But what is more surprising yet, Memphir, a Pithagorean philosopher, as Athenæus 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 situations to the eye; and every truly theatrical situation is nothing but a living picture.
If a composer of dances should undertake to represent upon the stage any great action or theatrical subject, he
must begin by making an extract from it, of all the most picturesque situations. No other parts beside these can enter into his plan; all the others are defective or useless, they can only embarras, perplex, confound, and render it cold and insipid.