was preferred: by his contemporaries. I doubt, however, whether this was
ever the case among the Greeks. But the same writer relates, that actors
in general, for the sake of acquiring the most perfect purity and
flexibility of voice (and not merely the musical voice, otherwise the
example would not have been applicable to the orator), submitted to such a
course of uninterrupted exercises, as our modern players, even the French,
who of all follow the strictest training, would consider a most
intolerable oppression. For the display of dexterity in the mimetic art,
without the accompaniment of words, was carried by the ancients in their
pantomimes, to a degree of perfection quite unknown to the moderns. In
tragedy, however, the great object in the art was the due subordination of
every element; the whole was to appear animated by one and the same
spirit, and hence, not merely the poetry, but the musical accompaniment,
the scenical decoration, and training of the actors, all issued from the
poet. The player was a mere instrument in his hands, and his merit
consisted in the accuracy with which he filled his part, and by no means
in arbitrary bravura, or ostentatious display of his own skill.

As from the nature of their writing materials, they had not a facility of
making many copies, the parts were learnt from the repeated recitation of
the poet, and the chorus was exercised in the same manner. This was called
_teaching a play_. As the poet was also a musician, and for the most
part a player likewise, this must have greatly contributed to the
perfection of the performance.

We may safely allow that the task of the modern player, who must change
his person without concealing it, is much more difficult; but this
difficulty affords no just criterion for deciding which of the two the
preference must be awarded, as a skilful representation of the noble and
the beautiful.