GOING TO THE THEATRE.
Nat had become an admirer of Shakspeare's dramatic works, and hour after
hour he read them with increasing interest. The more he studied them,
the more he saw to admire. He had never seen one of them acted on the
stage, and, in connection with the displays of eloquence to which he had
been a witness of late, he became desirous of witnessing a theatrical
performance. To heighten his interest, he saw it announced that the
elder Booth would perform in Boston on a given night. He resolved to go.
"Marcus," said he, "did you know that Booth is to perform at the theatre
in Boston on Monday night?"
"No," answered Marcus, "is it so?"
"It is so announced in the papers, and I think I shall go."
"And walk?" inquired Marcus.
"Yes; I can walk there as well as to walk to Faneuil Hall to hear
Webster and Everett."
"You won't get home till morning."
"I can get home by one o'clock, and possibly before. I wish _you_ would
go, and Frank and Charlie."
"I will go if they will," answered Marcus. "I should like to see a
tragedy acted for once."
"It is said that Booth is one of the best readers and speakers of
Shakspeare," continued Nat, "and I want to hear him. He is a great
imitator, and personates the different characters exactly. I don't feel
that I know how to read Shakspeare very well; perhaps I can learn
something about it from him."
It was decided to consult Frank and Charlie, and secure their company if
possible. Both of them yielded to the proposition, though Charlie
suggested,
"That many people would think they were hurrying to ruin if they should
hear of their going."
"Perhaps they will," said Nat, "and I have no doubt that many persons
have been ruined by going; but they did not go for the same object that
we go. I am not going just for the pleasure of witnessing the play, by
any means; I want to see how the actors personate the different
characters. To read Shakspeare well, it must be read just as it is
spoken."
"No one will stop to consider your motive in going, nor mine," said
Charlie. "They think that the theatre is a bad place, and see not why it
will ruin one and not another."
"Well, I shall do as I think it is best for myself," answered Nat, in
that spirit of independence and self-reliance for which he was known; "I
shall go once to see, and if I think I can learn any thing to my
advantage, I shall go again, and stop when I have obtained what I want."
"That's cool enough," said Frank; "you would make a good refrigerator in
dog-days. Perhaps you intend to be an actor?"
"No, I don't fancy the business. I shall be satisfied to _see_ one."
Some of their friends propounded objections to this project, but they
were overruled by a full and clear statement of their object in going.
Then, too, the general good character which they bore, and their usual
prudence in avoiding bad company, combined to remove more easily all the
objections propounded.
The evening of the entertainment was pleasant, and it was indeed a new
step for them, as we see them standing at the entrance of the theatre.
To how many it has been the turning point of life! "Entrance to the
Pit," they read in capitals, with a hand pointing thither,--and to how
many it has been emphatically _the entrance to the pit_, in a most
appalling sense! It was a hazardous experiment for Nat and his
companions,--even more dangerous than the attempt to swim four rods
under water. But they entered with the multitude who were pouring in,
drawn thither by the popularity of the actor announced. The play
commenced, and scene after scene passed before the eyes of Nat, every
word of which he had read over and over again; but now, for the first
time, he beheld the characters in living persons. To him it was putting
the breath of life into what was before beautiful but dead. The play
that was classic and charming to read, was now human-like and wonderful
to act. There was more force, meaning, and power in the text than he had
ever attached to it,--much as he had loved to read it. Closely he
observed the distinguished actor, noticing the utterance of every word,
and the significance of every gesture and motion, with sharp
discrimination, until he almost felt that he could do the like himself.
It was a memorable evening to Nat, and language could scarcely express
all he thought and felt.
"Nat, you will like Shakspeare better than ever now, will you not?" said
Charlie.
"More than that," replied Nat. "It seems to me I never understood that
play before. I was reading it the other day, but it is so much more
grand when spoken and acted, that I should hardly know it."
"Did you observe the bar when you was coming out?" inquired Frank,
addressing himself to Marcus.
"Yes, and I thought by the appearance they did quite a business in the
line of drinking."
"They always have bars in theatres," said Nat, "and that is one reason
why they lead persons to ruin. No doubt many are drawn there as much by
the bar as they are by the play."
"What is the reason they can't have a theatre without having such vices
connected with it?" inquired Charlie.
"Because they don't try," answered Nat. "I suppose that theatres are
generally managed by men who are in favor of drinking, and they would
not shut out such things of course. I think that men of principle might
establish one that would be unobjectionable; for they would allow no
such evils to be harbored there."
"Perhaps you can get Parson Fiske and Deacon White to get one up," said
Marcus, laughing at Nat's suggestion, "and then you won't have to walk
ten miles and back to witness a play."
"Ten miles or not," said Nat, "I have been well paid to-night. There is
a great deal to be learned in witnessing one such performance. I can
read Shakspeare now with more interest and profit than ever. I want to
hear 'The Tempest' played now, and 'King Lear,' and 'Hamlet,' and
'Romeo and Juliet,' and I mean to the first chance I have."
"Ah, Nat," said Charlie, "I see that it is a foregone conclusion with
you,--you are half ruined now--the more you have, the more you want. We
shall be obliged to look after him more closely," addressing the last
sentence to Marcus and Frank.
"Yes," added Marcus, "by the time he has heard all these plays, he will
be patronizing that bar, and we shall see him reported in the Police
Court in the morning."
By the time the clock struck one, Nat was at home. His visit to the
theatre was not kept secret. It was soon quite generally known that he
had been to the theatre, and many remarks were elicited by the fact.
Good people did not respect theatres more at that time than they do now,
so that they regarded this step of Nat as taken in the wrong direction.
"I am afraid that all the hopes Nat has raised among his friends will be
dashed now," said one. "When a youth gets to going to the theatre, there
is little hope of his doing well. I hardly thought this of him."
"I thought Nat always wanted things respectable," said a gentleman.
"Does he consider the theatre a respectable place?"
"What has he done with his books?" inquired another. "I supposed that
he thought of little but an education,--does he find the theatre a good
school in which to be educated?"
"It is a good school in which to be educated for evil," replied the
individual to whom the remark was addressed.
One person, however, was heard to say,
"It will not hurt Nat at all. You may be sure that he did not go there
just for the pleasure of the thing. I have no doubt that he went for the
same reason that he went to hear Webster, Everett, and others speak,--to
learn something. He was drawn thither, not by his love of amusement, but
by his desire to learn. Nat learns more by seeing, than half the
scholars do by hard study."
"What in the world could he learn there that is good?" inquired a person
who heard the last remark.
"He could learn how to speak better, if nothing else," was the reply.
"And _that_ he said, in the beginning, was his object in going. When he
has acquired what he thinks he can get there to aid him, you will see
that he will stop."
"And by that time he may be ruined," was the reply.
Nat carried out his resolution, and went to the theatre a number of
times, to hear certain plays, walking to Boston and back each time. One
result of his visits was to increase his interest in Shakspeare, so
that he began to practise reading his plays aloud, and personating the
different characters. He made decided progress in this art, and
subsequently gave public readings of Shakspeare, by which he gained much
applause. The result satisfied nearly every one, that he went to the
theatre simply to observe the manner of speaking, as he went to hear
distinguished orators.
That the object for which a youth visits the theatre will decide, in a
great measure, its influence upon him, no one can deny, and it is so
with all forms of amusement. If he is drawn thither by the fascination
of the play alone, yielding himself up to the witchery of it, without
any regard to the intellectual or moral character of the scenic
representations, he is in a dangerous path. A large majority of those
who visit the theatre with this motive, as mere thoughtless
pleasure-lovers, are probably ruined.
The youthful reader should not infer that it is altogether safe to visit
the theatre, even for the reason that Nat did. It was a hazardous step
for him on account of the attractions that are thrown around it to
dazzle and bewilder. A high aim, in the path of knowledge, and great
energy and decision of character to execute his purpose, were his
protection. Perhaps not ten of a hundred youth could do the same thing,
and be saved from ruin. Augustine tells of a Christian young man who
was prevailed upon to visit the amphitheatre to witness the
gladiatorial games. He was unfriendly to such sports, and consented to
go solely to please his companion. For his own protection he resolved to
close his eyes that he might not be influenced by the scene. For some
time he kept his eyes closed; but, at length, a tremendous shout caused
him to open them, and look out upon the arena. In an instant, he was
fired with the spirit of those around him,--he cheered the gladiators
on,--he shouted with all his might,--and ever after he became a constant
patron of the games. So it is often with the youth, in our day, who goes
to the theatre _for once_ only. He merely wants to see what the theatre
is, resolved, perhaps, that he will never be known as a theatre-goer.
But he cannot withstand the fascination. Once going has created an
irresistible desire to go again, and again, and again, until his
character is ruined. Where one derives the impulse and knowledge that
Nat did, a hundred are destroyed. It is not wise, then, to try the
experiment. It is acquiring knowledge at too great a risk. Who would
cross a rough and stormy river where he knew that only one in a hundred
had reached the other shore?
Theatres have always been schools of vice. There never was a time when
their influence was good. At the time our country was struggling for
independence, Congress passed an act recommending the different States
to suppress theatrical performances by law; and soon after they passed
another act declaring that no person who visited the theatre should hold
an office under the government. It seems impossible to make them
otherwise than disreputable. Attempts have been made to establish
_respectable_ theatres, but they have always failed. Such an attempt was
made to reform one of the royal theatres of London, some years ago, and
the committee to whom the subject was submitted reported that the
institution could not be supported after such reform. The experiment was
actually tried with the late Tremont Theatre, in Boston. Intoxicating
drinks were not allowed to be sold, and no females were admitted
unaccompanied by gentlemen, as the better class of people would not
attend if profligate persons were admitted. But the theatre could not be
supported on these principles, and the plan was abandoned. A report was
published, in which it was stated, that if the rent of the building was
free, it could not be sustained by the reform system. Intemperance and
licentiousness appear to be indispensable to support the theatre. There
is good reason, then, for the legend recorded by Tertullian, running as
follows: A Christian woman went to the theatre, and came home possessed
of a demon. Her confessor, seeking to cast out the evil one, demanded of
him how he dared to take possession of a believer, who, by holy baptism,
had been redeemed out of his kingdom. "I have done nothing but what is
proper," said the devil, "for I found her on my own territory." He might
have made a captive of Nat for the same reason.
Some pronounce this hostility to theatres a prejudice of Christian
ministers and their sympathizers, but this is not true. The popular
actor, Macready, who won a world-wide fame in the business, by his long
connection with the stage, expressed a similar opinion of theatres after
he left the play. He settled in Sherbourne, England, where he had a
pleasant, promising family, and one rule to which his children were
subjected was, "None of my children shall ever, with my consent or on
any pretence, enter a theatre, or have any visiting connection with
actors and actresses." The honored Judge Bulstrode at one time expressed
the feelings of the English bench, when, in his charge to the grand jury
of Middlesex, he said, "One play-house ruins more souls than fifty
churches are able to save." Sir Matthew Hale relates that when he was at
Oxford, he was making rapid advancement in his studies when the
stage-players came thither, and he went to the performance, and became
so corrupted that he almost entirely forsook his studies. He was saved
only by resolving never to attend another play. Even the infidel,
Rousseau, condemned theatres. He said, "I observe that the situation of
an actor is a state of licentiousness and bad morals; that the men are
abandoned to disorder; that the women lead a scandalous life; that the
one and the other, at once avaricious and profane, ever overwhelmed with
debt, and ever prodigal, are as unrestrained in their dissipation as
they are void of scruple in respect to the means of providing for it. In
all countries their profession is dishonorable; those who exercise it
are everywhere contemned."