may induce such arrangements, ere the season is much further advanced, as to render, at least respectable, the only place in this vast metropolis, where, for three months to come, a play is allowed to be acted. June 18, 1808. THALIA OF MELPOMENE, WHITFIELD AND THE MINOR. MR. EDITOR, WHERE Hume's opinion of Whitfield is known, his reputation will not receive much injury from the condemnatory sentence passed on him, in the unjustified assertion of your correspond ent J. Hume unquestionably intended to compliment Whitfield— had he been a mountebank, who deserved only to be treated with ridicule" that celebrated philosopher," when he declared he was the most ingenious preacher he ever heard, would not have added, "it is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him.” When I read J.'s "Remarks on Foote's comedy of the Minor," I had very little knowledge of Whitfield's history or works. I have since then perused his life, part of his correspondence with Benjamin Franklin, and others, and some of his sermons, and think the worst charge, which the impartial can bring against him, is, that he was enthusiastically zealous in promulgating doctrines which he fully believed. If J. has no other proof that Whitfield was a mountebank, than Hume supplies in the anecdote you received from me, he might safely acknowledge perhaps, that he used the epithet without deliberate consideration; that he did not expect to have his assertion controverted, and that he had little information respecting the person concerning whom he was writing. I am far from being displeased with the exclamation respecting the "attendant angel," or Whitfield's manner of delivering of it. Hume says "the address was accompanied with such animated, yet natural action, that it surpassed any thing I ever saw or heard in any other preacher." It is by no means unworthy the dignity of the pul pit, well calculated to arrest the attention of an audience, and not far inferior to Sterne's admired figure of the "accusing spirit." J. in his first letter, quotes Johnson, "Cheats can seldom stand long against laughter" let your readers, and your corres pondent J. try Whitfield by that criterion-did Foote's ridicule stop Whitfield's preaching, or lessen his popularity or has methodism declined since the publication of the Minor? IMPARTIALITAS. If your inquisitive correspondent wishes for information about angels, I refer him to the Jewish cabalists his time will be inno cently employed in such researches. July 4. JOKE SPOILERS. IN your last, Mr. Editor, I perceive the old jest of the short coat, (p. 453) brought forward very happily to elucidate a translation of Horace. Several of the same sort occur to me, and are, I dare say, remembered by most of your readers. Whether they are, or not, however, it is not my intention to retail them here, but to shew, from very late experience on our stage, that it is very probable this kind of joke, arising from good ones marred in the telling, is not the mere invention of a jest maker. On the 23rd June Mr. Treby played Lafleur at the Haymarket, in Catch him who can. All those who love a laugh, catch it where they can, have liberally indulged at the endless string of merry puns in this piece. One runs to this effect-Jeannette says, on receiving a compliment-" You've told this to all the belles in the parish." To which he replies, "If I have tolled all the bells in the parish, it is high time that I should ring some of them." This pun was too recondite for Mr. Treby, who replied, "If I have tolled all the bells in the parish, it is time I rang some of them." On the 35th June, Mr. Palmer, junr. performed Sneer in the the Critic. Puff talking of his criticisms, and the soreness of the winter managers, Dangle says, "I believe they took it all in good part," Puff" Aye, then that must have been affectation in them, for egad, there were some of the attacks which there was no laughing at !" Here Sneer ought to reply, "Aye, the humorous ones;" but Mr. Palmer, preferring plain sense to wit, replied, "Aye, the serious ones." So much for putting dull fellows in comic parts. SCARRON. SHUTER AND MR. LISTON. THE late anecdote related of Mr. Liston's being so much fatigued, while playing Lord Grizzle in Tom Thumb, reminds me of an anecdote (never printed) of Shuter, when performing the character of Ben in Love for Love. While singing the song, he accompanied himself by beating the tune with his elbows on the table, and being thrice encored, he advanced to the audience, and after many congèes, begged they would excuse him, as the instrument was out of tune-viz. the table having been cracked in the engagement with his elbows, and they being tired. His request was acceded to, and he retired amidst the plaudits of the company. June, 1808. Том. THEATRICAL BONMOT. MR. Rock the comedian, late of Covent Garden, advised one of the scene shifters, who had met with an accident, to the plan of a subscription-a few days afterwards he asked for the list of names, which, when he had read over, he returned-" Sir,” says the poor fellow, "won't you give something." "Why, zounds man!” replied Rock, "did'nt I give you the hint ?" T. See No. XII. P. 441. ORIGINAL POETRY. HORACE IN LONDON, BOOK IV. ODE 10. O crudelis adhuc, et Veneris muneribus potens, &c. TO AMANDA. AMANDA, tho' now in youth's confident pride, My vows, my predictions, my tears you deride, Yet, ah! when thy gold waving ringlets shall turn Nor longer thy cheek's rosy lustre shall burn, When rouge, paint, and patches, shall only attest And every look of your glass shall suggest You'll cry, as my vows your attention engage, "O! why has not youth the discretion of age, H. REASON FOR THICK ANCLES. AN EPIGRAM. "HARRY, I cannot think," says Dick, "What makes my ancles grow so thick?" "How great a calf they have to carry!" H. TO ROSA. WITHIN those arms, O! let me lie- What more could Love himself desire? Ah! yes-to be by thee caress'd, Such was the promis'd bliss, of old But grant this Mahomet to be As true as my fond heart to thee, I would his proffer'd heav'n decline; THE ROSE. THE beams of the morning the tears had not dried, But alas! they were gone, for some insolent elf And a rose tree, the goddess had planted herself, Lay broken and dead at her feet. With a frown on her brow, tho' a smile lurk'd beneath, To Cupid, in anger she said, "Thou mischievous urchin! 'tis thou art the thief, For blushes, thy forehead o'erspread, |