Foot-prints of a letter carrier; or, a history of the world's correspondece

by James Rees

It was in the immediate vicinity of this then beautiful portion of the city the first theatre was opened.

Perhaps there are many of our readers unacquainted with the early history of the stage and the drama in Philadelphia. True, much has been written upon the subject; but in almost every instance discrepancies both in dates and names have occurred.

In the year 1747, one hundred and nineteen years ago, a company of comedians were performing in this city. As this announcement will no doubt startle many, we must, as pioneers in the cause of truth and the drama, be chronological as well as logical in establishing the fact.

The state of society at the period alluded to above was different from what it is now. A feeble, sickly spirit of aristocracy, even at that early stage of our history, disgraced alike the moral and intellectual character of those who caught the infection; and hence a bitter feeling existed among the various classes making up the great body politic. This dangerous foe to all social and religious forms was brought over to the colonies by a few decayed branches of the nobility-trees of England, who had established a sort of “West End” fraternity along Front Street below Spruce (in the immediate vicinity of the Loxley House), and which was known for many years as Society Hill. Broad lines of distinction were drawn between the classes, and mechanics were looked upon as being so far beneath the consideration of these “Malaprops” of real life that servants had to negotiate all business transactions: the quality had nothing to do with them!

In the principal streets, such as Second, Front, Spruce, and even as far down as South Street, various artisans, shopkeepers, and others had established themselves in business; and it was here the first attempt was made to enact plays and lay the foundation of the drama’s temple.

The Quakers, and the more sober portion of other denominations, left no means untried to break up what they termed “these Satan-like doings.” It is true, these exhibitions were not publicly announced, and the citizens generally were not aware of their secret place of exhibiting “profane plays.” Private as they were, however, sufficient publicity was given to them to create an alarm among a class of people possessing all the primitive qualities, as well as virtues, of their great founder.

The dawn of literature in this country (that is, admitting it ever had a morning) dates at a much later period than the year 1747. It is true many obstacles stood in the way of its advancement; apart from which, the colonists were not a reading community, and the press throughout the land might be likened unto “angels’ visits, few and far between.” It is true the colonists could boast of a few names, whose works bear date as far back as 1640. In 1639 manuscripts were used in courts. The laws by which the colonies were governed were not printed until 1641. The art of printing was introduced into North America in 1639. The first printing-press established in the States was put up at Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1639, by Stephen Day. In 1640 he published the Bay Psalm-Book. The year 1678 may be said to form an era in our literature; for at that time John Foster, Boston, published the works of Anne Bradstreet; in 1676, Peter Folger wrote and published his famous “Looking-Glass for the Times.” Various poems, orations, sermons, &c. &c., were published; but it was not until 1720 the first play was written on the American continent; and we deem it of sufficient importance to engross it in our sketch of the American stage.

Benjamin Coleman, or, as some wrote it, Colman, was born in Boston, October 19, 1676. While at Harvard College, he wrote the tragedy of “Gustavus Vasa;” and this was the first play enacted by a company of amateurs in the colonies. The history of our literature is associated with that of the press: without the press it would have been as learning was when vellum and beech received the impression of certain figures called letters, and were sold at enormous prices, in proportion to the intellectual and physical labor bestowed upon their productions. The moment the press was put in operation in Connecticut, poetry, Pallas-like, sprang from its mystic womb, and, if unlike Pallas, completely armed, was at least so decently clad that criticism faltered at the threshold of censure. The next play written and the first published in the colonies was “The Prince of Parthia,” by Thomas Godfrey: it was printed in 1768. A copy of it is in the Philadelphia Library. This author was the son of Thomas Godfrey, a glazier, and inventor of the celebrated quadrant now in use. He was born in Philadelphia, in the year 1736. We never refer to these pioneers in the cause of our drama and literature without feeling a desire to moralize. Indeed, to look back over a series of years, and call up images to the mind which have long since passed away, strikes so forcibly the conviction of man’s identity with the infinite works of God, that he trembles, while he meditates, and feels his own insignificance while mourning o’er “visions fled.”

They are brought up to our view by the “Old Mortalities” of every generation; and the selfsame enthusiastic feeling which prompted them to remember coming ages urges us to fulfil our destiny in this. It would be curious to us in this generation, if it were possible, to raise up the curtain of the mouldering past and bring to view “the things that were,”—paint the lowly dwellings of our ancestors, the simplicity and primitive qualities of their minds, and the stern moral rectitude of their even lives. All this would contrast fearfully with what we are now, not only as regards our temporal but our spiritual state. If we differ from our good old friends of the eighteenth century, it is on the subject of the drama and the strange notion they had of its immoral tendency; for we never could imagine that the choicest gems from the British poets—conveyed to us through the medium of the stage—could have any other effect than to exalt the mind, expand the intellect, and open to the view the rich and inexhaustible mental wealth of the mimic world. It would be curious, we say, if it were possible to describe that state of society which could exist without music, poetry, and painting,—a state of society no doubt perfectly moral, strictly pure, but rather stiffly starched with the old-fashioned notions of propriety and the right of enjoyment. At that period, dancing was prohibited, and a fencing-master from Paris almost hunted down for attempting to teach the art in this city. It is true, a few wax figures and Punch and Judy made their appearance on some holidays; but they soon melted away before the heat of puritanical sunshine.