ties of the country, every relic of the blundering and mischievous legislation by which the character of religion has been debased, its evidences obscured, its power neutralized, its purity converted into contaminating defilement, and its heathful frame into a body of "wounds and bruises, and putrifying sores," will be cleared away, and then the era of the nation's moral and political regeneration and prosperity will commence.

"We contend that the laws by which the English tithe system and the English church are supported, are odiously partial, making impolitic, unjust, and absurd distinctions between those who equally love and serve their country. This might not, indeed, have been intended nor foreseen when these laws were enacted; but it has arisen, as a necessary consequence, from the unsound and unenlightened principles on which they were constructed. And the enormity of the evil lies here, that they have conferred a bounty for the perpetuation of error and intolerance; have engaged many of the most powerful and learned writers on religious subjects in an unnatural war against some important parts of those Scriptures which they have undertaken to defend; have induced suspicion on the motives by which they were influenced in advocating so much of Christianity as they retained, and have thrown a reproach on the name and character, and raised formidable obstacles in the path of those who were desirous of pursuing the radiant steps of banished truth wherever they might discover them. It deserves to be very thoughtfully and honestly inquired, whether the influence which has neutralized the beneficial effect of the works which have been written on the evidences of Christianity, which has prevented the light of those evidences from shining brighter and brighter unto the perfect day; which has thrown theology into the shade, while every other science has been advancing towards meridian clearness, and which has restricted the blessing of God on the exertions of the church, may not be found in the love of filthy lucre by which every part of the church has been more or less infected; and in the unauthorized and coercive means by which it has sought its gratification? The book of nature would have been no better known than is the book of Scripture, if similar endowments and influence had been connected with the ancient but unscientific mode of interpreting its laws.

Viewing the question politically, it may be asked, whether the government, in these times, can afford to maintain the ancient system of religious favouritism, or possesses strength enough to uphold it? Whether, if the Church and State do not voluntarily agree to dissolve an alliance, which God never sanctioned,-which enlightened reason condemns,-which the Scriptures describe as spiritual fornication, and which, in the too painful experience of the country, has been found to involve all the corruption, extravagance, and folly of such a connexion, both parties to the illegal contract may not suffer shame and loss. Above all, it deserves to be seriously inquired, whether the clergy can answer for the share which they have had in nullifying the divine sanctions of Christianity, by resting its support on the coercion of a fleshly arm? Are not they bound to enforce in all things, and more especially in those things which relate to religious. affairs, the precept, "Whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men; knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance: for ye serve the Lord Christ?" Are not they bound to exemplify his spirit, and carry their own views, and those of their hearers,

forward in the direction which he looked, who said, "Not that I desire a gift, but fruit that may abound to your account?" Is it nothing to them, that Christianity has been divested of its ethereal spirit, and presented to mankind in cold, and cheerless, and heartless forms? Is it nothing to them, that the scrutinizing eye of the public should see in those forms the corruption which must be turned from with loathing? Is it nothing to them, that truth is shorn of the splendour of its beams, and thrown out of the harmony of its proportions, by rites of human invention being ranked with the sacred symbols of Christ's mediatorial work, and called "decent ceremonies "" Is it nothing to them, that religion should be classed with the country's heaviest burdens, instead of its richest blessings? Is it nothing to them, that the things which they call sacred, should afford the réadiest channel through which to pour the stimulants of infidelity into the cup of which the thirsty multitudes are drinking? Is it nothing to them, that the ills of poverty, instead of being soothed by the consolations of gospel truth, should be exasperated by the demon which can say to them, The lowly Jesus I know, and the laborious Paul I know, but who are ye? Is it nothing to them, that on their account, as on that of Jonah, the country resembles the troubled sea, and the storm is rising which threatens to toss and engulf the vessel of the State? Are they asleep in the hold, while the less enlightened mariners are wondering at the omens of the sky, and exerting every nerve to keep the vessel buoyant in the storm? Could they not calm the raging sea, without offering to be thrown themselves into it? Could they not, by saying, We give back, for the public relief, that which from the public was fraudulently obtained,-we cast ourselves, like others, upon the providence of God, and the affectionate liberality of those who are benefited by our ministrations, and would be themselves blessed in their giving, and then, at length, joyful in their reward,--throw oil upon the waves, and calm the tumult of the people? Now hey may do this with dignity and efficiency; if they wait till the storm gathers more blackness, and the waves rage more furiously, and the vessel strains more fearfully, the counsel may at length be taken to heave them overhoard.'pp. 243-248.

introduced in thes in Englanc ge, in its presen far, a token o indeed, as Mr timidity rising

His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury ha the House of Lords a bill for the composition of which, at least, admits the fact that that cha: form, is not relished by the people. It is also, homage to the progress of public opinion, if no Hull forcibly puts it, 'an expedient suggested by from a consciousness of weakness.' It is the object of his Grace) to secure to the church the payment of the same tributions, but only in a different shape, such a odious to the party paying, and equally beneficial the party receiving. The archbishop seems not yet of a bill for reducing his own enormous revenues, brethren of York, Durham, and London. We fea of such a bill as this has as yet arrived at matur though he must be aware that the day of reckonin Vain legislator! Does he flatter himself with the such a sop as his composition bill, he can quiet the grow

mount of cor--1 might be less as the other, to o have thought 3 d those of his & that no idea y in his mind, is not far off ope that with g indignation

pay for

of the country, and persuade the people that they ought to the perpetual maintenance of a church which great numbers of them have already abandoned?

However we may differ from Mr. Stratten upon other points, we cordially agree with him upon this, that in no part of this free empire ought any particular form of worship to be exclusively upheld by the state. It is unjust and tyrannical that any man should be obliged to contribute to the support of an ecclesiastical ministry, whose services he never requires, and whose doctrines he perhaps rejects as erroneous. Either the clergy of all religions should be paid by the Treasury, or none. We are of opinion that the nonmaintenance of any by the state, as in America, would be preferable in every respect to the pensioning of all by it, as in France. Let every man pay his own pastor as he pays his own doctor. These, it is true, are first principles; but to such principles the country is now rapidly returning, after too protracted a course of artificial policy, the cushioning and bolstering system, which will do no longer. The reform of our jurisprudence and of our legislature, which may be said to have already taken place, is but a partial symptom of the progressive tendency which men's minds have had for some years, and never more strongly than at this moment, towards the removal of inveterate abuses, and the adoption of measures which shall afford the best guarantee for the general welfare of the people.

ART. II.—The Lives of the Players. By John Galt, Esq., author of "The Life of Byron," &c. In two volumes, 8vo. London: Colburn and Bentley. 1831.

Mr. GALT has the modesty to introduce these volumes to the world, by assuring it that they will probably be among the most amusing books in the language.' For once we are not disinclined to agree with an author in his estimate of his own labours, particularly as in this case, they have been principally confined to the abridgment of larger works, and derive but a small portion of their merit from his own intellectual power. Undoubtedly there is not in the whole range of biography any class of characters that is at all to be compared with that of the actors. The profession being seldom one of choice, and being only adopted in most instances as a dernier ressort, those who follow it are a set of adventurers, alternately raised to the summit of prosperity, or plunged in the abyss of despair. They command our best sympathies, because they have at some time or other afforded us entertainment by the exercise of their talents, eliciting the exquisite tear or the loud laugh, as the scene varied from grave to gay, and often, even when their capabilities are not of a high order, leaving upon our minds impressions that are not easy to be removed. For our own parts we never see a poor devil of a shabby genteel player in VOL II. (1831.) No. IV.

2 K

town or country, off the stage, without feeling, that of all mankind he is the most to be pitied. In his countenance misery would appear to have taken up her permanent abode, and yet night after night, it is to be wreathed in smiles for the amusement of his more fortunate fellow-beings. A certain degree of mental cultivation he must have reached, which only renders his sensibilities more acute, and constantly stimulates him to a course of action, which, in the lapse of a few years, fills his life with an abundance of strange, and often of highly interesting, events.

The first personage commemorated in these volumes is Charles Hart, the grand nephew of Shakspeare. Few particulars have been preserved of his career beyond the fact, that he was distinguished by eminent professional merit. A somewhat more extended notice is given of Betterton, whose Hamlet is supposed to be the best that ever appeared on the stage. Colley Cibber does not hesitate to declare that he was as an actor, what Shakspeare was as an author. It was usual at the period in which Betterton lived to have the female characters performed by men. One of the most celebrated of these representatives of the softer sex was Edward Kynaston, who was so beautiful, that ladies of high rank frequently used to take him in their coaches to Hyde Park in his stage dress after the play was over-a gratification which they might then have easily enjoyed, as dramatic performances occupied a much shorter time at that period than they do now, and were commenced at a much earlier hour. From his constant imitation of the female voice, he contracted a whining tone, which, in his latter days, became very disagreeable. To the last, however, he was distinguished for the beauty of his person, of which he was not a little vain, and that rather to his inconvenience on one occasion. Believing himself, as he was generally supposed to be, very like the celebrated Sir Charles Sedley, he dressed one day in a suit of clothes, copied in every particular after the style of Sir Charles, which offended the latter so much, that he hired a bravo to pick a quarrel with Kynaston in the character which he had chosen to assume. In vain did the actor protest that he was not the baronet; the ruffian would hear of no defence of that kind, while he bastinadoed him most unmercifully. Sir Charles wickedly enjoyed this most unpleasant of practical jokes, assuring those who remonstrated with him upon it, that he had suffered in his character much more than the other had in his bones, as the whole town believed that the disgraceful chastisement had been inflicted upon himself. Kynaston quitted the stage rich, about the year 1706.

The life of Joe Haynes, as he was familiarly called, is a curious medley. Born of obscure parents in Westminster, the brilliant talents which he displayed at St. Martin's school, induced several gentlemen to join in sending him to Oxford, where he completed his education. He was next employed by Sir Joseph Williamson, then member for that university, who, on becoming one of the

ministry, made him his private secretary. Being, however, rather indiscreet in talking to his companions of the secrets of office, he was again restored to Oxford, where he took the degree of master of arts. But his native turn for the stage became irresistible upon the appearance of a strolling company in that city. He joined them, and wandered with them for some time through the country. In due course he obtained an engagement at Drury Lane, where he was raised at once to the pinnacle of fame by his performance of Bays, in the Rehearsal. He thus won the patronage of its author, the Duke of Buckingham, who took him in his suite when he went upon his embassy to France, and treated him in every respect as a pleasant companion. Haynes became enamoured of his new situation, and was delighted with the French, to whom his volatile manners were particularly acceptable. So, when the Duke returned to England, Joe set up in the world as a count, and lived for some months, upon borrowed money, in great splendour. But his resources at length being exhausted, he was obliged to fly, and returned to the London stage, where he was exceedingly well received. He now figured as a dancer, but growing tired of flinging his legs about, he had again recourse to the borrowing system; but that again failing, he turned fortune-teller. Having been sent by Hart to Paris, for the purpose of gaining some insight into the machinery of the French stage, Joe spent, before leaving London, all the money that was given to him for his expenses; he went to Paris, however, raising the wind on the way, as secretary to the Duke of Monmouth, engaged upon an important confidential mission! But the ci-devant count was recognized by his creditors there, and he was obliged to decamp, as ignorant of French dramatic machinery as he was when he left England. One or two anecdotes connected with this incident in Joe's career, are highly amusing.

'Hart, who was a person of respectable conduct, and had not been too well pleased with Joe's negotiations in France, and with his having squandered so much money in Paris to no purpose, had some natural anger against him, and this was cause enough for Joe to cherish spite in return. In the play of Cataline's Conspiracy, acted about this time, a great number of senators of Rome were wanted, and Hart made Joe one, although his salary, being fifty shillings a week, freed him from any obligation to accept the dignity. Joe, however, after some symptoms of rebellion, complied. He got a scaramouch dress, a large full ruff, made himself whiskers from ear to ear, put on his head a merry-andrew's cap, and with a short pipe in his mouth, bearing a three-legged stool in his hand, he followed Hart on the stage, set himself down behind him, and begun to smoke his pipe, and to laugh and point at him. This ludicrous figure put the whole theatre in a roar of laughter. Hart, who was a man of such self-possession and nimity, that, happen what might, he never discomposed himself, continued his part without being aware of Joe's behaviour, wondering, however, at the seemingly unaccountable mirth. At last, happening to turn his head, he beheld Joe, and in great wrath instantly made his exit, swearing he never

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