Original Correspondence.

New Zealander, Volume 4, Issue 245, 4 October 1848, Page 2

Original Correspondence.

To the Editor of the New Zealander. 11 Learning's triomph o'er her barbarous foes First reared the stage."— -Samuei. Johnson. Sir,— l ihould have abitaincd from intruding any opinion on tha merit* of dramatic entertainments, had you not, in your Journal of Wednesday, hurled the gauntlet ot defiance in the teeth, of every admirer of that elegant art. In the lait page of your paper, on the day in quoi* tion, there appeared a inoit invidioui excerpt, professing to expound " the leutiments of several of the Christian Fathers on the Stage." Those lentinaenti are contained in eight objurgatory quotations, cvulgating CJiristian anertioni, most unchnstianly uniruc. They are but gratuitous imputations, void ot argument to establish the iniquity they allege. They demonstrate but this, that the exparte I. betters lacked i appreciation of the noble, the soul-stining, art, ogainit whoie unequalled success they vented their I jaundiced, their aicetic spleen. It is a fact too trite to dispute, that, in all polished nations, whether ancient or modern, amongst their Fine Arts, the Drama has invariably occupied a most prominent position — one, indeed, so conspicuous, that according to its excellence or its degeneracy, the mental superiority or inferiority of the people has been wont to be inferred. English history, and, | above all, English Dramatic hiitory, present incontestable evidence of the truth of this assertion. la confirmation, I need but point to the Elizabethan age, so rife of ths heroic, the scientific, the poetic, and the philosophic virtues. To its political circles adorned by the genius of a Bacon, a Burieigh, a Raleigh, a Howard, a Drake, and a Coke. To its Dramatic, from whence emanated the bri liant imaginings of a Massinger, a Dekker, a Middletoo, a Beaumont, a F.etcher, a Ben Jonson, and that illuttrioui ina*ter spirit, — the poet not of one age, but for ull time, — immortul Shnkipere ! 1 need but point, I believe, to thut glorious era, to prove that the honour and the enterprise of the English nation vva* sib unexampled then, as the spirit of the English Drama wa3 bright and unequalled 5 and that the fnme and the fortune of the first reflected and received an added lustre fiom the intellectual glory of the last. But, shift ihe scene, to the demoralized era of her Second Charles, and although we (hall find the infauious licentiousness ot a degraded court, and ihe groveling sensuality of evil times impairing ihe vigour of the D ama, we shall also detect the powerlessncn of such miihgn influences to destroy its moral integtiiy. Even Otwuy, ribald as hi 3 comedies are, docs pure and fervent homage to the immutability of virtue. Consider liii tragedies - look at his heroines ! Their ev«ry

Their every exprenion tecma with sublime and touthing sacrifice to the holy influences of domestic truth . Ample aMurance may be gathered from the ci amplcs of the past, that upon an exalu-d or a degraded tone of dramatic literature and dramatic representation much of a sound or unsound public taste must necessarily depend. With public instructors, then, and especially with the public press, it is an incumbent duty to exercUe a fearless, generous, censorship— that deserving Author* and Actors may be encouraged to aim at the elevation of their art— that they who would prostitute the one or debase the other, may be denounced to public scorn. They must be egotistical ami quixotic indeed, who, in idle vituperation of the most arduous and the moit popular of profetsions, aspire to «uppres^ the Stage. In every country, in every clime— with every nation, and in every tongue. From pole to pole— the Theatre ha« reigned triumphant. Of the Prince und the Peasant it bus been alike the instruction and the delight. In the palmy days of heroic Greece—in the illustrious limei of Republican Rome— in sunny Italy —in sprightly France— in sober Germany— in Merrie England— in cunnie Scotland— in calculating Yankeyland—in all and every of them its teachings, its attrnc- ( tions, have been admitted and admired. Its power for good has been great ; and if n flaw does occasionally disfigure the noble structure, it should serve but to remind m that tha best of human devices, partake of human fuultß, of human failing!. I might extend the argument to an inconvenient degree, by adducing proof upon proof, of whrre the atnt*e has been the reformrr of the vicious— the friend of the helpless— l must however pause, leaving to tht consideration of i s conscientious enemies, whether it be not a more prudent measure to strive, to elevate rather than to aim at debasing an art, which, until mankhvl shall revert to primitive barbarism, cannot Bi: CRUBIIKD ! For ihe present, I take my leave of the subject, with an extract or two from one of the most able and intelligent of modern writers— one, whose authority outweigh?, in my opinion, a whole college of Sr. Cyrils and St. Cyprians, in calumniatory conclave assembled. " What iR ihe Drama," writes the eminent commentator to whom I refer, "but a name of all compositions adap'id to recitation and action," — » vehicle, "i» which are displayed, for inHtruc'iou and amusement, all the passions, feeling, errors, and virtues of Iho hum mi race, in real life." »' In the beginning of the middle nets, when every thing nobls was buried under the deluge of birlwrisni, the dranmtic art whs lost, or existed only ntnong the lower clauses of the people, in plnys improvisated at certain intervals; for instance, at the Carnival. These were attacked at heathenish, immoral, and indeceut exhibitions; but the favour which they enjoyed among the people, and the spirit of the times, imhued the clergy to encourage theatrical exhibitions of subject* from sacred history By this it may be perceived, that in all ajjeß, a theatre, of some sort, the people will have. Hence the propriety of ennobling rather than de.bat.ing it. " The moral influence of dramatic representations on the manners ot a people," continues my authority), "is far greater than may be generally supposed ; aud in our opinion, there is no class of persons more d> serving of public esteem than those censors of histrionic performances, who sit in judgment on them, and conscientiously award ttieit prui-e or censure. Both dramatists and managers, who endcavovr to cx.»lt the character of the stage, cannot bo too highly commended or lewurded ; whi c such as iunobly study to gratify a depraved taste, are fit objects for the severc&t reprehension." I shall only further add, that my <>wn observation Jeadi i»e to affirm that I know of no entertainment more rational, more innocent, or whiih exerts a more healthy influence upon the mind and mmriera of civilized mun, than that which a well regulated s>tage ii calculated to produce. In the cause of virtue and mor.ility, diamatic repreccntntiMns are the most powerful auxilianea. In inculcation of loyalty, liberty and patriotism they are the most generous incentives. And "to show vice its own Image, tha veiy body of the time its form and pressure," the most infallible reflectors 1 I am, Sir, Your'B, &c. ,&c t A Dramatist. Auckland, 29th September, 1818.