that their very name was abominated and held in horror; and, by the revolution of feeling which took place, it was sufficient for any man, or set of men, to have been decried or persecuted by them, to be thought justly entitled to the patronage of the now ascendant party. Even those who did not in their hearts really approve of players and their concerns, were afraid now openly to express their opinions, lest they should be thought favorers and abettors of what was termed "Puritanical malignity." The stage now found a worthy patron in Charles II.; and, basking in the royal sunshine, it reflected and improved upon the dissolute manners of the court. During this and the following reign, its profligacy rose to an enormous height; and it is melancholy to think that one of the greatest of our English poets should have prostituted his genius, and pandered to the public taste in the production of plays which no virtuous female could read without indignation. He had too many examples of dramatic licentiousness among his predecessors, too many companions in it among his contemporaries, to countenance him in his shame; but what an apology is this for such a man as Dryden? Let us listen to the virtuous and indignant lament of his great biographer:-" Of the mind that can trade in corruption, and can deliberately pollute itself with ideal wickedness for the sake of spreading the contagion in society, I wish not to conceal or excuse the depravity. Such degradation of the dignity of genius, such abuse of superlative abilities, cannot be contemplated but with grief and indignation. What consolation can be had Dryden has afforded, by living to repent, and to testify his repentance." Poets and players, however, were not always left to the enjoyment of undisturbed repose. About the year 1698, Collier, a fierce and implacable non-juror, as he has been described, published "A Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the Stage." This little work was far more efficacious than the unwieldy and formidable volume of Prynne. Its effect seems to have been prodigious, at least if we are to judge from the ferment it excited among poets and players, and all who had reason to think that their craft was in danger. I hope it was penitence, and a conviction of the badness of his cause, which withheld Dryden from the contest. But there flourished at this time another writer of the drama whose comedies exhibit some sparks of the genius of Dryden, with all his irreligion and licentiousness-Congreve, of whom Lord Kames has said, "If his comedies did not rack him with remorse in his last moments, he must have been lost to all sense of virtue." This man became the champion of the stage, and entered the lists against Collier, but he found in him an antagonist not to be overcome-one who had an infinitely better cause, and brought to its aid greater powers of controversy. In order to see the nature of the question, my readers may be glad to be furnished with a quotation from one of Congreve's plays, with Collier's remarks upon it : : "Sir Sampson-Sampson's a very good name; for your Sampsons were strong dogs from the beginning.' "Angelica-Have a care. If you remember, the strongest Sampson of your name pulled an old house over his head at last.' "Here you have the Sacred History burlesqued; and Sampson once more brought into the house of Dagon to make sport for the Philistines."-Love for Love. This contest was protracted for ten years, till, by all who had any regard for public morals and decency, the victory was declared in favour of Collier. When we consider the question now, we may be surprised that the dispute should have occupied as many days; for what can be said in defence of compositions which are only fit for the atmosphere of the brothel? Are we to allow wit, and genius, and elegancies of diction, to atone for profanity and licentiousness; to redeem from universal reprobation writers whose unceasing effort was to palliate or commend the rake and loose intrigue; to gloss over the deformities of vice, and render it, as far as they could, amiable and alluring; to paint virtue as repulsive, mean-spirited, and contemptible. Collier did not attain as much as he desired, but, by his noble controversy, a great point was gained. By the public clamour, a reformation was demanded and effected, and the moral feelings and decency of the nation were not in future insulted and outraged, at least to the same extent, by the exhibitions of the theatre. That this reformation was very incomplete, if we consult the writers on the manners of the time, we have ample proof. Out of abundance of material, I shall select the opinion of one who was behind the scenes, and able to give a capital judgment on such matters. Sir Richard Steele, in a satirical paper, published on the 30th of April, 1711, mentioned certain incidents in fashionable plays of the day, and observed that, on such occasions, "the ladies are sure to have an examining glance from the pit, to see how they relish what passes, and a few lewd fools are very ready to employ their talents on the composure or freedom of their looks. Such incidents as these make some ladies wholly absent themselves from the playhouses, and others never miss the first day of a play, lest it should prove too luscious to admit of their going to it with any countenance on the second." This satire, we must acknowledge, is sufficiently severe, and, as far as it concerns the merit of the plays at least, is not overcharged, as a slight acquaintance with those productions may satisfy the curious. It is a remarkable fact, that in no country, with the exception, perhaps, of Greece, has a spirit of indecency and profligacy been so tolerated on the stage as in England; and it is a curious circumstance that the English, who far surpass the French in morality and virtue, should have permitted so much greater freedom in their dramatic representations. The French writers, as might be expected, do not fail to pique themselves on the superiority of the moral tone of their comedy to that of their graver neigh bours. One of them says, that "the language of our comedy is that of debauchery, not of politeness;" another affirms that "we have no comedy on our stage at all, but a set of gross and tasteless satires ;" another asserts that "one of the principal causes of London demoralization and vice is its comedy." Whether this be a good argument or not is another question; it cannot, however, be pleasant for the national character to have such testimony borne to it by a people who are not famed for being the most strait-laced and precise in the very matters, which form the material for comedy. It has been asserted that much has been done to remove this national stain; and it has been a kind of fashion to pronounce the stage a school of morals, in the management of Garrick and more modern patentees. Woe be to that country which is content to derive its morals from such a source as the stage! As to Garrick, and his inimitable powers in his profession, the magic of his eye, the versatility of his acting, his ability in holding the mirror up to nature in every shape, Garrick, "who had the applause of the world dashed in his face, sounded in his ears, and who went home every night with the plaudits of a thousand in his cranium," I enter not into this; it is altogether beside my purpose. I am considering not the adaptation and powers for captivation, and even enthralment, which may make the stage the more dangerous, and which it possesses in common with many things confessedly most censurable: I am now solely examining the stage as it affects morals and man, as he is an accountable being. I suppose it may be taken for granted that the English stage, under the regime of Garrick, when the theatre was frequented to suffocation by peers and peeresses, sages and wits, judges and senators, Dr. Johnson in his full dress, Oliver Goldsmith in his bloom-coloured coat, Edmund Burke fresh from the delivery of one of his immortal speeches, Lord Mansfield and Lord Chatham, all crowding to behold the wonder of the age, I suppose we may consider the stage at this particular time, when it enjoyed such distinguished patronage, as pure and immaculate as at any time since. That Garrick did much to reclaim the stage, to purify it, and throw off the horrid mass of putrefaction that had been allowed to accumulate about it, it is willingly acknowledged; but, perhaps, it will be found that much remained, and still remains, to be done. That Augean stable has had but a partial cleansing the very structure of it does not admit of a thorough purification. Take some of the plays in which Garrick enchanted listening thousands, examine them in a spirit of rational criticism, and then say, are they calculated to improve the human mind? Chamont, in the Orphan, was one of his favourite parts. What shall we say of that play? That it upholds the dignity of virtue? Look at the Fair Penitent, one of the strongholds of the stage. Is the cause of morality benefitted by the representation of such a play as that? Is the character of Calista, and her questionable repentance, an exhibition we would wish to be witnessed by our daughters ? Was the charm with which Garrick invested the part of Lothario, the gay intriguer, the fashionable rake, reckless of all but the gratification of his own pleasure, with whom, as he boasts- "Love and war take turns, like day and night, : such as to confirm the play-going youth in their habits of virtue, and to make them hold vice in the detestation it merits. The tragedy of Venice Preserved was one of Garrick's chief stock which he was fond of producing for the benefit of the age and to the present day it continues a prime favourite of the public. No play, perhaps, could exhibit more strongly the nature of the school of morals which the stage presents. The contemptible scenes of vile comedy, and the lowest buffoonery, which are intermingled with the main action |