THE REAL TRAITORS TO THE DRAMA.
THE Antigallican riots in Drury, Lane Theatre succeeded in driving a French company from that "national" establishment of England ; and some attempt is in progress to get up a company for that theatre to perform "the legitimate drama "—with no very brilliant hopes. But the attempt is a virtual admission that the only ground on which the "native talent" interest could rest a just claim has been wanting. They complain that the native drama has declined for want of patronage : the Queen does not go ; the gentry do not go; managers exert themselves in vain, spend in vain, and the drama declines because it is not "supported." Now what are the facts ? Have those who complain supported the drama? Is it the drama that has declined, or do they mean something else? Doubtless, when they talk of the drama, they mean simply the stage ; and although the drama itself may not possess the vigour that it displayed in its Elizabethan age—although social changes may help to account for the difference—that which has finally crushed the theatre is the degeneracy of the stage; which is in itself a cause of injury to the drama. A drama—the works of dramatic writers—cannot flourish without a stage for the exercise of the dramatic faculties. The drama and the stage, however, have had separate histories.
Dramatic poetry, with poetry in general, began to decline in England on the rise of Puritanism. The Reformation, with its intellectual activity, did not suffice to distract all men's minds from art, while it profoundly stirred thought and feeling, and gave scope to both in action. The more ascetic spirit of Puritanism did go counter to art. And when that spirit was in its turn cast down, the ascendant was taken by the French school of poetry. Milton was a poet before he was a polemic ; and, as far as schools informed him, may be said to have come out of the Italian, which had already had so large an influence on the Elizabethan writers. The Restoration, with its scepticisms, its natural antithesis to enthusiasm, and its Continental reminiscences, produced satirical verse, and a comedy written in prose the reverse of poetical. The greatest writer of the time was fine by dint of force rather than imagination ; and his majestic verse cannot conceal the essentially prose character of his matter. "Sense" became the cant of the day ; the comedies and the periodical essays diffused polite manners with the said "sense," and contributed to smooth away peculiarities of character, bad or good, to neutralize what little enthusiasm remained, and such faith as was not preserved among the fanatical sects. Dutch and German dynasties completed the extinction of so much passion and art as lingered amongst us : a gay and witty profligacy gave place to a dull and vulgar sensuality ; "sense" grew ultra homely, and the spirit of ugliness, moral and physical, possessed the land. _ This extreme at length began to produce its natural reaction. The first movement was in the antiquarian love of old books, and the spirit that lay dormant in them ; Percy's Relies released some of the spirit of old English poetry ; and the French Revolution, that mighty storm, again cast abroad over Europe the seeds of thought and feeling, as the Reformation had done just before our greatest tars.
The resuscitation of Shakspere, however, was brought about by Garrick. His unexampled success in overturning the stilted French style of serious acting, and restoring nature, gave Garrick a share in creating public opinion : he " drew " large houses, and rendered tragic performances a fashion ; yet in his success was the germ of the decay that we now witness. It roused in subsequent managers a desire to make great fortunes, live in great houses and in great style ; and Garrick may be said to have instituted the trade of theatre-managing, in its modern form, as a regular investment for capital like any branch of ordinary commerce. The stately commonplace idealism of the Kembles, aided by the real though perhaps overrated genius of their sister Mrs. Siddons, helped to maintain that ambition, to lend it a new sanction, and to justify the somewhat novel pretensions drawn from the stage by a more strictly personal manner of dignity. The invention of.appropriate costume contributed to the change. Nice proprieties of costume and scenery arose; splendour was added to propriety; huge theatres were built to display a more material form of the drama, to hold bigger and more profitable audiences. In common with other branches of "industry," acting acknowledged the organizing tendencies of the age : the competition for the employment of labour filled the profession with those who sought a fair livelihood rather than a congenial pursuit; the competition of capital for employment introduced mere speculators; and the trade was subjected to a routine. The ralllority of its followers were of a kind to comprehend best the
most material parts of that which they undertook to provide : spectacle gradually thrust out the drama ; in the big houses people could not hear well or see well ; rant and caricature were easy devices to fill the space. Kean formed an exceptional case : his extraordinary force prevented for a time a full perception of the evils caused by the size of the theatres—although the foremost rows of the pit were always sought even in his day ; but his irregularities excluded him from the " respectable " trading part of the profession, and prevented him from making any durable impression on the theatre. When Kean was led off the stage to die, he carried with him the real drama.
For even the better actors who remained behind rather aided the development of the new system. Scenery and splendour were made the staple attractions; novelty filled the houses ; acting itself came to be treated in the same way; and the "star" system converted the better actors into gazing-stocks, who stood out on the stage independent of the drama in which they professed to assist—it was intrusted to incapables. Thus the drama, as a perfect representation, was divorced even from acting, and degenerated into a mere pretext for the exhibition of the " star " actor—often the manager.
The "drama," as judged by its own inherent merits, was now virtually excluded from the stage; and a substitute arose. Plays for acting ceased to be judged by dramatic canons, and came to be judged solely by their capacity for displaying in prominent positions the peculiarities of the chief actors. The play must be composed, not at the suggestion of its subject, not to display human nature, but, on the contrary, to display some eminent actor —Mr. Macready, perhaps, or Mr. Charles Kean. Even after a general acceptance, a play will probably have to be altered, like a new coat from the tailor's, that it may fit the better. It must not only display the prominent individual, but it must not display human nature in other parts : they must be toned down to due subordination. By such modern fashions, the criticism of managers—illustrated of old by famous rejections and obstructions, in the cases of Goldsmith and Mrs. Centlivre—has been still further warped. Besides, it is not easy to get that abundant supply of pieces which is necessary in order to have a choice : so much is spent on "stars," scenery, and other material parts of the stage, that little remains for authors. Indeed, translations from the French serve nearly as well as original pieces for the loudest " supporters of native drama." There are exceptions, no doubt : one distinguished author, by help of a title, can command high prices ; one intelligent manager, Mr. Webster, has been more liberal than his craft generally in producing original English compositions; and other exceptions may be noted ; but they are rare. The history of authorship may be more briefly traced. The quiet of our days has contributed to deaden that spirit of adventure which incites to action and passion : the new Police, the allnoting censorship of the press, the set forms of society, help to keep down the raw materials of the drama—adventurous action and passion, or at least to smother that overt working which furnishes the study of the dramatist. But the dramatic author's chief difficulty is his exclusion from the stage : unless he consent to become a hack—to write for "stars," and for advertising purposes—he has no footing within the theatre. He must take his chance from without. Even if he could have sure access, he cannot write for a stage depraved by vulgar literalities, which do not illustrate but obscure the text of poetry. A poetic licence must nowadays be turned into matter-of-fact; and every Ariel of the poet must be subjected to attempts at a literal compliance, bodily., with the text ; the stage-mechanist merely burlesquing what he is unable to accomplish, simply because it is impossible. Accessories, which the custom of the day has perverted from being illustrations into being primary essentials, are an encumbrance and an obstacle to the poet, who cannot foist the clumsy burden upon his text. If he would write a poem, now, it must not be for "the loathed stage," but for the closet. And we suspect that real dramatic power is to be found in works never presented to managers. But if it were not so, there could be little wonder that men ne. glected to write dramas in vain; since the very life of the dramatist, whose genius is active, positive, objective, is the actual representation of the stage. What hope is there of a regeneration for the acted drama! None whatever in the continuance of the present system. The real lovers of the drama are not only unattracted by the stage as it is, but kept away—sent back to read Shakspere in the closet. Those who do fill the theatre, in diminishing numbers, are nut lovers of the drama, but lovers of what they find in the theatres as they are : those who support the theatres as they are, no more support the drama than if they went to the casino ; and the lessee of Cremorne Gardens might just as well libel the Queen and her Court for preferring the Opera. If a regeneration be de. sired, it must be sought in a total change—in the restoration of theatres where poems of dramatic action and passion should be recited by competent actors ; scenery and costume falling back to be mere accessories and illustrations of the text. If actors would be great, and fit to perform in such theatres, they must study nature outside the walls of the theatre, not in the conventional starts and twang of the stage ; and they must test their success less by the noise of their audience than by the silence and tears. Meanwhile, lovers of the drama seek a substitute in that kind where the dramatic passion is suffered to come upon the boards— where great actors do sometimes appear, not in single stars, but in constellations, bending the light of their genius on one comemon purpose—in the musical drama of the Italian stage.
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