simulation, however necessary it may seem to prevent his fellow travellers from too soon repenting of their promise to take him home with them, by his naturalness brings back Neoptolemus to his nature. The revolution is excellent, and the more moving, because it is brought about by mere humanity. In the Frenchman's drama, the beautiful eyes again play their part in it. But I will think no more of this parody. In the Trachiniæ, Sophocles has resorted to the same artifice of uniting some other emotion in the bystanders with the sympathy, which should be called out by hearing a cry of pain. The pain of Hercules is not merely a wearing one. It drives him to madness, in which he pants after nothing but revenge. Already he has in this fury seized Lichas, and dashed him to pieces against the rocks. The chorus is composed of women, and for that reason is naturally filled with amazement and terror. These, and the suspense, arising from the doubt whether a God will yet hasten to the aid of Hercules, or whether he will be left to sink under his misfortunes, here create that proper universal interest, to which sympathy imparts but a light shading. As soon as the event is decided by the assistance of the oracle, Hercules becomes quiet, and astonishment at the resolution he has finally

Act ii. Sc. 3. "De mes deguisemens, que penseroit Sophie?" says the son of Achilles.

displayed, occupies the place of all other emotions. But, in the general comparison of the suffering Hercules with the suffering Philoctetes, we must not forget that the one is a demi-god, the other only a man. The man is ashamed of no complaints, while the demi-god is indignant at finding that his mortal part has such power over his immortal, that it can compel him to weep and moan like a girl. We moderns do not believe in demi-gods, and yet expect that the commonest hero should act and feel like

one.

That an actor can carry imitation of the shrieks and convulsions of pain as far as illusion I do not venture either positively to deny or assert. If I found that our actors could not, I should first inquire whether Garrick also found it impossible; and if my question were answered in the affirmative, I should still be at liberty to suppose that the acting and declamation of the ancients attained a perfection, of which we can at this day form no conception.

d Trach. v. 1071. ὅστις ὥστε παρθένος

βέβρυχα κλάιων.

CHAPTER V.

THERE are critics of antiquity, who, on the ground that Virgil's description must have served as a model for the group of the Laocoon, maintain that the latter was indeed the work of a Greek master, but of one, who flourished in the time of the emperors. Of the ancient scholars who supported this opinion, I will now mention only Bartholomæus Marliani, and of the modern, Montfaucon (9). They found, without doubt, an agreement so peculiar, between the work of art and the description of the poet, that they believed it impossible that both should by chance have lighted upon the same circumstances; circumstances too, of such a nature, that they would be the last to force themselves upon the mind. They therefore assume that, if the question of originality and priority of invention is raised, there is a stronger presumption in favour of the poet than of the artist.

:

Only they appear to have forgotten that a third alternative is left that the poet may have copied as little from the artist, as the artist from the poet, and both have drawn from a common, ancient source, which, according to Macrobius was probably Pisander(10). For when the works of this Greek

poet were extant, it was a piece of mere schoolboy knowledge (pueris decantatum), that the Roman poet not only imitated, but, as might be said with. more truth still, faithfully translated from him, the entire account of the conquest and destruction of Ilium, which constitutes the whole of the second book. Thus, if Virgil had followed Pisander in the story of Laocoon also, the Greek artists would have had no need to seek the guidance of a Latin poet; and the conjecture as to the period to which the work belongs, is without foundation.

But if I were compelled to maintain the opinion of Marliani and Montfaucon, I should like to lend them the following means of escaping from this difficulty. Pisander's poems are lost, and we cannot say with certainty what was his version of the story of Laocoon; but it is probable that it was the same as that of which we still find traces in the Greek authors. This, however, has as little as possible in common with the narrative of Virgil, who must, therefore, have entirely recast the Greek tradition, according to his own ideas. On this supposition his account of the misfortune of Laocoon is his own invention; and consequently, if the artists in their representation are in harmony with him, it is natural to suppose that they lived after his time, and executed their group after his model.

Quintus Calaber agrees with Virgil in making

Laocoon exhibit a suspicion of the wooden horse; but the anger of Minerva, drawn upon the priest for so doing, is wreaked upon him in a completely different manner. The ground trembles beneath the feet of the warning Trojan; terror and anguish take possession of him; a burning pain rages in his eyes; his brain suffers; he goes mad; he is struck with blindness. Then, when, in spite of his blindness, he ceases not to counsel the burning of the wooden horse, Minerva at length sends two terrible serpents, which, however, seize upon his children only. In vain they stretch out their hands towards their father. The poor blind man can afford them no aid; they are dreadfully mangled, and the serpents disappear under the earth. Laocoon himself, however, suffers no injury from them; and that this version is not peculiar to Quintus, but on the contrary, was commonly received, is proved by a passage from Lycophron, in which he bestows on the serpents the epithet of "child eaters."

b

a

But, if this had been the version commonly adopted by the Greeks, Greek artists would hardly have ventured to deviate from it; or, if they had, could scarcely have chanced to do so in exactly the same manner as a Roman poet, unless they had been previously acquainted with him, or perhaps had a Paralip. xii. 383.

bOr rather on the serpent; for Lycophron mentions one only, καὶ παιδοβρῶτος πορκέως νήσους διπλᾶς.