immortalized heroes and instructed kings; that a Fenelon, the fecond man in eloquence, but the firft in the art of rendering virtue amiable, taught with fuch charms and grace, the beauty of juftice and humanity; that the Racines, the Boileaus prefided in the belles lettres, Lulli in mufic, and Le Brun in painting. All thefe arts were well received, particularly in your palace, where I fhall P ? 3

* Boffuet's funeral orations made him looked upon as the most eloquent of all the French writers.-

always remember, that in my younger days, I sometimes had the happiness of hearing the celebrated monfieur de Malezieu. He was a man in whom profound erudition had not stified the moft lively genius, and who fucceeded fo very happily in the education of the duke of Burgundy, as well as in that of your grace and in the duke of Maine's, because he was so very much affifted by nature. Sometimes he would take a Sophocles, or an Euripides before your ferene highness, and tranflate at once one of their tragedies into French. The admiration and enthusiasm these great authors infpired him with, furnished him expreffions which came as near to the ftrong and harmonious energy of the Greeks, as it was poffible in a language hardly recovered from barbarism; and which, polished as it is by fo many writers of genius, is yet deficient in copiousness, precision, and force. It is well known, that it is impoffible to tranfmit into any modern language the intire value of the Grecian expreffions; they describe in one word what requires feveral in any other tongue. A fingle term is fufficient to express in Greek, a mountain covered with trees loaded with leaves; another, a god who shoots his darts at a great distance; and a third, the fummits of rocks often ftruck by thunder-bolts. Not only, one word was enough to convey a series of ideas that filled the mind; but each term had its peculiar harmony, and charmed the ear at the same time that it difplayed fublime defcriptions to the imagination. And this is the reason, why moft

translations from Greek poets, are flimfy, dry, and uninteresting. It is like an attempt to imitate porphyrian marble with brick or pebbles. And yet, monfieur Malezieu, by efforts that a fudden enthufiafm always drew from him, and by the eloquence of action, seemed to make up in fome measure, for the poorness of our language; and to breathe, in his declamation, the very spirit of the great writers of Athens. Give me leave, madam, to mention here his thoughts relative to that ingenious, delicate, and inventive nation, which taught every thing to its conquerors, the Romans; and long after its deftruction, and that of the Roman empire, still served to draw modern Europe from the grofs ignorance in which it had been plunged for fo many centuries.

He was better acquainted with Athens, than feveral travellers are now-a-days with Rome, after having spent some time in that city. The prodigious number of ftatues, by the greatest mafters; thofe columns which adorned the public market-places; these monuments of genius and of grandeur; that immenfe and fumptuous theatre, fituated between the town and the citadel, where the works of Sophocles and Euripides were acted before fuch men as Pericles and Socrates, and where young fellows were not allowed to affift in a confufed tumultuous manner; in a word, every thing the Athenians did in favour of the fine arts, was prefent to his mind. He was far from agreeing with fome people, whofe ridiculous, aufterity and falfe politics incline them to condemn the Athenians for the

the great attention they paid to, and the vast expences they were at in, their public diverfions. Those people do not confider, it feems, that this very magnificence contributed to the enriching of Athens, by attracting constantly fuch numbers of foreigners, who came to admire its fplendor, and to learn precepts of virtue and of eloquence.

You prevailed, madam, on that almoft univerfal genius to tranflate into French the Iphigenia in Tauris of Euripides, which he performed with great fidelity, elegance, and force. It was acted in an entertainment, which he had the honour to give your ferene highnefs, and which was worthy of the perfon that received it, and of him who gave it. You were pleafed to represent the part of Iphigenia. I was present at this fpectacle; I was not then accustomed to our French theatre; it never came into my head, that gallantry could find a place in that tragic fubject; I entirely gave in to the manners and customs of Greece, and that, with the lefs difficulty, as I was little acquainted with any others; I admired antiquity in all its noble plainnefs and fimplicity. This was what first made me think of writing the tragedy of Oedipus, without having even read that of Corneille on the fame fubject. I began by endeavouring to tranflate the famous fcene in Sophocles, which contains the mutual confidence between Oedipus and Jocafta. I read it to fome of my acquaintance, who frequented the play-houfes, and to feveral actors. They all affured me, that this fcene would never take on the French ftage. They advised

me to read Corneille, who took care to avoid it; and told me, that if I did not introduce an amorous intrigué in my Oedipus, as Corneille had done in his, the players could not poffibly undertake to represent it. Upon this I perused Corneille's Oedipus, which though not put upon a level with Cinna or Polyeuctes, yet was held in great efteem. I must shocked on I was own, the reading it; and yet was I obliged to yield to example and to prejudice. I introduced, in the midst of the terror which this master-piece of antiquity naturally infpires, not, indeed, an actual intrigue, for that was too revolting for me to confent to it, but at least the remembrance of an extinguished paffion.

Your ferene highness may remember, that I had the honour to read before you my new tragedy. The scene from Sophocles was not certainly condemned at your tribunal. But you and cardinal Polignac and monsieur de Malezieu, and those who compofed your court, all blamed me with very great reafon, for having even pronounced the word Love, in a work which Sophocles had rendered admirable, without the help of any fuch foreign ornament; and that-part of my tragedy which determined the actors to receive it, was precisely what you most condemned.

The players reprefented Oedipus with regret, and without any hopes of fuccefs; but the public was of your opinion. What was in the manner of Sophocles, was univerfally applauded; while any thing that looked like love, was condemned by every body of taste or judgment.