The dramas produced at the beginning of the revolution were in general calculated to corrupt the national taste and morals, and many of them were written with skill enough to answer the purpose for which they were intended; but those that have appeared during the last two years, are so stupid and so depraved, that the circumstance of their being tolerated even for a moment implies an extinction both of taste and of morals.*

     * "Dans l’espace d’un an ils ont failli detruire le produit de
     plusieurs siecles de civilization."—­("In the space of a year they
     nearly destroyed the fruits of several ages of civilization.”)

The principal cause of this is the despotism of the government in making the stage a mere political engine, and suffering the performance of such pieces only as a man of honesty or genius would not submit to write.*

     * The tragedy of Brutus was interdicted on account of these two
     lines: 

     "Arreter un romain sur de simple soupcons,
     “C’est agir en tyrans, nous qui les punissons."

     That of Mahomet for the following: 

     "Exterminez, grands dieux, de la terre ou nous sommes
     “Quiconque avec plaisir repand le sang des hommes."

     It is to be remarked, that the last lines are only a simple axiom of
     humanity, and could not have been considered as implying a censure
     on any government except that of the French republic.

—­Hence a croud of scribblers, without shame or talents, have become the exclusive directors of public amusements, and, as far as the noise of a theatre constitutes success, are perhaps more successful than ever was Racine or Moliere.  Immorality and dulness have an infallible resource against public disapprobation in the abuse of monarchy and religion, or a niche for Mr. Pitt; and an indignant or impatient audience, losing their other feelings in their fears, are glad to purchase the reputation of patriotism by applauding trash they find it difficult to endure.  The theatres swarm with spies, and to censure a revolutionary piece, however detestable even as a composition, is dangerous, and few have courage to be the critics of an author who is patronized by the superintendants of the guillotine, or who may retaliate a comment on his poetry by the significant prose of a mandat d’arret.

Men of literature, therefore, have wisely preferred the conservation of their freedom to the vindication of their taste, and have deemed it better to applaud at the Theatre de la Republique, than lodge at St. Lazare or Duplessis.—­Thus political slavery has assisted moral depravation:  the writer who is the advocate of despotism, may be dull and licentious by privilege, and is alone exempt from the laws of Parnassus and of decency.—­One Sylvan Marechal, author of a work he calls philosophie, has written a sort of farce, which has been performed very generally,