spirit of liberty, when, upon his being banished Rome, for some
time, by Augustus Cesar, upon account of the disturbances the
pantomime parties occasioned, he told him plainly to his face,
that he was ungrateful for the good his power received, by the
diversion to the Romans from more serious thoughts on the loss
of their liberty. "Why do not you," says he, "let the people
amuse themselves with our quarrels?"

This dancer had such great powers in all his tragedies, that he
could draw tears from even those of the spectators the least
used to the melting mood.

But in truth, the effect of these pantomimes, in general, was
prodigious. Tears and sobs interrupted often the representation
of the tragedy of _Glaucus_, in which the pantomime Plancus
played the principal character.

Bathillus, in painting the amours of Leda, never failed of
exciting the utmost sensibility in the Roman ladies.

But what is more surprising yet, _Memphir_, a Pithagorean
philosopher, as Athenaeus tells us, expressed, by dancing, all
the excellence of the philosophy of Pithagoras, with more
elegance, more clearness and energy, than the most eloquent
professor of philosophy could have done.

Upon considering all this, one is almost tempted to say, with M.
Cahusac, "We have, upon the stage, excellent feet, lively legs,
admirable arms: what a pity it is, that with all this we have so
little of the art of dancing!"

Our tragedy and our comedy have an extent and duration which are
supported by the charms of speech, by the interestingness of
narration, by the variety of the sallies of wit. The action is
divided into acts, each act into scenes, these scenes
successively present new situations, and these situations keep
up the warmth of interest and attention, form the plot, lead to
the conclusion or unravelment, and prepare it.

Such must have been, or such must be, (but with more precision
and markingness) tragedies or comedies represented by dancing;
as gesture is something more marking and succinct than speech.
There are required many words to express a thought, but one
single motion may paint several thoughts, and situations.

In such compositions, then, made to be danced, the theatrical
action must go forward with the utmost rapidity: there must not
be one unmeaning entry, figure, or step in them. Such a piece
ought to be a close crouded abstract of some excellent written
dramatic piece.

Dancing, like painting, can only present situatio