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Whilst the taſte, genius, and knowledge of the ancients, have been univerſally felt and acknowledged in every other part of polite literature, it is matter of admiration to conſider, that the Greek Theatre ſhould ſo long have remain'd in neglect and obſcurity. In philoſophy, morals, oratory, and heroic poetry, in every art and ſcience, we look back to Greece, as the ſtandard and model of perfection: the ruins of Athens afford, even to this day, freſh pleaſure and delight; and, nothing but her ſtage ſeems to be forgotten by us. Homer, Xenophon, Demoſthenes, and many other eminent Greek writers, have of late years put on an Engliſh habit, and gain'd admiſſion even into what is call'd polite company; whilſt Æſchylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, ſtill lurk in ſchools and colleges; and very ſeldom make their appearance, at leaſt with dirty leaves, in the libraries of the great. To what ſhall we attribute a judgment ſo capricious and ſo unaccountable? partly, perhaps, to the haſty ſeverity of ignorant foes, and partly, to the outrageous zeal of[1] miſtaken friendſhip. The fate of Antient Tragedy hath, indeed, been ſingularly unfortunate: ſome painters have drawn a too flattering likeneſs of her; whilſt others, have preſented us with nothing but a caricature; ſome exalt the Greek drama, as the moſt perfect of all human compoſitions, without the leaſt ſpot or blemiſh; whilſt others a affect to call it the infant ftate of the ſtage, weak, infirm and imperfect; and
- ↑ The remarks, which are handed down to us on Antient Tragedy, have hitherto, for the moſt part, conſiſted of mere verbal criticiſms, various readings, or general and trite exclamations of undiſtinguiſhing applauſe, made by dull and phlegmatic commentators, totally void of taſt and judgement; add to this, that the old tragedians have been ſhamefully diſguiſed and miſrepreſented to the unlearned, by the falſe medium of bad tranſlations.
