May I Attend the Theater? by A. C. Dixon, D. D.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Apr 21, 1910

May I Attend the Theater?

By A. C. Dixon, D. D.

The stage has a history which is not to its credit. “Dramatic representation,” says D. Herrick Johnson, “had its origin, among the Greeks, with a troop of bacchanalians in nude and boisterous songs, interspersed with dances, conducted with a high degree of licentiousness in both language and action. Then came Thespis introducing tragedy. The stage is said to have been a cart, the chorus a troop of itinerant singers, and the actor a sort of mimic. Subsequently Æschylus appeared, who carried the Greek drama at once to nearly its highest perfection. He was followed by Sophocles, who introduced a third and even a fourth actor into his plays. Then came decline under Euripides, exhibiting degenerate taste and loose morality. The transition to comedy was easy, originating in the licentious sports of the villages, and popular in production as it was personal, abusive, and low. The comedies of Aristophanes are an illustration at once of the depravity of the poet and the libertinism of the spectators. His wit was coarse and vile, a mixture of buffoonery and positive filth.

“Theatrical exhibitions became popular amusements among the Romans just as they lost their stern love of virtue, yielded to luxury, and grew weak and effeminate. The European stage is no exception. This grew out of the ‘mysteries’ of the Middle Ages, a sort of sacred drama performed by monks, in which the devil also played a conspicuous part. This was the foundation of the modern British and American stage, which has arisen only to degenerate, until now many of its exhibitions outrival in licentiousness and filth the darkest days of the drama, even on the confession of its friends. “In China theatrical entertainments are popular. But neither there nor in Japan are women allowed to perform. It is a wise question whether women were ever present in the ancient theater. It is undeniable that the actors were invariably men, and few in number, and yet these theatrical entertainments contributed to the downfall of the Grecian state. They had their origin in a corrupt state of morals, and they tended to deterioration.” . . .

The best Greek and Roman writers, such as Xenophon, Plato, Socrates, and Tacitus, denounced the theater of their times as antagonistic to good morals. Athens suppressed the theater by law. In Rome “gross exhibitions, licentious buffoonery, and female indecencies became the common rule of the play.” “The Roman theater,” says Dr. Schaff, “became more and more the nursery of vice, and deserved to be abhorred by all men of decent feeling and refinement.” Mr. Lecky declares that the “Moral” and “Mystery plays of the Middle Ages brought about the degradation of the church and all religion.” Of England, Macaulay writes, “From the time that the theaters were opened, they became the seminaries of vice,” and Sir Walter Scott says of the theater in his day: “It was abandoned to the vicious. The best portions of the house were set apart for the abandoned characters.”

The playhouses of England were suppressed by Cromwell. But has the theater improved? Is not the institution very much better now than it was then? Efforts have been made to reform it. Edwin Booth declared that he would have a moral theater in New York, but he failed to establish it on a paying basis. Henry Irving made the attempt in London, and as signally failed. Hannah More wrote moral plays, but the theatrical managers did not want them, because they would not pay. All who know the facts are compelled to admit that the theater is still bad. One need not go to one, to learn this. He has only to look at the bill-boards. Its bill of fare is for the most part moral filth. To be found standing before the average theatrical poster is a reflection on one’s purity of mind.

Modesty must turn away its face for self-protection. Now and then a pure play is placed before the public with great parade, and the preachers are invited to come and see. Then look out for more filth the following week! The pure play has been used as a sort of opiate for the consciences of the guardians of public morals. They are not expected to denounce what appears in the same building where they sat and enjoyed a moral play. The theatrical manager knows how to manage the public so as to fill his coffers.

The fact that the theater as an institution is still bad, is proved by the testimony of those who are most familiar with its workings. “None of my children,” said Macready the actor, “shall ever with my consent or on any pretense enter a theater or have any visiting connections with actors or actresses.” Edwin Booth said, “I never permit my own wife and daughter to witness a play without previously ascertaining its character.” This is an admission that the theater as an institution is bad, though some plays may be good. Mr. Dumas, the play writer, wrote to a friend: “You do not take your daughter to see my play. You are right. Let me say once for all, you must not take your daughter to the theater. It is not mainly the work that is immoral; it is the place.” Mr. Sothern, in a newspaper article over his own name, says: “I have known some of our best performers who have found it necessary first to attend and see a play before they would allow their wives and daughters to go. Why was this necessary?—Why, because they knew there was very little cleanness in those places; and who better than they should know?” John Gilbert, the veteran actor, wrote in the North American Review: “I believe the present condition of the drama both from a moral and artistic point of view to be a subject for regret. Many of the plays that have been adopted from the French are open to the severest criticism on the ground of immorality.” An actor, in passing a theater, said to a friend of Dr. Cuyler, “Behind those doors lies Sodom.” Edwin Forrest, hearing Rev. D. Brantley denounce the theater as an immoral institution, lingered long enough to assure the preacher that he agreed with what he said, only he would make it stronger.

Mr. William Winter, a dramatic critic, asserts that Christian ethics on the stage would be inappropriate. Mr. A. M. Palmer, the Nestor of the theater managers, says, in a Review article: “The chief themes of the theater are now, as they ever have been, the passions of men: ambition leading to murder; jealousy leading to murder; anger leading to murder; lust leading to madness.”—A. C. Dixon, D. D., in Western Recorder.