be deprived of a great source of amuse-ed in one of his arguments to be, "That ment. Clem. Amusement? Mortimer! Say rather, that it is, according to your sentiments a national loss; and that, when the figure of Apollo fell down, and his lyre was broken to pieces, it levelled in the dust, so far as its range of influence extended, civilization and morals, which this constellation of Old Drury, and its satellites the surrounding brothels (which always infest the purlieus of a Theatre) are calculated to produce. it retards the progress of what he is pleased to term, a fanatical sect." Now, if it should so happen, that the principles and practice of this fanatical sect are at war with the Drama; and if at the same time it should, as I believe it eventually will, turn out that their objections to the Theatre are supported by Scripture, and by the opinion of the Fathers of the Church; then, by whatever name they may be called, it will be somewhat like a side wind compliment, though by no means intended, to these fanatics, that what the tenor of the Scripture forbids, and the Fathers of the Church suppressed, these odious sectarists equally discourage; and sure I am, it will be a very easy task to shew, that all advocate's your arguments are diametrically opposed to the spirit and temper, the precepts & exhortations, of the Old and New Testament: but previously thereto, I was about to ask my friend, Mortimer, Mort. Do favor me with your opin-ered the effect of theatrical amusewhether he had ever seriously considion of the controversy between my ment on individual character, as a Mort. This sarcastic sneer, Clement, I am content to hear; and am ready to enter the lists again with you on this subject-have you perused the controversy in the volume I sent you; and which I so strongly recommended to your attention. Clem. I read it last night and little thought the subject would be pursued, before the morning, by an event so de structive, as that which I was called to witness. Mort. I never have given it much consideration myself, and shall be happy to hear your opinion. champion, as you call him, and Dr. S. further confirmation of its evil tenClem. To be candid with you, Mor-dency on the community collectively? timer, I must give the palm of victory to Dr. S.: who, in my judgment, has by far the best of the argument: indeed, I had before read, with much sa- Clem. Well then, to proceed; I tisfaction, his essay on the subject, assert, that the Stage is the nursery from whose treatise chiefly, not a few of depravity, and accomplice of crime. of my arguments on this subject are The virtue (falsely so called) which it drawn; and with respect to your inculcates, is vice softened and refinchampion, as you are pleased to called; or it would not receive the sufhim, I think I have discovered the frage of every pupil of iniquity. key which completely opens to me the state of his mind; and accounts, very satisfactorily, for what I must be permitted to call, the very extravagant views he is pleased to entertain, on the advantageous effect of the Drama, on society and morals. Mort. This is being a dealer of invective against the Drama, in wholesale, Clement; I request you will be more minute in regard to its effects upon individual character, and not deal in generals. Clem. Well then, to be more parMort. Well, now, Clement, for this ticular; SINCERITY is an amiable moral key. quality, indispensible in the Christian Clem. The secret cause for your ad-and pleasing to God. TRUTH is one vocate's espousing the Theatre, is stat- of His glorious perfections; and 'lying Mort. Sterne's works have been greatly admired: there are doubtless, many beauties in them. What can be more beautiful, Clement, by way of specimen, than that which is generally allowed to be one of the most striking sentences in his book, from the story of Le Fevre, on the oath uttered by uncle Toby:-The accusing spirit, as he flew up to Heaven's Chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the recording angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear on the word, and blotted it out for ever." lips are an abomination to Him.' He strictly forbids all hypocricy, deceit, dissimulation, and flattery; and cominands every man to speak truth with his neighbor. But how opposite is this to the manners of the Theatre! There the whole system is a system of counterfeit and deception. It is the art of feigning; and he is esteemed the best actor, who can impose most on the senses of others, and most completely appear to be what he is not. Indeed, it is a school for flattery, and dissimulation, where depraved persons of every class may collect what they deem profitable hints to assist them in the parts, which they after-though in direct violation to justice wards play in real life. and truth, and in complete opposition to the whole plan of salvation; for, if all the tears of all the angels in heaven (could angels weep,) and if ocean itself could wash out one sin, then is the Bible false, from beginning to end, and Christ hath died in vain. Without shedding of blood there is no remission; and the blood of Christ alone cleanseth from sin. Mort. I cannot, however, conceive that any one would attend the Theatre for a purpose like this; before I attempt to answer your first allegation, I should prefer hearing, first, all the effects which the Stage is supposed to have on the character. Clem. So it is generally considered, Mort. I never thought so deeply, as to the correctness of the sentiment before. Clem. Another bad effect which the Theatre produces on morals, is, that its votaries always consider reason, and the dictates of virtue, to be subordinate to feeling. Feeling is every thing. Thus revenge in preferred to Clem. The greatest beauties in his forgiveness; and the gratification of works, which you are pleased to call the moment to the self-denial of virtue. them, are not only, for the most part, Mort. Indeed, Clement, I cannot in direct opposition to the doctrines help thinking you labor under a great and precepts of scripture, but, in too mistake in this last assertion; for I many instances, an outrage to all dehave always considered, and I know cency; and remember, the title of one it to be the opinion of many, that the of his books, is sentimental. But, to Theatre, on the contrary, cherishes in return to the Drama. At the Theatre the bosom all those feelings which form feeling is substituted for principle; the charities of human life. and those romantic notions are imbibClem. Rather, say, Mortimer, feel-ed, which disorder the imagination, ings which are so called; and not the give a high and fictitious coloring to thing itself. The power of fiction, human life, and lay the foundation for which thus seizes the affections, awa- perpetual error, and incessant miskens a kind of spurious sensibility; a takes. The frequenter of a Theatre, kind of high flown sentimentalism, inflated with imaginary greatness, arwhich led Sterne to weep over a deadraigns the Providence which would ass, while he could suffer a living mother to mourn in poverty, without either sympaty or assistance. depress him in the world; and spurns the advice which, to make him happy, would confine him to his original sta tion. In the language of Dr. Johnson, || is reckoned one of the best moral plays the effect of Plays 'is to represent plea- in the English language: this man, sure in alliance with vice; and to relax having involved himself, by extravathose obligations by which life ought|gance, in the deepest distress, plungto be regulated.' ed into the Thames, leaving on his Mort. I should hope, Clement, that bureau this justification of the fatal these effects do not so generally fol-deed; 'What Cato did, and Addison lew an attendance at the Theatre; can approved, cannot be wrong.' you furnish any one instance? Mort. I was not aware of this sad case, which, it must be allowed, is much in point for your side of the argument; but I am desirous of tracing in what way a mere fictitious representation can, in its effects, work up the mind to perpetrate a deed so foul, and involving in it everlasting misery. Clem. I can: it was said of Sir Matthew Hale, 'That he was an extraordinary proficient at school, and for some time, at Oxford; but the Stage Players coming thither, he was so much corrupted by seeing Plays, that he almost wholly forsook his studies. By this, he not only lost much time, but found that his head was thereby timer, by Mrs. Hannah More, in her Clem. It is done to your hand, Morfilled with vain images of things; and judicious remarks. After having albeing afterwards sensible of the misluded to the winding up of the piece, chief of this, he resolved, upon his coming to London, never to see a Play friend, his enemy, or himself, she obby the catastrophe of murdering his again; to which resolution he conserves, "Still, notwithstanding his stantly adhered. Mort. Well, I grant this in one in-criminal act, the hero has been exhibitstance; but I should doubt, whethered through all the preceding scenes, the effects of the Drama are so evil, generally speaking. his behavior has been so brave, and as such a combination of perfections; so generous, (two qualities boldly staked against both tables of the decalogue,) that the youthful spectator, whose warmth and sensibility of soul Clem. These effects are much greater, and more general, than persons can readily believe, who have never duly considered how much more pow-lay him so plausibly open to seducerful is the impression that is made on the mind, by this kind of living representation than by reading, or any other mode of communication; and I am inclined to think, that the awful crime of suicide is not a little promoted, if not inculcated, by the influence of the Drama. tion, is too much tempted to consider as venial the sudden and unpremeditated crime, to which the unresisted impulse of the moment may have driven so accomplished a character; and a little tame tag of morality set to a few musical periods, is borne down, absorbed, and lost, in the impetuous, but too engaging character of the feeling, fiery heroe; a character the errors of which are now consummated by an act of murder, so affectingly managClem. I should fear many such in-ed, that censure is swallowed up in stances have occurred; and I am sur-pity; the murderer is absolved by the prised, Mortimer, at your never hav-weeping auditory, who are ready, if ing heard of the case of Eustace Bud- not to justify the crime, yet to vindigell, one of the writers in the Specta-cate the criminal. The drowsy moral, tor, which is strikingly in point, and at the close, slowly attempts to creep proves the dangerous influence of what after the poison of the piece, but it Mort. I should doubt whether any one instance can be produced, of this crime being at all induced by Theatrical representation. and whose companionable qualities "were wont to set the table in a rear;" but Shuter, by his own confession, was a miserable being, which the following well attested anecdote will verify; a case among players in real life, as well as on the Stage, by no means singular. creeps in vain-it can never expel that which it can never reach; for, one stroke of feeling, one natural expression of the passions, be the principle right or wrong, carries away the affections of the auditory beyond any of the poet's force of reasoning, or control." Here, Mortimer, you see Mort. He was before our time; but the workings of the poisonous drug; every one has heard of Shuter, so celand hence, I think, you will be satisfi-ebrated for drollery. Pray go on. ed of the evil consequences of Dramatic fiction on the mind; and what sort of pupils these 'Lectures on History,' as your esteemed friend calls them, are calculated to attract and educate. Clem. Shuter had heard Mr. Whit field, and trembled with apprehension of a judgment to come: he had also sometimes called on him in London: frequently heard Mr. Kinsman, and one day, accidentally meeting him in tion, overjoyed at seeing him, he inPlymouth, after some years of separa Mort. But is Comedy open to so formidable an objection or pregnant with mischief such as you have charg-quired if that was the place of his resed upon Tragedy? idence? Mr. Kinsman replied, "Yes; Clem. Equally so, my dear friend; but I am just returned from London, for I cannot help being of opinion, where I have preached so often, and that the sentiments of Comedy con- to such large auditories, and have tain in them the germ, or seed, of the been so indisposed that the physician very evil which has been stated to advised my immediate return to the flow from those of Tragedy; they are country, for change of air."And I,' the acorns, which contain in them, in said Shuter, 'have been acting John fibrous measure, all the properties of Falstaff so often, that I thought I the future oak, latent in that spurious should have died; and the physicians sensibility, dissipation, and extrava-advised me to come into the country gance, giving a false coloring to hu- for the benefit of the air:-had you man life, which I have already de- died, it would have been in the serscribed, as being inculcated by Come-vice of the best of masters; but had I, dy. Does my friend Mortimer, after it would have been in the service of this, need any further argument in the devil. The carresses of the great illustration of the evil tendency on are exceedingly ensnaring. My Lord individual character, from either TraE- sent for me to day, and I was gedy or Comedy? Or is he looking to glad I could not go. Poor things! they the humors of a farce, as a kind of are unhappy; and they want Shuter dernier resort:-If he is, take the fur-to make them laugh. But, 0, Sir! ther proof from one of the sons of Comus himself. Mort. What does Clement mean by the evidence of this son of Comus himself, accompanied too, as it is, with an air of triumph, concealed under the gravity of his countenance? Clem. By this child of Comus, I mean SHUTER, the late celebrated Comedian, whose facetious powers convulsed whole audiences with laughter; such a life as your's! I acknowledge,' said he, alluding to his being about to play King Richard, 'this is what they call a good Play-as good as some sermons; there are some striking, and moral things in it; but after it I shall come in again with my farce of “A Dish of All sorts," and knock all on the head:-fine reformers, we!' This Mortimer, is a witness from the Green Room itself, in commendation of 118 Robbery of Juggernauth-Indian Improvement. Farce; will this help your cause any more than the awful state of mind in which it also exhibits this son of Comus, of his day, to have been in; while it exemplifies, that in the midst of laughter, the heart is in bitterness. Mort. These are striking facts and illustrations, Clement; and I desire to weigh them in my mind, with impartial candor. (To be continued.) ROBBERY OF JUGGERNAUTH. climate; and ota is too dear for them till they get it ready cooked from the pundwahs. All Hindoos eat together, as Thakoor allows no difference of caste in his presence.-Calcut. Jour. INDIAN IMPROVEMENT. A writer in the N. Y. Statesman, in an account of a party given by Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun, says-Among the throng of the Secretary's visitants, none attracted a larger share of attention, than three Chiefs of the Cherokee tribe of Indians, who are at Washington, on business with government. They are all remarkably good looking form and feature. One of them was pronounced to be the handsomest man at the party. They were well dresed in the ordinary costume of citizens, and appeared polite and gentlemanlyin their deportment. The Ridge, one of the delegation had with him his little daughter, about 10 or 12 years old, who is perfectly the child of nature, and whose artless manners excited great interest and attention. She was dressed in a neat plaid, with her hair ornamented with a wreath of flowers, beads and plumes. A large dark eye, possessing uncommon brilliance, animation and mildness, gave to this little brunette of the wilderness an irresistible charm. Her affection and respect for her father, were very striking, her hand being commonly clasped in his. Her ear was charmed with the music of the Piano, and some of the ladies could not resist her artless persuasion to gratify her with a number of tunes. JUGGERNAUTH has been in great commotion, and I suspect some of the followers of Juggernauth will be stag-men, being fine models both in size, gered in their faith: for this morning, when the Pundwahs or priests went in to visit the idol, they found all the silver ornaments gone, to the amount of 5,000 rupees. They say none of the doors had been forced. All the inside doors are locked, and the keys lodged with the head pundwah, and several chokeydars in the compound;& the outside doors are likewise locked, and the keys lodged with the pundwah; and a seapoy sentry at each outside, as they are not allowed to go in dressed in their uniforms, or have any charge of what is inside. The Rajah and Collector's men have had a meeting, and confined upwards of twenty attendants of the idols. On asking the seapoys what they thought of it, they laughingly replied, "Thakoor must have robbed himself; that is allowed some one, as he would have struck a person blind who offered to take away ornaments of his, or his sister, or Bulbudder." It is a most curious circumstance altogether, for no one goes in but accompanied with pundwahs; and all the seapoys seem to say that some of them must be rogues. The Jacks do not seem to have much veneration for Juggernauth, as they seem to joke at the idea of his being robbed; and all do not like this part of the country, as they think more of their food than the Question.-Will any one repent on his dying bed for having contributed to send the gospel among the heathen? "Give a man secure possession of a bleak rock," says a celebrated agriculturalists, 'and he will convert it into a garden,give him a few year's lease of a garden, & he will turn it into a desert,' |