t will fly too near
the ground; I rather apprehend that it will be forever losing itself in
the clouds, and that it will range at last to purely imaginary regions.
I fear that the productions of democratic poets may often be surcharged
with immense and incoherent imagery, with exaggerated descriptions and
strange creations; and that the fantastic beings of their brain may
sometimes make us regret the world of reality.

Chapter XIX: Some Observations On The Drama Amongst Democratic Nations

When the revolution which subverts the social and political state of an
aristocratic people begins to penetrate into literature, it generally
first manifests itself in the drama, and it always remains conspicuous
there. The spectator of a dramatic piece is, to a certain extent, taken
by surprise by the impression it conveys. He has no time to refer to his
memory, or to consult those more able to judge than himself. It does
not occur to him to resist the new literary tendencies which begin to
be felt by him; he yields to them before he knows what they are. Authors
are very prompt in discovering which way the taste of the public is thus
secretly inclined. They shape their productions accordingly; and the
literature of the stage, after having served to indicate the approaching
literary revolution, speedily completes its accomplishment. If you would
judge beforehand of the literature of a people which is lapsing into
democracy, study its dramatic productions.

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 derived from theatrical 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 cultivation and of
literary attainments have always had more difficulty than elsewhere in
making their taste p