Chapter 2

As to those Objections, That the Actors are generally debauch'd, and of leud Conversation; and that no Person who is a known Adulterer, or Profane, ought to be encouraged. That the Play-house is a Resort of vicious Persons, and gives Opportunity to such who have wicked Inclinations. All these wou'd fall upon the advancement of a regular Stage; but as 'tis, the Objections are not levell'd Right; for the State is chargeable with the Immoralities. There are Laws for the Punishment of Vice; and if the Magistrate neglect his Duty, he must answer for it. I don't know that any body is oblig'd to a Conversation with the Players; and their Lives can influence only their Associates; and such they wou'd find, whether they are Players or not. When they are on the Stage they are confin'd to the Poets Language: And if we shou'd see Mr. _Powel_ acting a Brave, Generous and Honest Part; or Mrs. _Knight_, a very Modest and Chaste one, it ought not to give us Offence; because we are not to consider what they are off the Stage, but whom they represent: We are to do by them as in Religion we do by the Priest, mind what they say, and not what they do. Tho' the Stage is not so abandon'd but that there are some Honest and Vertuous, for any thing the Town can say to the contrary. And I wou'd leave it to themselves, whether they don't find their Account in it; whether the Town is not more favourable on any Occasion; so that it ought to be an Encouragement to persist in their Vertue.

The Objection against the Play-House it self, because it gives Opportunities for Wickedness, is so trifling, it is hardly worth answering, for they who are viciously inclin'd will find an Opportunity; and as long as the Toleration Act is in force, there is never a Meeting in Town but will afford extraordinary Hints of that kind; the Morning and Evening Lectures are precious Seasons, Mr. _Doelittle_ may thresh his Heart out, there will be Tares among the Wheat; and those Houses are haunted with a sort of Spirits that are not to be cast out with Prayer and Fasting.

I think from the little I have said, it is certain the Town has not been debauch'd by the Stage, and that 'tis much easier to demonstrate the Good, than prove the Evil Effect even of our bad Plays. I have shew'd that there has been a Vertue in them; and we might very well pardon them if it were only for that one Benefit, of being so serviceable to the reclaiming of the Clergy. If they can give me an Instance of any Play, whose Vices have had so ill Effect with the People as to counter-balance the Good it has wrought in them, I shou'd set my self against the Stage too; but then as to other Advantages which we have receiv'd from the Plays of the first Rank, we are certainly very much in debt to them. The Refinement of our Tongue is principally owing to them; Good Manners and good Conversation is owing to our Comedy; and I don't doubt but some of our Tragedies have fired some with a Greatness of Spirit, and taught to act the Hero with Prudence, Vertue and Courage.

I shall conclude this part of my Letter with this Observation, that if the present Stage has not been so terrible an Enemy to Christianity, but on the contrary, has afforded a great deal of good to the World; that a Regulated Stage wou'd be of infinite Service to the Nation.

I have proposed it as an Argument in Defence of a Regular Stage, that it lies on its Adversaries to prove it against Law or Scripture, and so might leave it justify'd till some Person or other make the Discovery to the World: But because 'tis my Opinion 'tis utterly impossible, I shall give you some Reasons why I think it not only lawful in it self but very necessary in this populous City. And, First, if we consider the Matter that ought to be represented, whether it be Tragedy or Comedy; there is nothing in either that can offend Religion or Good Manners.

Tragedy is a Representation of an Action by some Great Man, teaching us to regulate our Passions with exactness, and by shewing the strange and differing Accidents of Life, to which the most important Persons are subject; proving to us that Vice never goes unpunished; and that true Happiness does not chiefly consist in the Enjoyment of this World.

Comedy is a Representation of common Conversation; and its Design is to represent things Natural; to shew the Faults of Particular Men in order to correct the Faults of the Publick, and to amend the People thro' a fear of being expos'd, with this Observation, That the Ridiculous of the Stage is to be only a Copy of the Ridiculous found in Nature.

In short, 'tis the Property both of Tragedy and Comedy to instruct: The Characters in both are to be Natural; and the Persons concern'd in the whole Action, are to be such whose Vertues ought to provoke us to an Emulation, or whose Vices ought to deter us from imitating their Example, The Language and Sentiments are to be suitable to each Character: A Wife, Good, and Great Man is to say nothing but what is natural for such a one to say: The Gallant Man is to appear with all the Qualities of a Man of Honour: and the Fool in his proper colour'd Coat. The Vices of the Wicked are not to be represented so nicely, as punish'd severely; that is, a Vicious Person is not to be allow'd to plead in favour of his Vices, or to represent his Villany so calmly as to tempt any Man to try Practices in another Place. Vice is only to be brought there to be condemn'd, and the reason of this is, that our Terrour may be excited, and all our Passions vent themselves with Strength and Reason. Our Pity is not to be extended in a wrong place. In short, The Disposition of the play is to be such that all the Characters have a proper Effect with us. Our Fear, Love, and Anger are to be exerted with Justice; and we are to learn from a just Fable how to behave our selves in earnest. Thus may we exercise our Souls by examining our reasonable Faculties, and try how we can love to extremity, and yet without a Fault; to be angry and sin not; to be just without partiality, and rejoyce with them that rejoyce. We are there instructed to Love, Hate, and Fear within measure, how we may be Men without debasing our Souls; and all this by moving Examples, which in spite of Stubbornness, will force its Impressions; and 'tis our own Fault if they are not lasting. This certainly must recommend the Stage to the Vertuous; and Piety can't be offended at the decent reproving of Vice, and the insinuating recommendation of Vertue. Here we find Morality urg'd by Precept and Example, and the Stage reprehending those Follies which the Pulpit wou'd blush to correct; for tho' the Church is the Place to declaim against Sin, yet there are some sorts of Wickedness which can't be so decently reprov'd there; so that the Stage is serviceable on this account, to supply the Defects of the Pulpit. In short, whatever may be objected against the present management of the Stage, is of no force against such Proceedings as these. Religion and Morality can receive no Damage here; for as long as these Rules are observ'd, they strictly include both.

It was the Opinion of a great Master of Reason, that Tragedy conduces more to the Instruction of Mankind, than even Philosophy itself, because it teaches the Mind by Sense, and rectifies the Passions by the Passions themselves. And there is this further Advantage, that we have always the Example of great Men before us, and are generally inclinable to take our Manners from them. There has indeed Authorities been produc'd against the Stage, tho' there don't want as ancient Advocates for it; and some of the Fathers themselves writ Plays, however Mr. _Collier_ came to forget it.

If the Theatre is capable to give us such Advantage, it will easily be prov'd of what necessity there is for its encouragement in this Populous City: If there were no Politick Reasons, yet the Good to Religion that may be done by it, is a convincing Argument at once for its Lawfulness and Use. I know the Gravity of some can't dispense with so much time to be spent in Diversion, tho' I can't think this a reasonable Objection where so much Profit may attend our Delight. If it be lawful to recreate our selves at all, it can never be amiss to frequent such a Diversion, that only takes up our Time to make us wiser. I wou'd to God all of them were directed to the same End. No Man is to employ himself so as to exclude the Duties of Religion; and there is as much danger in minding too much the Business of the World, as the Pleasures of it; both of them are to be kept within bounds, and both subservient to Religion. The Passions of Men are active and restless; and 'tis the Prudence of every State to encourage some publick Exercise to keep them at quiet. If the Theatre was down, the Churches wou'd not be the fuller for't. Or if they shou'd, Religion is not always the design of them who come there; so that I cannot see that any thing can be allow'd for the publick Diversion with so much Innocence and so much, Advantage. I'm only afraid that such a Regularity wou'd be too Vertuous for the Age; and I don't doubt but the Beaux and Poetasters wou'd be full of Exclamation: For it wou'd be a dreadful Time if the Ladies should regard the Play more than their Beaux Airs; and how wou'd _Vanbroug_ be able to pass a Comedy on them, if they shou'd once be so nice in their Taste as to disgust Obscenity; this indeed wou'd be a Vexation, and such a Delicacy which Mr. _Congreve_ cou'd not be pleased with: And if the Town shou'd be so refin'd to admit of nothing but what is Natural, we can't expect that ever he will gratifie us with another Tragedy. _Durfey_ and _Motteux_ wou'd write no more Farces; _Guildon_ and _Tom_. _Brown, &c._ wou'd be the Saints with wry Mouthes and scrue'd Faces: Mr. _Guildon_ indeed has Philosophy enough to support himself under such a Calamity, and knows a Method to prevent starving; for who can think that he who writ _Blunt_'s Life can be at a loss for a decent dispatch of his own? 'Tis a deplorable Case, indeed, and I pity a Man who cannot get Bread by Writing, and yet must beg or starve without it.

The Prince of _Conti_ believ'd the _French_ Stage wou'd not have been so bad if the Priests had begun sooner to declaim against it: It is possible that some of our Defects may be owing to such a Negligence. However 'tis never too late to mend; and since Mr. _Collier_ has took up the Cudgels, I wish the rest of the same Coat wou'd so far as is just and reasonable, stand his Second: He has his Faults, but they are such as I wou'd not have lost his Book for. I know there are some violent Wits, who will not allow him either Wit or Style, but, in plain terms, to be a Fool. I hope none of them will go about to prove it. I confess he has kept ill Company of late; but surely they don't ground a Conjecture upon that, especially when a Man only converses to convince. The naming Mr. _Durfey_, or examining his Works, is not so contagious as to stain a Man's Reputation. We are indeed to answer for evil Communication; and tho' I cannot justifie a Man who wou'd read Mr. _Durfey_ with too much Delight, because we must not set our Affection on things below, yet I wou'd pardon any who wou'd read him only to forewarn others of the Danger.

'Tis a Misfortune to have good Poets stand in need of Assistance; but 'tis very much aggravated when they are deny'd it. A Man who is oblig'd to write for his Bread, is forc'd to be very hasty to prevent starving; And every Man's Genius is not so sharp as his Appetite. This may be one Reason we have so many things appear Abortive. Some Poets have not so much as to save their longing; and if their Muse miscarry, or come with an ugly Mark into the World, are rather to be pity'd than condemn'd. In what Pangs have I seen some poor Creatures to be deliver'd, when at the same time they have fear'd the Poverty of their Brats, and that the World wou'd discover they were very sick in the breeding. A good Poet ought never to want a worthy Patron; and our Nobility and Gentry ought to be Industrious in the Advancement of Letters. They might do it with great ease and little Expence; for the Number is not so great who deserve their Countenance. In vain we complain of the Irregularity of the Stage, if they who cou'd support its Honour, want support themselves: So that one great Step to advance the Theatre, is to take care, that they who write for the Stage, do not want for Encouragement.

You see, Sir, I have given my Thoughts freely: I wish they may receive your Approbation; because I wou'd never think but to please you. I dare not now think of excusing any thing I have writ, for I was resolv'd to tie my self to no Method, but to think as much as I cou'd for the advantage of the Stage, which I must believe very lawful, for any thing I have yet met to the contrary. Nor can I be perswaded, that our Plays have had so ill effect as some wou'd imagine. The best of our Plays have nothing in them that is so scandalous; and for the worst, I wou'd not allow them the Credit, nor the Authors the Vanity to think they could influence any one Man. The evil Conversation of some of them wou'd frighten a Man from being vicious; so that they are serviceable against their Wills, and do the World a Kindness through mistake. I dare not stay any longer with you, tho' I have a great Inclination to beg you'd excuse the roughness of my Stile: But you know I have been busie in _Virgil_; and that they say, at _Will_'s, is enough to spoil it: But if I had begg'd a more important thing, and ask'd you to forgive the length of my Letter, I might assure my self you wou'd oblige,

Your Humble Servant.

FINIS.

THE Occasional Paper: Number IX.

Containing some CONSIDERATIONS ABOUT THE DANGER Of going to PLAYS.

In a Letter to a Friend.

LONDON, Printed for M. Wotton, at the Three Daggers in Fleet Street. 1698.

SIR,

Being well assured that you sincerely desire to live as becomes a Christian, though you are not in Holy Orders; and that your complying with some things in use among those with whom you converse, is rather from a care to avoid being over-nice to the prejudice of Religion, than any want of a due Concern for the Interest of it: I cannot refuse the letting you see all at once, my thoughts of that, which having been at several times discoursed on between us, was never yet brought to a perfect Conclusion.

I have always found you doubting the _Lawfulness_, at least the _Expedience_ of going to _Plays, as they are now acted amongst us_; and sometimes you have seem'd to think it did not consist with the Faith of the _Gospel_, considering the Outrage committed there for the most part upon it, in one instance or other. And a fresh sense of this I perceive has been given you, by the late _lively Account of the Stages_, the natural colours of which indeed are so black as to be more than enough to affright those who have any _Fear of Him that ought to be feared_, or any Dread of the Ruin of Men.

But for as much as the thread of that serious _Design_ may seem broken too often with Observations of Learning, and Reflections of Wit, to be closely follow'd by those who are either not used to the one, or too fond of the other; the same good End may perhaps be helped forward a little, by setting this matter in a less interrupted Light, and a Simpler View.

And if things are as bad as they are there represented apart, looking on them together, you will scarce think those expressions too hard, which in a more large and general State of the Case, you sometimes thought did a little exceed. And very possibly the Zeal of some may have proceeded too far in running down to the ground, all _Diversions of this kind_ without any distinction: Tho' at the same time 'tis easie accounting for that seeming distance between those who agree that _Vertue_ shall be their common Design.

For they that are most for condemning these Entertainments, do not deny but some proper Instructions for civil Conduct at least, might thereby be gently instill'd; nor are they wholly against _Unbending_ the Mind, as if they suppose the Spirits of Men wou'd carry them through the Business of Life without any Relief: But they think these, as they stand, are _dangerous Schools_: And, as for _Refreshment_, they see none in that which _unfits_ us for our respective duties. And thus much is granted by those who wou'd shew a regard to the weakness of Nature, and not be over severe upon the Practice of those they think well enough of in other Respects.

Whenever you have inclined to savour these _Idle Amusements_, you have set them before you in an Innocent Dress, and contended for nothing but what might _Please_ without giving _Offence_, you never design'd that what was _Prophane_ or _Immodest_, should have your _Protection_; or to allow your self or your Friends a _Conversation_ that was apt to _Corrupt_. You always hoped such _Spots_ might be separated from those things you took in to _Divert_, and when you had made them as clear as you cou'd, you was easie to own, they might still be too freely indulged: For which reason I do not believe we shall differ much when we come to the End.

Taking then these _Plays_ at the best, _pure_ from all those _defiling Ingredients_, and _free_ from the blemish of a _Vicious Resort_, a condition so perfect as we never yet saw the _Theater_ in: All this would not make it a Place to be greatly frequented by those, that desire to keep their Minds in a suitable frame. No one wou'd chuse to converse always with _Fiction_ and _Show_, that cared to preserve something _Real_ within; Mens Minds in effect being nothing else but their usual Thoughts, which passing continually through them with repeated delight, are sure to leave their Image upon them; as we can't but observe the _Admirers_ of _Scenes_ to have something Romantick in all that they do.

Were we daily to be in the _House_ of _Feasting_ and the soberest Mirth, our Spirits wou'd grow by degrees so frothy and light, that we shou'd not easily bring them to settle again on any thing that was worthy our care: Without something now and then to raise them a little, they wou'd be dull and unactive, but _all_ Relaxation wou'd make them too airy, and of no sort of Use. They wou'd not serve to keep up our Souls from sinking under the pleasures of sense, but so unawares betray us into them, by loosning the strength we have to resist, and improving the Charm, that tho' we supposed the whole Concern of the _Stage_ to set out all Virtuous at first, we cou'd not expect its continuing long in that primitive State, before it run into some foolish Excess. For if Mens coming often and many together, on business, or kind and friendly Occasions, is apt to lay a snare in their Way; Nay if _Societies_ form'd for the very promotion of Virtue; and ti'd to all the Discipline of it, are yet hardly kept from growing irregular: What can we hope from such places of Concourse, where Imagination expects to be rais'd, and the End is Delight?

But I doubt we never began so fairly as this, because our present _Corruption_ is greater, than can well be conceiv'd to have sprung from a _Root_ that had at first no _Bitterness_ in it.

Was there nothing _ill_ in the _Representations_ themselves, yet there is so much of that by agreement of All, in the Vain _Behaviour of those that are there_; that they must needs be very fond of a _Play_, that can bring themselves to sit often and long in such _Company_ for it.

And yet one wou'd think sufficient care had been taken by those on the _Stage_, to heighten and please the most vicious _Tast_. They appear to have study'd all the _Arts_ of an easie _Defilement_, and to have left out no _Colours_ that were likely to _Stain_. And that these may be sure to sink deep enough, their business is to discharge the Heart of all its pure and _native Impressions_, that it may be the better disposed to receive what _Tincture_ they please.

Men must here begin to _unlearn_ what their _Parents_ and grave _Instructors_ have told them in the very tenderest part of their care; and learn to suspect some of their first and plainest Notions of things. They are now to be taught how they might _Be_, without a Creator; and how, now they are, they may live best without any Dependance on his Providence. They are call'd to doubt of the _Existence_ of _God_, or if that be allow'd them, 'tis only to question what _Notice_ he takes: His Wise _Providence_ at every turn is charged with _Neglect_, and often not for, that which has something of Precedent, supporting the Wicked, but which is _dreadfully New_ disappointing their _Lusts_. Things they are no longer ashamed of, but publickly own, without so much as pretending to hide them from _God_, whom they are not afraid to treat as blind, or as giving _Consent_.

Thus is His _Holiness_ turn'd to the vilest Reproach, his perfect _Knowledge_ mention'd with scoffing, and his infinite _Power_ despised.

Had we nothing to oppose to this; but that sense of things which is natural to Us, and which even with all these Arts is not quickly defaced, we could not but stand amazed at such Presumptions as these, in so poor, and ignorant, and short lived a Creature as _Man_; who came naked but lately out of the Earth, and must soon return to that condition again; who finds his sight bounded in every thought, and meets with a thousand stops in all his Designs; who every step that he takes, wants some one to help him, and can scarce avoid being conscious of that Hand to which he ows his Support. And yet as if it was honour to rave, this impotent Wretch must still be daring at something above him, as if he reckon'd it weakness to own of what he was made, and thought any submission too great a price to pay for being preserv'd.

This cou'd not be accounted less than a Monstrous _Extravagance_, had we no other _Rule_ than that of _Reason_ to measure it by; and a Man with only his senses about him, would have a horrour to be thus Entertain'd. How then shall he that professes the _Christian Religion_, be able to bear so licentious a Treatment of all that is Good? a little degree of _temperate Zeal_ wou'd turn him against such _Abuses_ as these, and a middle proportion of _Faith_ spread over the World, wou'd keep these Places from being so throng'd in their present State as they shamefully are.

They whose Dependence is on them, are so apprehensive of this; that they are very industrious to weaken the force of that _Revelation_ which darts it's rays so strongly against them, and discovers the vileness of that, they wou'd have Men admire. _Redeemer_ and _Saviour_ are Titles bestow'd upon infamous persons, which shews what sense they have of the want of him to whom they belong: And for what they are pleas'd to mention as _Sins_, they are sure to find as slight an _Attonement_. They make very bold with the _Grace_ of God, and crave _Inspiration_ to serve the ends of _Lust_ and _Revenge_: In which that they may have nothing to check them, all _Flames_ but their own are meer _Fancies_ and _Dreams_; the sickly Thoughts of a future Account must be banish'd away, and _Conscience_ dismissed as a weak and _Cowardly_ thing.

That nothing may bind it, the Holy _Scripture_ is used as a _Fable_, and at every turn brought out in disguise to be the better exposed: They will allow it to be but one of these two, either _Imposture_ or _Madness_. And they who profess to make it their _Rule_, and to lead others by it, are scorn'd and traduc'd as running into _Frenzy_ or _Cheat_, that no body else may have any regard to them or their way.

And when the _Fences_ are thus broken down, what hopes can we have any _Virtue_ shou'd stand without being impair'd at the least? Nor do they stick to pursue their design, but go on overturning the natures of things as fast as they can, and they have met but with too much success.