r evil, its
influence is immovable. We cannot extirpate, or even tangibly abridge
its sway; the art of AEschylus and Shakspeare, of Sophocles and Racine,
of Euripides and Schiller, is not to be extinguished by the reputable
but contracted ideas of a limited portion of society. God has not made
it sweeter to weep with those who weep, than to rejoice with those who
rejoice, for no purpose. Look at the Arabs, as they cluster round the
story-teller who charms the groups of Yemen, or the knots of delighted
faces which surround the Polchinello of Naples, and you will see how
universal is the passions in mankind for theatrical representations. But
though we cannot eradicate the desire for this gratification, we may
degrade its tendency, and corrupt its effects. We may substitute
stimulants to the senses for elevation to the principle, or softening of
the heart. By abandoning its direction to the most volatile and
licentious of the community, we may render it an instrument of evil
instead of good, and pervert the powers of genius, the magic of art, the
fascinations of beauty, to the destruction instead of the elevation of
the human soul.

It is for this reason that we lament, as a serious social and national
evil, the long interregnum in dramatic excellence in our writers, and
the woful degradation in the direction of dramatic representations at
our metropolitan theatres. Immense is the influence of lofty and
ennobling dramatic pieces when supported by able and impassioned actors.
As deleterious is the sway of questionable or immoral pieces when decked
out in the meretricious garb of fancy, or aided by the transient
attractions of beauty. Who can tell how much the heart-stirring appeals
of Shakspeare have done to string to lofty purposes the British heart;
how powerfully the dignified sentiments of Corneille have contributed to
sustain the heroic portions of the French character? "C'est
l'imagination," said Napoleon, "qui domine le monde." The drama has one
immense advantage over the pulpit or the professor's chair: it
fascinates while it instructs--it allures while it elevates. It thus
extends its influence over a wide and important circle, upon whom
didactic precepts will never have any influence. Without doubt, the
strong and deep foundations of public morality must be laid in religious
and moral instruction; if they are wanting, the social edifice, how fair
soever to appearance, is built on a bed of sand. But fully admittin