Theatre Morals

Reproduced below are a collection a period articles examining the morality of the theatre in the Edwardian era. The first examines the morality of playgoers and is accompanied by some comments from the webmaster. That is followed by a collection of responses to a statement made by Mr. Hall Caine on the moral effect of the drama.

(The Playgoer and Society Illustrated", Volume 9, Number 51. October 1913)
PLAYGOERS MORALS

The cause of cleanliness in our places of amusement is finding champions in the representatives of both Press and Pulpit. The former have condemned a theatrical production that has gained much notoriety by the fact, and the latter claim that their protest was the means of bringing to an end an objectionable performance at a leading London hall.

Such solicitude should be very comforting to the playgoer. But does he desire it? Are not the entertainments at theatre and music hall but a reflex of what the public wants? Seldom have I heard a protest from pit, gallery, or stalls against suggestiveness, but rather an expression of approval. I recall that on one of my earliest visits to a West-end music hall the audience was extremely apathetic. Some very excellent things were both said and done on the stage, but all of them went without a hand. It was not until one performer made a particularly coarse jest that the house woke up and the hall resounded with applause.

One need not necessarily be a prude to find objectionable features in a variety entertainment. In more than one revue recently running the stage has been turned into a bathing beach in the season rather than a public platform, and I have frequently heard it asserted that in selecting a comic song for private use there is the greatest difficulty to discover one that does not contain an unsavoury verse. It is incorrect to say that caterers for amusement deliberately pander to vitiated tastes, but when the demand is so plainly indicated the desire for dividends is hard to resist. Artistes, too, note the applause that a suggestive line or action can command, and turn on the "blue" business accordingly.

Opinions differ completely on the question of morality. Brown will hold up his hands in horror at a certain act or utterance, while Jones will be equally scandalised that Brown should have found anything to condemn. There are people who shudder at a "wicked word," but laugh with undisguised glee at an indecent joke. The Churchman will retire to the smoking-room after dinner just as readily as the most worldly minded, and appreciate in the clouds of smoke the jokes that will not stand the light of the ladies' presence. This is simply mistaking politeness for purity. Few realise that indecency in thought is just as much an infractiom of the Seventh Commandment as indecency in deed.

The remedy scarcely lies in banning a certain type of play or in prohibitimg isolated turns. While the piece dealing seriously with sex problems is banished from the boards the comedy making light of the same subject goes merrily to the chink of the coin in the box-office. It is with the playgoer himself that the responsibility rests. He ought to enter theatre or hall determined to protest against anything that is calculated to speed the progress of the vice of impurity.

The playhouse is too precious a possession to be dedicated to the prurient minded alone, and those who wish to preserve it should endeavour by every means possible to keep it free from reproach.

POLONIUS.

The author first makes mention in this article of the cause of morality being championed by both Press and Pulpit. The church had of course long been involved in the issue of theatrical censorship, and for a long period of history had caused theatre in England to be banned completely. Although the church had since lost much of its power in this respect, it was now joined by a second and more potent force, that of the press and the journalist.

The author then goes on to question whether these defenders of public morality are truly required or welcomed by the theatregoing public - "Seldom have I heard a protest from pit, gallery, or stalls against suggestiveness". This is a fair point. After all, if theatregoers found the subject of a play to be offensive then they would protest with their purses and not pay to go see it. In actual fact, then as sometimes occurs now, the efforts of moral campaigners to keep impurity away from the public gaze often had the opposite effect. Take for example the case of "The Sapho Affair".

If theatre in Edwardian England was somewhat prudish by modern standards, in America it was even more so. When Olga Nethersole staged a production of Clyde Fitch's play 'Sapho' in New York in 1900 she was arrested on charges of publicly indecency. The scene in the play which led to this charge was one which saw the heroine of the piece carried off up a flight of stairs (presumably towards the bedroom) by a man who was not her husband. Mild by modern standards, immoral at the time by English standards, but in the USA which was still in the grip of the Comstock Laws* it was quite shocking. The charges were defeated however, and when the play reopened the notoriety it had gained only ensured it played to full houses and was ultimately seen by a far greater audience than might otherwise have been the case.

In England the final word in theatrical censorship lay with the Lord Chamberlain, and no play could be performed at all until its script had received the approval of the Chamberlain's office. A difficulty here of course, was that there could be a world of difference between a given form of words in writing and in performance. Take for example Ada Reeve's performance of her best known peice, "She Was a Clergyman’s Daughter". A seemingly innocent song about a clergyman's daughter which she would perform in a demure costume of a flounced dress and bonnet, and which became risque only by her use of perfectly timed knowing winks and gestures to the audience.

The leading exponent of this type of song was, however, Miss Marie Lloyd who soon fell foul of the moral watchdogs - cheif among whom was Mrs. Laura Ormiston Chant, a social reformer and writer and lecturer on social purity, temperance, and women's rights. When Mrs. Chant attacked the music hall in general and Marie in particular in 1896, Marie bravely submitted herself to the scrutiny of Mrs. Chant's Vigilance Committe. She sang for them some of her most popular songs, but without any of her usual accompanying lascivious looks and gestures. As a result the committee was forced to admit that they were perfectly innocent. That would have been the end of it, had not the defiant Marie then outraged the committee by singing "Come into the garden, Maud," a popular and total innocuous song of the times in such a way as to render it totally obscene. Still, the committee took no action against her.

* A set of legislative measures instigated by the self-appointed guardian of public morals Anthony Comstock spearheading a nationwide campaign against immorality (and in particular pornography and contraception).

(The Westminster Budget [UK] - June 29th, 1894)
THE MORAL EFFECT OF THE DRAMA

A question of perennial interest - for its discussion began more than 2,000 years ago, and still continues - was raised afresh the other day by Mr. Hall Caine in a speech at the dinner of the Royal Theatrical Fund.

Mr. Hall Caine's contribution to the discussion, which has called forth the letters subjoined, was as follows:-

As to the moral effect of the drama upon the world - a well-known Nonconformist preacher, who was an enemy of the stage, once said that he had noticed that the young people of his congregation who went most to the theatre and wept most at the imaginative woes of the afflicted heroine in melodrama were precisely those who were hardest to move to pity and sympathy when a case of actual distress came their way in real life. I can only say this (said Mr. Caine), it is exactly the opposite of my own experience. My experience has been that the tears that are shed in the theatre do not exhaust the fount of tears; that the exercise of the muscles of the soul which the drama requires is good for the growth of the soul; and that if you want to test the moral effects of the drama on the world at large you cannot do better than look at the people who come closest to it; and that it is impossible to find a class more tender of heart, more easily moved to pity, more ready to respond to the cry of trouble than actors and actresses themselves. At all events, I should like to see the point discussed by ministers of religion generally. It is the very pith and marrow of a question of great importance to the drama and to society.

The following letters show that any general agreement on the question is as far off as ever. One aspect of it, however, seems to have been overlooked. If the moral drama has the effect of exhausting the moral feelings, then does it not follow that the immoral drama must similarly exhaust the immoral feelings? And if that be so, "the playhouse," even with its' "objectionable features," should, rightly understood, be the minister's valuable ally.

I have some striking evidence that Mr. Hall Caine is quite correct in stating that actors and actresses themselves are often very pitiful and sympathetic especially in ministering to the needs of members of their own profession. I also agree with him that "to amuse the world is a high vocation." Merely to make weary and perplexed people indulge in innocent laughter is a valuable service to mankind. Beyond that I am wholly with Mr. Hall Caine in the conviction that it is a pleasant and profitable relief to turn away from the hard and distressing facts of many an anxious life and enter for a season into a realm of ideal brightness and enjoyment. But when we come to "the moral effect of the drama," it is extremely difficult to give an unhesitating opinion, mainly because the drama has been associated with so much that is not in the least degree essential to it, and which is utterly fatal to morality.

I do not know who is the "well-known Nonconformist preacher" whom Mr. Hall Caine quotes, but I believe that St. Augustine was of the same opinion as the "well-known Nonconformist preacher." He held that our emotions were a precious gift intended to spur the will to corresponding action, and that when the emotions were aroused without leading to any practical result, the consequence was altogether evil. Our power of emotion is limited in quantity as well as in quality, and unless it is carefully husbanded to be used only for the purpose of leading us to altruistic conduct it may be utterly wasted in mere self-gratification. St. Augustine and other profound thinkers have been of opinion that to excite the emotions for the mere pleasure which emotional excitement occasions, is to pervert their use altogether and to demoralise our souls. In this respect St. Augustine differs totally from Aristotle, who thought that our souls might be purified through the emotions of Pity and Terror excited by Art. I am not prepared to endorse the criticism of St. Augustine absolutely, as such an opinion seems to be fatal to painting, statuary, poetry, and music, as well as the drama. But I am bound to state that I have known some cases which illustrate the sentiment of the Nonconformist preacher quoted by Mr. Hall Caine. I have known both men and women who have been enthusiastic and constant theatre-goers, who have wept copiously at the spectacle of imaginary woe presented on the stage, but whose hearts have been as hard and cold as a stone in the presence of real human sorrow in the world outside. I do not wish to draw any sweeping or general conclusion from these facts. All they conclusively prove is that a quick response to the emotional appeals of the stage does not necessarily indicate any peculiar tenderness of heart. The sensuous side of our nature may be very impressionable while we are really intensely selfish and unfeeling. I do not think that we have the data at present for a judicial opinion on the important point raised by Mr. Hall Caine. For reasons into which I need not enter now the great majority of the philanthropists of our own country do not go to the theatre. The men and women who are toiling most strenuously in the service of their fellow-creatures have, as a rule, neither the time nor the disposition to frequent playhouses. If the objectionable features of the stage, which are not in the least degree of its essence, were abolished, the humanitarian classes might frequent it more generally, and then we should be able to see its effect upon them.

So far as my observation has gone, neither on the one side, those who are great frequenters of the theatre, and passionately moved by its representations; nor, on the other side, those "unco guid" people who acrimoniously condemn the drama as inherently sinful, are the most useful and beneficial members of society. I have found the highest morale, the truest sympathy with suffering, the most practical Christianity amongst those who take a commonsense attitude on the matter, and believe that a pure drama has its own place in the healthful education of the human mind.

DEAR SIR, My experience as to the effect of theatre-going on young people is too limited for me to be able to throw light on the very interesting question you raise. I should think that theatre-going has been the rare exception in congregations to which I have ministered for the last twenty-five years. As a rule, our people are not frequenters of the theatre. And those who attend would not parade but conceal the fact as much as possible. I do not say that they are exactly ashamed of it, but they would not speak of it freely in the presence of minister and church officers. Judging from the effect of novel-reading on a certain class on those who give themselves up to it, I should certainly think that the effect of stimulating the emotions by fiction, whether acted or written, and without corresponding action, certainly tends to make the heart callous to the appeal of real need.

The question asked by Mr. Hall Caine, and which you ask me to assist in answering, appears to me essentially trivial and purposeless, and worthy of serious attention only from the sort of people who interest themselves in conundrums and double acrostics. Who doubts for a moment that good literature and good drama tend to make men both better and happier, at least for the time being? But who can say how great or how little is the outcome of this good influence in actual conduct? Unfortunately, Art is like Religion, and appears to be more a luxury than a serious business, which is saying, in other words, that both Religion and Art are only small parts of life. Many strong and good men do very well without either, just as most wise men do very well without newspapers. The tendency of writers like Mr. Caine is to exaggerate the importance of their own vocation, and to assume that work done primarily for their own benefit and amusement is a department of practical philanthropy. The reductio ad absurdum comes when we are asked to leave the settlement of any artistic question to the "ministers of religion," and when a novelist seriously quotes the platitudes of a "Nonconformist clergyman." No true artist under the sun cares twopence what the ministers of religion think about him or his work. A man who strains at the gnat of the drama, and yet pretends to have swallowed the whole camel of theology, can have no opinion worth hearing on any really human subject. The drama exists because it amuses, not because it does good; and Mr. Hall Caine exists as an author for the same reason. If, in addition to amusement there comes a little edification, so much the better; but let it always be understood that the edification is secondary, not primary. There will soon be no Art at all, and less Drama, if authors, instead of sticking to their profession, which is to write books which will be read or plays which will be seen, delude themselves into the belief that they are social benefactors. Cant is excusable in the professors of Religion, since no religion yet invented has been able to thrive thoroughly without it. It is inexcusable in the professors of Literature, which is practically independent of both religion and ethics, though by privilege it embraces both.

It is a fascinating problem in aestho-psychology which Mr. Hall Caine has broached afresh. You have quoted Aristotle, according to whom, as you point out, tragedy by pity and by fear purges the passions and refines the soul. Rather a different conclusion seems to be that of a later philosopher who has discussed the matter. Says Mr. Herbert Spencer on this subject ("Principles of Ethics," Part III., chap, vii.):-

Higher even than the gratification yielded by a good novel is that yielded by a good play; and the demoralisation caused by excess of it would be still greater were there the same opportunity for continuous absorption. Pleasures which are intense must be sparingly partaken of. The general law of waste and repair implies that in proportion to the excitement of a faculty must be its subsequent prostration and unfitness for action - an unfitness which continues until repair has been made. Hence overwhelming sympathy felt for personages in fiction or drama is felt at the cost of some subsequent callousness. As the eye by exposure to a vivid light is momentarily incapacitated for appreciating those feeble lights through which objects around are distinguished; so after a tearful fellow-feeling with the sufferers of imaginary woes there is for a time a lack of fellow-feeling with persons around. Much theatre-going, like much novel-reading, is therefore to be ethically reprobated.

Clearly, therefore, there exists a philosophic basis for the empirical generalisation of Mr. Hall Caine's anti-theatre-going Nonconformist preacher.