TO THE READER.
That the largeness of our two regular, long-established Theatres, so unfavourable for seeing and hearing clearly and accurately, have changed in a great measure the character of the pieces generally exhibited within their walls, is a fact on which it would be useless now to dwell. How far the smaller Theatres of later establishment, some of which are of a proper size for the production of plays that depend for success on being thoroughly understood by the audience, will in time introduce a better state of things, it would be hazardous for any one to conjecture. At present, however, from various circumstances, from restrictions, from customs, from acquired tastes, &c. the prospect is not encouraging. But the cause that more, perhaps, than any other depresses the moral and rational effects of the Modern Stage, is an opinion entertained by many grave and excellent people, that dramatic exhibition is unfriendly to the principles and spirit of Christianity.
This deserves to be more seriously examined, because it prevails amongst a most respectable class of the community, many of whom are possessed of good understanding, of learning and imagination, and cannot, without a great breach of charity, be supposed to be actuated by worldliness or hypocrisy.—It is in the nature of man to delight in representations of passion and character. Children, savages, learned and unlearned of every nation, have with more avidity received instruction in this form than in any other, whether offered to them as a mimic show before their eyes, or a supposed story, enlivened by dialogue and addressed to the imagination alone. The blessed Founder of our religion, who knew what was in man, did not contradict nor thwart this propensity of our nature, but, with that sweetness and graciousness which peculiarly belonged to his divine character, made use of it for the instruction of the multitude, as his incomparable parables so beautifully testify. The sins and faults which he reproved were not those that are allied to fancy and imagination, the active assistants of all intellectual improvement, but worldliness, uncharitableness, selfish luxury, spiritual pride, and hypocrisy. In those days, the representation of Greek dramas prevailed in large cities through the whole Roman empire; yet the Apostles only forbade their converts to feast in the temples of idols, and on sacrifices offered to idols, and trusted that the general gentleness and humanity enjoined on them as followers of their blessed Master, would keep them away from spectacles of cruelty and blood. We cannot, therefore, it appears to me, allege that dramatic representations are contrary either to the precepts or spirit of the Christian religion.
But probably it is not a real conviction, that going to a theatre is in itself unchristian or wrong, which keeps such persons away, but a conscientious persuasion that it ought to be discountenanced, because of the bad tendency of the pieces exhibited there, before the eyes of the innocent and susceptible; and because of the disorderly and worthless company who frequent playhouses, and gather about their passages and neighbourhood. These indeed are weighty and plausible reasons, that deserve to be thoroughly examined. And how far the absence of the grave and moral part of society from such places tends to remedy or increase the evils apprehended, ought also to be seriously considered. We shall begin, then, with the bad tendency of the pieces exhibited.
A manager must suit his plays to the character of the most influential part of his audience. The crowd in the gallery and pit can be very well entertained with a piece that has neither coarseness nor immorality in it; but the more refined and better informed, who generally occupy the boxes, and occasionally the pit, cannot be pleased with one in which there is any thing immoral or indecorous. But, if the refined and well-informed stay away, there is nothing, then, to be taken into the account but how to please such auditors as commonly fill the pit and galleries, and the boxes will very soon be occupied by company, somewhat richer, indeed, but not more scrupulous or intelligent than the others. Now, supposing matters to have come to this pass, what kind of entertainment will be provided for them? Scurrility and broad satire is more easily procured than wit; and delineations of low profligacy require less skill than those of the habits and characters of higher or more virtuous society. Will a manager, then, be at pains to provide delicate fare for those who are as well satisfied with garbage? This is surely not to be expected; and in as far as moral or intellectual improvement has been or may be superseded by intellectual debasement, occasioned by such well-meaning absentees from our Theatres, so far does their absenting themselves do mischief.
Let us next examine the other reason, viz, the disorderly and worthless people who frequent playhouses, and gather about their passages and neighbourhood. Young women of respectable families, whatever their rank may be, go to theatres protected and kept out of the way of witnessing any thing improper, or in so transient a manner as to be scarcely apprehended, and soon forgotten. It is, then, the effect which coming in contact with such company may have on young men that must chiefly be attended to. Formerly, when a youth came from the country to London, he went to the Theatre in attendance on the ladies of some sober family, to whose notice he might be recommended. Often some good aunt, cousin, or friend, pointed out to him the beauties and defects of the play, or the remarkable people present amongst the spectators, if any such were there; and near her and her party, he was kept out of the reach of contamination. He most probably attended this friendly party home, and had some slight refreshment with them before he returned to his solitary lodging, and next morning he awoke with a pleased fancy and an easy mind. In those days, too, young men, resident in London, went frequently to the Theatre with their mothers or sisters, or other members of their own family; and even if they went alone, the probability of their meeting some of their respectable acquaintance was a salutary check upon the dangerous spirit of adventure. But now this is no longer the case: the simple stripling goes by himself, or with some companion equally thoughtless and imprudent; and the confidence he feels there of not being under the observation of any whom he is likely to meet elsewhere, gives him a freedom to follow every bent of his present inclination, however dangerous.
Nay, there are some excellent persons who carry the matter so far as to wage general war against pleasures derived from imagination. To bring before the mind representations of strong passions, they say, is dangerous and unfavourable to virtue. Most assuredly, if they are brought before the mind as examples, or as things slightly to be blamed, as evils unavoidably incident to human nature, they are dangerous; but if they are exhibited as warnings, and as that which produces, when indulged, great human misery and debasement, they teach us a lesson more powerful than many that proceed from the academical chair or the pulpit. Consistently with this maxim, historians, too, should refrain from animated and descriptive narrations of treasons, insurrections, sieges, and battles; and the praises bestowed upon Livy, and other ancient writers, for having made the events they relate, with their causes, viz. the strong passions of men, so vividly present to the imagination of the reader, instead of being their glory, becomes their reproach. The history of nations ought, upon this principle, to be given in the most calm, concise manner, as a story upon which to fasten maxims, observations, and advice, but by no means to excite or interest; and what would formerly have been called the dullest book must be esteemed the best. What I have ventured to say of history will also apply to novels, and all works of fiction. Even the master-pieces of our painters and sculptors are liable to similar animadversion: in proportion as they excel in the higher departments of art they are dangerous. For what have been the subjects of such works, but the actions of men under the influence of strong passions?
Were the pleasures we derive from works of imagination discouraged and set aside, should we become more intellectual and more virtuous under their didactic matter-of-fact system? I apprehend not; but rather that the increase of gratifications allied to the inferior part of our nature would, by degrees, prevail over those of a higher derivation. I readily admit that I cannot be considered as an unbiassed judge upon this subject; but the observations I have presumed to lay before my Reader, must with him stand or fall according to their own justice or importance.