papers, to secure whose good offices, the managers give them admissions gratuitously for themselves and their friends. "Persons admitted gratis (said the Master of the Rolls in Ireland lately, on determining a case heard before him) are necessary appendages to the manager, and necessary stuffing for a house. Un less they were so admitted, had acting would go without any applause." Such was the remark of that eminent and acute legal character, who stated, on the same occasion, that “he was early in life an observer of the drama, from the highest point of observation; but as he grew weightier, he descended nearer, the stage." Now these gratuitous visitors, under the generalship of the reporters, give laws to all the rest, and decide, whether a play shall enjoy the public applause, or be consigned to damnation. No feelings of compassion will move their callous hearts towards an author who has not the interest or means to insinuate himself into their good graces; or who may perhaps be a formidable rival of those play-makers, whose cause they habitually advocate; and the same is the case with a new candidate who appears on the boards. So that the fate of the new piece, or actor, is pre-determined in the court of criticism before their trial; as has in former times been the practice of judges of the land, especially where culprits were to be tried for offences against the existing government. In the boxes, it is very unpolite for those who pay to hiss, and almost as much so to applaud; unless it be some sentiment expressive of the loyalty of the day. Besides, persons of fashion are above attending a theatre for the sake of the performance. Their time is more appropriately employed in interrupting it by their tonish chattering, and in the charms of seeing and being seen. The pit, formerly the judgment-seat of criticism, is now filled with "fat and greasy citizens," and their wives and daughters, gaping at the play with the same sort of avidity as the gods themselves; or spruce shopmen, without any opinion of their own, and who are only vociferous when they are taught how to open, as young dogs in a pack wait for the cry of the leaders. The occupiers of the upper regions, in general, are both loud and forward enough to express their honest scutiments; but their opinions are little attended to, except in Pantomime, where they take a decisive lead. There are certainly in the boxes, and in all parts of the house, from the lowest to the highest, persons who can judge of the merits of the drama; but of these, the great proportion rather chuse to confine their opinion within their own circle, than to testify the same in public by marks of applause or disapprobation. Thus then it is not wonderful that the aforesaid professional critics, being judiciously stationed in the different parts of the theatre, almost despotically regulate the success of a new picce, or a new player. Sometimes, it is true, they cannot entirely carry this sway; a play is so bad, that the audience show their decided judgment: it is to all appearance condemned to oblivion. But here our critics have another strong hold, they are determined that it shall have its run, the people must be forced to relish it in spite of themselves. While the bills of next day modestly announce its having been "received by an overflowing audience with unanimous and unbounded thunders of applause;" in the reports of the morn ing papers we find the piece as full of beauties, as on representation it was of trash, and that "the symptoms of dissatisfaction expressed by a few individuals, with an evident hostility to the author, were drowned amidst the plaudits of a judicious audience!" Every day the journalists declaim on the continued and increasing applause which it experiences. The good-natured people who go, cannot but in decency applaud what, they are thus told from all quarters, is and must be applauded; till at length, in the midst of its successful career, the play expires for want of food, its "adniring audiences" having shrunk to nothing. As to the unbiassed frequenters of the theatre supporting a good piece, against the hisses and clamours of the reporters, and the hostile bands planted in array against it by its adversaries, it is abso lutely impossible; and, if the first rate productions of a Shakespeare were to be tried by that ordeal, all their merits would be of no avail. Were a Garrick to appear on the stage with this host of opponents, his most exquisite perfor mance would not obtain for him a second hearing; on the contrary, if a boy come forward, puffed as a prodigy by the news papers, he will be hailed and extolled as such by the indiscriminating multitude, while the more judicious few see that it would be both unnecessary and ineffec tual tual to attempt prematurely to stop the public delusion.* It may appear extraordinary, that the diurnal critics should so well agree as they do, in the sentiments they express; but, when the system is known and con sidered, the wonder will vanish. The stage is at present occupied by a body of writers, whose talents are of a par ticular cast, and who have brought the taste of the town to such a standard, that there is little danger of the intrusion of dramatists of a different description; and accordingly, a new play, not built on the present model, has little chance of being received by the managers, and if received, it would certainly be danned by the critics. The managers, authors and critics, therefore, all perfectly understand each other, and combine to lead the public to have their palates pleased only by the style of cookery they set hefore them. Indeed, the novelties of the day are so much of a character, that I do not despair, in the present high and improving state of mechanics, of seeing them made to any pattern, by a steamengine, on a construction somewhat similar to a barrel organ. One advantage our dramatists emineutly enjoy, namely, that, besides all the glare and pomp of scenery, dresses, and decoration, they are sure to have their productions well performed, in their most prominent and attractive parts; the characters being drawn expressly to shew the abilities of a Munden, a Faw This was the case with respect to Master Betty, denominated the young Roscius, and held as superior to any performer of any age. The crowds who pressed to witness with admiration the spouting of this phenomenon, even for two seasons, were inconceivable; and all was the work of the journalists, who, it is well known, had instructions to panegyrise him to the skies for a while, and then leave him to his fate. Accordingly, on the third season, his trumpeters lowered their notes, and this modern Phaeton fell from his height, never to rise again. Mr. Kemble, and Mrs. Siddons, much to their credit, absolutely refused to sanction this delusion, by appearing on the stage with the boy. Mr. Cumberland, who was behind the scenes one of the first nights of his performance, exclaimed to those around him, "The damnedest humbug I ever saw!" Yet among the higher classes, and those who pretended to critical judgment, young Betty could boast as many names of enthusiastic admirers as, a few years before, young Ireland could of firm believers in the authencity of the Shakespeare manuscripts. cett, a Matthews, a Liston, and other drolls of the day; nor, while a Johnstone and an Emery tread the boards, can a new comedy be complete without an Irishman or a Yorkshireman. This is evidently a great improvement, in as much as a coat made to measure will always fit better than one made by chance. And as the comic characters just quoted, have all an intimacy with the reporters, the latter cannot well abuse the play without somewhat injuring their friends, the players; unless where they themselves, dissatisfied with their characters, go hand in hand with the critics to damn the piece. As the plays are thus suited to the performers, so also are the sentiments adapted to the times; and the expressions vulgarly de nominated clap-traps, seldom fail to attract the applause they demand, and not unfrequently give a temporary currency to the whole.t Thus, theatrical criticism is no difficult task, and can hardly be misunderstood when directed to those pieces and actors which are the rage of the day. But, were a comedy with the merits of a Congreve, a Vanbrugh, or a Farquhar, now to find its way before the tribunal, we should be told, that the dialogue was obsolete, that the wit was altogether unsuitable to the taste of this age, and wanted the point now so happily introduced; that the characters were deficient in colouring, that the plot was mere common-piace, and produced none of those surprising situations which invariably captivate the audience in the compositions of a Reynolds, a Lewis, or a Dibdin; that the piece was in every respect unfit for representation, and that, if it possessed any merit, it must be discovered in the closet, should the author *It would be unjust to these comedians not to observe, that all of them are qualified for better parts; and that, were mumming not so much encouraged, their performance would better please the judicious. The play of Pizarro, notwithstanding all the artifice and stage-tricks employed to give it eclat, and all the puffs of all the papers, would never have enjoyed such an immense run, had it not been for some expressions judiciously introduced in Rolla's harangue to his troops, and which never failed to attract the loudest applause, at a time when an excess of loyalty was so much encouraged by the great, as to counteract the less gratifying sentiments of the swinish multitude, and induced Majesty itself to re-visit Drury-lane, after an absence of years. venture venture the experiment of publication; but that, on the whole, though the managers and audience should be indulgent enough to let it drag on for a few nights, it would soon be laid on the shelf and forgotten for ever.* There is a practice which greatly facilitates the labour of the journalist in this department. The author obligingly sends to the different papers, what he calls the Plot. This is highly proper, and equally advantageous to the critic and his readers; because many of the modern dramas are so constructed, that without such a key, the audience would be at a loss to comprehend the business, But although the critic may safely copy this sketch, and also exhibit such benuties as the author, who knows best where to discover them, may point out; yet let him not rashly attempt to improve it, because, the plot being perhaps as incomprehensible to him, as to the rest of the audience, he may, by what he deems improvement, totally pervert the dramatist's meaning. This observation, of course, applies only to those complicated plays with which the stage now teems, containing much a-do about nothing, and of which mystery and obscurity are the chief ingredients. There are pieces, however, that receive abundant plaudits, so very simple as to have no plot at all, their success depending on other aids. Bayes observed, that he deemed a plot of no use but to introduce good things. How much then is that eminent dramatist excelled by those play-wrights of the nineteenth century, who introduce their good things: viz. puns and practical jokes without any plot at all? Sometimes a newspaper critic is ambitious to excel his cotemporaries, and for that purpose he calls to his aid the remarks of his predecessors in that department, or books of criticism where he Sinds passages which he thinks may apply to the case before him. Unless he has sense enough not to borrow remarks that are not better than his own, the plagiarism will be easily discovered from the difference of the style. Besides, it is possible that the very parts he steals, may not be new to his readers. A the atrical critic of high celebrity, when Mrs. Billington in 1801, or 1802, made her first appearance at Covent Garden, after her return from the continent, pro-` duced a critique on her performance, displaying the musical connoisseur in sublime scientific language. With no little vanity did he ask a friend, who happened to call on him, his opinion of this precious morceau. His visitor unfortunately had been dipping into Burney's History of Music, and no less unfortunately that work was stuck up be fore his eyes in a book-case. Without saying a syllable, he handed down the volume, and produced the identical pas sage verbatim, to the no small mortication of the plagiarist, who begged him, for God's sake, to be mute. It is a shameful indolence in the editors of evening papers, that they seldom or never think it worth their while to give an original criticism; but servilely copy the accounts and opinions of the Times, the Chronicle, the Post, or whatever morning paper their caprice leads them to follow. This is the more inexcusable, as these editors have likewise gratuitous admissions, and the performances take place at the very time of the day when their other professional duties least require their attendance. It must be acknowledged a bore to sit out most new plays; but they should not be altogether above the drudgery which their brethren of the morning journals, or their assistants, are obliged to undergo. The Sunday papers, with very few exceptions, are guilty of this practice; but they should be inore careful than they sometimes are. Haud inexpertus loquor. When I was concerned in a Sunday paper, an old play was advertised for the Saturday evening's entertainment. Knowing well both the play and the actors, I, without going near the theatre, wrote half a column of remarks on its performance. Now although these remarks would probably have been just, had the piece heen acted; yet as it had been suddenly changed for something else, my critique had a very awkward appearance to those who were present, or knew the fact. But my observations being perfectly innocent, had no farther bad consequence; whereas a gentleman, now deceased, who conducted another weekly paper, not only fell into a similar error, but made such a viralent and unjustifiable attack on the supped per formance A SIR, N enquiry is made in your last Number, page 352, concerning Arthur Collier, and the tracts which he published in defence of the Berkleian hypothesis. All the information I can give upon the subject, is, that Ms. Collier was rector of Longford Magna, near Salisbury, and in 1713, printed an octavo pamphlet of 140 pages, with this title, Clavis Universalis: or a New Inquiry after Truth, being a demonstration of the nonexistence of an external world." Some idea of the work may be formed from the introduction, in which the author says, "The question I ain concerned about, is in general this, whether there be any such thing as an external world? And my title will suffice to inform my reader, that the negative of this question is the point I am to demonstrate. In order to which, let us first explain the terms. Accor dingly, by world, I mean whatsoever is usually understood by the terms, body, extension, space, matter, quantity, &c. if there be any other word in our English tongue, which is synonymous with all or any of these terms. And now nothing remains but the explication of the word external. By this, in general, I under stand, the same as is usually understood by the words, absolute, self-existed, independent, &c. and this is what I deny of all matter, body, extension, &c. Se condly, and more particularly, that by not independent, not absolutely existent, not external, I mean and contend for nothing less, than that all matter, body, extension, &c. exists in, or in dependence on mind, thought, or perception, and that it is not capable of an existence, which is not thus dependent." In this pamphlet frequent reference is made to Mallebranche and Morris, but not the slightest allusion to Berkeley's "Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge:" though the first part of this very ingenious work was printed at Dublin, in 1710. I apprehend, however, that Collier was really unacquainted with Berkeley's treatise, since in his Clavis he says that he had paused and deliberated ten years before he came to the resolution of publishing his notions. Yet if Collier is clear of plagiarism, he has not a just claim to originality; the principle which he maintains with metaphysical subtlety being contained in Mr. Morris's "Theory of an Ideal World." I find that one Arthur Collier, of Pem broke College, Oxford, proceeded M.A. July 7, 1670; and another of both these names, of Trinity College, in the same university, took the degree of B.C.L. December 1, 1732, and doctor in the same faculty, April 23, 1737. Having mentioned the excellent bishop Berkeley, I take this opportunity of remarking upon an assertion in your 27th volume, page 237, that the romance of Gaudentio di Lucca, was written by Mr. Simon Berington. That book has generally been ascribed to Berkeley, and I have strong reasons for believing that he actually composed it during his residence at Oxford. Be that as it may, no person acquainted with the productions of Berington, can believe for a moment that he was the author of Gaudentio di Lucca, His principal performance, entituled, "Dissertations on the Mosaical Creation, Deluge, &c." lies now before me, and some reader has written on the first blank leaf, the following note, which expresses very justly, in my opinion, the literary character of Mr. Berington. "The author of this book was a Romish priest of Shropshire, and a man of great eccentricity of manners, as well as of principles. The reader will perceive by the perusal of this work, that he was very dogmatical, yet superficial, and but little acquainted with the subjects he pretended to elucidate. He attacks the Hutchinsonians with vehemence and scurrility, yet abuses them for their want of candour and good manners. The style of Berington is perplexed, vulgar, and ungrammatical." In addition to this, and to shew what a narrow-minded sciolist Berington was, he adopted and defended in his tenth dissertation, the Tychonian system, in opposition to the Copernican, merely because the papal decree had anathematized the doctrine of the earth's motion round the sun. Of Mr. Berington's elegant diction and profound argumentation upon this subject, take a specimen, and then conclude, if you can, that the mind of such a man could have produced the Advan tures of Gaudentio di Lucca. "Our moderns," says he, "take it for granted, and run away with the notion hand over head head, that it is the earth that moves round the sun all the while, and look upon all as ignorant in philosophy who imagine the contrary. But, I say, is it absolutely certain, that the earth is dancing round the sun, yearly and hourly? And we ourselves are whirling head over heels, at the rate of a thousand miles an hour, at least?" In opposition to the Copernican doc trine, thus reasons our philosopher, "We have the testimonies of all our senses, at least our eyes and feeling, that the sun moves, and not the earth. We see him rise in the east, and mounting higher every hour. We see the same sun set in the west, though we ourselves stund stock still. Now we see him on one side of us; by and by we see he is moved to the other side. If we keep looking towards the east, in the morning he burns our faces, in the evening our backs, unless we turn ourselves. Nay, in the longest days, we find he almost moves quite round us; yet 'tis we, forsooth, that move all the while, though we stand stock still. Nay, though in their precarious supposition, we should be whirling headlong from west to east, yet we don't perceive that we move round upon our heels, to make the sun appear to go quite round us, as he almost does in the longest days. Again, we set up marks, we erect dials and gnoons in all positions, to shew and mea sure his motions; yet we must suppose that the dials and gnomons move all the while, not the sun; yet these remain mo. tionless, not only by all our senses, but by all the experiments we can make; and this in all parts of the world at all times." Dissertations on the Mosaical Creation, page 370, 8vo. 1751. We bere see that this book was printed some years after the appearance of Gaudentio di Lucca, and consequently when the author's mind ought to have been im proved, and his style polished. Instead of this he writes upon an astronomical subject, with the ignorant presumption of a clown, who judges only by his senses, and who arrays his coarse ideas in language suited to the meridian of the kitchen or the stable. Now if after this any one can believe that the writer of such nonsensical ribaldry upon a philosophical argument, was the author of Gaudentio di Lucca, he may carry his credu lity farther and ascribe to the same accomplished and vigorous mind, "Aici phron, or the Minute Philosopher. Kangres, May 8, 1811. J. WATKINS. To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. SIR, HOSE who have resided any length TH of time in a cyder country, and know the value of the apple tree to the farmer, and at how little expence it is cultivated, must wonder that the growth of it, in sufficient abundance for producing cyder, should be confined to two or three of our counties. It is certainly possible that the soil of those selected counties may be more peculiarly suited to its culture than the rest of England; though, when one observes the cultivation of it extended up to the very borders of one county, and there stopping short, while in the adjoining county it is wholly neglected, one cannot but suppose that some accidental circumstance, rather than any peculiarity of soil, must, originally, have thus circumscribed its growth. Yet, however, it is certain that there are soils which are very unfavorable to the growth of apple trees, and in which, though they may thrive for a while, they will seldom attain that age and maturity, without which their produce will never be sufficient to reward either the gardener or the farmer for the trouble and expence of rearing them. I believe it is principally where gravel lies at a little distance from the surface of the earth that the apple tree droops; and therefore, where that soil prevails, it is loss of labor to plant it in the ordinary manner, for though it grows healthily and well until the sap-root reaches the gravel, yet the moment it does reach it, the tree begins to decay, ceases to bear in any abundance, and becomes fit only for firewood. This happens very soon in many places. I remember a gentleman, who resided in the neighbourhood of Brentford, telling me that he had tried every method used in the cyder countries (where he had long resided) to reac apple-trees in his grounds, and had applied them to almost every species of the tree, but that owing, as he supposed, to the unfavorable nature of the soil, all his endeavors had failed; and that of all the trees he had planted, (and he had planted many) not a single one thrived. Here, where the soil is I believe of pretty nearly the same kind, the same thing takes place, and I believe equal difficulty occurs in rearing these trees wherever the soil is of the nature I have described: and probably there may be other soils beside gravel, equally unsuited to the cultivation of the apple tree. But this impediment to the growth of these trees does not ap pear |