The Greek, who had studied profoundly what may be
called the machinery of art, made use even of mechanical contrivances to
delude the imagination of the spectator, and to entice him away from the
associations of everyday life. The cothurnus lifted the actor to heroic
stature, the mask prevented the ludicrous recognition of a familiar face
in "Oedipus" and "Agamemnon"; it precluded grimace, and left the
countenance as passionless as that of a god; it gave a more awful
reverberation to the voice, and it was by the voice, that most
penetrating and sympathetic, one might almost say incorporeal, organ of
expression, that the great effects of the poet and tragic actor were
wrought. Everything, you will observe, was, if not lifted above, at any
rate removed, however much or little, from the plane of the actual and
trivial. Their stage showed nothing that could be met in the streets. We
barbarians, on the other hand, take delight precisely in that. We admire
the novels of Trollope and the groups of Rogers because, as we say, they
are so _real_, while it is only because they are so matter-of-fact, so
exactly on the level with our own trivial and prosaic apprehensions.
When Dante lingers to hear the dispute between Sinon and Master Adam,
Virgil, type of the higher reason and the ideal poet, rebukes him, and
even angrily.
E fa ragion ch'io ti sia sempre allato
Si piu avvien che fortuna t' accoglia
Ove sien genti in simigliante piato;
Che voler cio udire e bassa voglia.
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