BOUNDARIES are always perplexing. No eye can perceive the limit where the dubious shadow merges into the flickering light. The microscope unsettles the divisions of the naturalist; Oregon and Caffraria disturb the politician; theologians quarrel over the subtleties of grace; and the peccadilloes of one moralist are the damning criminalities of another. The circumference of pleasure within which a religious man may safely indulge, has always been one of those vexed questions so desirable yet so difficult to be solved. All, however, who have any right sense, deny the applicability of the third postulate of Euclid-"that a circle may be described from any centre and with any radius." But upon this, as upon every other similar subject, there might be more proximity of opinion, if candour and liberality would bring the disputants fairly together. Unfortunately, men are accustomed to quarrel violently in proportion as it is their duty and interest to enjoy one another's friendship. As religion is the dearest concern of mankind, it has disturbed the relations of society with melancholy consistency, and it will continue to do so while human nature retains its present constitution. It would, perhaps, be vain to attempt the conversion of mankind to one system of theology: men are fond of pet dogmas, and when these are harmless, neighbours would do well to consider them innocent; but it is neither vain nor unserviceable to attempt to bring the world to one way of thinking upon minor questions of practical morality. Why may not the disciples of Swedenborg, Knox, and Whitfield meet the men of the world with smiling looks upon neutral ground? It is true that evil communications corrupt good manners; but it is also true that good communications improve bad manners. As affairs at present stand, the envy which wishes to enjoy earth, yet dares not, denounces pleasure as a delusion of Satan: the worldliness which is inwardly abashed shakes off

its restraint by a sarcasm against hypocrisy. Under the excitement of rancour the breach cannot be healed; a pettish humour will not allow of a parley; so that each party continues to spite itself out of spite to its opponent.

The question proposed at the head of our article is an excellent introduction to the general dispute. Upon the decision will turn the fate of the whole tribe of these social disagreements. If plays are sanctioned, certainly there will be no prohibition of pictures, music, dancing, and other agreeable means of relieving our monotonous hours. Those who regard these inquiries as mere subterfuges to provoke a dalliance with sin, may as well lay down the page and rejoice in their possession of an intuitive excellence.

The common objections to play-going are three-the immorality and indelicacy of the performance; the loose habits into which the frequenters of the theatre are likely to fall; and the craving for excitement which is engendered in the mind.

Against the first charge of immorality it may be replied, that it is an incidental, not an essential, objection. It is allowed by critics that virtuous sentiments are the sole foundation of good writing. Vice may be pompous and gaudy, but it dares not assume the disguise of a majestic simplicity. The highest conceptions of genius are by nature devoted in the womb to the cause of truth. The drama, above all other composition, has the privilege of striking the soul with the intensity of goodness; it combines the vividness of contrast, the interest of incident, the charm of variety, and the force of reality; while the feelings are yet soft with pity, or warm with passion, it impresses the lesson which memory will hold with the tenacity of instinct. But to produce this worthy effect all the faculties must be engagedthe whole being absorbed; we must forsake the closet and go to the stage; the imagination must be laid under the enchantment of

It is answered, that Christians do not emulate the task of heroes, because their duty is confined to the exercise of sober virtues. But Christians have no right to shrink from the world. Luther, Knox, Bunyan, Wesley, and Howard were brought face to face with troubles and contentions; it was the divine spirit of enthusiasm which lifted them above terror. Every man, in his station, may wish to persuade a neighbour of the benefits of religion; but the intellect will seldom be converted until the feelings are totched; there must be rapture in the preacher who would startle apathy. The fanatics who reject the aid of learning, and the quietists who repress emotion, commit faults equally fatal. A Christian must take the world as it is not an association of wardens and elders, but a rough multitude, who must be acted upon by strong influences. If he understand nature, he will know that passion is the key to the heart, and that the pathos of Orpheus must win mankind to virtue.

Lessons in the art of Propagandism could be nowhere better acquired than in the exhibitions of a talented and moral theatre. Whether the British stage of the present day can claim the merit of such beneficent idence is a question requiring details. It acknowledged that mere theatrical entertainment has usurped the place of the drama; stage, in fact, is no longer a stage, but a place devoted to scenic display, witticisms, buffoonery, evanescent satire, and, in some instances, to smart ribaldry addressed to initiated spectators. A few hours' mere recreation is the confessed object of the

the

The second objection, that the frequenters of the theatre must necessarily fall into loose habits, is not only trivial but also foreign. Every evening entertainment of a town is dangerous to those who have no moral restraint. The temptations, besides, are out of doors, and the weakness of those who fall into them is in nowise attributable to a short hour's acting, but to the neglect of responsibilities during long years, when young but strong self-will was establishing the vicious character. The Christian who cannot run the gauntlet of a visit to a playhouse, may be benefited by considering the phantasms that bewitched the saintly hermits of old in the seclusion of deserts.

The third and the strongest plea which can be objected to dramatic representations is their tendency to create a craving for excitement. This can be insisted upon with force in opposition to the light and exhilarating productions now so prevalent. Melpomene herself cannot be acquitted without examination. It may be urged that the moments of life are pre-occupied for the most pressing interests. The acquisition of heaven is a task so arduous, that it will not admit of the briefest intermission; the elevated temper of the pious mind cannot be disturbed by the violent transitions of a romance, which teaches nothing beyond a philosophic morality; and further, the demands of social Christianity occupy the leisure which is required to be "fruitful in good works." Such considerations would be unanswerable if they were admitted to represent the indispensable demands of religion. But do they present a just estimate of the duty of a Christian? Is be commanded to dwindle his life between strained efforts of mystical devotion and the stiff performance of charity? There is a grace that should accompany benevolence which enhances the service, and endears the giver. This grace is the offspring of a cultivated taste; the sensibilities

are educated in the presence of beautiful objects; the mind which is familiar with the noblest ideas of literature carries with it solace for the afflicted and strength for the desponding. Warmth of feeling and delicacy of behaviour, so far from being incompatible with religion, are calculated to support and recommend it. This sympathy is to be cultivated in the intercourse of society, or in the impressive company of great writers. So long as conscience and the curb of occasional retirement impose a due restraint, there need be no alarm that the soul will be jeopardized by a hydrophobic aversion for sacred things. Besides, all morality is akin, whether contained in Akenside's "Pleasures of Imagination," Beattie's "Minstrel," or the Bible. There is a great difference between diverging from a path at right angles, and walking in a line parallel to it. If a love of art or an admiration of nature be sufficient to debar from paradise, alas! for thousands of Christians, whose amiable dispositions will forfeit the reward which Calvin will inherit.

When we dread a reasonable excitement, we are in effect careless of the health which is supported by activity. Stagnation is death. The exclusively pious are aware of this, and endeavour to stir their dulness with revivals and jubilees. None but the morose enthusiast or the long-habituated devotee can subdue affections within the limits of sectarian propriety. The eye will be charmed with colour and the ear with sound, notwithstanding the code of a factitious conscience; common sense has an affinity for innocence, and will not be imposed upon by the story of a lurking sin. New scenes and new associations of ideas stimulate the faculties, and the mind returns refreshed to the enjoyment of its habitual duties. And if the charms of a landscape, the grace of an exquisite statue, the harmony of light and sound, are gratifications indulged in by many serious people, how can the nobler tragic spectacle be, with any plausibility, renounced? There is nothing so terrible in human nature that it should be dangerous to regard it under the aspect of glowing sentiments. Fervent Christians live in an atmosphere of excitement; they are alternately depressed and exalted; they reflect upon miracles and anticipate glory. The occasional sympathy awakened by fictitious passion would not

weaken anxiety for their own vast expectations, but would rather benefit by checking selfishness, and by cherishing an interest in the active existence of the world. It is the great failing of what are termed evangelical preachers, that they isolate Christianity, and speak vaguely of the love of Christ and the influence of the Spirit; salvation with them appears to depend chiefly upon the personal disposition being elevated to an undefined state of communion with the divine nature. These indistinct notions float upon the brain of their hearers, who cannot afterwards reconcile themselves to the blunt presence of a matter-of-fact life. The imperative duties of citizenship and of social politics demand the respect-in fact, the honourable attention-of every member of a state. To perform these duties in a becoming manner, there is required something beyond mere pious placidity. The spirit must be roughened, or a good-natured obsequiousness will allow the defeat of an honest cause. This is a world of bustling and roguery, where good men who have the power are bound to interpose the terrors of justice in defence of the weak. The necessity for these sterner qualifications being undeniable, it remains only to decide whether they may not be in a great measure acquired by frequent perusal of the lives of illustrious worthies, or by the discipline of the dramatic stage. If the stage be a moral one, its efficiency in this regard cannot be questioned; and it should be borne in mind, that the lessons of such a master would allow an abbreviated term of dangerous apprenticeship to the world.

It will be observed, that our arguments in favour of play-going have been placed under restrictions which must be approved by every correct judgment. The indiscriminate pursuit of pleasure is reprobated by prudence as strongly as by religion. None but the unthinking will regret that the compass of their enjoyments is to be circumscribed by a boundary that will exclude the possibility of remorse. Whether a Christian can render support to an immoral British stage, is a question that calls for no discussion. Whether the British stage is and has been a moral one, is not a translation of the terms proposed for debate. We have accepted the only construction which can be put upon the words of the question. The limitations which we have enforced were obviously un

nity to the purposes of life. A serious temper is the acknowledged foundation of every exalted virtue; but seriousness must be associated with cheerfulness, or Christianity will degenerate into misanthropy. Our design has been to show that there is

"Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy
In sceptred pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage"
H. T.

Ir is our purpose in this article to prove, by fair argument and logical inference, that the drama, in its spirit and tendency, is antagonistic to the spirit and genius of Christianity; and if we succeed in proving this, the inference will be that Christians cannot, sistently with their principles, patronize the British or any other stage for dramatic representations.

The first argument we adduce in favour of our position is, that in numerous plays Ce holy name of God is irreverently and remoniously introduced, thereby setting at ought a plain but imperative command, "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord My God in vain." We give the following as a few instances out of a great many in which this irreverent mention of God's name

Much Ado About Nothing," Act II., Serte 3; Ibid., Act III., Scenes 1 and 4; "Love's Labour's Lost," Act I., Scene 1; 4. Act V., Scene 2; "Merchant of Vetice," Act II., Scene 2; "All's Well that Ends Well," Act II., Scenes 2 and 3; Taming of the Shrew," Act IV., Scene 5; "Comedy of Errors," Act IV., Scene 4; "Romeo and Juliet," Act I., Scene 5; Ibid., Act II, Scene 4. Our friends will perceive that our selections are from the writings of great master-mind, and that we have But noticed works of inferior men. But not only on the stage is the third ecmandment impiously violated: but arag the company who frequent theatres are to be found those who are ever and anon sailing the ears of the more polite and posed part of the audience by their rude, earse, and impions vociferations, tainting the very atmosphere by their pestiferous breath.

2nd. Because it is the resort chiefly of

"Let your

the immoral and profligate. light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven," is the exhortation of Him "who spake as never man spake." If it be the duty of Christians to set a good example before the world, how can they be said to do this if by their presence and influence they countenance the profligacy and vice too generally to be met with in and about theatres? We may be met here by professors of religion saying, But we do not countenance vice; the very sensibilities of our nature are shocked at witnessing indecency or vulgarity anywhere. But, friends, how comes it to pass that you are found in such society? What fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness?" It appears the same attractions drew you together; but the vicious are more consistent than you, for whilst they faithfully serve their master, Sin, and profess attachment to no other, you, on the contrary, while professing attachment to Christ, sanction, by your presence and influence, the deeds of darkness.

3rd. Because the stage has a tendency to inflame those passions which we are called upon in the word of God to subdue. Man comes into life with affections and susceptibilities suited to his nature, and if properly cultured and directed, they would subserve the purposes of his being, and godliness and virtue would characterize his life; but unfortunately in too many instances a bias is given to his inclinations which has the opposite effect, so that instead of a life of virtuous action, one of deleterious tendency is the result.

One or more of the irregular passions. envy, malice, jealousy, &c., form the basis of