: ■M Library of Congress. c HAP . Ti_::_:_:_ .. Shelf. i__*/\tL_D- UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. i 9—167 ':■": :-' ft The Press, The Pulpit, - The Stage. A LECTURE DELIVERED AT CENTRAL MUSIC HALL, CHICAGO, November 28, 1882. By J. H. McVICKER. 11 CHICAGO; THE WESTERN NEWS COMPANY. 1883. 19539 I . KNIGHT & LEONARD DEDICATION. To those who lack the courage to repel openly that which in secret they feel to be false, and so continue to sit under the preaching of men licensed by theology to cloud the teaching of Him they profess to follow, these thoughts are dedicated with the hope of aiding to break the darkness with which they surround themselves. Fur- thermore the author desires to inspire a manhood which will enable them to see the light of the nineteenth cen- tury brightening as it approaches the twentieth, and which in time will so dazzle those who adhere to the remnants of bigotry as to lead them, against their own inclining, to the truth and purity of the new theology — the pro- duct of free thought and advancing civilization. Why, I will fight with him upon this theme. Until my eyelids will no longer wag." — Hamlet. Christian; " You did well to talk as plainly to him as you did; there is but little of this faithful dealing with men now-a-days, and that makes religion to stink so in the nostrils of many, as it doth; for they are these talkative fools whose religion is only in words, and are debauched and vain in their conversation, that being so much admitted into the fellowship of the godly) do puz- zle the world, blemish Christianity, and grieve the sincere. I wish that all men would deal with such, as you have done; then should they either be made more conformable to religion, or the com- pany of saints would be too hot for them." Faithful: " How Talkative at first lifts up his plumes! How bravely doth he speak! How he presumes To drive down all before him! " But so soon As Faithful talks of heart-work, like the moon That's past the full, into the wave he goes, And so will all but he that heart-work knows — yohn Bunyan — Pilgrim's Progress. THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, AND THE STAGE. HHHE faculty which enables us to discrimi- ■*■ nate is rarely cultivated to any great extent, even by those who set themselves up as teachers or leaders in the affairs of every- day life. In modern civilization the press, the pulpit, and the stage are three great powers for good and evil, and while I may think it time for the stage to assume a posi- tion and talk back, I am not here to apologize for it ; nor am I here simply to censure the pulpit and condemn the press. These two forces set up an ideal of perfection, and each thinks itself infallible. The editorial "we" is launched like the thunder of Jove ; the utter- IO THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, ances of the sanctuary are the manna from heaven. Both preacher and editor assume to be a little better than the rest of mankind, and both exact from all poor humanity per- fection equal to their inspired holiness. That isn't fair. All of us cannot be editors and preachers ; some of us wouldn't be if we could. The stage, like the press and the pulpit, has its shortcomings, but is not so pretentious as its fellows ; hence its sins are not so heinous. While preachers and editors are set up as models, the world is taught to look upon the actor merely as a rollicking, good-natured, but worthless fellow. The press and the pulpit assume to instruct and to guide ; the stage seeks to amuse. When the press is wrong and the pulpit intolerant — and you know such things sometimes happen — it is felt that a great injury has been done. When the AND THE STAGE. II stage offends, the offense is of the same nature as the exuberance of a spoiled child that oversteps the bounds of decorum in play- ing with the senior who has humored it. The offense is reprimanded but forgiven, and the play goes on in a more subdued tone. But when we read a vicious article in a lead- ing newspaper or listen to an uncharitable or bigoted sermon from a leading pulpit, we feel that the offense " smells rank to heaven." A high trust has been betrayed. The instructors have misused their power to vitiate public opinion, degrade public morals or instill false principles into the public mind. Hence I need not apologize for the mistakes of the stage. I cannot apologize for the more deliberate, enduring and far-reaching errors of the press and the pulpit. In one respect, the pulpit, the press and the stage stand uoon a level, — that of 12 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, reciprocal distrust. The pulpit is constantly inveighing against the press and the stage ; the press is constantly crying out against the stage and pulpit; and the stage cannot help feeling that the pulpit and the press are not always the pure, truthful and righteous things they would have the people believe them to be. To the pulpit the stage is a. perennial offense ; to the stage the pulpit is a type of intolerance. To the press both the others are merely material for daily criticism, and to both the others the press is dogmatic, inquisi- torial and pampered. The public, I think, though it may never entirely agree with any one of these agencies on extraneous subjects, is ever ready to think each is about right when speaking of the others. When the stage is hard pressed for material, it falls back on something of a local or sensational kind ; so, when a decline is noted in church AND THE STAGE. 13 attendance, and the deacon returns, after col- lection, with empty plates, the preacher pitches into the stage — the standing sensa- tion of the pulpit. Many a preacher has made himself known to the community through a philippic against theater-going, who might otherwise have remained in ob- scurity all his life long. The stage is of more value to these notoriety-seeking ministers than the old orthodox hell, — for the devil and his pitchfork have come to be regarded, even in the church, as mythical, — but the theater, and its viciousness are real, terribly real, to the poor trembling soul that fears it cannot mourn sufficiently in this life to claim eternal happiness in the life to come. Then the theater is so popular that the preacher is sure, that in addition to drawing" a large con- gregation, his sermon will be reported in the papers of the next day if he takes the stage 14 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, as a topic, and so he sacrifices his professional modesty for the good of the flock. I think intelligent persons, whose judg- ment has not been distorted by prejudice, admit there is good and bad in the press, pulpit, and stage. The trouble is we don't discriminate. " A place for everything and everything in its place," is a good rule of life, but few of us follow it. There is a time for all things ; the time to read newspapers is at or before breakfast, and there is enough to most of them nowadays to go round a large family or a moderate sized boarding-house. There is a time to go to the theater, in the evening when the work of the day is done, and a con- genial entertainment is offered as a relaxa- tion. There is a time to attend church, a bright Sunday morning, when new suits and new bonnets ,are displayed to advantage. There is a time for work and a time for play; a AND THE STAGE. I 5 time for mirth and a time for reflection ; but we don't always place things in their right order. Discrimination does not seem to be a natural gift. The average man is a victim to his environments. He takes the world as it comes, and drifts along in the channel in which he is started. The good frequently passes for the bad, and the bad often for the good. The sugar-coated pill is taken willingly regardless of the medicine it contains. The proof-sheet of life is rarely read, and, if read, we are too busy to correct the errors when they are clearly marked. Life is too short, and the gilded god of our day shines so bright, that man in his haste to grasp the one makes but little effort to lengthen or broaden the other. We are a hive of busy bees, but we lack the wisdom of the bee, for, from life, we do not extract the sweet and avoid the bitter. 1 6 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, The trinity of modern civilization — the press, the pulpit, and the stage — should work in common for the orood of the human race, but they pull apart with selfish motives. I will venture to urge some personal claim upon your attention in speaking of these three great engines of power, and in deprecating the lack of discrimination which clogs their wheels. I have earned some right to talk of newspapers, for I carried them when I was a boy, and later learned to set them up in type and take them from the press. I have been identified with the stage for more years than it is necessary to tell (though some good- natured critic might say I was never much of an actor); and this evening behold I turn preacher. If in this last position I am ven- turing on consecrated ground, I will aim to injure none of the flowers that grow thereon, believing I shall find weeds enough to stand AND THE STAGE. \*J upon while passing in review the press, the pulpit and the stage, to see if each occupies its proper place, and is in such condition as good discipline warrants. King Lear, when dividing his kingdom among his three daughters, called upon the oldest to speak first and urge her claim for his consideration. So let us summon the first born of our trinity— that is, the stage. Does the announcement surprise some of you ? I state simply a historical fact. The modern drama of every country and every language traces its origin to the ancients through the church, which only began to condemn when it could no longer control the stage. The festival of the gods among the Hindoos was celebrated by a union of song and dance. It was the Hindoo drama. The tenets of Buddh- ism are said to be traceable all through the dramatic literature of China, and the Chinese I 8 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, call their plays "the pleasures of peace and prosperity." The Egyptians celebrated the doctrine of the immortality of the soul in mysterious ceremonies and recitations of a dramatic character. The Greek drama was intimately connected with the national relig- ion of that people. The first introduction of dramatic exhibition into Rome (several cen- turies before the Christian era) was when the Greek actors were sent for to appease divine wrath which was signalized by a pestilence. Wasn't that as harmless as Noah's getting drunk and dancing on Mount Ararat to cele- brate the subsidence of the flood ? And was it not more natural and humane than for Abraham to offer his own son on the altar to appease an exacting creature of his supersti- tion ? If the religions with which the ancient drama was intertwined were Pagan, they were still the best known to the various tribes, and AND THE STAGE. 19 they were less intolerant and more charitable than some of the religions of our day. The Christian Church adopted the drama for its own, and during many centuries it enjoyed an exclusive, and, long after, a preponderating influence over the stage. In England, France, and Germany, the so-called " Miracles " and " Moralities" were the staple plays of the day, based upon Bible stories. To this day the Ober-Ammergau sacred drama in Germany and the popular religious performances in Spain attest the long time connection between the church and the stage. The early fathers were short-sighted in permitting so effective an agent as the drama to drift away from them. But has the stage degenerated by reason of cutting loose from the church ? No ! It has been emancipated, like governments and in- dividuals, from the shackles of ignorance and the despotism of superstition. The church 20 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, no longer dictates the policy of nations ; the priests no longer control the powers nor dull the pleasures of the stage, and the world is freer, happier, and no less pure for the change. In the stage, then, we have the eldest of the great triumvirate I have dared to summon before you this evening. It passes by, bear- ing its heavy load of abuse and contumely, heaped upon it by the second born of the group; its sins of commission and omission magnified to such an extent that the unthink- ing man looks on in wonder, and is disposed to reject the philosophic doctrine of the survival of the fittest. We hear an occasional voice, prompted partly by hate and partly by fear, cry out : " Shall it not be banished from the face of the earth ? " That voice has been ringing along the corridor of ages — but the stage still lives. Why? The legend across the proscenium, illu- AND THE STAGE. 2 1 mined in bright and sparkling letters of gold, reads: " That which God has implanted in man cannot die.'.' The drama is the highest devel- opment of the love of spectacle which is born in the human breast. There is no other gratifi- cation of the senses of sight and hearing which satisfies so completely; none which reaches the human emotions and sympathies so quickly; none which illustrates so vividly the story of human life. Thus we see our first-born creeping along through neglect and discouragement, but always strengthening its hold upon the heart of man. We see it with abashed countenance and timid tread slowly but surely advancing; its adherents doubting its power and lacking the courage to claim for it a proper place in civilization and social life. We see its open hand of charity for all but its own, and note its progress, made in a spirit of true Christianity, — no element of hate or com- 2 2 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, bativeness in its nature. As if inspired, it responds to the voice of malice: " Our oppo- nents cannot kill us ; we can afford to suffer and progress." Hold this picture of the first-born, for here comes the second person of our trinity — the church — which has professed ever since its birth to hold in its hand all the good there is in man on this earth, and to control his desti- nies in the life to come. It now walks by us with a limping step; but looking back we see abundant evidence of its wonderful power. We see the heart of man yielding to its care, for its spirit had called forth his love. We see him blindly following those who arrogantly assumed to lead, disregarding that spirit, and then we see the bloody wars forced upon man, and the dire consequences reaching along the line of centuries. We see devastated cities and hecatombs of victims sacrificed to selfishness, AND THE STAGE. 23 arrogance and greed. We can hear the shrieks of those who have been put to the rack, the thumb-screw and the stake. We see the light of flames — kindled by the torches of the church — alone illume the dark ages. We see that with it " Might is Right.' It tortured, it sacked, it burned ; and all for the glory of Zion. The readers of history need not be told that the cruelties of the church extended far this side the Reformation. They have come down to our own time, but in a wonder- fully modified form, being compelled to yield to a superior civilization which other forces have established ; and hence the church no longer avails itself of implements of torture — the only implements ever invented under its patronage. We see it now as it goes halting by, staggering under a load of accumulated ex- cesses heavier than the cross which its Hebrew ante-type imposed upon the Savior. We see 24 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, deserters from its ranks, who, in turn, attempt reforms by rushing into evils as great as those they left behind. We see this second-born grow weaker as the world grows stronger, and from the seed it sows spring faction after fac- tion, creed after creed, all aiming to capture the heart of man by traps and springes, quips and quirks, bribes and threats — not by love and charity. We see that as debility induces dis- ease, so the weakness of these creeds and factions gives a sign of life to the satisfied materialist and the know-nothing agnostic, who are " as clouds without water, carried along by the wind ; trees without fruit ; wild waves of the ocean foaming forth their own shame." On all sides we see disintegration and contention, and we hear a plaintive voice anxiously asking: " What is the trouble with the church?" The trouble is, the entrance to it is too narrow. The trouble is, it does not AND THE STAGE. 25 appeal to the judgment of man, but offers him empty promises and childish threats. The trouble is, it does not touch the proper chord in the human heart, or it would meet with a greater response- While in all its diversified creeds it claims a monopoly of the only true God, yet it is an abject devotee of mammon. It revels in the possession of millions of idle capital, free from taxation, which might furnish schoolhouses, libraries and art temples. It makes no proffer of good-fellowship — or, if it does, it is with icy coldness — except to him who has a long purse. It clings to its own methods, and offers up superstition and dogma as a pabulum for people who have learned to think and reason. It plants itself in the light of progress. It arrays itself against nature and science. It remains gloomy while the tendency of our time is to happiness. It has failed to keep step with the progress of 26 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, the world, and is fast becoming a relic of exploded methods. Why ? In its youth self- ish, narrow-minded zealots seized the child and guided its footsteps, disregarding the spirit of "good will to all" intended by its advent upon earth. The same type of adher- ents fill too many of the pulpits of to-day, and true Christianity suffers from their work. As the panorama passes, the youngest of our trio appears. But bear in mind the pic- tures of the two older , to be referred to as our subject progresses. Over fourteen hun- dred years after the wise men were guided to Bethlehem, we see a new power revealed to the world, destined to emancipate man from ignorance and superstition. About the time of its birth, the Western Hemisphere was discovered, as if a cradle were necessary for the repose and liberty of the child, in which it might be rocked till it grew to be AND THE STAGE. 2 J man's greatest hope of the present life. You will recognize the last-born as the art of print- ing. Let us look at its advent on the Ameri- can continent, in the seventeenth century, and watch its progress. Like all new forces it was viewed with suspicion in the land of its birth, and in merry England the wits of the play-house, then a noted power with the learned, treated it as an object of mirth, while the church regarded it as an offspring of the devil. Even in the land of Columbus, where all things were new, this newest, strongest, and mightiest of all was looked upon with doubt and dread. Wise legislatures passed resolutions condemning it, and learned judges cast its apostles into prisons. But the babe had seized by the nipple the breast of human- ity, and, nourished thereby, it grew and thrived, till, gaining strength, it voiced the great popular impulse for liberty in the days 2 8 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, of our revolution. The history of printing during the last three centuries has been the progressive history of man. I have heard of a painting, by a German artist, representing Gutenberg, the inventor of printing, showing to Faust the first proof-sheet produced from type. That picture should be engraved and chromoed to bring it within the reach of peo- ple everywhere. Its story should be told in granite and bronze, and be erected in every city, that in our daily walks we might behold the initial of the art that spreads light; to mankind. See what gigantic strides this youth has made. The first newspaper in this country was published less than two hundred years ago. Of course it was in Boston. It was issued monthly, unless a ship arrived or some important matter occurred more fre- quently. According to its prospectus, its pur- pose was " that memorable occurrences of AND THE STAGE. 2 9 Divine Providence may not be neglected nor forgotten, as they too often are." It set forth, also, that it "was desirous something may be done toward the curing of lying which pre- vails among us," from which it appears that our forefathers were not entirely free from one of the evils of the present day And to think that the press of America was started as a curative of lying! Comment is unneces- sary. This first newspaper was not a blanket sheet of our time — being only seven by eleven inches in size and containing but three pages of printed' matter, two columns to the page. It lived but one day, as the legislature then sitting in Boston, forbade the circulation of " anything in print without license being first obtained from those appointed to grant the same." Not much liberty of the press in that day, but doubtless a similar law would be hailed with pleasure by the ringsters of our 30 THE PRESS THE PULPIT, own time. In 1704 another start was made., but it advanced with difficulty, as the church liked it not and the authorities, bowing to the church, did not view it with favor. As late as 1722 James, the brother of Benjamin Franklin, was imprisoned for speaking too freely in the columns of his paper, on politi- cal matters. He gave offense to such good men as Increase and Cotton Mather, who in the spirit of true Christianity — as they under- stood it — stigmatized his editorial staff as the " Hell-fire Club," and the general court then in session decreed that James should no longer print a paper. It was then that Benjamin Franklin, who had not yet reached the age of twenty, took the helm of journal- ism and steered boldly into the open sea of turmoil, unawed by those in power; and such was his progress that in a few years the post- master-general authorized him to send his AND THE STAGE. 3 I paper through the mails — postage free. It would be a heavy tax to grant such a privi- lege to the press of to-day. During the rev- olution the new art struggled against adverse circumstances, but added strength to those who sought encouragement in the fight for liberty. Since the invention of printing and the discovery of America, the progress of man has been greater than during the fifteen preceding centuries, when the church was the guiding star of the human race. It is not yet a hundred years since the first daily paper was published in this country, and we see the advance made over a rough road leading to riches. It has achieved liberty and greatness, but it has not always been faithful to its mission, nor respected the power it wields. Unlike the stage, it has always been aggres- sive ; unlike the pulpit, it has always been progressive. It has cost many lives and 32 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, brought dire distress to many a happy house- hold by the license it assumes. Its personal- ities from an impersonal, and too frequently from an irresponsible source, are a blot upon its escutcheon which cannot be rubbed off. Its dealings in innuendo to the injury of char- acter and the mortification of feelings, is a cowardly abuse of power. Its criticisms are often more cruel than just. Its self-lauda- tion, which is almost universal, is a custom which would be more " honored in the breach than the observance." It is rarely a fair oppo- nent. It accuses, prosecutes and passes sen- tence, frequently denying the defendant a hearing. Its apologies, as a rule, are no apol- ogies at all. But its faults are on the surface, and with discrimination can easily be sifted from its usefulness. It contains within itself the power of reform and of improvement. It bears progress on its banner. From the seven AND THE STAGE. 35 by eleven sheet it has grown to mammoth proportions. It comes not quarterly, nor monthly as at first, but at all hours, from the very break of day, when we are aroused by a thousand young shrill voices, shrieking, " Here's yer morning papers ; latest news from all parts of the world." Having thus placed before you a hurried panoramic view of my subject, we will now enter more into detail. Did it ever occur to you how unfair and irrational the pulpit really is in its treatment of the stage ? Did you ever give it a thought ? or are the words uttered by those who should have an influence over your action of such little value as to make no impression ? I am not going to be personal, but I have read a report of a sermon in which a minister of the Gospel of Charity declared that " nine out of every ten actresses 36 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, because they bellowed ''bald-head" at him as he passed, and suppose I held such as he up as a type of the pulpit — would that be fair? Suppose I single out or rather lump together, a lot of preachers and Sunday-school teachers who instruct little children that Jews, Indians and infants who have not been baptized go straight to hell when they die, and proclaim that such is the material that fills our pulpits — would that be fair? Or suppose I summon all the occupants of all the pulpits who religi- ously subscribe to the story that the sun stood still at Joshua's command, or to the romance that the whale swallowed Jonah (or Jonah the whale), with all the familiar subse- quent proceedings — and also those who believe the Lord inspired the practices of polygamy, slavery, human sacrifice, cruelty, torture and fiendishness to be found in the pages of the old Bible, and insist that all AND THE STAGE. 37 preachers must be judged by such a standard — would that be fair? Would it be fair for the theater to maintain that all religion is superstition ; all piety, cant ; all devotion, bigotry ; all worship, sham and pretense ; all the Bible obscene and blasphemous ; all preachers, or nine out of every ten, whited sepulchers, and that ninety-nine out of every hundred churches had an assignation room attached ? No ! Would not such utterances be condemned — justly condemned — as pre- judiced, unreasonable and wicked ? But that course would be as fair as it is to place all theaters, all actresses, all actors, and all plays upon the same degraded level as the low saloons and halls which our municipal govern- ments license as theaters and permit to exist among us ! The trouble with too many occupants of our pulpits is that their view of life is in- 38 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, variably gloomy. Unlike the poet, the preacher is made, not born, and too many are made in the same mould. You can tell them as far as you can see them, and frequently you can recognize them in the dark by the intonation of the voice. They ask you to be joyful with a countenance that looks like a cloudy day and in a voice that leaves you in doubt as to just where their pain is located. When they say, " let us pray," it is with a manner calculated to remind you of hard work which must be done, or implying anger at the good Lord for having inflicted the bur- den of life upon their hearers. There are just about exceptions enough to prove the rule, and they are refreshing when found. It is worth a long walk on a stormy day to hear a fervent prayer delivered with the earnestness an average actor speaks his lines. But the pulpit prayer, as a rule, is words uttered in a AND THE STAGE. 39 manner calculated to allow your thoughts to wander from devotion to the affairs of every- day life — corn or pork, as the case may be. They remind me of the guilty king in Ham- let, who says : " My words fly up, my thoughts remain below; Words without thoughts never to heaven go. " The manner of these mournful preachers would impress mankind as lamenting because the good Lord has given us sunshine and flowers ; the senses to enjoy, the heart to feel, the mind to analyze and discriminate. This would be but a dreary world indeed if we all followed the dictum the orthodox pulpit would like to prescribe. Barnaby, an actor of our day, and otherwise a very reputable gentleman, tells a story which illustrates the whole case: One of these chronically melancholy and morose individuals died, and went to heaven. A terrestrial 40 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, friend followed shortly after, and was sur- prised to find his friend, the deacon, as long-faced and lachrymose as he had been when on earth. "Why, deacon," said he. " What is the matter ? I supposed you would be happy and joyous when you got to Par- adise." " I thought so too," was the deacon's reply, " but you see I got my feet wet in crossing the river Death. I came up here on the edge of a damp cloud and caught cold. I broke one of my wings the first day out, and have been obliged to carry it in a sling ever since ; and then my halo don't fit worth a cent." The trouble with the press, on the contrary, is that it does not take a sufficiently serious view of life. The average journalist will tell you that the newspaper lives but one day, and, believing this, the tendency of the press is to treat all things as though their existence were equally ephemeral. Forgetful AND THE STAGE. 41 of the fact that an impression is more lasting than the argument which creates it, the press does not truly appreciate its own importance, much as it prates thereof ; if it did, it would have a higher sense of its responsibility. It has a wisdom far superior to the church It recognizes the universal love of man for amusement, and it cunningly avails itself of the stage as one of its standard attractions. No column in the daily newspaper is read with greater relish than that set apart to the theater. And yet the press does not always treat the stage with justness. Possibly because it is not at all times capable of doing so, for the reason that its ever-changing critic may be a callow youth, who has made a hit in police reporting, and, full of confidence in his critical ability, proceeds to write up Bul- wer's Richelieu as one of Shakespeare's time- worn plays. Or he may be a jagged, jaded, 42 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, over-worked and blase expert, who runs into three or four theaters during the evening, sees the beginning of one play, the middle of another and the end of a third, and then damns them all indiscriminately the next day. " Can't you speak the lines as I do ?" growled Forrest to a minor actor at rehearsal. " If I could, I would not be here at $5 a week," was the prompt reply. So perhaps we get, as a rule, as good theatrical criticism as the pay warrants. But the press is too much disposed to deal in the same loose, hasty fashion with all the affairs of life. It aims to turn all mat- ters into news, and dish them up, as near as possible, as a sensation. It is supremely self- ish, and being of the earth, earthy, by the purification of the world only will it be puri- fied. With the birth of the newsboy came a lower standard of the daily press — but the sin AND THE STAGE. 43 must not be placed upon the boys. Within my experience newspapers were sold almost exclusively to regular subscribers, and the patrons of each journal exercised a direct influence over its tone. Not so now. From one to five cents makes a patron, and the editor seldom, if ever, comes in contact with his readers to know them. The conservative paper, which all admire but few patronize, toils on till death, while the reckless sheet achieves a lar^e circulation because it has the patronage of those who condemn as well as those who applaud its depravity. Anthony Comstock, the suppressor of indecent litera- ture, says the proprietor of the Police Gazette told him that most of the articles and illustra- tions in that paper are based upon extracts from the daily newspapers. Those who con- trol our daily papers don't realize how much demoralization they must answer for. Yet 44 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT. the press, far more than the stage, holds within itself the power of reform. It is an admitted leader. We all look for it, and, were it true to its mission, making reason, not abuse, its sharpest weapon, it would lead, not follow, public taste. But " evil communica- tions corrupt good manners," and the prosper- ous sheet, with a low tone, will drag down many to its level by the glamour of its pros- perity. And now of the profession for which I may claim to speak with some knowledge. Those of you who have read the carping criticisms of the press or listened to the scathing anath- emas of the pulpit, may be astonished when I tell you, without the fear of successful contra- diction, that at no previous period in the his- tory of the world has the stage ranked so high as it does at the present day. No one of the arts has made more progress. In former AND THE STAGE. 45 epochs the stage was subjected to the disci- pline of the church or censors appointed by government. To-day the public has estab- lished a severer regime of good taste and de- corum, and the theater keeps pace with civili- zation, society, and government. There may be much to deplore now in it as in all other matters, but there is certainly comfort in the reflection that the conditions are in- finitely better than ever before. Is there one among you who regrets that his or her life was not allotted to some earlier period of time ? Does history picture any age or coun- try which offered so many attractions as our own ? The stage, along with other institu- tions, has enjoyed the refining and progress- ive influences of the same forces which have operated to develop social life. Excellence is always a matter of comparison. Some plays are better than other plays ; some actors bet- 46 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, ter than other actors ; some editors and preachers (not many) better than other peo- ple. In the same way the stage of our day, as a whole, is vastly superior in the entertain- ment it affords the public to the stage of any former period. The cry about the degener- acy of the stage, and the good old days of the drama, is an old, old story, which had its start with crushed tragedians, subdued comedians, and those unhappy natures, who, having out- lived their usefulness, if they ever had any, walk through life with a dark cloud before their eyes, causing them to see only them- selves, and hence nothing but degeneracy; and, thinking backward, they believe if they had lived a thousand years that way they would have been appreciated. Then we have another class in the profession — very small, almost amounting to a cypher — but exercising a power because they wear the crown of sue- AND THE STAGE. 47 cess. This class traduce their own calling for the purpose of fawning upon and toadying to an element of society, which, in their cow- ardice, they deem better than themselves. They are selfish and treacherous by nature, and they buzz around the modern critic, who, taking up their cry, writes as if he had made a new discovery, forgetting that the ancient Greek and Roman writers were of the opinion that the stage was degenerating in their day. The divines of Shakespeare's time, among others Gosson, and Joseph Hall, who became a bishop, denounced the theater, which even Ben Jonson spoke of as "the loathed stage." Play actors under Queen Elizabeth were — unless vouched for — stigmatized by law as " rogues," and they advanced only to the rank of "vagabonds" under King James. Shake- speare himself was depreciated by his contem- poraries. Samuel Pepys, an old gossip who 48 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, kept a diary, pronounced A Midsummer Night's Dream " the most ridiculous play that ever he had seen in his life ;" and perhaps it was as given in his day. He thought The Tempest had " no great wit," and he dismissed Othello as "a mean thing." The stage was evidently degenerating in the days of Pepys. Voltaire joined the crowd in condemning the theater a little later on, and Moliere, the Shakespeare of France, was denounced in his day as a "demon in man's clothing." Colley Cibber, a poor actor and unsuccessful mana- ger, and also a tinker of Shakespeare's plays, deplored " the fatal pollution of virtue and manners wrought by the theater, and lament- ed the "good old days of dramatic glory, never to come again ;" and he might have added under his management. Dunlap, an historian of the American stage, also an unsuccessful manager, quotes, with approval, the words AND THE STAGE. 49 Cibber applied to an earlier period in Eng- land, and says, "they read as if they were written by some old fellow of seventy in the year 1832." A few years ago, when British burlesque (designated by our critics as the all leg and no brain drama) was introduced into the coun- try, we were told, by press and pulpit, that it was destined to drag the stage down to perdi- tion. Then came the French comedy as the rock on which the theater was to be wrecked. And so it goes. There is not a day that does not bring forth some Jeremiad over the decline of the stage. But as the same was true ten years ago — fifty years ago— one hundred years ago — -three hundred — five hundred years ago, during all which time the stage has been steadily improving, these chronic croakings do not inspire any great apprehension for the future, nor any dismay as to the present. 50 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, People do not pause to take this historical view of the case (which is a complete answer to the alleged deterioration and degeneracy of the stage), but they are confident in their own judgment and perceptions, which find no such depravity as the press sometimes and the pulpit always depicts. In the vast thea- ters of the ancients the actors were obliged to wear great ugly masks, and raise themselves on stilts to be seen, and to bellow through pipes, like a modern fire marshal, in order to be heard. Are we worse off than the public of that day ? During the supervision of the church over the stage, the " Miracles," " Mor- alities " and " Mysteries," as they called their plays, were frequently of four days' duration, and required from one hundred to five hun- dred bad actors in their representation. Are you sorry you have missed that sort of thing ? In Shakespeare's time, the change of scene was AND THE STAGE. 51 denoted by a change of placard. The sign, " This is a castle," was taken down to make room for another, " This is a ship," " This is a forest," according to the necessities of the play. Does the stage of to-day show degen- eracy as compared with that condition of things ? About this same time, the female characters were represented by men — not always cleanly shaven. Think of the love passages of Shakespeare ; of Romeo and a Juliet, with a red and black beard. Oh, how romantic to have lived and gone to the theater in those days ! Play houses were frequently located over barns. Are our handsomely decorated and comfortably upholstered audi- toriums no improvement upon that ? Audi- ences would tear up the benches — there were no cushions — and threaten to burn the house, when the performances did not suit them, and people took their lives in their hands who 52 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, attended a first night. Is there anything like a universal demand for a revival of those man- ners and customs, referred to so often as the good old days of the drama ? Sol Smith, one of the veterans of the American stage, and an early manager in the South and West, describes the experience of pioneer life, when one actor appeared in so many parts, in the same play, and after being killed in the last scene was obliged to fall far enough off the stage to play slow music on the violin as the curtain descended. And I could add my experience to the same scene, at a still later period, when the actor who had killed the other would rush off the other side, in order to let the curtain down. How would such a scene be received on the " degenerate " stage of to-day, even in small towns ? Young as I am in the history of the stage, I have seen some of the so-called "good old days of the drama," and have care- AND THE STAGE. 53 fully watched the growth of the " degenerate " ones, as spoken of by certain brilliant lights of the pulpit and the press, and by disappointed actors. I remember acting in Georgia during " the good old days " in that state, when the actor who was to personate Othello was waited upon by a committee of citizens and notified that he must put no color on his face, as it would be setting a bad example to see a white girl in love with a colored man ; — so Othello was given without paint, and some of the lines omitted to please those who lived and ruled in those "good old days." In one of the then bright towns of Mississippi, I have acted on a stage built in a ball-room by placing an old-fashioned high post bedstead on each side and hanging sheets on the post to form a proscenium — with a curtain impro- vised with two patch-work bed quilts. The 54 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, only exits we had were behind the heads of the beds — the ladies using one side, the gen- tlemen the other for dressing rooms. One of the attractions was the " good old" farce of " The Secret, or a Hole in the Wall," for the proper performance of which there is required a secret panel in the scene, from which one of the characters makes an entrance and exit. When we came to this point in the play, the character rolled out of bed and jumped back again to make his exit, and the elite of Cof- feeville were convulsed with laughter ; and when the newspaper of the town came out it praised the admirable acting and the excel- lent stage arrangements. I remember this occasion well, for the reason that the season was unsuccessful and salaries were not paid, which was frequently the case in the "good old days." The manager, however had become responsible for the board of the com- AND THE STAGE. 55 pany, and the landlord, a warm-hearted southerner, was not hard to settle with, but thought he ought to have something to re- member the party by, and was willing to accept a note, made payable at a time to suit the convenience of the maker. The manager was a shrewd speculator — they lived in those days as well as the present — and, as he told the story afterward — not much to his credit — he gave a note for the full amount, which read, " one day after eternity, I promise," etc. It is useless to say that he and the land- lord matured before the note. I had some little experience with the "good old days of the drama " in Missouri. There were then no theaters in any but a few of the larger cities, but the people, true to their instincts, desired the drama and would have it, in a school room, dining room, court house, or any place they could get it. I remember 56 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, being connected with a dramatic incident which occurred in a school house in one of the small towns in Missouri, during the good old days. You all know what a country school house is like ; the architecture does not differ much. The one we are now inter- ested in had but one door by which to enter the building. This opened into a hall lead- ing to another door opening into the school- room, which had numerous windows at each side and the rear end. By the front door, each side, were closets in which the boys and girls would hang their hats, shawls and dinner baskets — girls to the right, boys left, of course. On the present occasion the dramatic company used these closets for dressing rooms. From the door leading into the school-room to the front row of benches was only about four feet, in which space great acting was expected. The front seats, AND THE STAGE. 57 remember, were reserved for ladies, and on this occasion they were filled. The audience were all let in and the front door locked before the curtain rose, that is, before the performance commenced. I was quite tragic in those good old days and fond of giving between the plays some serious recitation. On this occasion it was the " Sailor Boy's Dream," in costume. I will not inflict you with the entire recitation, as two stanzas will suffice. Remember there is but four feet between the actor and a row of pretty Missouri girls : " A father bends o'er him with look of delight ; His cheek is impearled\vith a mother's warm tear ; And the lips of the boy with a love kiss unite With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear." In my fervor, I caught the eye of one of the girls on the front bench, who, doubtless, deeming me personal, put up her hand and exclaimed, " Oh, my ! " which ejaculation 58 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, seemed to amuse the audience more than my recitation. But determined not to be put down, I braced my nerves and proceeded: " The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; Joy quickens his pulse — his hardships seem o'er; A murmur of happiness steals through his rest; Oh, God, thou hast blest me, I ask for no more." At that point it was customary to kneel, so you can see my position. That young lady's head was between my hands, and she shouted, ''oh, don't come so close," and at the same time I heard a yell and looking up saw the windows of the school room filled with Indi- ans who had doubtless been attracted by my tragic tones, and, seeing the position I was in with the lady, thought the massacre had com- menced ; so I made a hasty exit to the hat- room feeling for my scalp. In Chicago, during my time, some "good old days" have passed. No manager was ever more loyal to his patrons than J. B. Rice, AND THE STAGE. 59 who built the first regular theater in this city in 1847. His companies were necessarily small, but he expected each member to be competent to act many parts and set the example by doing so himself. He would act two or three important characters in a play, and if numbers were wanted he would throw a black cloak over his other dress and act the mob with a spirit that would appall the villain of the play. He was a general actor and thoroughly understood the requirements of his profession and how to surmount difficul- ties. He would argue and convince an ordi- nary star that it was better to hang " Wil- liam," in the drama of " Black-eyed Susan," from the limb of a tree than from the yard- arm of His Majesty's ship — when he had no ship in the theater. In time I became his sta^e manager. On one occasion " Othello " was to be given, but when night came I 6o THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, learned that the leading man who was to per- sonate Othello had gone out to dine with a party of gentlemen at a suburban hotel, and could not possibly be back in time to com- mence the play. Rice was a stickler for giv- ing his audience the play the bill announced, and as I had heard him say he had acted everything when in Buffalo, I went to his room where he was dressing for the Duke, and without letting him know the situation I said: " Mr. Rice, did you ever act Othello ?" He looked up with a pride which can only be appreciated by a professional when able to say that he has acted an important Shakes- perean character, and replied: "Yes, in Skan- eateles." " Well," said I, " now you shall have a chance in Chicago," and then I told him how matters stood. He expostulated — would rather dismiss the audience — but he had made me his manager and I would be obeyed. AND THE STAGE. 6 I Othello was announced and the audience must not be disappointed while it was in my power to give the play. He desired me to apologize to the audience, but I argued that would only attract attention to his weak points, and the audience would discover them soon enough. I did not believe in advance apologies. He dressed for Othello; I, in addition to Roderigo, with the aid of wigs and robes, assumed the characters of the Duke and Desdemona's uncle, and the play went on, Rice acting at Othello and swearing at the leading man. He knew most of the lines and, like a well-trained actor, had the faculty of omitting- that which he did not know in a pleasing manner. He labored through three acts, when the absent Othello appeared upon the scene. I told him to prepare to finish the play, and I notified Rice that I had no further use for his services that night, as Mr. 62 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, McFarland would finish the part. He was thankful and resigned, and so the audience had two Othellos, one for the first three acts weighing about two hundred and forty pounds, and for the last acts one weighing about one hundred and fifty pounds. A short time since my attention was called to this incident by an old play-goer, who had just witnessed Salvini as Othello, saying: " Mack, Salvini is good, but no Othello has ever satisfied me since I saw Rice and McFarland in the part. That was a realistic Othello — a fine, noble- looking one in the first part of the play, and a thin, cadaverous one at the end, making it appear as if the Moor. had lost flesh when his domestic troubles began. Salvini cannot reach that point of excellence." Chicago has grown so rapidly that the primitive and mature days of the drama " tread upon each other's heels," and I am frequently asked by the old AND THE STAGE. 63 play-goers who now feel like retiring before the play is over, if we have as much fun at the theaters now as in the "good old times ?" We do, but of a different kind. Much of the mirth in new places is of a personal charac- ter, a familiarity between actor and audience, which disappears with age and large popula- tions. Early impressions cling to us ; the flavor of a peach is better during the first decade of our existence than when we are three-score. The peach is as good, perhaps better, but we have lost our taste, and fre- quently blame it on the fruit. So, with many, the good old days of the drama are those of youth and familiarity, and can be found now by those who emigrate to Dakota, Leadville, or New Mexico ; but those who remain at home will upon observation find that in all its appurtenances and comforts ; in all its illu- sions and effects ; in all that makes the thea- 64 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, ter attractive, the stage of to-day exceeds its forerunners in briliancy as much as the elec- tric light outshines the old tallow dip. It may freely be admitted that the contem- poraneous theater is more a place for amuse- ment than a school for instruction, and that the current drama is written rather to enter- tain than to teach. This is not to be deplored. Progress demands greater accu- racy in information than the stage can give, and at the same time retain its character as a purveyor of amusement ; and the same prog- ress has provided in abundance more suitable, more effective and more trustworthy educa- tional institutions than the theater. There are other fountains where the student may drink. Information has been opened up to the masses through free schools, cheap books and maga- zines, the all-pervading newspaper, the lecture lyceum, the literary societies, the public libra- AND THE STAGE. 65 ries, the reading clubs and numerous popular and available channels. At the same time it may be truthfully contended that a large num- ber of the people, even of the present day, obtain their ideas of history, and especially of art, culture and society, from the stage ; peo- ple who learn by observation, who read but little, and rarely go to church. In so far, the stage is an educator and always will be, for such people would read no more than they do, nor go to church oftener, if there were no theaters. While it is as an entertainment that the stage appeals to the public, the drama is not less an art on that account. Surely people of culture know and will admit that the artistic is amusing. The theater does mankind an inestimable service if it merely amuses. Amusement is more essential to the public welfare than ever before. Men and women are more deeply engrossed than ever 66 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, in the daily routine of life, whether it be pro- fessional, business or social. They have strayed from the restful ways of living which their forefathers enjoyed. It is fortunate, physically, mentally and morally, that the drama has taken on the distinctive character of an amusement, at once more rational, more entertaining and more elevating than home gambling, and most of the diversions that attract overworked people. But the theater cannot submit to the dictation of pedants and professional moralists , if it did, it would soon cease to entertain. The legitimate drama, so-called, is in no danger of being driven from the stage. Neither spectacle, nor opera, nor burlesque, nor gymnastics have crowded it out. But there is a great deal of sham about the reformers. People will affect admiration for things they do not enjoy. The dilettanti who cry out most for Shakespeare and the AND THE STAGE. 6 J legitimate drama are the stay-at-homes, who rarely go to the theater, and do but little toward fostering dramatic taste, for the reason they have sufficient pleasure in their own cir- cle. Theaters would be bankrupt and the public deprived of a favorite pastime, if man- agers were to defer to the pretensions or demands of any one class. Sometimes fash- ion attracts the crowd to see some monstros- ity, or giant, or supposed great artist, sur- rounded by others employed at rates to swell the profits of the star and save the manager from loss, while the same plays, acted uni- formly, in a more artistic and satisfactory man- ner, would be presented to empty benches without the star. But the steady patrons of the theater — the people to whom it is an amusement — demand diversified attractions. They do not always want to shudder at Rich- ard or Macbeth, nor drivel with Hamlet or 68 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, Romeo. They — the great masses — seek their amusement in an easy, familiar and comforta- ble way, and are fond of novelty. While inno- vations and trespassers ought to be discour- aged in the interest of art, the stage must not be permitted to relapse into the dreary monot- ony of the pulpit or the rigid discipline of the study, for in that case its occupation would be gone. It would then cease to entertain, and lose its strongest claim upon existence. The stage is steadily improving for the reason that mankind is steadily undergoing a change, and the stage, true to its mission, holds up the mirror that the reform may be seen; but the notoriety-seeking preacher cannot see its advance, for he is of the Bourbon race, and neither learns nor forgets. With a doubt- creating pulpit and a sensational press, is it not to the credit of the theater that it occupies its present proud position ? Proprieties of the AND THE STAGE. 6q stage, as of society, are controlled, in great measure, by the customs of the age, which come unlooked for with the progress of civil- ization — the true mission of man on earth. The influence of national habits over the drama is well illustrated by the fact that intrigues with married women are rigidly excluded from the Japanese drama, though girls and unmarried women are frequently represented as incarnate monsters of vice. The reverse of this rule governs the French, English, German, and American sta^e. Hence, we should condemn the prevailing practice of the Japanese drama, while the Japanese would be equally shocked at ours. Kissing was ex- cluded from the old plays of India, but we have abundant reason to believe that oscillatory indulgence is now looked upon with leniency by the church itself. Cases have been reported by the press where JO THE ERESS, THE PULE IT, even ministers have enjoyed the luxury, a proof of the advancement of civilization. If editors condemn the practice in the church, it is probably because kissing goes by favor, and then editors, with a desire to be criti- cal, frequently condemn that which they know nothing about. The stage deals with human emotions, and, in doing so, it exposes vice in a lurid light, exalts truth and virtue beyond the power of eloquence, and reaches the heart of man through pity and love. Our northern states never to any extent became anti-slav- ery, though preached at from the formation of our government, by politician, press and pulpit, until the stage placed before them the drama of Uncle Tom's Cabin, and with living pictures told the tale, impressing its truth upon the people. The ex-slaves of America will never know how much they are indebted to the stage. Ministers will not tell them ; poli- AND THE STAGE. 71 ticians will not, and the stage, unlike the press, is no braggart. The audience in the theater, unlike the congregation in the church, is always moved ; hence the power of the stage, which places the good and bad of human nature side by side and never antag- onizes morality. If there is an absence of a lesson in a play, the performance is designed simply to make people laugh, and laughter is admitted to be a service to mankind by all except those who regard it as the penalty of original sin. Doubtless with the stage there are many abuses to correct — many barnacles to scrape off — but its advancement during the present generation bespeaks confidence in its steady improvement, for the public will learn to dis- criminate, and experience will teach the purely speculative manager that nothing pays so well in the long run as good clean work. 72 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, Those who win the esteem of the people — manager or artist — and prosper longest, will be those who respect themselves and the art ; and there is no danger of the degeneracy of the stage while mankind continues on the progressive road of refinement. It is need- less for me to dwell on its shortcomings, for they are open to the world, being exposed more than the sins of any other calling. While the minister is protected by the halo of our hallucinations and the editor hides behind his impersonal "we," the actor is a free mark for the shafts of malice, prejudice, satire and ignorant criticism. The editor burns the midnight oil ; the minister is seen by the "dim religious light" of the church; but the actor must face the glare of the lime-light or the lurid flame of red fire. The strongest protest against one of the abuses of the stage in some of our cities should come from the AND THE STAGE. J $ theatrical profession itself and to a certain extent does. Sunday theatrical performances are scandalous, because they are unnecessary. They are unjust to over-worked actors and all the employes about theaters — who, as a rule, receive but six days' pay for seven days' labor. They are demoralizing for the reason that they tend to impair the respect which Americans intuitively bestow upon the day. They are the out-growth of seed planted by those who had no respect for themselves, the day or the theater, and they have been defended and encouraged by that class of politicians who tell you that we need a "con- tinental Sunday in this country." When Sunday theatricals commenced in Chicago, those in power were appealed to to raise the finger of authority and stop them, but the reply was, "we can't, it will hurt the party." So the stage is not alone to blame for the 74 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, abuse. Those who work six days should have one of rest, and as Sunday is estab- lished, theaters can well afford to give it up to the gospel implied by the day — the gospel of rest, peace and good will to all. That the stage may be improved, no one will deny ; to claim perfection for it would be folly, but to urge that it has kept pace with the general progress of our country is simply to assert that which cannot be suc- cessfully contradicted. It is subject to the same contingencies as all other pursuits cater- ing for public favor. It has its art and com- mercial side, and frequently it falls into the hands of those not capable of guiding both ; who, taking advantage of a non-discriminat- ing public, allow the commercial side to run riot, while the art side is lost sight of. This cannot be classed as a fault, but a misfortune for which there is no remedy, except in a dis- AND THE STAGE. 75 criminating public. The stage cannot expect protection, for it claims no political influence. Our legislatures seldom deem it worthy of notice except at the suggestion of some bigot who thinks it should be taxed out of existence. The author who writes for it can be robbed with impunity, congress not knowing how to protect that quality of brain, it being, I presume, unknown to or unappre- ciated by the average member. Amusements for the people should be considered worthy of thought — intelligent thought — by those selected to govern; but they are not, and nine- tenths of the errors attributed to theaters can be placed at the door of our municipal gov- ernments ; and this is not strange when we consider how municipalities are created. We are like a large family — we differ in our desires and tastes. We may all sit at the same table, but different dishes must be pro- 7 6 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT, vided, for the digestive organs of all are not equal. It is the duty of the head of the family — the government — to see that no poisoned food is furnished, while the variety is ample. In the hearts of the people the stage proper has a place from which the pulpit cannot drive it, because it offers palatable food, not of sin, as the church proclaims, not of a kind calculated to produce a nightmare, as that furnished by the pulpit frequently does, but a food easily digested and seldom doing harm, serious harm, even with over-feeding. Discrimination on the part of press, pul- pit and stage, on the part of the people, will help to bring about the necessary reform ; but whether in our metropolitan city homes we can hope to realize its full force through the application of universal suffrage, as applied to municipalities, is a problem the American AND THE STAGE. . J 7 people in time must solve, but which the statesmen of the present day prefer to leave as a legacy to their successors, fearing it might "hurt the party" and their prospects to agitate it now, not recognizing it as indis- pensable to the peace and happiness of our social relations. But the world moves, and from the friction of to-day will come smoothness to-morrow. From the doubt and wonder created by the- ology the church will be rescued, for nations cannot exist, civilization cannot advance with- out a religion, a belief, as the foundation upon which life can build a superstructure of hope. It will come, based on knowledge and made clear to the reason of man. The advance guard are already on the march ; the pioneers are at work hewing down forests of dogma, superstition, and worn-out theology. Other forces will follow, and in good time the stumps 78 THE PRESS, THE PULPIT and brush of doubt will disappear, when a clear field will open to the view, rich with a harvest of truth, teaching that, as we are the founders and builders in this life of our individual char- acter, so are we the architects of our homes in the life to come. Then, with our theological colleges turned into temples of general learn- ing, with a natural religion, one creed, " good will to all," radiating from every pulpit, a purer tone pervading the columns of our daily journals, our local politics lifted from the gutters and placed upon the sidewalks, our municipal governments made what they are supposed to be, the guardians of the peo- ple, with dignity sufficient for self-respect and of that quality to win respect from others, — then will come a stage true to its mission, holding the mirror, reflecting homes with goodness prevailing, and wickedness so ob- scure as only to be discerned when brought in AND THE STAGE. Jg contact with truth. It will come ! The hope of discrimination and the despair of prejudice is knowledge, and it is spreading throughout the world. In saying good-night, permit me to repeat, adopting as my own, a delicate discrimination uttered by an actress — one loved by the stage and esteemed by all — Charlotte Cushman — who, speaking of the arts, said : " I think I love and revere all the arts equally, only put- ting my own just above the others, because in it I recognize the union and culmination of all. To me it seems as if, when God conceived the world, that was Poetry ! He formed it, and that was Sculpture ! He colored it, and that was Painting ! and then, crowning work of all, He peopled it with living beings, and that was the grand, divine, eternal Drama." 1