curacy into his mind, gives him a superb
horse-hair tail, bidding him at the same time be careful not to spoil it.
What is the result? The child's attention is called from the game, to the
consideration of or delight in the tail, which, originally meant as a
collateral aid, now takes the first place. The boy no doubt is delighted
with his horse-hair tail; but (if it be not altogether superfluous,) it
will soon destroy his game, so that the exercise, both of frame and
imagination, is lost; the end becomes subordinate to the means. This is
precisely what takes place with the drama. Observe also one important
point: The tail is _real_; accuracy is attempted: but though the tail be
real, the horse is not; the horse is played by a boy, and only by a boy;
it is in this mimicry that the enjoyment consists. But how absurd to put a
real tail on an unreal horse! How revolting this mixture of imagination
and fact! It is equalled only by that ludicrous practice of placing the
face of a _real_ watch in the place of a church-clock in a landscape;
where one may not only see the time of day, but may also hear it _struck_,
and that amidst painted trees and houses! This effect, except to the most
literal and prosaic minds, is revolting and discordant. But this the
modern drama is strenuously endeavoring to produce. 'In opera, ballet, and
spectacle, scenery and illustrations must be effective, because they form
elements of the piece. In the drama, where the source of entertainment is
intellectual, they are merely accessories, and should be used in such wise
as to keep up the harmony of effect, but never so as to distract attention
from the drama to themselves.' Here is a passage which is not less
applicable in America than in England: 'A few years ago it was not
uncommon to see several performers of rival excellence supported by others
of ability, all playing in the same piece. It is now a rare thing for
rivals to play together. A single good actor, among a dozen bad, is deemed
sufficient. Are we then to wonder that the regular drama does not pay?' .
. . OUR readers will remember the order given by the Chinese Emperor to a
corps of Mandarins, who were to exterminate the 'barbarian Englishers' in
the harbor of Canton, by going down to the bank of the river in the night,
and then and there 'dive straight on board those foreign ships, and put
every soul of them to death!' Subsequently however the red-bristling
foreigners managed to land, when,