Drama -- History and criticism; Dramatic criticism; Theater
“The drama must have reality,” so Mr. P. P. Howe in his engaging
volume of “Dramatic Portraits,” “but the first essential to our
understanding of an art is that we should not believe it to be actual
life. The spectator who shouts his warning and advice to the heroine
when the villain is approaching is, in the theatre, the only true
believer in the hand of God; and he is liable to find it in a drama
lower than the best.” The art of the drama is one which imposes
upon drama the obligation of depicting at once the inner processes
of life realistically, and the external aspects of life delusively.
Properly and sympathetically to appreciate drama, one must look upon
it synchronously with two different eyes: the one arguing against
the other as to the truth of what it sees, and triumphing over this
doubtful other with the full force of its sophistry. Again inevitably
to quote Coleridge, “Stage presentations are to produce a sort of
temporary half-faith, which the spectator encourages in himself and
supports by a voluntary contribution on his own part, because he knows
that it is at all times in his power to see the thing as it really is.
Thus the true stage illusion as to a forest scene consists, not in the
mind’s judging it to be a forest, but in its remission of the judgment
that it is not a forest.” This obviously applies to drama as well as
to dramatic investiture. One never for a moment believes absolutely
that Mr. John Barrymore is Richard III; one merely agrees, for the sake
of Shakespeare, who has written the play, and Mr. Hopkins, who has
cast it, that Mr. John Barrymore is Richard III, that one may receive
the ocular, aural and mental sensations for which one has paid three
dollars and a half. Nor does one for a moment believe that Mr. Walter
Hampden, whom that very evening one has seen dividing a brobdingnagian
dish of goulash with Mr. Oliver Herford in the Player’s Club and
discussing the prospects of the White Sox, is actually speaking
extemporaneously the rare verbal embroideries of Shakespeare; or that
Miss Ethel Barrymore who is billed in front of Browne’s Chop House to
take a star part in the Actors’ Equity Association’s benefit, is really
the queen of a distant kingdom.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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