"It seems we are," said Frank, "so you may expect to be finished within a week. Better write your will, and prepare to be made mince-meat of."

"The rest of you will come in for a share," said Nat, "so I shall have a plenty of company, and 'misery loves company' they say."

"But you are the chief sinner," said Frank, smilingly. "You started the thing, and carried off all the glory of performing, so you will have to shoulder the consequences."

"Not a very heavy burden, I am thinking," responded Nat. "I see no need of making such a fuss about a trifle, just as if we boys would spoil the whole town! If Shakspeare were alive he might write another comedy on it like 'MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.' If the town is so dependent on us, I think they ought to make us the fathers of it."

The truth was, that the Dramatic Society had created quite a commotion, as we saw, in part, in a previous chapter. The good people of the village were afraid of the consequences, as well they might be, and the matter was discussed in many family circles, in social gatherings, in the street and other places, until so much interest was awakened on both sides, that the subject was introduced into the town lyceum.

In the hall that was dedicated when Nat was twelve years old, and where he heard the address upon the life and character of Count Rumford by which he was so much impressed, there was a lyceum sustained by the citizens. It was here that the subject of dramatical exhibitions was introduced by a proposition to discuss the following question,

"ARE DRAMATICAL EXHIBITIONS BENEFICIAL TO SOCIETY?"

No question had elicited so much interest as this, pro and con, so that a large attendance was confidently expected.

"Are you going to hear the Dramatic Society used up to-night?" inquired Marcus of Nat, on the day of the proposed discussion.

"Certainly; I am curious to see how the thing will be done. I wouldn't fail of it for any thing. Let us all go, and save the pieces if we can."

"I expect they are preparing for a warm debate, from all I hear; and there will be a crowd there," said Marcus.

Nat and his boon companions were at the hall in good season, to secure seats near the debaters. The hall was filled by the time the hour for opening had arrived, and a spicy time was expected. The president called the meeting to order, the records of the last meeting were read, and other preliminaries disposed of, when the question for discussion was announced. Mr. Bryant, an intelligent and influential man, opened the debate, and remarked, in substance, as follows:

"It is enough to know the origin of theatrical exhibitions. According to the best authorities, when theatrical exhibitions were first given, an old cart was the stage, the chief actor was a coa.r.s.e mimic or clown, the music was discoursed by itinerant singers, and the poem itself was a motley combination of serious and ludicrous ideas. These performances were first given in honor of the G.o.d of wine, Bacchus, which accounts, I suppose, for the fact that a theatre cannot live without a bar. On certain festive days, they acted these plays often in the most indecent manner, with drunkenness and debauchery abounding--scenes which are re-enacted in theatres at the present day. Now, they have a more splendid stage, within a costly, s.p.a.cious building, but there is little or no improvement in the purity of the play and its incidentals. It is just as demoralizing now as it was then, and has been so in every age of the world. For that reason, such exhibitions have been suppressed, at times, in some countries, and this was the case, at one period, in our own land."

Mr. Bryant was followed by a gentleman on the other side of the subject, but, for a reason that will be obvious to the reader before he gets through the chapter, we shall not report the arguments in the negative.

Another speaker said "that the characters of the actors were loose, exceedingly so; and if the audience could learn something of human nature there, it was only the debasing side of it. It is generally true that actors lend their influence to intemperance, licentiousness, and irreligion. They do not patronize Sabbath schools, churches, and other Christian inst.i.tutions, but they patronize bars, gambling saloons, and houses of ill-fame. Many of those men even who go to the theatre, would be quite unwilling to introduce actors to the society of their sons and daughters. They are so well convinced that this cla.s.s are corrupt and unprincipled, that they would exclude them from the fireside."

Another speaker, in the affirmative, said: "As a general thing, dramatic literature is immoral and debasing. I admit that the tragedies of Shakspeare are a pattern of cla.s.sic elegance and dignity, yet there are pa.s.sages even in his works that never should be read or spoken in the hearing of others. In them vice is often stripped of its deformity, while virtue is made to appear to disadvantage. The youth who witnesses a play where vice is made to appear as an indiscretion rather than a sin, is likely to think less of virtue, and more favorably of vice. An English scholar has taken pains to read all the plays of the stage of England, and mark all the profane or indecent pa.s.sages unfit to be read or spoken in a public a.s.sembly, and he has found _seven thousand_.

During the reign of King James the First, an act was pa.s.sed 'For the preventing and avoiding the great abuse of the holy name of G.o.d in stage-plays.' Addison condemned the theatre 'for ridiculing religion, and for representing the rake and debauchee as the true gentleman.' It is vain to attempt to defend the moral character of dramatic writings."

The first speaker rising to address the audience the second time, said, "that the cla.s.s of persons who generally patronize the theatre are the most frivolous and useless part of the community. Moral and religious citizens do not lend it their influence, but those who are indifferent or hostile to Christian inst.i.tutions. Fathers and mothers who are careless of the example they set their children; vain followers of the fashions, who think more of a golden trinket than they do of virtue; idle and dissipated hangers-on of society; fast young men in the road to ruin; vicious young women; dissolute men, whose vices would horrify every sensitive heart were they uncovered; with a sprinkling, perhaps, of better people who forget, for the time being, what company they are in;--these const.i.tute the princ.i.p.al patrons of the stage. Now, then, this single fact is enough to brand the character of theatres as corrupt and pernicious. There is not a person in this hall who would think well of the principles of a man of whom you might be told, 'he is an habitual theatre-goer.' You would infer that his principles were loose, and, in nine cases out of ten, your inference would be correct."

Thus the usual arguments against theatres were quite thoroughly pressed, and were met by the usual ones on the opposite side, though it was evident that the negative realized they had a difficult subject to defend.

Nat listened to the discussion with constantly increasing interest and excitement. His face became flushed, and a nervous tremor pa.s.sed over his body. At length his frame fairly shook with the excitement under which he was laboring, and Frank, who was sitting by his side, observed it.

"What is the matter with you, Nat?" whispered Frank. Nat made no reply, but continued to catch every word that was uttered. He was evidently dissatisfied with the defence of the theatre by the negative side, and thought that a better plea for it might be made.

"I say, Nat, what's the matter?" whispered Frank again; "got the fever and ague?"

Nat kept his eyes fixed, and did not even bestow a nod of the head upon Frank's inquiry, and the moment the question was given to the audience for general debate,--according to the custom,--Nat started to his feet.

"Mr. President," said he, and every head was up, and every eye fixed, at the sound of his voice. All were astonished that he should presume to speak on that floor; they would scarcely have been more surprised if a strange debater had dropped down through the plastering into the audience. But Nat went on to say, in substance,

"I have listened to the discussion of the question before us with mingled feelings of interest and surprise. Much that has been said I can most cordially respond to, while some of the arguments upon the affirmative do not appear to me legitimate or just. Every subject should be treated fairly, and especially one like this, which is so apt to encounter superst.i.tion and prejudice. It is no objection, in my mind, to an enterprise, that it had a lowly origin, any more than it is for an honest and n.o.ble man to have descended from ign.o.ble parents. If a man will work his way up from poverty and obscurity by his indomitable energy and perseverance, until he carves his name with scholars and statesmen on the temple of fame, it is the climax of meanness in any one to twit him of his humble origin, and hold him up to ridicule because his parents are poor and unhonored. And so when the gentleman tells us that the theatre was born in a cart, and was originated by those who had neither learning nor character, it is no argument against it, in my view, when I see the rank to which it has attained. The cart has given place to the marble edifice, decorated in the highest style of art, and the place of the untutored street-singer and clown is filled by the queen of song and the prince of orators. The play is no longer devoid of literary character, but is invested with a cla.s.sic elegance which only the gifted intellect of Shakspeare could impart. What is it that has elevated dramatic entertainments from the cart to the costly temple?

Human meanness could not do it, nor human policy alone. It has been accomplished by the intrinsic value to be found in such dramas as those composed by Shakspeare, and that justly ent.i.tles them to something n.o.bler than a contemptuous sneer.

"I do not presume to defend theatres as they are, with all the vices that attach to the present manner of conducting them. I admit that the actors are no better than they should be, and that intemperance and licentiousness may be countenanced by them. But when it is intimated that all this is necessarily and inevitably so, I repel the insinuation.

Do not gentlemen know that the names of certain actors are a.s.sociated with all that is pure in character and n.o.ble in purpose? Were Garrick and Siddons men of corrupt lives, unworthy to hold an honorable place in society? Who can point to the first line or word ever penned to stigmatize these men? So long as we can refer to them as pure and upright actors, it will be true that corruption does not necessarily belong to the stage.

"I would have intoxicating drinks forever excluded from the theatre, and every possible measure adopted to prevent moral corruption of every kind. I would take the play out of the hands of the base and profligate, and give it to those who are virtuous and true. I would expunge every profane and vulgar word and thought from both tragedy and comedy, leaving nothing that is unfit to be said in the ear of the purest men and women, and then I see not why the stage might not become a medium of innocent pleasure, and intellectual culture. It is bad now, because it is in the hands of bad men. When the virtuous control it, we may expect that its character will be changed.

"When it is said, as it has been on this floor to-night, that nothing good can be learned at a theatre, even as it is at the present time, I must beg to dissent from the opinion. I can testify from actual experience, that much can be learned there of human nature, and much that belongs to the art of speaking. I do not say that many people go to the theatre to learn these things, but I do say they might learn them if they would. Even admitting that the baser side of human nature alone is seen on the stage, a man may learn something from that if he will. As in the low groggery, a pure man may behold to what awful degradation the use of strong drink may reduce its victims, and derive therefrom an argument for temperance that is irresistible, so the exhibitions of the stage may show a pure-minded man how revolting he may become by yielding to the power of his lowest appet.i.tes and pa.s.sions. If he visits such a drinking place to minister to a depraved appet.i.te, and carouse with others, he will go to ruin himself; but if he goes there to acquire the knowledge to which I have referred, he will make a valuable accession to his information and principles. In like manner, if a person goes to the theatre simply to be amused, or for a more dishonorable purpose, he may be corrupted by what he sees and hears; but if he goes for the higher object I have named, he will probably escape contamination."

In this strain Nat proceeded for twenty minutes or more, filling the audience with surprise and wonder. He waxed warmer and warmer, as he advanced, and spoke in a flow of eloquence and choice selection of words, that was unusual for one of his age. No one in the hall had ever listened to such a display of oratorical ability on the part of a youth like him. The most strenuous opposers of the theatre almost overlooked the weakness of Nat's argument in their admiration of his eloquence. It was so unexpected that the surprise alone was almost sufficient to bewilder, them. His mother was in the audience, and her heart leaped into her mouth, as she was first startled by the sound of his voice. She was almost indignant that her boy should attempt to speak in that hall, before such an audience. She expected every moment that he would break down, to his own disgrace and others. But he spoke on, never hesitating for choice words, and put an earnestness and power into every sentence that amazed her. She could scarcely believe what she saw and heard. She was well satisfied with her son when he concluded his speech.

"Nat will make a second Daniel Webster," said the agent of the factory to a friend, as he was going out of the hall.

"I am surprised at his eloquence," replied the friend addressed. "I never heard the like in my life by one of his age."

"We must get him to join the lyceum at once, and bring him out before the public," said the agent.

"That would be an excellent idea, I think; and there will be a great desire to hear him again. I am sure I would like to hear him discuss another question."

"Nat has always been a close student," continued the agent. "When he has not been learning from books, he has studied men and things; and I have expected he would make his mark."

This speech set everybody in the village to talking. Nothing had occurred for a long time that caused so much remark and excitement. The surprise and interest it created remind us of Patrick Henry's first plea, of which Nat himself spoke to Charlie, as we saw in a former chapter. The description which Mr. Wirt gives of it is so applicable to the case before us, that we shall quote it.

"His att.i.tude, by degrees, became erect and lofty. The spirit of his genius awakened all his features. His countenance shone with a n.o.bleness and grandeur which it had never before exhibited. There was a lightning in his eye that seemed to rive the spectator. His action became graceful, bold and commanding; and in the tones of his voice, but more especially in his emphasis, there was a peculiar charm, a magic, of which any one who ever heard him will speak as soon as he is named....

"In less than twenty minutes they might be seen in every part of the house, on every bench, in every window, stooping forward from their stands, in death-like silence, their features fixed in amazement; all their senses listening and riveted upon the speaker, as if to catch the last strain of some heavenly visitant....

"The jury seem to have been so completely bewildered, that they lost sight, not only of the act of seventeen hundred and forty-eight, but that of seventeen hundred and fifty-eight also; for thoughtless even of the admitted right of the plaintiff, they had scarcely left the bar, when they returned with a verdict of _one penny damages_. A motion was made for a new trial; but the court, too, had now lost the equipoise of their judgment, and overruled the motion by a unanimous vote. The verdict and judgment overruling the motion, were followed by redoubled acclamations, from within and without the house.

"The people, who had with difficulty kept their hands off their champion, from the moment of closing his harangue, no sooner saw the fate of the cause finally sealed, than they seized him at the bar, and in spite of his own exertions, and the continual cry of order from the sheriff and the court, they bore him out of the court house, and raising him on their shoulders, carried him about the yard in triumph."

Nat was not carried out of the hall like Patrick, but if his companions and some others, could have acted their own pleasure, a similar scene would have taken place. The reader can scarcely fail to trace some connection between his early familiarity with the life of Patrick Henry, and this brilliant chapter of his experience before the large audience in the town hall. It looks very much as if the reading of that book made a permanent impression upon his mind. It shows, also, that he had not studied the manners of public speakers in vain.

"You couldn't do that again if you should try," said Charlie to Nat, at the close of the meeting. "You was inspired to-night."

"Inspired with respect for our dramatic society," answered Nat, with a laugh. "I thought I would not let it die without one struggle."

"Well," said Frank, "we can afford to let it give up the ghost now, after such a glorious funeral oration over it. But I thought you was having the shaking palsy before you got up to speak."

"It was only the debaters shaking a little interest into me," replied Nat. "They made the spirit move, that's all."

The reader must not infer that opposers of the theatre changed their views in consequence of Nat's argument. For no argument can be framed that will defend the stage from the charge of being a great public evil.

In another place we have said enough to show that the ground of his defence was fallacious, though he uttered sentiments which he then sincerely believed. It is certainly no strong defence of the drama that it has risen from the cart to the marble palace, for sin, in some of its grossest forms, thus ascends from a revolting to a gilded degradation.

Nor does it avail much to point to here and there a virtuous Garrick among stage-players, when we know that there are a hundred worthless, corrupt actors to one Garrick. And in respect to the possibility of making the theatre respectable, we have seen that it has been repeatedly tried, and failed.

But the audience fell in love with Nat's eloquence. They were charmed by its gracefulness and power. It was that which won their hearts. The result was, that nearly every one became satisfied with his good intention in going to the theatre, and originating dramatic entertainments in the village. It was apparent that it was done for his own personal improvement. He was invited to connect himself with the citizens' lyceum, where he surprised and pleased his friends many times thereafter, by the ability and eloquence with which he discussed different subjects.

The Dramatic Society was relinquished, and the general interest manifested in it was transferred to the town lyceum. A wider and more important field of effort was now open to test Nat's endowments and acquisitions; and he rapidly advanced by making the most of every opportunity.