ADVERTISEMENT.

I was resolved to publish this little work, because many useful remarks may perhaps be found in it relative to the object of the question proposed.

Critics may, among other things, reproach me with having particularised the question in relating every thing that belongs to our Theatre. I have acted so, because our Theatre interests us more particularly, and is better known to us than those of other ancient and modern nations; because it embraces all the varied style of the known Drama, all the modifications that Dramatic art has until now undergone, and because it offers the advantages and inconveniences of this kind of spectacle. If these reasons be good, may I not infer, that in speaking particularly of our Theatre, it will be found that I have treated on Theatres in general?

A DISCUSSION,

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DRAMATIC taste appears so natural to man that it has been ex emplified at all times, and in all places, in every circle of society, and at every period of life. The magnificent picture that nature constantly offers to his views appears too uniform; always eager after novelties, he has invented others more interesting, which he has varied and improved so far as to lead him to suppose that the pleasures derived from them really are essential to his happiness.

Civilised or polished nations have always had Theatres analogous to the degree of civilization at which they have arrived: and in wild and uncultivated nations, we have always found whimsical dances, vulgar pantomimes, religious rites, and magical ceremonies.

But the games where these men are actors and spectators at the same time, are, properly speaking, no more than physical movements, which do not produce any fatal or durable impressions. It is not the case in the spectacles of civilised people, the most important of which are the scenic games; these games which invade the heart and understanding, in interesting them warmly, can be more or less useful or dangerous, according as the sentiments and ideas which they inspire are conformable or contrary to the rules which serve as a foundation to social order.

But if it be impossible to destroy these institutions invented by nature, and which long habit has consecrated, is it not indispensable to give them a more useful and less dangerous direction than that they have hitherto had, in order to make them promote the perfection of taste, and the refinement of morals; in a word, to offer in them solid instruction under the allurement of genteel amusement?

Such is the object of this important question, the solution of which this respectable society wish to ascertain from literary men, capable of appreciating the wisdom of these designs, and worthy of associating with them. I dare take upon myself this difficult task and I shall think I have fulfilled it, if, after having examined the genius of Theatres in general, I point out .that in which it ought to be formed; and if, in enumerating the defects of the stock of our's in particular, I explain, at the same time, the means to clear and preserve it in that state of perfection to which a necessary reformation would lead.

Man resembling soft clay which yields to every impression, (by this same perfection which he has received from nature) seems destined to differ from what he originally was. Submitting to the influence of the climate he lives in, and the institutions which govern him, he varies his opinions and manners according to every change in his situation. Keen fallacious arguments mislead his reason; a vain and dangerous eloquence seduces his understanding, and perverts his heart; good or bad examples hurry him on indifferently to act right or wrong; in a word, susceptible of every possible modification, man is the constant sport of the objects to which he has any affinity.

It is from this knowledge of our nature that we can and ought to judge of the effect of Theatrical representations; and from this deplorable fickleness of the heart and human reason, several moralists (among whom may be noticed the eloquent citizen of Geneva) have not hesitated to condemn them as fatal to morals.

These austere men, in considering the nature of Theatres in general, have thought that by means of improving the mind, agitating the heart, and staggering the soul, actions and speeches which are the constituent elements of scenic games, ought infallibly to unfold the elements of our passions, that in analysing the passions and vices with so much art, in surrounding them with all kind of illusions, the Theatre should incline us to forget or cease to fear any danger. The natural conclusion to be drawn from this argument is, that these exhibitions only tend to injure the character, and corrupt and degrade man, whose dignity consists in being always master of himself, and in listening to the principles of reason, combined with the inspirations of a noble and sensible soul, and not in following the capricious wanderings of the heart and understanding, (the excesses of which ought never to be displayed before his eyes) for the best safeguard of virtue is in the calmness of the heart and in the ignorance of vice,

But what should become of us, if these arguments rested on a solid foundation? To how many admirable institutions might we not apply them? Our schools, our best books, all our plans of

instruction, would they not offer to us the same dangers? and ought we to deprive ourselves of the greatest advantages in society to avoid the errors which seem attached to them? The seeds of the passions are in our nature, and the result of our organization; but if it be true that the Theatre tends more to their growth than common occurrences, is it not indisputable that a good Theatre may regulate, check and subdue many, because the sensibility which it excites becomes more provident as it becomes more active; and it warns us of the fatal effects of our passions, in presenting and bringing them to our acquaintance beforehand; when want of experience might drive us into every species of irregularity, whether we are misled by the impulse of nature, or fall into the snares laid for us by artful seduction.

If we carefully examine what passes among civilised nations we shall find this argument fully confirmed by facts: we shall see in that class of society where sensibility has not been sufficiently unfolded by education and the cultivation of the arts, passions and vices, not less active although less refined than amongst enlightened classes. What do I say? We perceive in the first class the passions more blind, impetuous, and destructive. The offences committed by those who are under their influence take up mostly the vigilance and activity of the police; these are the crimes with which the criminal tribunals so often resound.

The same affinity which exists in this respect among civilised nations is still observed between these and savage, and barbarous nations, and presents the same consequences; and among the latter we find the passions of hatred, revenge, ambition, and other destructive vices in all their atrocity. Torture, infanticide, plunder, and massacres, all crimes in short are committed here with the coldest indifference, or rather with transports of ferocious joy. These are the savage and barbarous nations for whom conquest is destruction, and who too often leave nothing but ruins for monuments of their horrible exploits.

But if the cultivation of arts gives to some civilised nations the right of thinking themselves superior to those of whom we have just been speaking, it is not less certain that the two extremes may interfere with each other, and that an excessive or mistaken civilization may produce the same inconveniences as barbarism, and is in fact but disguised barbarism, not less fatal than that which is unveiled by artifice. The aim of every social institution ought to be to improve the members of society, and contribute to their welfare; and though it may not be impossible to justify the institution of Theatres in general, yet the spirit with which ours has been established cannot be approved, when considering that particularly we judge of its influence over morals and taste by the

great number of immoral and indecent pieces which compose its repertory; by the irregularities of those who represent them and by the age and inexperience of the greater part of those who attend the performance.

But to show how fatal to morals the co-operation of these three things may be, we should enter into particulars, and in order to discover the proper remedies we must trace the source of the abuses which are introduced in these establishments.

Our dramatic system consists of two principal styles, tragedy, and comedy; all others are but modifications. These two styles and their accessaries blended together by the Greeks, in the infancy of art, were afterwards separated by the refinement of taste, and remain distinct under the forms and denominations that now characterise them.

Tragedy is an imitation in acting of some great and fatal event, the authors of which are persons of importance in society, according to the rank they hold and the powerful influence which they exercise in it. This event ought on that account essentially to interest public order, consequently all poems of this style ought to have some decided good moral in view, to lead mankind to moderation, and to shew them the disastrous effects of suffering themselves to be governed by their passions.

The

Terror and pity are the great means resorted to in gaining this end. The first conveys dread and fear into the minds of the spectators, at the sight of the dangers, torments, and misfortunes to which the authors and the victims of violent passions are slaves. Pity not less powerful but softer, strengthens in us the detestation of vice, and inspires us with sentiments of moderation, benevolence, and humanity, in identifying ourselves with the unfortunate. But these two primitive springs although essential to tragedy are perhaps too melancholy. In a word, terror oppresses and subdues the heart and pity softens it too much. The mind is overwhelmed and weakened by these two extremes. great Corneille appeared, and introduced tragedy amongst us, his powerful genius has endowed it with admiration scarcely thought of by the ancients; he likewise softened the passions, ennobled pity, added new interest and gave new life to this lofty style, since combined with terror and pity which by their aid is rendered more powerful, admiration assists in producing the desired effect in tragedy: it creates, it introduces new passions in it, but noble and generous passions, patriotism, honor, glory and mercy; it supports and raises us to the highest pitch that humanity can reach. When vicious, or misled for a moment by the passions, it recals us to wisdom in restoring us to ourselves; it fires our hearts with the enthusiasm of virtue, and by a sudden and sublime effort makes us