66 weave a general and unbroken interest throughout his 66 production, which gives the reader little cause to regret the substitution of fiction for truth. There are 66 46. a few errors, however, in the work, which are very "excuseable, although a slight attention to the manners "and customs of the period when the events took place, "would have sufficed to correct them." I certainly should not have expected, after the fault which the author has found with former narrators of the History of G. Barnwell, and the authenticity which he has assumed to himself, to have found this eulogium on Mr. S. for having deviated from truth!! Nor has the author of the Memoirs himself attended to the manners and customs of the period in which he has professed that the events took place. They are evidently those of the - present time, not those of a century past. The same may be said of the language ascribed to Barnwell, to the Judge, and to the Counsel. Nor is it true that passages may pass current on the stage, which would be accounted tedious and uninteresting by those who are in the habit of reading novels; for the case is the contrary, the dramatic author must compress. That which may be extended to volumes, which it would take several hours to read in the closet, must be concentrated within the space of two hours and a half, or three hours, on the stage; what would be a short speech or reflection in a novel, would be a long one on the stage. On the whole, though these Memoirs have considerable merit, I cannot but regret the choice which the author has made of the mode in which he has conveyed his instructions. Had he followed the Ballad or the Play, as received history, or given a narrative of his own, not attempting to pass it off for truth, and made his own reflections upon that, he might have produced a work equally instructive, and without any breach of veracity. In pages 177, 178, 179, of my Preface to G. Barn well, I have given an anecdote respecting the effect produced by the play and the acting of Mr. Ross in it. In the new edition of The Biogr. Dram. Vol. II. p. 377, it is given in a Letter written by Mr. Ross himself, dated Hampstead, 20th August 1787. We have yet another claimant for the original of our Tragedy. In A DISCOURSE* ON STAGE ENTERTAINMENTS. Bythe Rev. David Simpson, M. A. printed at Birmingham in 1788, he says (p. 62.): "Another melancholy "instance of the mischiefs done by the Stage is contained "in the following true story, on which the Tragedy of "George Barnwell is probably founded. "The UNGUARDED YOUTH IN LONDON; 666 SIR, "To the Editor of "I mean not to enter into the merits, or demerits "of the Beggar's opera, when I refer you and your ❝ readers to an anecdote recorded in most of the pa૮ ૪ pers of last September, and occasioned by the then "prevailing controversy about the propriety of exhi"biting that celebrated drama upon the London Theatres. In the anecdote in question, we are told, and on the best authority too, that some years ago, a ૯ This Discourse, though founded principally upon Collier's and other works against the Stage, is written in a much more candid and temperatestyle than most works of the kind. As his arguments are very much the same as their's, what I have said in reply to them will hold good also with respect to this writer, Simpson published SACRED LITERATURE: shewing the Holy Scriptures to be superior to the most celebrated Writings of Antiquity. In four Volumes 8vo. printed at Birmingham in 1788. It is a work of great value, and is now become very scarce. It is a pity that such a work, so full of piety, of learning, of good taste, and of amusement, should not be attainable by all who may wish to possess it, and that it should not be more generally known gentleman of fortune took his nephew, a raw youth "just arrived from the country, to the Play-House. "The piece represented happened to be the above "Opera; and so highly pleased was the old gentleman with it, that in the course of the performance he "could not help repeatedly exclaiming, in the hear❝ing of his nephew," Were I a young fellow, and "reduced to my shifts, the character of Macheath "should be mine." If the uncle was pleased, the ne666 phew was transported with what he saw and heard; and eagerly imbibing the baneful sentiment so un"guardedly dropped by the former, he treasured it up ❝in his heart. What was the result of it?-Alas! the "following letter gives but too dreadful an explana❝tion. It is a genuine copy (names excepted) of the "original, now in my possession, as sent to me by "the above unhappy lad, while he laboured under 666 every anguish that a heart of sensibility-a heart "which (though still inclined to virtue) has yet been "hurried into the last extremity, vice and its atten"dant, guilt, can possibly experience." "That it may convey a striking lesson to the young "and inexperienced, who have but lately fixed, or "who intend soon to fix their abode in London, is the ❝ardent wish of, Ah! my ever dear and venerable friend!"Friend! alas! I have rendered myself unworthy of that appellation; and even the recollection of the "virtues of Honorio enhances the misery of the hap44less Altamont." " "Would to God, my friend, I had never left the blissful plains of B- or at least had never visited that mass of foul villainy and pollution, the "Town.-Hardly had I set foot in London, when "Acasto, my worthy and ever-to-be-lamented uncle, "conducted me to the Play-House; and it is from "that period that I ought to date my ruin." "The Beggar's Opera was the piece performed, and "to such a pitch was the deluded Acasto captivated with "the piece, that he scrupled not openly to defend the "most vicious sentiments, and abandoned characters in that baneful drama. He even dared, in the gaiety "of his heart to justify the most atrocious deeds which "a desperate highwayman could commit, when im"pelled to it by necessity. Alas! could we have "thought that he was himself to atone with his life for "this doctrine? fraught with destruction, and un"guardedly insinuated in the hearing of a youth unac"quainted with the world, yet naturally fond of "pleasure, and eager for the means of gratifying it?-66-6 Ah! no, he could not think that Altamont, the "child of his heart, was destined to be his mur""." derer!""" "Enamoured as I was of dissipation, it was not long "before I became a slave to the passions of the aban ❝doned Florella'; and though I knew her soul to be "equally prostituted as her body, yet I thought her "smiles cheaply purchased with the last shilling of my "little fortune. What was now to be done?-One "demand was only a preface to another-the horrors ❝ of a gaol haunted me whithersoever I went.-Florella "was insolently clamorous for a renewal of my former "profusion-she upbraided me for want of spirit "called me niggardly poltroon,-and, in short, plainly - insinuated, that if I could not support her by fair I must either do it by foul, or never see her 6 66-6 means, 66.6 more. 1 2 "Not see Florella more! The thought was death. "Nor did I close my eyes, till providing myself with a "mask, and the other implements of the road, I sal.. lied forth in quest of a booty. In crossing the wood "in the neighbourhood of M whom should I meet but,gracious God! support me while I re666 peat it!-my honoured uncle, Acasto!-Trembling with confusion, and surrounded with darkness, Į "knew not who it was, till I had thrown him by his 66 6 venerable grey hairs to the ground. It was now, I "thought, too late to retreat. With mad precipitation "I accordingly plunged my dagger into his breast. "Unable before to withdraw from conscious guilt and "shame, remorse and tenderness now rivetted me to "the spot; nor did I stir from the fatal scene of blood, "till having thrown aside my mask, with his dying "breath, he declared that he knew me, that he for66 6 gave me, and that he implored salvation for my 666 guilty soul. Since this fatal adventure I have sojourned in this "place, a wretch unworthy to live, yet a villain unfit "to die; nor have I heard more of the detestable Flo"rella since, but that she still triumphs in the capital "of England, the infamous favourite of the votaries of "lewdness, dissipation, and of every infernal vice. "Cease not, oh! Honorio-thou friend of my youth 666 (while that youth was innocent) to pray for "The undone and miserable ALTAMONT." 999 "Such," adds Mr. Simpson, " is the tendency, and "such the triumphs of the Stage!" An exclamation equally applicable to the story before mentioned by Mr. Ross, and both together very forcibly proving, that the Stage, properly conducted, may be of great service to mankind; but, directed to bad objects, is of a tendency highly pernicious. As to the question, whether this story is the foundation of the Tragedy, that is easily settled. The Beggar's Opera was first acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields in 1728, and George Barnwell was first acted in 1731. There does not, therefore, appear to have been time for the events mentioned to have taken place, |