The literature of the stage, moreover, even amongst aristocratic nations, constitutes the most democratic part of their literature. No kind of literary gratification is so much within the reach of the multitude as that which is derived7 from theatrical8 representations. Neither preparation nor study is required to enjoy them: they lay hold on you in the midst of your prejudices and your ignorance. When the yet untutored love of the pleasures of the mind begins to affect a class of the community, it instantly draws them to the stage. The theatres of aristocratic nations have always been filled with spectators not belonging to the aristocracy. At the theatre alone the higher ranks mix with the middle and the lower classes; there alone do the former consent to listen to the opinion of the latter, or at least to allow them to give an opinion at all. At the theatre, men of cultivation9 and of literary attainments10 have always had more difficulty than elsewhere in making their taste prevail over that of the people, and in preventing themselves from being carried away by the latter. The pit has frequently made laws for the boxes.
If it be difficult for an aristocracy to prevent the people from getting the upper hand in the theatre, it will readily be understood that the people will be supreme11 there when democratic principles have crept into the laws and manners—when ranks are intermixed—when minds, as well as fortunes, are brought more nearly together—and when the upper class has lost, with its hereditary12 wealth, its power, its precedents14, and its leisure. The tastes and propensities15 natural to democratic nations, in respect to literature, will therefore first be discernible in the drama, and it may be foreseen that they will break out there with vehemence16. In written productions, the literary canons of aristocracy will be gently, gradually, and, so to speak, legally modified; at the theatre they will be riotously17 overthrown18. The drama brings out most of the good qualities, and almost all the defects, inherent in democratic literature. Democratic peoples hold erudition very cheap, and care but little for what occurred at Rome and Athens; they want to hear something which concerns themselves, and the delineation19 of the present age is what they demand.
When the heroes and the manners of antiquity20 are frequently brought upon the stage, and dramatic authors faithfully observe the rules of antiquated21 precedent13, that is enough to warrant a conclusion that the democratic classes have not yet got the upper hand of the theatres. Racine makes a very humble22 apology in the preface to the "Britannicus" for having disposed of Junia amongst the Vestals, who, according to Aulus Gellius, he says, "admitted no one below six years of age nor above ten." We may be sure that he would neither have accused himself of the offence, nor defended himself from censure23, if he had written for our contemporaries. A fact of this kind not only illustrates24 the state of literature at the time when it occurred, but also that of society itself. A democratic stage does not prove that the nation is in a state of democracy, for, as we have just seen, even in aristocracies it may happen that democratic tastes affect the drama; but when the spirit of aristocracy reigns25 exclusively on the stage, the fact irrefragably demonstrates that the whole of society is aristocratic; and it may be boldly inferred that the same lettered and learned class which sways the dramatic writers commands the people and governs the country.
The refined tastes and the arrogant26 bearing of an aristocracy will rarely fail to lead it, when it manages the stage, to make a kind of selection in human nature. Some of the conditions of society claim its chief interest; and the scenes which delineate their manners are preferred upon the stage. Certain virtues27, and even certain vices28, are thought more particularly to deserve to figure there; and they are applauded whilst all others are excluded. Upon the stage, as well as elsewhere, an aristocratic audience will only meet personages of quality, and share the emotions of kings. The same thing applies to style: an aristocracy is apt to impose upon dramatic authors certain modes of expression which give the key in which everything is to be delivered. By these means the stage frequently comes to delineate only one side of man, or sometimes even to represent what is not to be met with in human nature at all—to rise above nature and to go beyond it.
In democratic communities the spectators have no such partialities, and they rarely display any such antipathies29: they like to see upon the stage that medley30 of conditions, of feelings, and of opinions, which occurs before their eyes. The drama becomes more striking, more common, and more true. Sometimes, however, those who write for the stage in democracies also transgress31 the bounds of human nature—but it is on a different side from their predecessors32. By seeking to represent in minute detail the little singularities of the moment and the peculiar33 characteristics of certain personages, they forget to portray34 the general features of the race.
When the democratic classes rule the stage, they introduce as much license35 in the manner of treating subjects as in the choice of them. As the love of the drama is, of all literary tastes, that which is most natural to democratic nations, the number of authors and of spectators, as well as of theatrical representations, is constantly increasing amongst these communities. A multitude composed of elements so different, and scattered36 in so many different places, cannot acknowledge the same rules or submit to the same laws. No concurrence37 is possible amongst judges so numerous, who know not when they may meet again; and therefore each pronounces his own sentence on the piece. If the effect of democracy is generally to question the authority of all literary rules and conventions, on the stage it abolishes them altogether, and puts in their place nothing but the whim38 of each author and of each public.
The drama also displays in an especial manner the truth of what I have said before in speaking more generally of style and art in democratic literature. In reading the criticisms which were occasioned by the dramatic productions of the age of Louis XIV, one is surprised to remark the great stress which the public laid on the probability of the plot, and the importance which was attached to the perfect consistency39 of the characters, and to their doing nothing which could not be easily explained and understood. The value which was set upon the forms of language at that period, and the paltry40 strife41 about words with which dramatic authors were assailed42, are no less surprising. It would seem that the men of the age of Louis XIV attached very exaggerated importance to those details, which may be perceived in the study, but which escape attention on the stage. For, after all, the principal object of a dramatic piece is to be performed, and its chief merit is to affect the audience. But the audience and the readers in that age were the same: on quitting the theatre they called up the author for judgment43 to their own firesides. In democracies, dramatic pieces are listened to, but not read. Most of those who frequent the amusements of the stage do not go there to seek the pleasures of the mind, but the keen emotions of the heart. They do not expect to hear a fine literary work, but to see a play; and provided the author writes the language of his country correctly enough to be understood, and that his characters excite curiosity and awaken45 sympathy, the audience are satisfied. They ask no more of fiction, and immediately return to real life. Accuracy of style is therefore less required, because the attentive46 observance of its rules is less perceptible on the stage. As for the probability of the plot, it is incompatible47 with perpetual novelty, surprise, and rapidity of invention. It is therefore neglected, and the public excuses the neglect. You may be sure that if you succeed in bringing your audience into the presence of something that affects them, they will not care by what road you brought them there; and they will never reproach you for having excited their emotions in spite of dramatic rules.
The Americans very broadly display all the different propensities which I have here described when they go to the theatres; but it must be acknowledged that as yet a very small number of them go to theatres at all. Although playgoers and plays have prodigiously48 increased in the United States in the last forty years, the population indulges in this kind of amusement with the greatest reserve. This is attributable to peculiar causes, which the reader is already acquainted with, and of which a few words will suffice to remind him. The Puritans who founded the American republics were not only enemies to amusements, but they professed49 an especial abhorrence50 for the stage. They considered it as an abominable51 pastime; and as long as their principles prevailed with undivided sway, scenic52 performances were wholly unknown amongst them. These opinions of the first fathers of the colony have left very deep marks on the minds of their descendants. The extreme regularity53 of habits and the great strictness of manners which are observable in the United States, have as yet opposed additional obstacles to the growth of dramatic art. There are no dramatic subjects in a country which has witnessed no great political catastrophes54, and in which love invariably leads by a straight and easy road to matrimony. People who spend every day in the week in making money, and the Sunday in going to church, have nothing to invite the muse44 of Comedy.
A single fact suffices to show that the stage is not very popular in the United States. The Americans, whose laws allow of the utmost freedom and even license of language in all other respects, have nevertheless subjected their dramatic authors to a sort of censorship. Theatrical performances can only take place by permission of the municipal authorities. This may serve to show how much communities are like individuals; they surrender themselves unscrupulously to their ruling passions, and afterwards take the greatest care not to yield too much to the vehemence of tastes which they do not possess.
No portion of literature is connected by closer or more numerous ties with the present condition of society than the drama. The drama of one period can never be suited to the following age, if in the interval55 an important revolution has changed the manners and the laws of the nation. The great authors of a preceding age may be read; but pieces written for a different public will not be followed. The dramatic authors of the past live only in books. The traditional taste of certain individuals, vanity, fashion, or the genius of an actor may sustain or resuscitate56 for a time the aristocratic drama amongst a democracy; but it will speedily fall away of itself—not overthrown, but abandoned.
点击收听单词发音
1 subverts | |
v.颠覆,破坏(政治制度、宗教信仰等)( subvert的第三人称单数 );使(某人)道德败坏或不忠 | |
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2 penetrate | |
v.透(渗)入;刺入,刺穿;洞察,了解 | |
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3 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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4 conspicuous | |
adj.明眼的,惹人注目的;炫耀的,摆阔气的 | |
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5 accomplishment | |
n.完成,成就,(pl.)造诣,技能 | |
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6 lapsing | |
v.退步( lapse的现在分词 );陷入;倒退;丧失 | |
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7 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
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8 theatrical | |
adj.剧场的,演戏的;做戏似的,做作的 | |
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9 cultivation | |
n.耕作,培养,栽培(法),养成 | |
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10 attainments | |
成就,造诣; 获得( attainment的名词复数 ); 达到; 造诣; 成就 | |
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11 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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12 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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13 precedent | |
n.先例,前例;惯例;adj.在前的,在先的 | |
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14 precedents | |
引用单元; 范例( precedent的名词复数 ); 先前出现的事例; 前例; 先例 | |
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15 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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16 vehemence | |
n.热切;激烈;愤怒 | |
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17 riotously | |
adv.骚动地,暴乱地 | |
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18 overthrown | |
adj. 打翻的,推倒的,倾覆的 动词overthrow的过去分词 | |
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19 delineation | |
n.记述;描写 | |
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20 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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21 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
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22 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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23 censure | |
v./n.责备;非难;责难 | |
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24 illustrates | |
给…加插图( illustrate的第三人称单数 ); 说明; 表明; (用示例、图画等)说明 | |
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25 reigns | |
n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 );君主统治时期;任期;当政期 | |
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26 arrogant | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的 | |
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27 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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28 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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29 antipathies | |
反感( antipathy的名词复数 ); 引起反感的事物; 憎恶的对象; (在本性、倾向等方面的)不相容 | |
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30 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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31 transgress | |
vt.违反,逾越 | |
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32 predecessors | |
n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 );前辈;(被取代的)原有事物;前身 | |
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33 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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34 portray | |
v.描写,描述;画(人物、景象等) | |
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35 license | |
n.执照,许可证,特许;v.许可,特许 | |
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36 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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37 concurrence | |
n.同意;并发 | |
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38 whim | |
n.一时的兴致,突然的念头;奇想,幻想 | |
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39 consistency | |
n.一贯性,前后一致,稳定性;(液体的)浓度 | |
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40 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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41 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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42 assailed | |
v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 );困扰;质问;毅然应对 | |
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43 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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44 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
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45 awaken | |
vi.醒,觉醒;vt.唤醒,使觉醒,唤起,激起 | |
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46 attentive | |
adj.注意的,专心的;关心(别人)的,殷勤的 | |
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47 incompatible | |
adj.不相容的,不协调的,不相配的 | |
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48 prodigiously | |
adv.异常地,惊人地,巨大地 | |
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49 professed | |
公开声称的,伪称的,已立誓信教的 | |
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50 abhorrence | |
n.憎恶;可憎恶的事 | |
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51 abominable | |
adj.可厌的,令人憎恶的 | |
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52 scenic | |
adj.自然景色的,景色优美的 | |
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53 regularity | |
n.规律性,规则性;匀称,整齐 | |
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54 catastrophes | |
n.灾祸( catastrophe的名词复数 );灾难;不幸事件;困难 | |
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55 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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56 resuscitate | |
v.使复活,使苏醒 | |
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